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@@@@@I?ll reach you tomorrow, late in the eveningWill you be at home?? ?Not for a phone call from youI?ll dine alone at the Lastochka, a late supperWhat will you be doing tomorrow?? Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM 378 ?Making certain you are right The Jackal had disappeared into the crowds of the cathedral That was over twenty-four hours ago and Rodchenko had heard nothing to upset the schedule Perhaps the psychopath had returned to Paris, somehow convinced that his paranoid suspicions were groundless, his need to keep moving, racing, flying all over Europe superseding his momentary panicWho knew? Carlos, too, was an enigmaPart of him was a retarded sadist, a savant perhaps in the darkest methods of cruelty and killing, yet another part revealed a sick, twisted romantic, a brain-damaged adolescent reaching for a vision that wanted nothing to do with himWho knew? The time was approaching when a bullet in his head was the answer Rodchenko raised his hand for the waiter; he would order coffee and brandy?the decent French brandy reserved for the true heroes of the Revolution, especially the survivorsInstead of the waiter, the manager of Lastochka came rushing to the table, carrying a telephone ?There is an urgent call for you, General,? said the man in the loose-fitting black suit, placing the phone on the table and holding out the plastic knob of the extension cord that was to be placed into the walled receptacle The manager left and Rodchenko inserted the device?Yes?? ?You?re being watched wherever you go,? said the voice of the Jackal ?By whom?? ?Your own people ?I don?t believe you ?I?ve been watching all dayWould you like me to describe the places you?ve been for the past thirty hours? Starting with drinks at a caf? on the Kalinin, a kiosk in the Arbat, the Slavyanky for lunch, an afternoon walk along the Luznekaya?? ?Stop it! Where are you?? ?Come outside the Lastochka Rodchenko hung up and signaled the waiter for his checkThe aproned man?s instant response was due less to the general?s status than to the fact that he was the last diner in the restaurant Leaving his money on top of the bill, the old soldier said good night, walked through the dimly lit foyer to the entrance and let himself outIt was nearly 1:30 in the morning, and except for a few stragglers with too much vodka in them, the street was desertedIn moments an upright figure, silhouetted in the wash of a streetlamp, emerged from a storefront, perhaps thirty meters away on the rightIt was the Jackal, still in the black cloth and the white collar of a pr