@@@@@Get out of my car, you smelly pigGet out
@@@@@Get out of my car, you smelly pigGet out before a weapon goes
off by mistake and your stomach’s on the street, where it belongs!”
Bernardine lurched out of the patrol car, his old unsteady legs barely able to maintain balance,
twice falling into the streetJason waited, wanting to rush to his friend, but knowing he had to wait
The patrol cars and the van raced away; still Bourne had to wait, his eyes alternately watching
Bernardine and the front entrance of the Jackal’s houseAnd it was the Jackal’s house, the nun
proved itCarlos could never let go of his lost faith; he consistently used it as a viable cover, but it
was much more than that
Bernardine staggered into the shadows of a long-abandoned storefront across from the house on
the boulevard LefebvreJason breached the corner and ran down the pavement, racing into the
recess and grabbing the Deuxième veteran as he leaned against a long glass window, breathing
heavily
“For God’s sake, what happened?” cried Bourne, supporting Bernardine by both shoulders
“Easy, mon ami,” choked Bernardine“The pig I sat next to—a politician, no doubt, looking for
an issue—punched me in the chest before he threw me out of the carI told you, I don’t know all
the new people who attach themselves to the Bureau these daysYou have the same problems in
America, so, please, do not give me a lecture
“It’s the last thing I’m about to doThis is the house, BernardineRight here, right in front of
us!”
“This is also a trap
“What?”
“Alex and I confirmed itThe telephone numbers were differentI gather you did not make your
call to Carlos, as he instructed you toI had the address and I wanted him stretchedWhat’s the difference? This is the house!”
“Oh, this is where your MrSimon was to go, and if he was truly MrSimon, he would be taken
to another rendezvousBut if he was not Monsieur Simon but someone else, then he would be
shot—proof—another corpse in search of the Jackal
“You’re wrong!” insisted Jason, shaking his head and speaking quietly, rap