The Bourne Legacy - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,178

their arms aloft in an unprecedented display of solidarity between the West and the East.

As the crowd slowly filed out, the mood was jubilant. And even the most jaded journalists and photographers agreed that the summit had gotten off to a sterling start.

"Do you realize that I'm on my third pair of Latex gloves?"

Stepan Spalko was at the scarred and blood-stained table, sitting on the chair Annaka had used the day before. In front of him was a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich, for which he'd developed a taste during his long convalescence between operations in the United States. The sandwich was on a plate of fine bone china, and at his right hand was a stemmed glass of finest crystal filled with a vintage Bordeaux.

"No matter. The hour grows late." He tapped the crystal of the chronometer on his wrist. "It occurs to me now, Mr. Bourne, that my marvelous entertainment is at an end. I must tell you what a wonderful night you've provided me." He barked a laugh. "Which is more than I did for you, I daresay."

His sandwich had been cut into two equal triangles, exactly to his specifications. He picked one up and bit into it, chewed slowly and luxuriously. "You know, Mr. Bourne, a bacon, lettuce and tomato sandwich is no good unless the bacon had been freshly cooked and, if possible, thickly sliced."

He swallowed, put down the sandwich and, grasping the crystal glass, swirled a measure of Bordeaux around in his mouth. Then he pushed back his chair, rose and went over to where Jason Bourne sat strapped into the dentist's chair. His head was lolled on his chest and there were blood spatters in a two-foot radius around him.

Spalko used a knuckle to lift Bourne's head. His eyes, dulled with end-less pain, were sunken into dark circles and his face appeared drained of blood. "Before I go, I must tell you the irony of it all. The hour of my triumph is upon us. It doesn't matter what you know. It doesn't matter whether you talked or not now. All that matters is that I have you here, safe and unable to act against me in any way." He laughed. "What a terrible price you've paid for your silence. And for what, Mr. Bourne? Nothing!"

Khan saw the guard standing in the corridor beside the elevator and went cautiously back down toward the door to the staircase. Through the wire-mesh reinforced glass panel he could see a pair of armed guards talking and smoking in the stairwell. Every fifteen seconds one or the other would glance out through the glass panel, checking the sixth-floor corridor. The stairs were too well defended.

He reversed himself. Striding down the corridor at a normal and relaxed pace, he drew the air gun he purchased from Oszkar and held it at his side. The instant the guard saw him, Khan raised the air gun, shot a dart into his neck. The man collapsed where he stood, rendered unconscious by the chemical in the dart's tip.

Khan broke into a run. He began to drag the guard into the men's room when the door opened and a second guard appeared, his machine pistol aimed at Khan's chest.

"Hold it right there," he said. "Throw down your weapon and let me see your empty hands."

Khan did as he was ordered. As he held out his hands for the guard to inspect, he touched a hidden spring-loaded sheath attached to the inner side of his wrist. The guard clapped one hand to his throat. The dart felt like an insect bite. But all at once he found that he couldn't see. That was the last thought he had before he, too, sank into unconsciousness.

Khan dragged both bodies into the men's room, then hit the call button on the wall panel. A moment later the two sets of doors opened as the elevator cab arrived. He got in and pressed the button for the fourth floor. The elevator began to descend, but as it passed the fifth floor, it jolted to a halt, hanging suspended. He pressed several floor buttons to no avail. The elevator was stuck, no doubt deliberately so. He knew he had very little time to escape from the trap Spalko had set for him.

Climbing up onto the handrail that ran around the cab, he stretched up-ward toward the maintenance hatch. He was about to open it when he stopped and peered more closely. What was that metallic glint? He took

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