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'You're crazy。'
'I've admitted that；' he said； taking trousers and a shirt from his suitcase。 The dress； please？
Fifteen minutes later； Mr and Mrs Briggs' room； six doors away and across the hall from three…four…one； was in readiness。 The clothes had been properly placed； selected lights left on； others not functioning because the bulbs had been removed。
Jason returned to their room； Marie was standing by the telephone。 'We're set'
'What have you done？'
'What I wanted to do； what I had to do。 You can make the call now。'
'It's very late。 Suppose he isn't there？'
'I think he will be。 If not； they'll give you his home phone。 His name was on the telephone logs in Ottawa； it had to be。'
'I suppose it was。'
Then he will have been reached。 Have you gone over what I told you to say？'
'Yes； but it doesn't matter； it's not relevant I know I'm not wrong。'
'We'll see。 Just say the words I told you。 I'll be right beside you listening。 Go ahead。'
She picked up the phone and dialled。 Seven seconds after she reached the embassy switchboard； Dennis Corbelier was on the line。 It was quarter past one in the morning。
'Christ almighty； where are you？'
'You were expecting me to call then？'
'I was hoping to hell you would！ This place is in an uproar。 I've been waiting here since five o'clock this afternoon。'
'So was Alan。 In Ottawa。'
'Alan who？ What are you talking about？ Where the hell are you？'
'First； I want to know what you have to tell me。'
'Tell you？'
'You have a message for me； Dennis。 What is it？'
'What is what？ What message？〃
Marie's face went pale。 'I didn't kill anyone in Zurich。 I wouldn't。。。〃
〃Then for God's sake；' interrupted the attache； 'get in here I We'll give you all the protection we can。 No one can touch you here！'
'Dennis； listen to me！ You've been waiting there for my call； haven't you？'
'Yes； of course。'
'Someone told you to wait； isn't that true？'
A pause。 When Corbelier spoke； his voice was subdued。 'Yes； he did。 They did。'
'What did they tell you？'
'That you need our help。 Very badly。'
Marie resumed breathing。 'And they want to help us？'
'By us；' replied Corbelier； 'you're saying he's with you； then？'
Bourne's face was next to hers； his head angled to hear Corbelier's words。 He nodded。
'Yes；' she answered。 'We're together； but he's out for a few minutes。 It's all lies； they told you that； didn't they？'
'All they said was that you had to be found； protected。 They do want to help you； they want to send a car for you。 One of ours。 Diplomatic。'
'Who are they？'
'I don't know them by name： I don't have to。 I know their rank。'
'Rank？'
'Specialists； FS…Five。 You don't get much higher than that'
'You trust them？'
'My God； yes！ They reached me through Ottawa。 Their orders came from Ottawa！'
〃They're at the embassy now？'
'No； they're out…posted。' Corbelier paused； obviously exasperated。 'Jesus Christ； Marie； where are you？'
Bourne nodded again； she spoke。
'We're at the Auberge du Coin in Montrouge。 Under the name of Briggs。'
I'll get that car to you right away。'
'No； Dennis！' protested Marie； watching Jason； his eyes telling her to follow his instructions。 'Send one in the morning。
First thing in the morning … four hours from now； if you like。'
'I can't do that I For your own sake。'
'You have to； you don't understand。 He was trapped into doing something and he's frightened： he wants to run。 If he knew I called you； he'd be running now。 Give me time。 I can persuade him to turn himself in。 Just a few more hours。 He's confused； but underneath he knows I'm right。' Marie said the words looking at Bourne。
'What kind of a son of a bitch is he？'
'A terrified one；' she answered。 'One who's being manipulated。 I need the time。 Give it to me。'
'Marie；。。？' Corbelier stopped。 'All right； first thing in the morning。 Say。。。 six o'clock。 And； Marie； they want to help you。 They can help you。'
'I know。 Good night'
'Good night
Marie hung up。 'Now； we'll wait；' Bourne said。
'I don't know what you're proving。 Of course he'll call the FS…Fives； and of course they'll show up here。 What do you expect？ He as much as admitted what he was going to do； what he thinks he has to do。'
'And these diplomatic FS…Fives are the ones sending us the message？'
'My guess is they'll take us to whoever is。 Or if those sending it are too far away； they'll put us in touch with them。 I've never been surer of anything in my professional life。'
Bourne looked at her。 'I hope you're right； because it's your whole life that concerns me。 If the evidence against you in Zurich isn't part of any message； if it was put there by experts to find me … if the Zurich police believe it … then I'm that terrified man you spoke about to Corbelier。 No one wants you to be right more than I do。 But I don't think you are。'
At three minutes past two； the lights in the motel corridor flickered and went out； leaving the long hallway in relative darkness； the spill from the stairwell the only source of illumination。 Bourne stood by the door of their room； pistol in hand； the lights turned off； watching the corridor through a crack between the door's edge and the frame。 Marie was behind him； peering over his shoulder； neither spoke。
The footsteps were muffled； but there。 Distinct； deliberate； two sets of shoes cautiously climbing the staircase。 In seconds； the figures of two men could be seen emerging out of the dim light。 Marie gasped involuntarily； Jason reached over his shoulder； his hand gripping her mouth harshly。 He understood； she had recognized one of the two men； a man she had seen only once before。 In Zurich's Steppdeckstrasse； minutes before another had ordered her execution。 It was the blond man they had sent up to Bourne's room； the expendable scout brought now to Paris to spot the target he had missed。 In his left hand was a small pencil light； in his right a long…barrelled gun； swollen by a silencer。
His panion was shorter； more pact； his walk not unlike an animal's tread； shoulders and waist moving fluidly with his legs。 The lapels of his overcoat were pulled up； his head covered by a narrow…brimmed hat； shading his unseen face。 Bourne stared at this man； there was something familiar about him； about the figure； the walk； the way he carried his head。 What was it？ What was it？ He knew him。
But there was not time to think about it； the two men were approaching the door of the room reserved in the name of Mr and Mrs Briggs。 The blond man held his pencil light on the numbers； then swept the beam down towards the knob and the lock。
What followed was mesmerising in its efficiency。 The stocky man held a ring of keys in his right hand； placing it under the beam of light； his fingers selecting a specific key。 In his left hand he gripped a weapon； its shape in the spill revealing an out…sized silencer for a heavy…calibred automatic； not unlike the powerful German Sternlicht Luger favoured by the Gestapo in World War Two。 It could cut through webbed steel and concrete； its sound no more than a romantic cough； ideal for taking enemies of the state at night in quiet neighbourhoods； nearby residents unaware of any dis