The Bourne identity (jb-1) by Robert Ludlum

Author:Robert Ludlum [Ludlum, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: literature_adv, thriller
ISBN: ISBN: 0553260111

SLAYER IN PARIS

WOMAN SOUGHT IN ZURICH KILLINGS

SUSPECT IN RUMORED THEFT OF MILLIONS

Under the screaming words was a photograph of Marie St. Jacques.

“Stop it!” whispered Jason, using his body to cover her face from the curious newsdealer, reaching into his pocket for coins. He threw the money on the counter, grabbed two papers, and propelled her down the dark, rainsoaked street. They were both in the labyrinth now.

Bourne opened the door and led Marie inside. She stood motionless, looking at him, her face pale and frightened, her breathing erratic, an audible mixture of fear and anger.

“I’ll get you a drink,” said Jason, going to the bureau. As he poured, his eyes strayed to the mirror and he had an overpowering urge to smash the glass, so despicable was his own image to him. What the hell had he done? Oh God!

I am Cain. I am death.

He heard her gasp and spun around, too late to stop her, too far away to lunge and tear the awful thing from her hand. Oh, Christ, he had forgotten) She had found the envelope on the bedside table, and was reading his note. Her single scream was a searing, terrible cry of pain.

“Jasonnnn! ...”

“Please! No!” He raced from the bureau and grabbed her. “It doesn’t matter! It doesn’t count anymore!” He shouted helplessly, seeing the tears swelling in her eyes, streaking down her face.

“Listen to me! That was before, not now.”

“You were leaving! My God, you were leaving me!” Her eyes went blank, two blind circles of panic. “I knew it! I felt it!”

“I made you feel it!” he said, forcing her to look at him. “But it’s over now. I won’t leave you.

Listen to me. I won’t leave you!”

She screamed again. “I couldn’t breathe! ... It was so cold!” He pulled her to him, enveloping her. “We have to begin again. Try to understand. Its different now--and I can’t cha nge what was--but I won’t leave you. Not like this.” She pushed her hands against his chest, her tear-stained face angled back, begging, “Why, Jason?

Why?”

“Later. Not now. Don’t say anything for a while. Just hold me; let me hold you.”

The minutes passed, hysteria ran its course and the outlines of reality came back into focus.

Bourne led her to the chair; she caught the sleeve of her dress on the frayed lace. They both smiled, as he knelt beside her, holding her hand in silence.

“How about that drink?” he said finally.

“I think so,” she replied, briefly tightening her grip on his hand as he got up from the floor. “You poured it quite a while ago.”

“It won’t go flat.” He went to the bureau and returned with two glasses half filled with whiskey.

She took hers. “Feeling better?” he asked.

“Calmer. Still confused ... frightened, of course. Maybe angry, too, I’m not sure. I’m too afraid to think about that.” She drank, closing her eyes, her head pressed back against the chair. “Why did you do it, Jason?”

“Because I thought I had to. That’s the simple answer.”

“And no answer at all.

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