@@@@@The morning is—the few hours areIt’s a
@@@@@The morning is—the few hours areIt’s a simple matter to
transfer funds from one bank to another—buttons are pressed, computers instantly cross-check the
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
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data, and, poof, figures are entered on paperIt’s quite another thing to collect nearly three million
francs in cash, and your access certainly won’t accept pounds or dollars for fear of being caught
exchanging them or depositing themAdd to this the problem of collecting notes large enough to be
part of a bundle small enough to be concealed from customs inspectorsYour access, mon ami,
has to be aware of these difficulties
Jason looked aimlessly at the wall, his thoughts on Bernardine’s words“You think he’s testing
me?”
“He has to
“The money could be gotten together from the foreign departments of different banksA small
private plane could hop across the channel and land in a pasture where a car’s waiting to bring the
man to ParisHowever, these logistics take time even for the most influential peopleDon’t
make it all appear too simple, that would be suspectKeep your access informed as to the progress
being made, emphasizing the secrecy, how there can be no risk of exposure, explain the delaysIf
there were none, he might think it’s a trap
“I see what you meanIt comes down to what you just said—don’t make it seem so easy because
that’s not credible
“There’s something else, mon amiA chameleon may be many things in daylight; still, he is
safer in darkness
“You forgot something,” said Bourne“What about the Englishman?”
“Tallyho, old chap,” said Bernardine
The operation went as smoothly as any Jason had ever engineered or been witness to, perhaps
thanks to the flair of a resentful talented man who had been sent to the pastures too soonWhile
throughout the day Bourne made progress calls to Santos, Bernardine had someone other than
himself pick up the sealed instructions from the concierge and bring them to him, at which point he
made his appointment with Monsieur TabouriShortly after four-thirty in the afternoon, the
Deuxième veteran walked into the Pont-Royal dressed in a dark pin-striped suit so obviously
British that it screamed Savile RowHe went to the elevator and eventually, after two wrong turns,
reached Bourne’s room
“Here’s the money,” he said, dropping the attaché case on the floor and going straight to Jason’s
hotel wet bar; he removed two miniature bottles of Tanqueray gin, snapped them open and poured
the liquor into a questionably clean glass“A votre santé,” he added, swallowing half his drink
before breathing heavily through his mouth and then rapidly swallowing the r