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Tell them to clear it ?Krupkin said?? ?I don?t give a damn what he said! Tell them to shut down the elevators, barricade all staircase exits, and stay the hell away from this floor!? ?I see what you mean?? Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM 390 ?Do it!? Bourne raced down the hallway, wincing as he approached the couple who lay on the carpet; each moved, groaningTheir clothes were spotted with blood, but they moved! He turned and yelled to Alex, who was limping around the room-service table?Get help up here!? he ordered, pointing at an exit door directly down the corridor?They?re alive! Use that exit and only that one!? The hunt began, compounded and impeded by the fact that the word had been spread throughout these adjacent wings of the Metropole?s tenth floorIt took no imagination to realize that behind the closed doors, along both sides of the hallways, panicked calls were being made to the front desk as the sound of nearby gunfire echoed throughout the corridorsKrupkin?s strategy for a KGB assault team in civilian clothes had been nullified by the first burst from the Jackal?s weapon Where was he? There was another exit door at the far end of the long hallway Jason had entered, but there were perhaps fifteen to eighteen guest-room doors lining that hallwayCarlos was no fool, and a wounded Carlos would call upon every tactic he could summon from a long life of violence and survival to survive, if only long enough to achieve the kill he gucci bag black wanted more than life itself Bourne suddenly realized how accurate his analysis was, for he was describing himselfWhat had old Fontaine said on Tranquility Isle, in that faraway storeroom from which they had stared down at the procession of priests knowing that one had been bought by the Jackal? ?Two aging lions stalking each other, not caring who?s killed in the cross fire??those had been Fontaine?s words, a man who had sacrificed his life for another he barely knew because his own life was over, for the woman he loved was goneAs Jason started cautiously, silently down the hall toward the first door on the left, he wondered if he could do the sameHe wanted desperately to live?with Marie and their children?but if she was gone would life really matter? Could he throw it away if he recognized something in another man that reflected something in himself? No timeMeditate on your own time, David Webb! I have no use for you, you weak, soft son of a bitchGet away from me! I have to flush out a bird of prey I?ve wanted for thirteen yearsHis claws are razor-sharp and he?s killed too often, too many, and now he wants to kill my own?your ownGet away from me! BloodstainsOn the dull, dark brown carpet, wet driblets glistening in the dim overhead light Bourne crouched and felt them; they were wet; they were red?bloodredUnbroken, they passed the first door, then the second, remaining on the left?then they crossed the hall, the pattern now altered, no longer steady, 925 tiffany's necklace instead zigzagging, as if the wound had been located, the bleeding partially stemmedThe trail passed the sixth door on the right, and the seventh then abruptly the shining red drops stopped?no, not entirelyThere was a trickle heading left, barely visible, and again, across the hallway?there it was! A faint smudge of red just above the knob on the eighth door on the left, no more than twenty feet from the corridor?s exit staircaseCarlos was behind that door holding hostage whoever was inside Precision was everything now, every movement, every sound concentrated on the capture or the killBreathing steadily while imposing a suspension of the muscular spasms he felt everywhere throughout his body, Bourne once more walked silently, now retracing his steps up the hallwayHe reached a point roughly thirty paces away from the eighth door on the left and turned around, suddenly aware of a muted chorus of sporadic sobs and cries that came from closed doorways along the hotel corridorOrders had been given couched in language far removed from Krupkin?s instructions: Stay inside your rooms, pleaseOur people are investigatingIt was always ?our people,? never ?the police,? never ?the authorities?; with those names came panicAnd panic was precisely what Medusa?s Delta One had in mindPanic and diversion, eternal components for the human snare, lifelong allies in the springing trap Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM 391 He raised the Graz Burya automatic, aiming at dolce and gabbana one of the ornate hallway chandeliers, and fired twice, simultaneously shouting furiously as the earsplitting explosions accompanied the shattered glass that plummeted from the ceiling?There he goes! A black suit!? His feet pounding, Bourne ran with loud emphatic strides down the corridor to the eighth door on the left, then past the door, shouting once againthe exit!? He abruptly stopped, firing a third shot into another chandelier, the jarring cacophony covering the absent noise of his pounding feet as he spun around, throwing his back against the opposing wall of the eighth door, then pushing himself away, hurling his body at the door and crashing into it, smashing it off its hinges as helurched inside, plunging to the floor, his weapon raised, prepared for rapid fire He was wrong! He knew it instantly?a final reverse trap was in the making! He heard another door opening somewhere outside?he either heard it or he instinctively knew it! He rolled furiously to his right, over and over again, his legs crashing into a floor lamp, sending it toward the door, his panicked darting eyes catching a glimpse of an elderly couple clutching each other, crouching in a far corner The white-gowned figure burst into the room, his automatic pistol spitting indiscriminately, the staccato reports deafeningBourne fired repeatedly into the mass of white as he sprang into the left wall, knowing that if for only a split second he was positioned on the killer?s blind right miu miu knock off flankIt was enough! The Jackal was caught in his shoulder?his right shoulder! The weapon literally snapped out of his grip as he jerked up his forearm, his fingers spastically uncurled under the impact of the Graz Burya?s penetrationWith no cessation of movement, the Jackal swung around, the bloody long white robe separating, billowing like a sail as he grabbed the massive flesh wound with his left hand and violently kicked the floor lamp into Jason?s face Bourne fired again, half blinded by the flying shade of the heavy lamp, his weapon deflected by the thick stemThe shot went wild; steadying his hand, he squeezed the trigger again, only to hear the sickening finality of a sharp metallic click?the gun?s magazine was empty! Struggling to a crouch, he lunged for the blunt, ugly automatic weapon as the white-robed Carlos raced through the shattered doorway into the corridorJason got to his feet, but his knee collapsed! It had buckled under his own weightOh, Christ! He crawled to the edge of the bed and dived over the pulleddown sheets toward the bedside telephone?it had been demolished, the Jackal had shot it apart! Carlos?s demented mind was summoning up every tactic, every counteraction he had ever used Another sound! This loud and abruptThe crash bar on the hallway?s stairway exit had been slammed into the opening position, the heavy metal door smashed back into the concrete wall of the landingThe Jackal was heading down the flights of steps to the cartier man watch lo