@@@@@He twisted the knob and slipped outside,
@@@@@He
twisted the knob and slipped outside, pulling the automatic from his belt, shutting the right door,
and crouching, making his way to the shrubbery at the edge of the grassHe had to move quickly
Not only was there a third life in the balance, a third unrelated, unwarranted death, but a killer who
could be his shortcut to the crimes of the new Medusa, and those crimes were his bait for the
Jackal! A diversion, a magnet, a trap the flares—part of the equipment he had brought with him
to ManassasThe two emergency “candles” were in his left rear pocket, each six inches long and
bright enough to be seen for miles; ignited together yet spaced apart they would light up Swayne’s
property like two searchlightsOne in the south drive, the other by the kennels, possibly waking the
drugged dogs, bewildering them, infuriating them—Do it! Hurry
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
135
Jason scrambled across the lawn, his eyes darting everywhere, wondering where the stalking
killer was and how the innocent quarry that Cactus had enlisted was evading himOne was
experienced, the other not, and Bourne could not permit the latter’s life to be wasted
It happened! He had been spotted! Two cracks on either side of him, bullets from a silenced
pistol slicing the airHe reached the south leg of the paved drive and, racing across it, dived into
the foliageRipping a flare from his pocket, he put down the weapon, snapped up the flame of his
lighter, ignited the fuse and threw the sizzling candle to his rightIt landed on the road; in seconds
it would spew out the blinding fireHe ran to his left beneath the pine trees toward the rear of the
estate, his lighter and the second flare in one hand, the automatic in the otherHe was parallel to the
kennels; the flare in the road exploded into bluish-white flamesHe ignited the second and threw it
end over end, arcing it forty yards away to the front of the kennels
The second flare burst into sputtering fire, two balls of blinding white light eerily illuminating
the house and grounds of the estate’s south sideThree of the dogs began to wail, then made feeble
attempts to howl; soon their confused anger would be heardAgainst the west wall of
the white house—it moved, caught in the light between the flare by the kennels and the houseThe
figure darted for the protection of the shrubbery; it crouched, an immobile but intrusive part of the
silhouetted foliageWas it the killer or the killer’s target, the last “brother” recruited by Cactus?
There was one way to find out, and if it was the former and he was a decent marksman, it was not
the best tactic, but still it was the quickest
Bourne leaped up from the underbrush, yelling in full view as he lunged to his right, at the last
half second plunging his foot into the soft dirt and pivoting, lowering his body and diving to his
left“Head for the cabin!” he roaredAnd he got his answerTwo more spits, two more cracks in
the air, the bullets digging up the earth to his righ