Disclaimer: The characters of Jason Bourne and Nicky Parsons are here borrowed and not original. All credit for their creation lies with Robert Ludlum and Tony Gilroy, Matt Damon and Julia Stiles. Would this happen? Quien sabe?
The scene in the cafe ofter Bourne and Nicky left Madrid fascinates a lot of people - body language, eye contact, and facial expression speak volumes. Jason POV. The plan is to explore a little of a possible conversation after they left the cafe, as they board the ferry and make their way across the Strait of Gibraltar.
Revised version 10/3/07 - because she did NOT give him the keys. :-)
She offers her car. She tells me she knows where Daniels is. She has chosen to put her career in jeopardy. I don't know why, but now is not the time to question.
As we follow the stairs to the lower level, she tells me that Daniels wired $100,000 cash to an account in Tangiers.
Madrid to the Straits of Gibraltar. I do the math.
Alright, that's 300 miles away. If we hurry, we can make the morning ferry.
We stop at the door.
Where are you parked?
To the right. 20 meters, this side of the street.
Precise response. Well trained. Leaves me with no need to ask more questions. We exit the building, walking quickly.
Tires screech behind us. Sirens blare behind them.
She glances back. They're coming.
Keep moving. I take her arm.
We get in the vehicle just as the Madrid police respond to the call of gunfire at 334 Calle Norte.
She is behind the wheel. Marie was behind the wheel. From Zurich to Paris. In India. I swallow hard, memories I do have I push away.
She pulls away from the curb, expertly guiding the vehicle in and out of traffic, leaving the Agency response team behind us to explain the presence of Americans with guns.
We drive in silence. Traffic is not heavy. Lights don't bother me as much as they used to. She doesn't ask. And I don't volunteer.
We've been on the road for nearly three hours now. In need of a break, she pulls into a roadside café lot, chooses a spot and turns off the engine. She nods and gets out. I hear her sigh. Relief?
We use the restroom facilities. We choose a table. I check the sight lines, map the interior and its occupants, note the cars in the lot. Old habits.
An older waitress takes our order. Coffee. Just coffee. Two steaming cups are set on the table before us.
She finally looks at me, asks me why.
Why did you come back? Why are you looking for Daniels?
I show her the picture. She recognizes Daniels. But not the man with him. I should know him. He was there, the first day. I tell her that much. I find myself telling her more than I thought I could.
He was there, at the beginning. I remember meeting him, the first day. Daniels brought me to him. That's where it all started for me. Something happened to me. I need to know what it was. Or I'll never be free of this.
She continues to look at me and I know she knows things.
Daniels said that the training was experimental. Behavior modification. They had to break down the agents before they became operational. He said you were the first one.
As she says it, I realize I knew some of that.
I have to ask, after holding a gun on her twice. Why are you helping me?
It was difficult for me – with you.
She expects me to remember.
Remember what? Did we know each other? Were we more than passing acquaintances? Did we have more than a working relationship? Were we close?
Holy.
Shit.
Were we lovers?
She looks at me, gives nothing away.
You really don't remember anything.
No bells ring.
I.
Cannot.
Remember.
Fuck! But I manage to keep these feelings of helplessness and confusion, frustration and anger contained, reigned in tight.
No.
It is all I have to offer. It is the honest truth.
The café doors swing open, two policemen enter.
We have to move.
She leaves with me, words remain unspoken. There is much to be said, but we drive in silence.
She is good. For another hour, she says nothing, reveals nothing. We have only a few miles left before we arrive at the coast. Before we board the ferry.
And I have to know.
Nicky, I begin.
Don't. Just the one word reply.
So I won't.
Fuck.
Yes, I will. I have to.
Nicky, about Berlin.
Jason, she says
I'm sorry. Because I am.
She looks at me, puzzled. For what?
For threatening to kill you.
Oh. That.
'That'? That does not bother her? I held a gun to her head and she dismisses it like an every day occurrence?
Okay. I press for more.
We were stationed in Paris.
She looks away, out the window.
Jason, she says. You don't want to go there.
I must. I have to. Do you know what it's like? To live like this? To wake up every morning and feel like a guest in your own house? To wake up and be somebody you don't know?
She thinks. She looks at me. She bites her lower lip. It dawns on me, she is screwing up the courage to tell me.
I saw the tape, she whispers.
Tape?
The words begin to tumble out. The training tape. Your training tape. I had to. It was part of the job. I needed to know what the agents had been through since I was supposed to monitor your health, your mental health. I couldn't do that unless I knew. So Alex – Conklin showed me the tape. What they did – to you. It was you. I saw it was you. The training was experimental, like Daniels said. It was vicious. Cruel. Harsh. Manipulative. It broke you. Eventually – you did what they asked. You killed. Without question. Without remorse. Not in self defense. Not to save another. You killed – because they told you to kill. That was hard. Hard to watch. So every time I look at you, I know what you've been through. I know what they did to you – what they made you do – and ultimately what you did. What you are capable of.
Okay. Deep breath.
Okay. More pieces fall into place. Memories are beginning to surface. I understand. That would be hard for anyone to watch. The training scared her. I scare her. But that's not the whole story. I can tell. She knows something else.
We arrive at the landing and conversation stalls. We purchase tickets to cross, we board the ferry, we stand at the rail watching the waves and the gulls. The sea breeze washes over us and I hear her take a deep breath. Like she's on the verge of a tremendous undertaking.
Mannheim found you. In Goa. You. And Marie. He was careful. He was good. In and out. You never caught on. He brought the information back. To me. Me. It could have stopped with me.
And now I know why she has been hesitant to share. I know what she knows. She passed on the information. My location. Marie's location. I lean over the rail, I close my eyes, I allow myself a moment to feel
Suddenly I am back in the Land Rover. The Russian sniper finds us, pulls the trigger. He thinks he has killed me. But we traded places, Marie and I. I still hear the sharp report of his rifle, I still hear the crunch of metal and stone and wood, I still hear the smack of the Land Rover as it hits the surface of the river. I still hear my silent scream as Marie's body vanishes into the green depths. I keep my eyes shut against the sting of tears.
Beside me, Nicky is still speaking. I have unleashed a torrent.
Responsibility. It stares at me, mocks me. Duty. My duty was to pass on information. I did. To Abbott. That's how he knew. How he knew where to find you. It was his ace in the hole. I know that now. He tucked that bit of information away for a rainy day. And it came. More files surfaced, files that threatened to reveal all his dirty little dealings. So he told Gretkov. About Goa. About you. The Russian assassin knew where to find you – because of me.
I blink several times, come back to the present.
She has confessed her sin. Am I to give absolution?
It was your job.
Bullshit, she snaps. Like that makes it all better?
It doesn't, I tell her. I know it doesn't. First hand. I still see the shock and horror on Irena's face. As I tell her I killed them. It was my job.
Now what? We were not lovers. We were not even friends. We were on the same side, and yet we weren't. Maybe I should hate her. For what she did. But I don't. Hate obscures, clouds judgment. Emotion gets in the way, makes the situation untenable. I tuck the shards of my life back into the recesses of my mind and continue to stare at the water.
We move on, Nicky. We move on.