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at his activities were uncovered in Berlin； Lisbon； Amsterdam。。。 as far away as Oman。'
'Oman；' said Bourne involuntarily。 'Sheikh Mustafa Kalig；' he whispered； as if to himself。
'Never proved！' interjected the Lavier woman defiantly。 'A deliberate smokescreen of confusion； the contract itself a fiction。 He took credit for an internal murder； no one could penetrate that security。 A lie！'
'A lie；' repeated Jason。
'So many lies；' added Mme Lavier contemptuously。 'He's no fool； however； he lies quietly； dropping a hint here and there； knowing that they will be exaggerated into substance in the telling。 He provokes Carlos at every turn； promoting himself at the expense of the man he would replace。 But he's no match for Carlos； he takes contracts he cannot fulfil。 You are only one example； we hear there have been several others。 It's said that's why he stayed away for months； avoiding people like yourselves。〃
'Avoiding people。。。' Jason reached for his wrist； the trembling had begun again； the sound of distant thunder vibrating in far regions of his skull。 'You're。。。 sure of that？'
'Very much so。 He wasn't dead； he was in hiding。 Cain botched more than one assignment； it was inevitable。 He accepted too many in too short a time。 Yet whenever he did； he followed an abortive kill with a spectacular； unsolicited one； to uphold his stature。 He would select a prominent figure and blow him away； the assassination a shock to everyone； and unmistakably Cain's。 The ambassador travelling in Moulmein was an example； no one had called for his death。 There were two others that we know of … a Russian missar in Shanghai and more recently a banker in Madrid。。。'
The words came from the bright red lips working feverishly in the lower part of the powdered mask beside him。 He heard them； he had heard them before。 He had lived them before。 They were no longer shadows； but remembrances of that forgotten past。 Images and reality were fused。 She began no sentence he could not finish； nor could she mention a name or a city or an incident with which he was not instinctively familiar。 She was talking about。。。 him。 Alpha； Bravo； Cain； Delta。。。 Cain is for Charlie； and Delta is for Cain。 Jason Bourne was the assassin called Cain。 There was a final question； his brief reprieve from darkness two nights ago at the Sorbonne。 Marseilles。 23 August。 'What happened in Marseilles？' he asked。 'Marseilles？ The Lavier woman recoiled。 'How could you？ What lies were you told？ What other lies？' 'Just tell me what happened。'
'You refer to Leland； of course。 The ubiquitous ambassador whose death was called for … paid for； the contract accepted by Carlos。'
'What if I told you that there are those who think Cain was responsible？〃
'It's what he wanted everyone to think！ It was the ultimate insult to Carlos … to steal the kill from him。 Payment was irrelevant to Cain； he only wanted to show the world … our world … that he could get there first and do the job for which Carlos had been paid。。。 But he didn't； you know。 He had nothing to do with the Leland kill。' 'He was there。〃
'He was trapped。 At least； he never showed up。 Some said he'd been killed； but since there was no corpse； Carlos didn't believe it。〃
'How was Cain supposedly killed？' Mme Lavier retreated； shaking her head in short； rapid movements。 'Two men on the waterfront tried to take the credit； tried to get paid for it。 One was never seen again； it can be presumed Cain killed him； if it was Cain。 They were dock garbage。'
'What was the trap？'
'The alleged trap； Monsieur。 They claimed to have got word that Cain was to meet someone in the rue Sarasin a night or so before the assassination。 They say they left appropriately obscure messages in the street and lured a man they were convinced was Cain down to the piers； to a fishing boat。 Neither trawler nor skipper were seen again； so they may have been right； but as I say； there was no proof。 Not even an adequate description of Cain to match against the man led away from the Sarasin。 At any rate； that's where it ends。'
You're wrong。 That's where it began。 For me。
'I see；〃 said Bourne； trying again to infuse naturalness into his voice。 'Our information's different naturally。 We made a choice on what we thought we knew。'
'The wrong choice； Monsieur。 What I've told you is the truth。'
'Yes； I know。'
'Do we have our promise； then？'
'Why not？'
'Bien。' Relieved； the woman lifted the wine glass to her lips。 'You'll see； it will be better for everyone。'
'It。。。 doesn't really matter now。' He could barely be heard； and he knew it。 What did he say？ What had he just said？ Why did he say it？。。。 The mists were closing in again； the thunder getting louder； the pain had returned to his temples。 'I mean。。。 I mean； as you say； it's better for everyone。' He…could feel …see … the Lavier woman's eyes on him； studying him。 'It's a reasonable solution。〃
'Of course it is。。。 You are not feeling well？〃
'I said it was nothing； it'll pass。'
'I'm relieved。 Now； would you excuse me for a moment？'
'No！' Jason grabbed her arm。
'S'il vous plait； monsieur。 The powder room； that is all。 If you care to； stand outside the door。'
'We'll leave。 You can stop on the way。' Bourne signalled the waiter for the bill。 'As you wish；' she said； watching him。
He stood in the darkened corridor between the spills of light that came from recessed lamps in the ceiling。 Across the way was the ladies room； denoted by small； uncapitalized letters of gold that read les femmes。 Beautiful people … stunning women； handsome men … kept passing by； the orbit was similar to that of Les Classiques。 Jacqueline Lavier was at home。
She had also been in the ladies' room for nearly ten minutes； a fact that would have disturbed Jason had he been able to concentrate on the time。 He could not； he was on fire。 Noise and pain consumed him； every nerve ending raw； exposed； the fibres swelling； terrified of puncture。 He stared straight ahead； a history of dead men behind him。 The past was in the eyes of the truth； they had sought him out and he had seen them。 Cain。。。 Cain。。。 Cain！
He shook his head and looked up at the black ceiling。 He had to function； he could not allow himself to keep falling； plunging into the abyss filled with darkness and high wind。 There were decisions to make。。。 No； they were made； it was a question now of implementing them。
Marie。 Marie？ Oh； God； my love； we've been so wrong！ He breathed deeply and glanced at his watch … the chronometer he had traded for a thin gold piece of jewellery belonging to a marquis in the south of France。 He is a man of immense skill； extremely inventive。。。 There was no joy in that appraisal。 He looked across at the ladies' room。
Where was Jacqueline Lavier？ Why didn't she e out？ What could she hope to acplish remaining inside？ He had had the presence of mind to ask the maitre if there was a telephone in the ladies' room； the man had replied negatively； pointing to a box by the entrance。 The Lavier woman had been at his side； she heard the answer； understanding the inquiry。
There was a blinding flash of light。 He lurched backwards recoiling into the wall； his hands in front of his eyes。 The pain！ Oh； Christ