@@@@@Both drivers? heads swung militarily toward 238
@@@@@Both drivers? heads swung militarily toward the small house as if they were robots in a public
gallery, and then the words shot out from an unseen speaker
?Secure the gates,? said the amplified voice, a voice in command?Release the dogs and resume
your rounds
As if choreographed, the vehicles swung in unison, each in the opposite direction, the drivers
gunning their engines as one, the strange-looking carts racing forward into the shadowsAt the
mention of dogs Bourne had automatically reached into his back pocket and removed the CO2 gun;
he then crawled laterally, rapidly, through the underbrush to within feet of the extended fenceIf
the dogs were in a pack, he would have no choice but to scramble up the links and spring over the
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
93
coiled barbed wire to the other sideHis dual-chambered dart pistol could eliminate two animals,
not more; there would be no time to reloadHe crouched, waiting, ready to leap up on the fence, the
sightlines beneath the lower branches relatively clear
Suddenly a black Doberman raced by on the graveled road, no hesitation in his pace, no scent
picked up, the animal?s only objective apparently to reach a given placeThen another dog
appeared, this a long-haired shepherdIt slowed down, awkwardly yet instinctively, as if
programmed to halt at a specific area; it stopped, an obscure moving silhouette up the road
Standing motionless, Bourne understoodThese were trained male attack dogs, each with its own
territory, which was constantly urinated upon, forever its own turfIt was a behavioral discipline
favored by Oriental peasants and small landowners who knew too well the price of feeding the
animals who guarded their minuscule fiefdoms of survivalTrain a few, as few as possible, to
protect their separated areas from thieves, and if alarms were raised the others would convergeIt was coming back to him! Vague, obscure outlines?imagesA
young, powerful man in uniform, driving a Jeep, stepping out, and?through the mists of Jason?s
inner screen?yelling at what was left of an assault team that had returned from interdicting an
ordnance route paralleling the Ho Chi Minh TrailThat same man, older, larger, had been in his
binoculars only moments ago! And years ago that same man had promised suppliesAmmunition,
mortars, grenades, radiosHe had brought nothing! Only complaints from Command Saigon that
?you fucking illegals fed us crap!? But they hadn?tSaigon had acted too late, reacted too late, and
twenty-six men had been killed or captured for nothing
As if it were an hour ago, a minute ago, Bourne remembered5 out of his
holster and, without warning, jabbed the barrel into the approaching noncom?s forehead
?One more word and you?re dead, Sergeant The man had been a sergeant! ?You bring us our
requisitions by O-five-hundred tomorrow morning or I?ll get to Saigon and personally blow you
into the wall of whatever whorehouse you?re frequenti
