The Bourne Ultimatum by Robert Ludlum

Author:Robert Ludlum
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Action & Adventure, Fiction - Espionage, Fiction, Thriller, Non-Classifiable, Intrigue, Espionage
ISBN: 9780553199437
Publisher: Random House Publishing Group
Published: 1991-02-01T06:00:00+00:00

Mo Panov excused himself and slid out of the booth. He made his way through the crowded highway diner toward the men’s room, frantically scanning the wall at the far end for a pay phone. There was none! The only goddamned phone was ten feet from the booth and in clear sight of the wild-eyed platinum blonde whose paranoia was as deeply embedded as the dark roots of her hair. He had casually mentioned that he thought he should call his office and tell his staff about the accident and where he was, and was instantly met with invective.

“And have a swarm of cops coming out to pick you up! Not on your fuckin’ life, Medicine Man. Your office calls the fuzz, they call my devoted Chief Fork-in-Mouth, and my ass is bouncing into every barbed-wire fence in the county. He’s in with every cop on the roads. I think he tells ’em where to get laid.”

“There’d be no reason for me to mention you and I certainly wouldn’t. If you recall, you said he might resent me.”

“Resent don’t count. He’d just cut your cute little nose off. I’m not takin’ any chances—you don’t look like you’re too with-it. You’d blurt out about your accident—next thing the cops.”

“You know, you’re not really making sense.”

“All right, I’ll make sense. I’ll yell ‘Rape!’ and tell these not-so-pansy truckers I picked you up on the road two days ago and I’ve been a sex slave ever since. How does that grab you?”

“Very firmly. May I at least go to the men’s room? It’s urgent that I do.”

“Be my guest. They don’t put phones in the can in these places.”

“Really? ... No, honestly, I’m not chagrined, not disappointed—just curious. Why don’t they? Truckers make good money; they’re not interested in stealing dimes or quarters.”

“Boy, you’re from La La Land, Doc. Things happen on the highways; things get switched or snitched, you dig? If people make phone calls, other people want to know who makes them.”

“Really ... ?”

“Oh, Jesus. Hurry up. We only got time for a couple of greasies, so I’ll order. He’ll head up Seventy, not Ninety-seven. He wouldn’t figure.”

“Figure what? What are Seventy and Ninety-seven?”

“Routes, for Christ’s sake! There are routes and there are routes. You are one dumb medicine man. Hit the head, then maybe later we’ll stop at a motel where we can continue our business discussion while you get an advance bonus.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I’m pro-choice. Is that against your religion?”

“Good Lord, no. I’m a firm advocate.”

“Good. Hurry up!”

So Panov headed for the men’s room, and indeed the woman was right. There was no phone, and the window to the outside was too small for anyone but a small cat or a large rat to crawl through. ... But he had money, a great deal of money, along with five driver’s licenses from five different states. In Jason Bourne’s lexicon these were weapons, especially the money. Mo went to the urinal—long overdue—and then to the door; he pulled it back several inches to observe the blonde.

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