'Peter makes it a point to know someone everywhere。 It's one of his more useful but less attractive traits。'
'Sounds like he will。' Bourne got their coats。 'After your call we'll have dinner。 I think we could both use a drink。'
'Let's go past the bank on rue Madeleine。 I want to see something。'
'What can you see at night？！ 'A telephone TJOX。 I hope there's one nearby。〃 There was。 Diagonally across the street from the entrance。
The tall blond man wearing tortoise…shell glasses checked his watch under the afternoon sun on the rue Madeleine。 The pavements were crowded； the traffic in the street unreasonable； as most traffic was in Paris。 He entered the telephone box and untangled the telephone which had been hanging free of its cradle； the line knotted。 It was a courteous sign to the next would…be user that the phone was out of mission； it reduced the chance that the box would be occupied。 It had worked。
He glanced at his watch again； the time span had begun。 Marie inside the bank。 She would call within the next few minutes。 He took several coins from his pocket； put them on the ledge； and leaned against the glass panel； his eyes on the bank across the street。 A cloud diminished the sunlight and he could see his reflection in the glass。。 He approved of what he saw； recalling the startled reaction of a hairdresser in Montparnasse who had sequestered him in a curtained booth while performing the blond transformation。 The cloud passed； the sunlight returned； and the telephone rang。
'It's you？' asked Marie St Jacques。
'It's me；' said Bourne。
'Make sure you get the name and the location of the office。 And rough up your French。 Mispronounce a few words so he knows you're American。 Tell him you're not used to the telephones in Paris。 Then do everything in sequence。 I'll call you back in exactly five minutes。〃
'Clock's on。'
'What？'
'Nothing。 I mean； let's go。〃
'All right。。。 The clock is on。 Good luck。！
Thanks。' Jason depressed the lever； released it； and dialled the number he had memorized。
'La Banque de Valois。 Ban jour。'
'I need assistance；' said Bourne； continuing with the approximate words Marie had told him to use。 'I recently transferred sizeable funds from Switzerland on a pouch…courier basis。 I'd like to know if they've cleared。'
'That would be our Foreign Services Department； sir。 I'll connect you。'
A click； then another female voice。 'Foreign Services。'
Jason repeated his request。
'May I have your name； please？'
'I'd prefer speaking with an officer of the bank before giving it。'
There was a pause on the line。 'Very well； sir。 I'll switch you to the office of Vice…President d'Amacourt。'
Monsieur d'Amacourt's secretary was less acmodating； the bank officer's screening process activated； as Marie had predicted。 So Bourne once more used Marie's words。 'I'm referring to a transfer from Zurich； from the Gememschaft
Bank on the Bahnhofstrasse； and I'm talking in the area of several figures。 Monsieur d'Amacourt； if you please。 I have very little time。'
It was not a secretary's place to be the cause of further delay。 A perplexed first vice…president got on the line。
'May I help you？'
'Are you d'Amacourt？' asked Jason。
'I am Antoine d'Amacourt； yes。 And who； may I ask； is calling？'
'Good！ I should have been given your name in Zurich。 I'll make certain next time certainly；' said Bourne； the redundancy intended； his accent American。
'I beg your pardon？ Would you be more fortable speaking English； monsieur？〃
'Yes；' replied Jason； doing so。 'I'm having enough trouble with this damn phone。' He looked at his watch； he had less than two minutes。 'My name's Bourne； Jason Bourne； and eight days ago I transferred four million francs from the Gememschaft Bank in Zurich。 They assured me the transaction would be confidential。。。'
'All transactions are confidential； sir。〃
'Fine。 Good。 What I want to know is； has everything cleared？'
'I should explain；' continued the bank officer； 'that confidentiality excludes blanket confirmations of such transactions to unknown parties over the telephone。'
Marie bad been right； the logic of her trap became clearer to Jason。
'I would hope so； but as I told your secretary I'm in a hurry。 I'm leaving Pans in a couple of hours and I have to put everything in order！
'Then I suggest you e to the bank。'
'I know that；' said Bourne； satisfied that the conversation was going precisely the way Marie had foreseen。 'I just wanted everything ready when I got there。 Where's your office？'
'On the main floor； Monsieur。 At the rear； beyond the gate； centre door。 A receptionist is there。〃
'And I'll be dealing only with you； right？〃
'If you wish； although any officer。。。〃
'Look； mister；' exclaimed the ugly American； 'we're talking about millions of francs
'Only with me； Monsieur Bourne。'
Fine。 Good。' Jason put his fingers on the cradle bar。 He had fifteen seconds to go。 'Look； it's two…thirty…five now。。。〃 He pressed down twice on the lever； breaking the line； but not disconnecting it。 'Hello？ Hello？〃
'I am here； Monsieur。'
'Damn phones！ Listen； I'll。。。' He pressed down again； now three times in rapid succession。 'Hello？ Hello？'
'Monsieur； please； if you'll give me your telephone number。！
'Operator？ Operator！？'
'Monsieur Bourne； please。。。'
'I can't hear you！' Four seconds； three seconds。； two seconds。 'Wait a minute。 I'll call you back。' He held the lever down； breaking the connection。 Three more seconds elapsed and the phone rang； he picked it up。 'His name's d'Amacourt； office on the main floor； rear； centre door。'
'I've got it；' said Marie； hanging up。
Bourne dialled the bank again； inserted coins again。 'Je parlais avec Monsieur d'Amacourt quand le telephone coupe。。。〃
'Je regrette； monsieur。'
'Monsieur Bourne？'
'D'Amacourt？'
'Yes； I'm so terribly sorry you're having such trouble。 You were saying？ About the time？'
'Oh； yeah。 It's a link after two…thirty。 I'll get there by three o'clock。'
'I look forward to meeting you； Monsieur。'
Jason reknotted the phone； letting it hang free； then left the box and walked quickly through crowds to the shade of a shop front canopy。 He turned and waited； his eyes on the bank across the way； remembering another bank in Zurich and the sound of sirens on the Bahnhofstrasse。 The next twenty minutes would tell whether Marie was right or not。 If she was； there would be no sirens on the rue Madeleine。
The slender woman in the wide…brimmed hat that partially covered the side of her face hung up the public phone on the wall to the right of the bank's entrance。 She opened her bag； removed a pact and ostensibly checked her make…up； angling the small mirror first to the left； then to the right。 Satisfied； she replaced the pact； closed her bag； and walked past the tellers' cages towards the rear of the main floor。 She stopped at a counter in the centre； picked up a chained ballpoint pen； and began writing aimless numbers on a form that had been left on the marble surface。 Less than ten feet away was a small； brass…framed gate； flanked by a low wooden railing that extended the width of the lobby。 Beyond the gate and the railing were the desks of the lesser executives and behind them the desks of the major secretaries … five in all … in front of five doors in the rear wall。 Marie read the name painted in gold script on the centre door。
M。 A。 R。 d'Amacourt。 Affaires Etrangeres
Premier Vice…President
It would happen any moment now … if it was going to happen； if she was right。 And if she was； she had to know what M。 A。 R。 d'Amacourt looked like； he would be the man Jason could reach。 Reach him and talk to him； but not in the bank。
It happened。 There was a flurry of controlled activity。 The secretary at the desk in front of d'Amacourt's office rushed inside with her note pad； emerged thirty seconds later； and picked up the phone。 She dialled three digits … an inside call …and spoke； reading from her pad。
Two minutes passed； the door of d'Amacourt's office opened and the vice…president stood in the frame； an anxious executive concerned over an unwarranted delay。 He was a middle…aged man with a face older than his age； but striving to look