Saturday, July 31st, 2010

Time	Event
1:19a	Uniformed men leaped out from every door, and... Uniformed men leaped out from every door, and contrary to anything he expected to see, each scrambled to the borders of the fence, behind the cars and the vans, one after another dashing from one vehicle to another to the open gate that led to the guardhouse and the tunnel There was a break in space, in timeIn men! The last four escapees from the second car were suddenly three—and only moments later did the fourth appear-but he was not the same—the uniform was not the same! There were specks of orange and red, and the visored officer’s cap was laced with gold ribbing, the visor itself too prominent for the American army, the crown of the cap too pointedAnd, suddenly, Bourne understoodFragments of his memories spiraled back years to Madrid or Casavieja, when he was tracing the Jackal’s contracts with the FalangistsIt was a Spanish uniform! That was it! Carlos had infiltrated through the Spanish compound, and as his Russian was fluent, he was using the high-ranking uniform to make his escape from Novgorod Jason lurched to his feet, his automatic drawn, and ran across the graveled lot, his left hand reaching into his field jacket pocket for his second-to-last flareHe pulled the release and hurled the fired stalk above the cars, beyond the fenceBenjamin would not see it from the guardhouse and mistake it for the signal to close the gates of the tunnel; that signal would come shortly—in seconds, perhaps—but at the moment it was premature, omega aqua terra watch again perhaps by seconds “Eto srochno!” roared one of the escaping men, spinning around and panicked at the sight of the hissing, blinding flare “Skoryeye!” shouted another, passing three companions and racing toward the open section of the fenceAs the whirling searchlights continued their maniacal spinning, Bourne counted the seven figures as one by one they dashed away from the last car and passed through the opening, joining the excited crowds at the mouth of the tunnelThe eighth man did not appear; the highranking Spanish uniform was nowhere in sightThe Jackal was trapped! Now! Jason whipped out his last flare, yanked the release, and threw it with all his strength over the stream of rushing men and women at the guardhouseDo it, Ben! he screamed in silence as he removed the next-to-last grenade from the pocket of his field jacketDo it now! As if in answer to his fevered plea, a thunderous roar came from the tunnel, round after round of hysterical protestations punctuated by screams and shrieks and wailing chaosTwo rapid, deafening bursts of automatic gunfire preceded unintelligible commands over the speakers, shouted in RussianAnother burst and the same voice continued, louder, even more authoritative, as the crowd momentarily but perceptibly quieted down, only to suddenly resume screaming at full volumeBourne glanced over, astonished to see through the beams of the spinning searchlights the figure of Benjamin now standing on the roof cartier tank louis cartier of the concrete guardhouseThe young trainer was Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM 433 shouting into the microphone, exhorting the crowd to follow his instructions, whatever they wereAnd whatever they were, they were being obeyed! The multitude gradually, then gathering momentum, began reversing direction—then, as a single unit, started racing back into the street! Benjamin ignited his flare and waved it, pointing to the northHe was sending Jason his own signalNot only was the tunnel shut down but the crowds were being dispersed without anyone being shot with the AK-47There had been a better way Bourne dropped to the ground, his eyes scanning the under sides of the stationary vehicles, the spewing flame beyond lighting up the open spacesA pair of legs—in boots! Behind the third automobile on the left, no more than twenty yards from the break in the fence that led to the tunnel Carlos was his! The end was at last in sight! No time! Do what you have to do and do it quickly! He dropped his weapon on the gravel, gripped the grenade in his right hand, pulled the pin, grabbed the 5 with his left hand and lurched off the ground, racing forwardRoughly thirty feet from the car he dived back down into the gravel, turned sideways and heaved the grenade under the automobile—only at the last instant, the small bomb having left his hand, realizing that he had made a terrible error! The legs behind the car did not move—the boots remained in place, dior saddle bags for they were just that, boots! He lunged to his right, rolling furiously over the sharp stones, shielding his face, curling his body into the smallest mass he could manage The explosion was deafening, the lethal debris joining the whirling beams of the searchlights in the night sky, fragments of metal and glass stinging Jason’s back and legsMove, move! screamed the voice in his mind’s ears as he lurched to his knees, then to his feet in the smoke and fire of the burning automobileAs he did so the gravel erupted all around him; he zigzagged wildly toward the protection of the nearest vehicle, a square-shaped vanHe was hit twice, in his shoulder and thigh! He spun around the wall of the van at the precise moment when the large windshield was blown away “You’re no match for me, Jason Bourne!” screamed Carlos the Jackal, his automatic weapon on rapid fire“You never were! You are a pretender, a fraud!” “So be it,” roared Bourne“Then come and get me!” Jason raced to the driver’s door, yanked it open, then ran to the back of the vehicle where he crouched, his face to the edge, his Colt 5 angled straight up next to his cheekWith a final hissing expulsion, the flare beyond the fence burned itself out as the Jackal stopped his continuous fireCarlos faced the open door, unsure, indecisive Metal against