ains on a high…angle post； was caught in the spill。
L'Arbalete。 The general was meeting someone for dinner at an out…of…the…way restaurant； not in the suburb of Nanterre but close by。 In the country。
Bourne drove past the entrance and pulled off the shoulder of the road； the right side of the car covered by foliage； he had to think things out。。。 he had to control himself。 There was a fire in his mind； it was growing； spreading。 He was suddenly consumed by an extraordinary possibility。
Considering the shattering events … the enormity of the embarrassment experienced by Carlos last night at the motel in Montrouge； it was more than likely that Andrel Villiers had been summoned to an out…of…the…way restaurant for an emergency meeting。 Perhaps even with Carlos himself。 If that was the case； the premises would be guarded； and a man whose photograph had been distributed to those guards would be shot the instant he was recognized。 On the other hand； the chance to observe a nucleus belonging to Carlos … or Carlos himself …was an opportunity that might never e again。 He had to get inside L'Arbalete。 There was a pulsion within him to take the risk。 Any risk！ It was crazy！ But then he was not sane。 Sane as a man with a memory was sane。 Carlos。 Find Carlos！ Cod in heaven； why？
He felt the gun in his belt； it was secure。 He got out and put on his overcoat； covering the jacket with the lettering across the back。 He picked up a narrow…brimmed hat from the seat； the cloth soft； angled down on all sides； it would cover his hair。 Then he tried to remember if he had been wearing the tortoise…shell glasses when the photograph was taken in Argenteuil。 He had not； he had removed them at the table when successive bolts of pain had seared through his head； brought on by words that told him of a past too familiar； too frightening to face； He felt his shirt pocket； the glasses were there if he needed them。 He pressed the door closed and started for the woods。
The glare of the restaurant floodlights filtered through the trees； growing brighter with each several yards； less foliage to block the light。 Bourne reached the edge of the short patch of forest； the gravelled parking area in front of him。 He was at the side of the rustic restaurant； a row of small windows running the length of the building； flickering candles beyond the glass illuminating the figures of the diners。 Then his eyes were drawn to the first floor … although it did not extend the length of the building but only halfway； the rear section an open terrace。 The enclosed part； however； was similar to the ground floor。 A line of windows； a bit larger； perhaps； but still in a row； and again glowing with candles。 Figures were milling about； but they were different from the diners below。
They were all men。 Standing； not sitting； moving casually； glasses in hands； cigarette smoke spiralling over their heads。 It was impossible to tell how many … more than ten； less than twenty； perhaps。
There he was； crossing from one group to another； the white beard a beacon； switching on and off as it was intermittently blocked by figures nearer the windows。 General Villiers had； indeed； driven out to Nanterre for a meeting； and the odds favoured a conference that dealt with the failures of the past forty…eight hours； failures that permitted a man named Cain to remain alive。
The odds。 What were the odds？ Where were the guards？ How many； and where were their stations？ Keeping behind the edge of the woods； Bourne side…stepped his way towards the front of the restaurant； bending branches silently； his feet over the underbrush。 He stood motionless； watching for men concealed in the foliage or in the shadows of the building。 He saw none； and retraced his path； breaking new ground until he reached the rear of the restaurant
A door opened； the spill of light harsh； and a man hi a white jacket emerged。 He stood for a moment； cupping his hands； lighting a cigarette。 Bourne looked to the left； to the right； above to the terrace； no one appeared。 A guard stationed in the area would have been alarmed by the sudden light ten feet below the conference。 There were no guards outside。 Protection found … as it had to be at Villiers's house in Pare Monceau … within the building itself。
Another man appeared in the doorway； also wearing a white jacket； but with the addition of a chef's hat。 His voice was angry； his French laced with the guttural dialect of Gascony。 'While you piss off； we sweat！ The pastry cart is half empty。 Fill it。 Now； you bastard！'
The pastry man turned and shrugged； he crushed out his cigarette and went back inside； closing the door behind him。 The light vanished； only the wash of the moon remained； but it was enough to illuminate the terrace。 There was no one there； no guard patrolling the wide double doors that led to the inside room。
Carlos。 Find Carlos。 Trap Carlos。 Cain is for Charlie； and Delta is for Cain。
Bourne judged the distance and the obstacles。 He was no more than forty feet from the rear of the building； ten or twelve below the railing that bordered the terrace。 There were two vents in the exterior wall； vapour escaping from both and next to them a drainpipe that was within reach of the railing。 If he could scale the pipe and manage to get a toehold in the lower vent； he would be able to grab a rung of the railing and pull himself up to the terrace。 But be could do none of this wearing the overcoat； he took it off； placing it at his feet； the soft…brimmed hat on top； and covered both with undergrowth。 Then he stepped to the edge of the woods and raced as quietly as possible across the gravel to the drainpipe。
In the shadows he tugged at the fluted metal； it was strongly in place。 He reached as high as he could； then sprang up； gripping the pipe； his feet pressed into the wall； pedalling one on top of the other until his left foot was parallel to the first vent。 Holding on； he slipped his foot into the recess； and propelled himself further up the drain。 He was within eighteen inches of the railing； one surge launched from the vent and he could reach the bottom rung。
The door crashed open beneath him； white light shooting across the gravel into the woods。 A figure plummeted out； weaving to maintain its balance； followed by the white…hatted chef who was screaming。
'You piss…ant！ You're drunk； that's what you are！ You've been drunk the whole shit…filled night！ Pastries all over the dining…room floor。。。 everything a mess。 Get out； you'll not get a sou！'
The door was pulled shut； the sound of a bolt unmistakably final。 Jason held onto the pipe； arms and ankles aching； rivulets of sweat breaking out on his forehead。 The man below staggered backwards； making obscene gestures repeatedly with his right hand for the benefit of the chef who was no longer there。 His glazed eyes wandered up the wall； settling on Bourne's face。 Jason held his breath as their eyes met； the man stared； then blinked； and stared again。 He shook his head； closing his lids； then opened them wide； taking in the sight he was not entirely sure was there。 He backed away； lurching into a sideslip and a forward walk； obviously deciding that the apparition halfway up the wall was the result of his pressured labours。 He weaved around the corner of the building； a man more at peace with himself for having rejected the foolishness that had assaulted his eyes。
Bourne breathed again； letting his body slump against the wall in relief。 But it was only for a moment； the ache in his ankle had descended to his foot； a cramp forming。 He lunged； grabbing the iron bar that was the base of the railing with his right hand； whipping his left up from the drainpipe； joining it。 He pressed his knees into the tiles and pulled himself slowly up the wall until his head was over the edge of the terrace。 It was deserted。 He kicked his right leg up to the ledge； his right hand reaching for the wrought…iron top； balanced； he swung over the railing。
He was on a terrace used for dining in the spring and summer months； a tiled floor that could acmodate ten to fifteen tables。 In the centre of the wall separating the enclosed section from the terrace were the wide double doors he had seen from the woods。 The figures ins