he hotel clerk who remembered her well … remembered what appeared to him to be a guest in a highly disturbed state of anxiety。 The final piece of evidence was a handgun discovered not far from the Steppdeckstrasse； in an alley close by the scene of two other killings。 Ballistics held it to be the murder weapon； and again there were fingerprints； again confirmed by the Canadian government。 They belonged to the woman； Marie St Jacques。
It was at this point that the article veered from fact。 It spoke of rumours along the Bahnhofstrasse that a multi…million…dollar theft had taken place by means of a puter manipulation dealing with a numbered； confidential account belonging to an American corporation called Treadstone Seventy…one。 The bank was also named； it was of course the Gemeinschaft But everything else was clouded； obscure； more speculation than fact。
According to 'unnamed sources'； an American male holding the proper codes transferred millions to a bank in Paris； assigning the new account to specific individuals who were to assume rights of possession。 The assignees were waiting in Paris and； upon clearance； withdrew the millions and disappeared。 The success of the operation was traced to the American's obtaining the accurate codes to the Gemeinschaft account； a feat made possible by penetrating the bank's numerical sequence related to year； month and day of entry； standard procedure for confidential holdings。 Such an analysis could only be made through the use of sophisticated puter techniques and a thorough knowledge of Swiss banking practices。 When questioned； an officer of the bank； Herr Walther Apfel； acknowledged that there was an on…going investigation into matters pertaining to the American pany； but pursuant to Swiss law； 'the bank would make no further ment。 To anyone。'
Here the connection with Marie St。 Jacques was clarified。 She was described as a government economist extensively schooled in international banking procedures； as well as a skilled puter programmer。 She was suspected of being an acplice； her expertise necessary to the massive theft。 And there was a male suspect； she was reported to have been seen in his pany at the Carillon du Lac。
Marie finished the article first and let the paper drop to the floor。 At the sound； Bourne looked over from the edge of the bed。 She was staring at the wall； a strange pensive serenity having e over her。 It was the last reaction he expected。 He finished reading quickly； feeling depressed and hopeless … for a moment； speechless。 Then he found his voice and spoke。
'Lies；' he said； 'and they were made because of me； because of who and what I am。 Smoke you out； they find me。 I'm sorry； sorrier than I can ever tell you。'
Marie shifted her eyes from the wall and looked at him。 'It goes much deeper than lies； Jason；' she said。 〃There's too much truth for lies alone。'
'Truth？ The only truth is that you were in Zurich！ You never touched a gun； you were never in an alley near the Steppdeckstrasse； you didn't lose a hotel key； and you never went near the Gemeinschaft。'
'Agreed； but that's not the truth I'm talking about。'
Then what is？'
'The Gemeinschaft； Treadstone Seventy…one； Apfel。 Those are true and the fact that any of them were mentioned … especially Apfel's acknowledgment … is incredible。 Swiss bankers are cautious men。 They don't defy the law； not this way； the sentences are too severe。 The statutes pertaining to banking confidentiality are among the most sacrosanct in Switzerland。 Apfel could go to prison for years for saying what he did； for even alluding to such an account； much less confirming it by name。 Unless he was ordered to say what he did by an authority powerful enough to contravene the laws。' She stopped； her eyes straying to the wall again。 'Why？ Why was the Gemeinschaft or Treadstone or Apfel ever made part of the story？'
'I told you。 They want me and they know we're together。 Carlos knows we're together。 Find you； he finds me。'
'No； Jason； it goes beyond Carlos。 You really don't understand the laws in Switzerland。 Not even a Carlos could cause them to be flouted this way。' She looked at him； but her eyes did not see him； she was peering through her own mists。 This isn't one story； it's two。 Both are constructed out of lies； the first connected to the second by tenuous speculation … public speculation … on a banking crisis that would never be made public； unless and until a thorough and private investigation proved the facts。 And that second story … the patently false statement that millions were stolen from the Gemeinschaft was tacked on to the equally false story that I'm wanted for killing three men in Zurich。 It was added。 Deliberately。' 'Explain that； please。'
'It's there； Jason。 Believe me when I tell you that； it's right in front of us。' 'What is？' 'Someone's trying to send us a message。'
The heavy army car sped south on Manhattan's East River Drive； headlights illuminating the swirling remnants of a March snowfall。 The major in the back seat dozed； his long body angled into the corner； his legs stretched out diagonally across the floor。 In his lap was a briefcase； a thin nylon cord attached to the handle by a metal clamp； the cord itself strung through his right sleeve and down his inner tunic to his belt。 The security device had been removed only twice in the past nine hours。 Once during the major's departure from Zurich； and again with his arrival at Kennedy Airport。 In both places； however； U。 S。 government personnel had been watching the customs clerks more precisely； watching the briefcase。 They were not told why； they were simply ordered to observe the inspections； and at the slightest deviation from normal procedures … which meant any undue interest in the briefcase … they were to intervene。 With weapons； if necessary。
There was a sudden； quiet ringing； the major snapped his eyes open and brought his left hand up in front of his face。 The sound was a wrist alarm； he pressed the button on his watch and squinted at the second radium dial of his two…zoned instrument。 The first was on Zurich time； the second； New York； the alarm had been set twenty…four hours ago； when the officer had received his cabled orders。 The transmission would e within the next three minutes。 That is； thought the major； it would e if Iron Ass was as precise as he expected his subordinates to be。 The officer stretched； awkwardly balancing the briefcase； and leaned forward； speaking to the driver。
'Sergeant； turn on your scrambler to fourteen…thirty megahertz； will you please？'
'Yes； sir。' The sergeant flipped two switches on the radio panel beneath the dashboard； then twisted the dial to the 1430 frequency。 〃There it is； Major。'
Thanks。 Will the microphone reach back here？'
'I don't know。 Never tried it； sir。' The driver pulled the small plastic microphone from its cradle and stretched the spiral cord over the seat。 'Guess it does；' he concluded。
Static erupted from the speaker； the scrambling transmitter electronically scanning and jamming the frequency。 The message would follow in seconds。 It did。
Treadstone？ Treadstone； confirm； please。'
Treadstone receiving；' said Major Gordon Webb。 'You're clear。 Go ahead。'
'What's your position？'
'About a mile south of the Triboro； East River Drive；' said the major。
'Your timing is acceptable；' came the voice from the speaker。 'Glad to hear…it。 It makes my day。。。 sir。' There was a brief pause； the major's ment not appreciated。 'Proceed to one…four…zero； Seven…one East。 Confirm by repeat。'
'One…four…zero； East Seventy…first。' 'Keep your vehicle out of the area。 Approach on foot。' 'Understood。' 'Out。'
'Out。' Webb snapped the transmission button in place and handed the microphone back to the driver。 'Forget that address； Sergeant。 Your name's on a very short file now。'
'Gotcha； Major。 Nothing but static on that thing anyway。 But since I don't know where it is and these wheels aren't supposed to go there； where do you want to be dropped off？〃
Webb smiled。 'No more than two blocks away。 I'd go to sleep in the gutter if I had to walk any further than that。' 'How about Lex and Seventy…second？' 'Is that two blocks？' 'No more than three。' 'If it's three you're a priv