invariably torn apart or stabbed repeatedly with...
invariably torn apart or stabbed repeatedly with the pencil pointThe Jackal!
Suddenly, Marie’s eyes were drawn to a figure crossing the rue de RivoliIt was a tall man in
dark clothes—a dark sweater and trousers—and he was limping, dodging the traffic, a hand
shielding his face from the drizzle that soon would turn into rainThe limp was false! The leg
straightened if only for an instant and the swing of the shoulder that compensated was a defiant
gesture she knew only too wellIt was David!
Another, no more than eight feet from her, also saw what she sawA miniature radio was
instantly brought to the man’s lipsMarie rushed forward, her extended hands the claws of a tigress
as she lunged at the killer in priest’s clothing
“David!” she screamed, drawing blood from the face of the Jackal’s man
Gunshots filled the rue de RivoliThe crowds panicked, many running into the hotel, many more
racing away from the gucci bag fake canopied entrance, all shrieking, yelling, seeking safety from the murderous
insanity that had suddenly exploded in the civilized streetIn the violent struggle with the man who
would kill her husband, the strong Canadian ranch girl ripped the automatic out of his belt and fired
it into his head; blood and membranes were blown into the air
“Jason!” she screamed again as the killer fell, instantly realizing that she stood alone with only
the corpse beneath her—she was a target! Then from certain death there was the sudden possibility
of lifeThe old aristocratic Frenchman who had recognized her in the lobby came crashing out of
the front entrance, his automatic weapon on repeat fire as he sprayed the black limousine, stopping
for an instant to switch his aim and shattering the legs of a “priest” whose weapon was leveled at
him
“Mon ami!” roared Bernardine
“Here!” shouted Bourne“Where is she?”
“A votre droite! Auprès chanel bags de—” A single gunshot exploded from the glass double doors of the
MeuriceAs he fell the Deuxième veteran cried out, “Les Capucines, mon amiLes Capucines!”
Bernardine slumped to the pavement; a second gunshot ended his life
Marie was paralyzed, she could not move! Everything was a blizzard, a hurricane of iced
particles crashing with such force against her face she could neither think nor find meaning
Weeping out of control, she fell to her knees, then collapsed in the street, her screams of despair
clear to the man who suddenly was above heroh God, my children!”
“Our children,” said Jason Bourne, his voice not the voice of David Webb“We’re getting out of
here, can you understand that?”
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
287
“Yes yes!” Marie awkwardly, painfully, swung her legs behind her and lurched to her feet,
held by the husband she either knew or did not know“David?”
“Of course I’m DavidCome prada made in china on!”
“You frighten me—”
“I frighten myselfLet’s go! Bernardine gave us our exitRun with me; hold my hand!”
They raced down the rue de Rivoli, swinging east into the boulevard StMichel until the
Parisian strollers in their nonchalance de jour made it clear that the fugitives were safe from the
horrors of the MeuriceThey stopped m an alleyway and held each other
“Why did you do it?” asked Marie, cupping his face“Why did you run away from us?”
“Because I’m better without you, you know that
“You weren’t before, David—or should I say Jason?”
“Names don’t matter, we have to move!”
“Where to?”
“I’m not sureBut we can move, that’s the important thingBernardine gave
it to us
“He was the old Frenchman?”
“Let’s not talk about him, okay? At least not for a while
“All right, we won’t talk about himStill, he mentioned Les Capucines—what did he mean?”
“It’s our way outThere’s a car waiting for me in the boulevard des fake gucci CapucinesThat’s what he
was telling meLet’s go!”
They raced south out of Paris in the nondescript Peugeot, taking the Barbizon highway to
Vilieneuve-StMarie sat close to her husband, their bodies touching, her hand clutching
his armShe was, however, sickeningly aware that the warmth she intended was not returned in
equal measureOnly a part of the intense man behind the wheel was her David; the rest of him was
Jason Bourne and he was now in command
“For God’s sake, talk to me!” she criedWhy did you come to Paris?”
“Good Christ!” exploded Marie“To find you, to help you!”
“I’m sure you thought it was right
“That voice again,” protested Marie“That goddamned disembodied tone of voice! Who the hell
do you think you are to make that judgment? God? To put it bluntly—no, not bluntly, but
brutally—there are things you have trouble remembering, my darling
“Not about Paris,” objected Jason“I remember everything about gucci g charm ladies stainless steel watch Pa