e could have just said the word 〃flag〃 and he would have been in sync。 He didn't；〃 Then maybe he's not genuine。'
The rest fits； though。 He did say D。 C。's been looking for him for more than six months。 That was when he used the name Treadstone。 He was from Treadstone； that's supposed to be the explosive。 He also told me to relay the code words 〃Delta〃； 〃Cain〃； and 〃Medusa〃。 The first two are on the flag； I checked them off。。。 I don't know what 〃Medusa〃 means。'
'I don't know what any of this means；' said the First Secretary。 'Except that my orders are to high…tail it down to munications； clear all scrambler traffic to Langley； and get a sterile patch to a spook named Conklin。 Him I've heard of： a mean son of a bitch who got his foot blown off ten or twelve years ago in 'Nam。 He pushes very strange buttons over at the pany。 Also he survived the purges； which leads me to think he's one man they don't want roaming the streets looking for a job。 Or a publisher。'
'Who do you think this Bourne is？' asked the attaché。 'I've never seen such a concentrated but formless hunt for a person in my whole eight years away from the States。'
'Someone they want very badly。' The First Secretary got up from the desk。 'Thanks for this。 I'll tell D。 C。 how well you handled it。 What's the schedule？ I don't suppose he gave you a telephone number。'
'No way。 He wanted to call back in fifteen minutes； but I played the harried bureaucrat。 I told him to call me in an hour or so。 That'd make it past five o'clock； so we could gain another or two by my being out to dinner。'
'I don't know。 We can't risk losing him。 I'll let Conklin set up the game plan。 He's the control on this。 No one makes a move on Bourne unless it's authorized by him。'
Alexander Conklin sat behind the desk in his white…walled office in Langley； Virginia； and listened to the embassy man in Paris。 He was convinced； it was Delta。 The reference to Medusa was the proof； for it was a name no one would know but Delta。 The bastard I He was playing the stranded agent； his controls at the Treadstone telephone not responding to the proper code words … whatever they were … because the dead could not talk。 He was using the omission to get himself off the meathook！ The sheer nerve of the bastard was awesome。 Bastard； bastard！
Kill the controls and use the kills to call off the hunt。 Any kind of hunt。 How many men had done it before； thought Alexander Conklin。 He had。 There had been a source…control in the hills of Huong Khe； a maniac issuing maniacal orders； certain death for a dozen teams of Medusans on a maniacal hunt。 A young intelligence officer named Conklin bad crept back into Base Camp Kilo with a North Vietnamese rifle； Russian calibre； and had fired two bullets into the head of a maniac。 There had been grieving and harsher security measures put in force。。。 but the hunt was called off。
There had been prints on fragments of glass found in the jungle paths of Base Camp Kilo； however。 Fragments with fingerprints that irrefutably identified the sniper as an occidental recruit from Medusa itself。 There were such fragments found on Seventy…first Street； but the killer did not know it …Delta did not know it。
'At one point； we seriously questioned whether he was genuine；' said the embassy's First Secretary； rambling on as if to fill the abrupt silence from Washington。 'An experienced field officer would have told the attaché to check for a flag； but the subject didn't。'
'An oversight；' replied Conklin； pulling his mind back to the brutal enigma that was Delta…Cain。 'What are the arrangements？'
'Initially Bourne insisted on calling back in fifteen minutes； but I instructed lower…level to stall。 For instance； we could use the dinner hour。。。' The embassy man was making sure a pany executive in Washington realized the perspicacity of his contributions。 It would go on for the better part of a minute； Conklin had heard too many variations before。
Delta。 Why had he turned？ The madness must have eaten his head away； leaving only the instincts for survival。 He had been around too long； he knew that sooner or later they would find him； kill him。 There was never any alternative； he understood that from the moment he turned … or broke … or whatever it was。 There was nowhere to hide any longer； he was a target all over the globe。 He could never know who might step out of the shadows and bring his life to an end。 It was something they all lived with； the single most persuasive argument against turning。 So another solution had to be found； survival。 The biblical Cain was the first to mit fratricide。 Had the mythical name triggered the obscene decision； the strategy itself？ Was it as simple as that？ God knew it was the perfect solution。 Kill them all； kill your brother。
Webb gone； the Monk gone； the Yachtsman and his wife。。。 who could deny the instructions Delta received； since these four alone relayed instructions to him？ He had removed the millions and distributed them as ordered。 Blind recipients he had assumed were intrinsic to the Monk's strategy。 Who was Delta to question the Monk？ The creator of Medusa； the genius who had recruited and created him。 Cain。
The perfect solution。 To be utterly convincing； all that was required was the death of a brother； the proper grief to follow。 The official judgment would be rendered。 Carlos had infiltrated and broken Treadstone。 The assassin had won； Treadstone abandoned。 The bastard！
〃。。。 so basically I felt the game plan should e from you。〃 The First Secretary in Paris had finished。 He was an ass but Conklin needed him； one tune had to be heard while another was being played。
'You did the right thing；' said a respectful executive in Langley。 'I'll let our people over here know how well you handled it。 You were absolutely right； we need time； but Bourne doesn't realize it。 We can't tell him； either； which makes it tough。。。 We're on sterile so may I speak accordingly？'
'Of course。'
'Bourne's under pressure。 He's been。。。 detained。。。 for a long period of time。 Am I clear？〃
'The Soviets？'
'Right up to the Lubyanka。 His run was made by means of a double entry。 Are you familiar with the term？〃
'Yes； I am。 Moscow thinks he's working for them now。'
That's what they think。' Conklin paused。 'And we're not sure。 Crazy things happen in the Lubyanka。'
The First Secretary whistled softly。 That's a basket。 How are you going to make a determination？'
'With your help。 But the classification priority is so high it's above embassy； even ambassadorial level。 You're on the scene； you were reached。 You can accept the condition or not； that's up to you。 If you do。 I think a mendation might e right out of the Oval office。'
Conklin could hear the slow intake of breath from Paris。
'I'll do whatever I can； of course。 Name it。'
'You already did。 We want him stalled。 When he calls back； talk to him yourself。。。'
'Naturally；' interrupted the embassy man。
Tell him you relayed the codes。 Tell him Washington is flying over an officer…of…record from Treadstone by military transport Say D。 C。 wants him to keep out of sight and away from the embassy； every route is being watched。 Then ask him if he wants protection； and if he does； find out where he wants to pick it up。 But don't send anyone； when you talk to me again I'll have been in touch with someone over there。 I'll give you a name then and an eye…spot you can give to him。'
'Eye…spot？'
'Visual identification。 Something or someone he can recognize。'
'One of your men？'
'Yes； we think it's best that way。 Beyond you； there's no point in involving the embassy。 As a matter of fact； it's vital we don't； so whatever conversations you have shouldn't be logged。〃
'I can take care of that；' said the First Secretary。 'But how is the one conversation I'm going to have with him going to help you determine whether he's a double entry？'
'Because it won't be one； it'll be closer to ten。'
Ten？'
That's right。 Your instructions to Bourne … from us through you … are that he's to check in on your phone every hour to confirm the fact that he's in safe territory。 Until the last time when you tell him the Treadstone officer has arrived in Paris and will meet with him。'
'What