metal; a gun barrel was rammed against the door, slamming it shutNow! Jason spun around the edge of the van, his weapon exploding, firing into the chanel jumbo flap bag Spanish uniform, blowing the gun out of the Jackal’s handsOne, two, three; the shells flew in the air—and then they stopped! They stopped, the explosions replaced by a sickening, jamming click as the round in the chamber failed to ejectCarlos lurched to the ground for his weapon, his left arm limp and bleeding but his right hand still strong, clutching the gun like the claw of a crazed animal Bourne whipped his bayonet out of its scabbard- and sprang forward, slicing the blade down toward the Jackal’s forearmHe was too late! Carlos held the weapon! Jason lunged up, his left hand clasping the hot barrel—hold on, hold on! You can’t let it go! Twist it! Clockwise! Use the bayonet—no, don’t! Drop it! Use both hands! The conflicting commands clashed in his head, madnessHe had no breath, no strength; his eyes could not focus—the shoulderLike Bourne himself, the Jackal was wounded in his right shoulder! Hold on! Reach the shoulder but hold on! With a last, gasping final surge, Bourne shot up and crashed Carlos back into the side of the van, pummeling the wounded areaThe Jackal screamed, dropping the weapon, then kicked it under the vehicle Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM 434 Where the blow came from, Jason at first did not know; he only knew that the left side of his skull seemed suddenly split in twoThen he realized that he had done it to himself! He had slipped on the blood-covered gravel, and had crashed into the metal grille of the hermes vintage van (Comment on this)
1:39a	Croft was okay, you just had to approach him on... Croft was okay, you just had to approach him on the right tackIt was all right when you could buddy with the noncoms over you Yet Stanley had been very tense all the while he had been talking to CroftIn his first weeks in the platoon he had acted similarly toward Brown, but now that tension was switched to CroftStanley never said anything to him without some purposeIt was an automatic process, howeverHe never thought consciously, It's a good idea to agree with CroftAt the moment he believed what he was saying; his mind worked more quickly, more effectively than his speech, so that sometimes Stanley was almost surprised at his own words"Yeah, Wilson's an odd guy," he muttered Yet for a moment Stanley was depressedPerhaps he had started to buddy with Croft too lateWhat good was it black chanel tote to him now that the Lieutenant had come into the platoon? One of the reasons he resented Hearn was that he had hoped Croft would be commissioned, and there might have been a chance for him to fill the vacancyHe could not visualize either Martinez or Brown as platoon sergeantActually, this ambition was vague precisely because he did not want to halt thereStanley had no single goal; his dreams were always vague Indeed, as they talked, Croft and Stanley were sensing a similarity between themselves, and it drew them togetherCroft felt a mild affection for himThis Stanley kid ain't too bad, he told himself The deck under their feet shuddered as the boat slapped against a few wavesThe sun was almost down, and the sky overhead was clouding overIt was the least bit chill, and they drew omega ladies watch closer to light cigarettes Gallagher had worked his way up to the bowHe stood quiet beside them, his thin knotted body shivering a littleThey listened to the water sloshing about the bottom of the boat"One minute you're hot, and then you're cold," Gallagher muttered Stanley smiled at himHe felt it necessary to be tactful with Gallagher since his wife had died and it irked himBasically, he had only contempt for Gallagher and annoyance, for Gallagher made him uncomfortable"How're you feeling, boy?" Stanley said, however But Gallagher was depressedThe grayness of the sky made him mournful; he had been exceptionally sensitive to the moods of the weather since Mary's death, and often now he languished in a gentle melancholy close to easy tearsHe felt little volition, and surprisingly dolce and gabbana knock off little bitterness; the fa?ade of anger remained, even erupted occasionally in a spate of profanity, but Red and Wilson and one or two of the others had recognized the change"Yeah, I'm all right," he muttered againStanley's sympathy irritated him, for he sensed it to be false; Gallagher was more perceptive now He wondered why he had come up beside them, and thought of moving back to his cot, but it was warmer hereThe bow lurched and bumped under his feet and he grunted"How long are they gonna keep us here like goddam sardines?" he growled Croft and Stanley, after a pause, were talking about the patrol again, and Gallagher listened with resentment"You know what the mother-fugger'll be like?" he blurted"We'll be lucky to get out of there with our goddam heads on He felt a quick remorse mulberry leather bag which was mixed with fearI got to cut out that swearing, he told himselfIn the past week and a half since the last letter had come, Gallagher had been making attempts to reformHis profanity was sinful, he believed, and he was afraid of more retribution The talk about the patrol frightened him, and his remorse at swearing added to thisOnce again Gallagher saw himself lying dead in a field, and it loosed a nervous flush along his back which prickled painfullyHe could see the dead Japanese soldier whom Croft had killed, still lying in the green draw Stanley ignored him"What do you figure on doin' if we can't get through the pass?" It was important to know all these things, he told himself; he might end up in command of the platoonYou could never tell what kind of accidents there silver handbags migh (Comment on this)

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