The Bourne Deception - By Robert Ludlum & Eric van Lustbader Page 0,68
hurrying down the ramp. Now that hed ascertained the place of Bournes meet, he was prepared to close in on his quarry.
Bourne found himself in a small anteroom filled with wooden bins containing food for the bulls and an enormous soapstone sink with outsize zinc spout and taps, beneath which sat buckets, cloths, mops, and plastic bottles of cleaning fluids. The floor was covered with straw, which absorbed only a minuscule part of the stench. The bull, hidden behind a concrete barrier that rose to Bournes chest, snorted and bellowed, scenting his presence. The frenzied shouts of the crowd broke like waves over the toril, above which sunlight, multicolored from the reflections spinning off the costume of the matador and the outfits of the patrons, splashed across the upper walls of the pen like an artists broad and reckless brushstrokes.
Bourne drew a cloth from one of the buckets and was halfway across the anteroom when the door behind him opened so slowly one needed to be looking straight at it to be aware of the movement. Putting his back to the barrier, he moved to his left, toward the part of the room where the opening door would block Scarfaces view of him.
The bull, frightened, angered, or both by the sudden new human scents, struck the concrete barrier with its hooves, the force so powerful it sent bits of stucco flying on Bournes side. Scarface seemed to hesitate, no doubt trying to identify the noise. Bourne was almost certain that he had no idea that the next bull was waiting here for its turn to die a bellowing death in the corrida. It was a creature of pure muscle and instinct, easily provoked, easily bewildered, fast and deadly unless brought low by exhaustion and a hundred wounds out of which its life dribbled into the dust of the corrida.
Bourne crept behind the door as it slowly opened, as Scarfaces left hand appeared holding a knife with a long, slender blade shaped like that of the matadors sword. The wicked tip was tilted slightly up, a position from which he could thrust it, slash it, or throw it with equal ease.
Bourne wrapped the cloth around the knuckles of his left hand, providing sufficient padding. He let Scarface take one tentative step into the anteroom and then rushed him from the side. The killers instinct caused the blade to come up and out in a semicircular sweep as he turned toward the blur of motion he detected at the extreme corner of his field of vision.
Deflecting the blade with wrapped knuckles caused Scarfaces defense to open up, and Bourne stepped in, planting his feet, turning from his hips, and drove his right fist into Scarfaces solar plexus. The killer gasped almost inaudibly and his eyes opened in a moment of shock, but an instant later hed wrapped his right arm around Bournes, locking the back of his hand against the inside of Bournes elbow. Instantly he applied both pressure and leverage in an attempt to break the bones in Bournes forearm.
Pain shot up Jasons arm, and he faltered. Scarface took the opening and brought the knife blade down, inside Bournes wrapped left hand so that the point was directed at Bournes rib cage. He couldnt concentrate on both motions at once, so he let up fractionally on Bournes forearm long enough to drive the blade inward toward Bournes heart.
Bourne stepped into the lunge, surprising him. Bourne was suddenly too close and the blade passed along his side, allowing him to trap Scarfaces hand between his side and his left arm. At the same time, he kept his forward momentum going, driving Scarface across the room at an angle, backing him up against the stucco barrier.
Scarface, enraged, redoubled his efforts to break Bournes arm. A moment more and the bones would snap. On the other side of the barrier, the bull scented the blood in the air, which further maddened it. Once again, its great hooves struck the barrier. The shock reverberated down Scarfaces spine and jolted him from his position of superior leverage.
For a moment Bourne broke free, but Scarface had maneuvered the knife in his trapped hand so that the blade raked down Bournes back, drawing blood. Bourne swiveled, but the knife blade followed him, jabbing ever closer until he vaulted over the barrier.
Scarface followed without hesitation, and now both of them were in unknown territory, facing not only each other but the enraged bull as well.