By Robert Ludlum
#1 NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLER
His reminiscence is a clean. His bullet-ridden physique was once fished from the Mediterranean Sea. His face has been altered through cosmetic surgery. A body of microfilm has been surgically implanted in his hip. Even his identify is a secret. Marked for demise, he's racing for survival via a strange international of murderous conspirators—led through Carlos, the world’s most deadly murderer. who's Jason Bourne? the reply may possibly kill him.
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Additional info for The Bourne Identity: A Novel (Jason Bourne)
Lower than ten toes away used to be a small, brass-framed gate, flanked by way of a low wood railing that prolonged the width of the foyer. past the gate and the railing have been the desks of the lesser executives and at the back of them the desks of the key secretaries—five in all-in entrance of 5 doorways within the rear wall. Marie learn the identify revealed in gold script at the middle door. M. A. R. D’Amacourt Vice-President Comptes a L’Étranger et Devises it will take place any second now—if it used to be going to take place, if she was once correct. And if she was once, she needed to comprehend what Monsieur A. R. d’Amacourt gave the impression of; he stands out as the guy Jason may possibly achieve. succeed in him and seek advice from him, yet no longer within the financial institution. It occurred. there has been a flurry of managed task. The secretary on the table in entrance of d’Amacourt’s place of work rushed inside of along with her notepad, emerged thirty seconds later, and collected the telephone. She dialed 3 digits—an inside of call—and spoke, studying from her pad. mins handed; the door of d’Amacourt’s workplace opened and the vice-president stood within the body, an fearful government involved over an unwarranted hold up. He used to be a middle-aged guy with a face older than his age, yet striving to appear more youthful. His thinning darkish hair used to be singed and brushed to imprecise the bald spots; his eyes have been encased in small rolls of flesh, testifying to lengthy hours with sturdy wine. those self same eyes have been chilly, darting eyes, facts of a hard guy cautious of his atmosphere. He barked a query to his secretary; she twisted in her chair, doing her most sensible to keep up her composure. D’Amacourt went again inside of his place of work with out last the door, the cage of an offended cat left open. one other minute handed; the secretary saved glancing to her correct, something—for whatever. while she observed it, she exhaled, ultimate her eyes in reduction. From the some distance left wall, a eco-friendly gentle without warning seemed above panels of darkish wooden; an elevator used to be in use. Seconds later the door opened and an aged stylish guy walked out wearing a small black case now not a lot greater than his hand. Marie stared at it, experiencing either pride and worry; she had guessed correct. The black case were faraway from a private dossier inside of a guarded room and signed out via a guy past reproach or temptation—the aged determine making his well past the ranks of desks towards d’Amacourt’s workplace. The secretary rose from her chair, greeted the senior government and escorted him into d’Amacourt’s workplace. She got here out instantly, final the door at the back of her. Marie checked out her watch, her eyes at the sweep-second hand. She sought after yet one more fragment of proof, and it might be hers almost immediately if she may perhaps get past the gate, with a transparent view of the secretary’s table. If it was once going to occur, it's going to ensue in moments, the period short. She walked to the gate, commencing her handbag and smiling vacuously on the receptionist, who used to be conversing into her cellphone. She mouthed the identify d’Amacourt together with her lips to the bewildered receptionist, reached down and opened the gate.