a long- term veteran. Someone a few years older would probably have been given clearance, told about the renegade battalion that was still held in deep cover. Webb looked at the names on his list and at the corresponding telephone numbers. He picked up the phone.
'Hello?'A male voice.
'Is this Samuel Teasdale?'
'Yeah, that's right. Who are you?'
'I'm glad you answered the phone and not your wife. '
The wife's standard where possible,' said Teasdale, suddenly cautious. 'Mine's no longer available. She's sailing somewhere in the Caribbean with someone I never knew about. Now that you know my life's story, who the hell are you?'
'Jason Bourne, remember?'
' Webb?'
"\ vaguely remember that name,' said David.
'Why are you calling me?'
'You were friendly. Down in Virginia you told me to call you Sam. '
'Okay, okay, David, you're right. I told you to call me Sam that's what I am to my friends, Sam...' Teasdale was bewildered, upset, searching for words. 'But that was almost a year ago, Davey, and you know the rules. You're given a person to talk to, either on the scene or over at State. That's the one you should reach that's the person who's up to date on everything. '
'Aren't you up to date, Sam?"
'Not about you, no. I remember the directive; it was dropped on our desks a couple of weeks after you left Virginia. All inquiries, regarding "said subject, et cetera" were to be bumped up to Section whatever-the-hell-it was, "said subject" having full access and in direct touch with deputies on the scene and in the Department. 'and my direct-access contact has disappeared. '
'What about your wife? What are you talking about?'
'She's gone, you bastard - all of you, bastards! You let it happen!' Webb grabbed his wrist, gripping it with all his strength to stop the trembling. 'I want answers, Sam. 1 want to know who cleared the way, who turned] I've got an idea who it is but I need answers to nail him - nail all of you, if I have to. '
'Hold it right there!' broke in Teasdale angrily. 'If you're trying to compromise me, you're doing a rotten fucking job of it! This boy's not for neutering. Get off. Go sing to your head doctors, not to me! I don't have to talk to you, all I have to do is report the fact that you called me, which I'll do the second I cut you loose. I'll also add that I got hit with a bucket of bullshit! Take care of that head of yours-'
'Medusa!' cried Webb. 'No one wants to talk about codename Medusa, do they? Even today it's way down deep in the vaults, isn't it?'
There was no click on the line this time. Teasdale did not hang up. Instead, he spoke flatly, no comment in his voice. 'Rumours,' he said. 'Like Hoover's raw files - raw meat -good for stories over a few belts, but not worth a hell of a lot. '
'I'm not a rumour, Sam. I live, I breathe, I go to the toilet and I sweat - like I'm sweating now. That's not a rumour. '
'You've had your problems, Davey. '
'1 was there! I fought with Medusa! Some people said I was the best, or the worst. It's why I was chosen, why I became Jason Bourne. '
'I wouldn't know about that. We never discussed it, so I wouldn't know. Did we ever discuss it, Davey?'
'Stop using that goddamned name. I'm not Davey. "
'We were "Sam" and "Davey" in Virginia, don't you remember?' '
That doesn't matter! We all played games. Morris Panov was our referee, until one day you decided to get rough. '
'I apologized,' said Teasdale gently. 'We all have bad days.
I told you about my wife. '
'I'm not interested in your wife! I'm interested in mine! And I'll rip open Medusa unless I get some answers, some help?
'I'm sure you can get whatever help you think you need if you'll just call your contact at State. '
'He's not there! He's gone!'
Then ask for his back-up. You'll be processed. '
"Processed] Jesus, what are you, a robot?'
'Just a man trying to do his job, Mr Webb, and I'm afraid I can't do any more for you. Good night.' The click came and Teasdale was off the phone.
There was another man, thought David at fever pitch, as he stared at the list, squinting as the sweat filled his eye sockets. An