Dimitri Krupkin was not a tall man but he... Dimitri Krupkin was not a tall man but he appeared taller than he was, nor was he particularly
heavy yet he seemed to possess a much fuller figure than he carriedHe had a pleasant if somewhat
fleshy face and a generous head held erect; his full eyebrows and well-groomed pepper-and-salt
hair and chin beard combined attractively with alert blue eyes and a seemingly perpetual smile,
defining a man who enjoyed his life and his work, an intellect behind bothAt the moment he was
seated in a booth, facing the rear wall, in the all but empty country restaurant in Epernon staring
across the table at Alex Conklin, who sat beside the unidentified Bourne and had just explained that
he no longer drank alcohol
“The world is coming to an end!” exclaimed the Russian in heavily accented English“You see
what happens to a good man in the
replica gucci bag self-indulgent West? Shame on your parentsThey should have
stayed with us
“I don’t think you want to compare the rates of alcoholism in our two countries
“Not for a wager of money,” said Krupkin, grinning“Speaking of money, my dear old enemy,
how and where am I to be paid according to our agreement last night on the telephone?”
“How and where do you want to be paid?” asked Jason
“Ah ha, you are my benefactor, sir?”
“I’ll be paying you, yes
“Hold it!” whispered Conklin, his attention drawn to the restaurant’s entranceHe leaned toward
the open side of the booth, his hand on his forehead, then quickly moved back as a couple were
shown to a table in the corner to the left of the door
“What is it?” asked Bourne
“Who came in, Aleksei?”
“That’s just it, I think I should know him but I don’t
“Where is he seated? In a booth?”
“No, a tableIn the corner
knock off chanel handbag china beyond the bar
Krupkin moved to the edge of his seat, took out his billfold and removed from its recess a small
mirror the size and thickness of a credit cardCupping it in both hands, he cautiously angled the
glass in front of him“You must be addicted to the society pages of the Paris tabloids,” said the
Russian, chuckling as he replaced the mirror and returned the billfold to his jacket pocket“He’s
with the Italian embassy; that’s his wifePaolo and Davinia something-or-other, with pretensions to
nobility, I believeStrictly corpo diplomatico on the protocol levelThey dress up a party quite
nicely and they’re obviously stinking rich
“I don’t travel in those circles, but I’ve seen him somewhere before
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
318
“Of course you haveHe looks like every middle-aged Italian screen star or any one of
prada bags online those
vineyard owners who extol the virtues of the Chianti Classico on television commercials
“Maybe you’re right Krupkin turned to Bourne“I shall write out the name of a bank and the number of an
account in Geneva The Soviet reached into his pocket for a pen as he pulled a paper napkin in
front of himHe was not able to use either, for a man in his early thirties, dressed in a tight-fitting
suit, walked rapidly up to the table
“What is it, Sergei?” asked Krupkin
“Not you, sir,” replied the Soviet aide“Him,” he added, nodding at Bourne
“What is it?” repeated Jason
“You have been followedAt first we were not sure, for it is an old man with a urinary problem
He rapidly left the car twice to relieve himself, but once settled he used the car telephone and
squinted through the windscreen to read the name of the restaurantThat was barely minutes
gold chanel jewelry ago
“How do you know he was following me?”
“Because he arrived shortly after you did, and we were here a half hour before that securing the
area
“Securing the area!” erupted Conklin, looking at Krupkin“I thought this conference was strictly
between us
“Dear Aleksei, benevolent Aleksei, who would save me from myselfCan you really believe I’d
meet with you without considering my own protectionNot you personally, old friend, but your
aggressors in WashingtonCan you imagine? A deputy director of the CIA negotiates with me over
a man he pretends to think I do not know
“Goddamn you, I never told him!”
“Oh, dear me, then the error’s mine
“Don’t,” interrupted Jason firmly“That old man’s from the Jackal—”
“Carlos!” cried Krupkin, his face flushed, his alert blue eyes now intense, angry“The Jackal’s
after you, Aleksei?”
“No, him,” answered
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