The guard was moaning, semiconscious, his face... The guard was moaning, semiconscious, his face bleeding; Panov pulled him out
of the wreck and into the grass as far as he could until exhaustion overtook him, just before the car
exploded
In the moist overgrowth, his breath somewhat restored but his fear still at the forefront, Mo
released his loosely bound hands and picked the fragments of glass out of his guard’s faceHe then
checked for broken bones—the right arm and the left leg were candidates—and with stolen
stationery from a hotel he had never heard of from the capo’s pocket, he used the guard’s pen to
write out his diagnosisAmong the items he removed was a gun—what kind, he had no idea—but it
was heavy and too large for his pocket and sagged in his beltHippocrates had his limits
Panov searched the guard’s clothing, astonished at the money that was there—some six
thousand dollars—and the various driver’s licenses—five different identities from five different
statesHe took the money and the licenses to turn them over to Alex Conklin, but he left the capo’s
wallet otherwise intactThere were photographs of his family, his children, grandchildren and
assorted
gucci bag sale relatives—and somewhere among them a young surgeon he had put through medical
schoolCiao, amico, thought Mo as he crawled over to the road, stood up and smoothed his clothes,
trying to look as respectable as possible
Standing on the hard coarse surface, common sense dictated that he continue north, in the
direction the car was heading; to return south was not only pointless but conceivably dangerous
Suddenly, it struck him
Good God! Did I just do what I just did?
He began to tremble, the trained psychiatrically oriented part of him telling him it was
posttraumatic stress
Bullshit, you assholeIt wasn’t you!
He started walking, and then kept walking and walking and walkingHe was not on a
backcountry road, he was on Tobacco RoadThere were no signs of civilization, not a car in either
direction, not a house—not even the ruins of an old farmhouse—or a primitive stone wall that
would at least have proved that humans had visited the environsMile after mile passed and Mo
fought off the effects of the drug-induced exhaustionHow long had it been? They had taken his
watch, his watch with the day and date in impossible small print, so
fake white chanel watches he had no idea of either the
present time or the time that had elapsed since he had been taken from Walter Reed HospitalHe
had to find a telephoneHe had to reach Alex Conklin! Something had to happen soon!
It did
He heard the growing roar of an engine and spun aroundA red car was speeding up the road
from the south-no, not speeding, but racing, with its accelerator flat on the floorHe waved his
arms wildly—gestures of helplessness and appealTo no avail; the vehicle rushed past him in a blur
then to his delighted surprise the air was filled with dust and screeching brakesThe car stopped!
He ran ahead as the automobile actually backed up, the tires still screamingHe remembered the
words his mother incessantly repeated when he was a youngster in the Bronx: Always tell the truth,
MorrisIt’s the shield God gave us to keep us righteous
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
218
Panov did not precisely subscribe to the admonition, but there were times when he felt it had
socially interactive validityThis might be one of themSo, somewhat out of breath he approached
the opened passenger window of the red automobileHe looked
chanel jewellery inside at the woman driver, a
platinum blonde in her mid-thirties with an overly made-up face and large breasts encased in
décolletage more fitting to an X-rated film than a backcountry road in MarylandNevertheless, his
mother’s words echoed in his ears, so he spoke the truth
“I realize that I look rather shabby, madam, but I assure you it’s purely an exterior impression
I’m a doctor and I’ve been in an accident—”
“Get in, for Christ’s sake!”
“Thank you so very much No sooner had Mo closed the door than the woman slammed the car
into gear, gunned the engine to its maximum, and seemingly launched off the rough pavement and
down the road“You’re obviously in a hurry,” offered Panov
“So would you be, pal, if you were me, I gotta husband back there who’s puttin’ his truck
together to come after my ass!”
“Oh, really?”
“Stupid fuckin’ jerk! He rolls across the country three weeks outta the month layin’ every broad
on the highways, then blows his keister when he finds out I had a little fun of my own
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry
“You’ll be a hell of a lot sorrier if he catches up with us
“I beg your pardon?”
“You really a
hermes bag doctor?”
“Yes, I am
“Maybe we can do business
“I beg your pardon?”
“Can you handle an abortion?”
Morris Panov closed his eyes
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
219
22
Bourne walked for nearly an hour through the streets of Paris trying to clear his head, ending up at
the Seine, on the Pont de Solferino, the bridge that led to the Quai des Tuileries and the gardensAs
he leaned against the railing absently watching the boats lazily plowing the waters below, the
question kept assaulting him: Why, why, why? What did Marie think she was doing? Flying over to
Paris! It wasn’t just foolish, it was stupid—yet his wife was neither a fool nor an idiotShe was a
very bright lady with reserves of control and a quick, analytical mindThat was what made her
decision so untenable; what could she possibly hope to accomplish? She had to know he was far
safer working alone rather than worrying about her while tracking the JackalEven if she found
him, the risk was doubled for both of them, and that she had to understand completelyFigures and
projections were her professionSo why?
There was only one conceivable answer, and it infuriated
chanel denim bag