@@@@@This has to be our man; he’s got a
@@@@@This has to be our man; he’s got a telephone
satchel strapped to his beltHe’s heading for the doorwayIt’s all yours, Emperor Jones
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
292
“Funny little white boyI’ve got him and I can tell you now he’s a soft chocolate mousse
He’s scared shitless to go into this palace
“Which means he’s legitimate,” said the metallic voice in the collar
“That’s bad, junior,” countered the black agent instantly
“If you’re right, he doesn’t know anything, and the layers between him and the source will be as
thick as Southern molasses
“Oh? Then how do you read it?”
“On-scene techI have to see the numbers when he programs them into his troubleshooter
“What the hell does that mean?”
“He may be legit, but he’s also been frightened and not by the premises
“What does that mean?”
“It’s all over his face, manHe could enter in false numbers if he thinks he’s being followed or
watched
“You’ve lost me, buddy
“He has to duplicate the digits that correspond to the remote so the beeps can be relayed—”
“Forget it,” said the voice from the back of the collar“That high-tech I’m notBesides, we got a
man down at that company, Reco-something-or-other, now
“Then I’ve got work to doOut, but keep me monitored The agent rose from the pavement and
unsteadily made his way into the dilapidated buildingThe telephone repairman had reached the
second floor, where he turned right in the narrow, filthy corridor; he had obviously been there
before, as there was no hesitation, no checking the barely legible numbers on the doorsThings
were going to be a little easier, considered the CIA man, grateful because his assignment was
beyond the purview of the AgencyPurview, shit, it was illegal
The agent took the steps three at a time, his soft double-soled rubber shoes reducing the noise to
the inevitable creaks of an old stairc