@@@@@ Le Coeur du Soldat was not on a street or a
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Le Coeur du Soldat was not on a street or a boulevard or an avenueInstead, it was in a dead-end
alleyway around the corner and across from a long-since-closed factory whose faded signs
indicated a once flourishing metallurgical refining plant in what had to be the ugliest part of the
cityNor was the Soldat listed in the telephone directory; it was found by innocently asking
strangers where it was, as the inquirer was to meet une grosse secousse at this undiscoverable
pissoirThe more dilapidated the buildings and the filthier the streets, the more cogent were the
directions
Bourne stood in the dark narrow alley leaning against the aged rough brick of the opposing
structure across from the bistro’s entranceAbove the thick massive door in square block letters,
several missing, was a dull red sign: L C eur d SoldatAs the door was sporadically opened for
entering or departing clientele, metallic martial music blared forth into the alley; and the clientele
Robert Ludlum ?? THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM
221
were not candidates for an haute couture cotillionHis appearance was in keeping, thought Jason,
as he struck a wooden match against the brick, lighting a thin black cigar as he limped toward the
door
Except for the language and the deafening music, it might have been a waterfront bar in Sicily’s
Palermo, reflected Bourne as he made his way to the crowded bar, his squinting eyes roam ing,
absorbing everything he could observe—briefly confused, wondering when he had been in
Palermo, Sicily
A heavyset man in a tank shirt got off a stool; Jason slid on top of itThe clawlike hand gripped
his shoulder; Bourne slapped his right hand up, grabbing the wrist and twisting it clockwise,
pushing the barstool away and rising to his full height“What’s your problem?” he asked calmly in
French but loud enough to be heard
“That’s my seat, pig! I’m just taking a piss!”
“So maybe when you’re finished, I’ll take one,” said Jason, his gaze boring into the man’s eyes,
the strength of his grip unmistakable—emphasized by pressing a nerve with his thumb, which had
nothing to do with strength
“Ah, you’re a fucking cripple !” cried the man, trying not to wince“I don’t pick on invalids
“I’ll tell you what,” said Bourne, releasing his thumb“You come back, we’ll take turns, and I’ll
buy you a drink each time you let me get off this bum leg of mine, okay?”
Looking up at Jason, the heavyset man slowly grinned“Hey, you’re all right
“I’m not all right, but I’m certainly not looking for a fight,’ eitherShit, you’d hammer me to the
floor Bourne released the muscular Tank Shirt’s arm
“I’m not so sure of that,” said the man, now laughing and holding his wrist“Sit, sit! I’ll take a
piss and come back and buy you a drinkYou don’t look like you’re loaded with franc