"That was Scotty's idea," interrupted the doctor softly, concentrating on the wound. "Count me out. I'm too old."

"So's he but he doesn't know it. Then he wanted to advertise a reward to the tune of a hundred thousand for information leading to the et cetera! I finally convinced him that the less said the better."

"Nothing said is the best," added Jason. "That's the way it's got to be."

"That's a little tough, David," said St. Jacques, misunderstanding the sharp glance Bourne leveled at him. "I'm sorry, but it is. We're deflecting most of the local inquiries with an ersatz story about a massive propane-gas leak, but not too many people are buying it. Of course, to the world outside, an earthquake down here wouldn't rate six lines buried in the last pages of the want ads, but rumors are flying around the Leewards."

"You said local inquiries ... what about that world outside? Has there been anything from it?"

"There will be but not about here, not about Tranquility. Montserrat, yes, and the news will get a column in the London Times and maybe an inch in the New York and Washington papers, but I don't think it'll touch us."

"Stop being so cryptic."

"We'll talk later."

"Say whatever you like, John," broke in the doctor. "I'm just about finished, so I'm not paying much attention, and even if I heard you, I'm entitled to."

"I'll make it brief," said St. Jacques, walking to the right of the chair. "The Crown governor," he continued. "You were right, at least I have to assume you were right."

"Why?"

"The news came in while you were getting cleaned up. The CG's boat was found smashed on one of the nastier reefs off Antigua, halfway to Barbuda. There was no sign of survivors. Plymouth assumes it was one of those whipsaw squalls that can come out of south Nevis, but it's hard to swallow. Not a squall necessarily, but the circumstances."

"Which were?"

"His usual two crewmen weren't with him. He dismissed them at the yacht club, saying he wanted to take the boat out by himself, yet he told Henry he was going out for the running big fish-"

"Which means he would've had to have a crew," interrupted the Canadian physician. "Oh, sorry."

"Yes, he would've," agreed the owner of Tranquility Inn. "You can't fish the big fellas and skipper a boat at the same time-at least the CG couldn't. He was afraid to take his eyes off the charts."

"But he could read them, couldn't he?" asked Jason. "The charts?"

"As a navigator, he was no Captain Bligh sailing by the Pacific stars, but he was good enough to stay out of trouble."

"He was told to go out alone," said Bourne. "Ordered to rendezvous with a boat in waters that called for him to really keep his eyes on the charts." Jason suddenly realized that the doctor's nimble fingers were no longer touching his neck; instead, there was the constricting bandage and the physician was standing beside him looking down. "How are we doing?" asked Bourne, looking up, an appreciative smile creasing his lips.

"We're done," said the Canadian.

"Well ... then I think we'd better meet later, for a drink, all right?"

"Good heavens, you're just getting to the good part."

"It's not good, Doctor, it's not good at all, and I'd be a very ungrateful patient-which I'm not-if I even unwittingly let you hear things I don't think you should hear."

The elderly Canadian locked his eyes with Jason's. "You mean that, don't you? In spite of everything that's happened, you really don't want to involve me any further. And you're not playing melodramatic games, secrecy for secrecy's sake-an old dodge for inferior doctors, incidentally-but you're really concerned, aren't you?"

"I guess I am."

"Considering what's happened to you, and I don't just mean these past few hours, which I've been a part of, but what the scars on your body tell me you've been through before, it's rather remarkable that you can be concerned for anyone but yourself. You're a strange man, Mr. Webb. At times you even sound like two different people."

"I'm not strange, Doctor," said Jason Bourne, momentarily closing his eyes, his lids briefly tight. "I don't want to be strange or different or anything exotic at all. I want to be as normal and ordinary as the next fellow, no games at all. I'm just a teacher, and that's all I want to be. But in the present circumstances, I have to do things my way."

"Which means I leave for my own benefit?"

"Yes, it does."

"And if I ever learn all the facts, I'll realize that your instructions were very educational."

"I hope so."

"I'll bet you're one hell of a teacher, Mr. Webb."

"Doctor Webb," interjected John St. Jacques spontaneously, as if the clarification were mandatory. "My brother-in-law's a doctor, too. Like my sister, he's got a Ph.D.; he speaks a couple of Oriental languages and is a full professor. Places like Harvard, McGill and Yale have been after him for years, but he won't budge-"

"Will you please be quiet," said Bourne, close to laughing, albeit kindly, at his wife's brother. "My entrepreneurial young friend is impressed with any alphabet after a name despite the fact that left to my own resources I couldn't afford one of these villas for more than a couple of days."

"That's a crock."

"I said my own resources."

"You've got a point."

"I've got a rich wife. ... Forgive us, Doctor, it's an old family argument."

"Not only a good teacher," the physician repeated, "but under the grim exterior I suspect a very engaging one." The Canadian walked to the door; he turned and added, "I'll take you up on that drink later, I'd really like that."

"Thanks," said Jason. "Thanks for everything." The doctor nodded and left, closing the door firmly behind him. Bourne turned to his brother-in-law. "He's a good friend, Johnny."

"Actually, he's a cold fish but a hell of a doctor. That's the most human I've ever seen him. ... So you figure the Jackal had the Crown governor meet him somewhere off the Antigua coast, got the CG's information, killed him, and fed him to the sharks."

"Conveniently foundering the boat in reef waters," completed Jason. "Perhaps opening the throttle and setting a short high-speed course into the shoals. A tragedy at sea and a link to Carlos vanishes-that's vital to him."

"That's also something I have trouble with," said St. Jacques. "I didn't go into it, but the section of reef north of Falmouth where he bought it is called Devil's Mouth, and it's not the kind of place that's advertised. Charters just stay away from it, and no one boasts about the number of lives and boats it's claimed."

"So?"

"So assuming the Jackal told the CG where to rendezvous, someplace obviously close to Devil's Mouth, how the hell did the Jackal know about it?"

"Your two commandos didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what? I sent them right over to Henry to give him a full report while we took care of you. There wasn't time to sit down and talk and I figured every moment counted."

"Then Henry knows by now; he's probably in shock. He's lost two drug boats in two days, and only one is likely to be paid for, and he still doesn't know about his boss, the so honorable Crown governor, lackey of the Jackal who made fools of the Foreign Office by passing off a small-time Paris hit man as a venerable hero of France. The wires will be burning all night between Government House and Whitehall."

"Another drug boat? What are you trying to tell me? What does Henry know now-what could my guards tell him?"

"Your question a minute ago was how did the Jackal know about the reef off the coast of Antigua called Devil's Mouth."

"Take my word for it, Doctor Webb, I remember the question. How could he?"

"Because he had a third man here, that's what your Royal Commandos have told Henry by now. A blond-haired son of a bitch who heads up Montserrat's drug patrols."