Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM 340 “As I...
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
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“As I relayed the information he was utterly silentIn his breathing, however, there was utter
loathingI felt my bones grow cold
“He’s on his way to Moscow,” said the Russian“No doubt through Prague
“What will you do now?”
Krupkin arched his neck and raised his eyes to the ceiling in false, silent laughterLeveling his
gaze on her, he answered, smiling
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Bryce Ogilvie, managing partner of Ogilvie, Spofford, Crawford and Cohen, prided himself on his
self-disciplineThat was to say, not merely the outward appearance of composure, but the cold
calm he forced upon his deepest fears in times of crisisHowever, when he arrived at his office
barely fifty minutes ago and found his concealed private telephone ringing, he had experienced a
twinge of apprehension at such an early morning call over that particular lineThen when he heard
the heavily accented voice of the Soviet consul general of New York demanding an immediate
conference, he had to acknowledge a sudden void in his chest and when the Russian instructed
him—ordered him—to be at the Carlyle Hotel, Suite 4C, in one hour, rather than their usual
meeting place at the apartment on Thirty-second and Madison, new omega watches Bryce felt a searing-hot pain filling
that void in his chestAnd when he had mildly objected to the suddenness of the proposed,
unscheduled conference, the pain in his chest had burst into fire, the flames traveling up to his
throat at the Soviet’s reply: “What I have to show you will make you devoutly wish we never knew
each other, much less had any occasion to meet this morningBe there!”
Ogilvie sat back in his limousine, as far back as the upholstery could be pressed, his legs
stretched, rigid on the carpeted floorAbstract, swirling thoughts of personal wealth, power and
influence kept circling in his mind; he had to get hold of himself! After all, he was Bryce Ogilvie,
the Bryce Ogilvie, perhaps the most successful corporate attorney in New York, and arguably
second only to Boston’s Randolph Gates in the fast track of corporate and antitrust law
Gates! The mere thought of that son of a bitch was a welcome diversionMedusa had asked a
minor favor of the celebrated Gates, an inconsequential, perfectly acceptable staff appointment on
an ad hoc government-oriented commission, and he had not even answered their phone calls! Calls
put through by another perfectly acceptable source, the supposedly irreproachable, impartial head
of Pentagon procurements, miu miu clutch an asshole named General Norman Swayne, who only wanted the best
informationWell, perhaps more than information, but Gates could not have known about that
Gates? There was something in the Times the other morning about his bowing out of a hostile
takeover proceedingWhat was it?
The limousine pulled up to the curb in front of the Carlyle Hotel, once the Kennedy family’s
favored New York City address, now the temporary clandestine favorite of the SovietsOgilvie
waited until the uniformed doorman opened the left rear door of the car before he stepped out onto
the pavementHe normally would not have done so, believing the delay was an unnecessary
affectation, but this morning he did; he had to get hold of himselfHe had to be the Ice-Cold
Ogilvie his legal adversaries feared
The elevator’s ascent to the fourth floor was swift, the walk over the blue-carpeted hallway to
Suite 4-C far slower, the distance much closerThe Bryce Ogilvie breathed deeply, calmly, and
stood erect as he pressed the bellTwenty-eight seconds later, irritatingly clocked by the attorney as
he silently counted “one one-thousand, two one-thousand,” ad nauseam, the door was opened by
the Soviet consul general, a slender man of medium height whose aquiline face had taut white skin
and prada logo large brown eyes
Vladimir Sulikov was a wiry seventy-three-year-old full of nervous energy, a scholar and former
professor of history at Moscow University, a committed Marxist, yet oddly enough, considering his
position, not a member of the Communist PartyIn truth, he was not a member of any political
orthodoxy, preferring the passive role of the unorthodox individual within a collectivist society
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That, and his singularly acute intellect, had served him well; he was sent to posts where more
conformist men would not have been half so effectiveThe combination of these attributes, along
with a dedication to physical exercise, made Sulikov appear ten to fifteen years younger than his
ageHis was an unsettling presence for those negotiating with him, for somehow he radiated the
wisdom acquired over the years and the vitality of youth to implement it
The greetings were abruptSulikov offered nothing but a stiff, cold handshake and a stiffly
upholstered armchairHe stood in front of the suite’s narrow mantel of white marble as though it
were a classroom blackboard, his hands clasped behind him, an agitated professor about to question
and lecture simultaneously an annoying, disputatious graduate student
“To our tiffany silver jewelry business,” said the Russian curtly“You are aware of Admiral Peter Holland?”
“Yes, of courseHe’s the director of the Central Intelligence AgencyWhy do you ask?”
“Is he one of you?”
“No
“Are you quite sure?”
“Of course I am
“Is it possible he became one of you without your knowledge?”
“Certainly not, I don’t even know the manAnd if this is some kind of amateurish interrogatory,
Soviet style, practice on someone else
“Ohh, the fine expensive American attorney objects to being asked simple questions?”
“I object to being insultedYou made an astonishing statement over the phoneI’d like it
explained, so please get to it
“I’ll get to it, Counselor, believe me, I’ll get to it, but in my own fashionWe Russians protect
our flanks; it’s a lesson we learned from the tragedy and the triumph of Stalingrad—an experience
you Americans never had to endure
“I came from another war, as you well know,” said Ogilvie coolly, “but if the history books are
accurate, you had some help from your Russian winter
“That’s difficult to explain to thousands upon thousands of frozen Russian corpses
“Granted, and you have both my condolences and my congratulations, but it’s not the
explanation—or even the lack of one—that I requested
“I’m only trying to explain a truism, young black chanel quilted bag man