The Bourne Deception

25





THERE WAS NO HELP for it, Bourne thought, now that Tracy had noticed. Soraya and the Egyptian were only paces away, so Bourne strode up to Soraya.

Hello, sis, he said, kissing her warmly on both cheeks. Then, before she had time to respond, he turned to her companion and held out his hand. Adam Stone. Im Sorayas half brother.

The Egyptian shook his hand briefly. Amun Chalthoum. But his eyebrows shot up. I didnt know Soraya had a brother.

Bournes laugh was easy. Im the black sheep, Im afraid. No one in the family likes to talk about me.

By this time Tracy had come up beside him, and he introduced everyone.

Taking him up on his cue, Soraya said to him, Theres a problem with Moms health I think you ought to know about.

Excuse us a moment, would you Bourne said to Tracy and Chalthoum.

When the two of them were far enough away to afford them ade-quate privacy, Soraya said, Jason, what the hell She was still looking at him as if she couldnt quite believe what her eyes were telling her.

Its a long story, he said, and we dont have the time now. He led Soraya a few more paces away from the other two. Arkadin is still alive. He almost succeeded in killing me on Bali.

No wonder you dont want anyone to know youre still alive.

Bourne glanced at Chalthoum. What are you doing here with that Egyptian

Amuns with Egyptian intelligence. Were trying to find out who actually shot down the American jet.

I thought the Iranians

Our forensics team determined that it was an Iranian Kowsar 3 missile that brought down the plane, Soraya said, but now, inexplicably, it looks as if a cadre of four American military men might have brought it into Egypt through Sudan. Thats why were on our way to Khartoum.

Bourne could feel the strands of the spiderweb coming into sudden focus, and he bent toward Soraya as he said softly and urgently, Listen carefully. Whatever Arkadin is up to involves both Nikolai Yevsen and Black River. Ive been wondering what would bring these three together. It could be that the cadre youre looking for arent military per se, but are Black River personnel. He directed her attention to the red-and-white jet where he and Tracy had been headed. Air Afrika is rumored to be owned by Yevsen, which would make sensehe needs a way to transship the illegal arms consignments to his clients.

While Soraya studied the plane, he continued: If youre right about the American cadre, then where do you think they could possibly obtain an Iranian Kowsar 3 missilefrom the Iranians themselves He shook his head. Yevsen is probably the only arms dealer in the world with enough contacts and power to get one.

But why would Black River

Black Rivers only there to do the heavy lifting, Bourne said. Its whoever hired them thats guiding everything. Youve read the headlines. I think someone high up in the US government wants to go to war with Iran. Youll know better than me who it might be.

Bud Halliday, Soraya said. The secretary of defense.

Hallidays the one who ordered my death.

She goggled at him for a moment. Right now this is all speculation, so its nothing I can use. I need proof of these connections, so well need to stay in touch. Im reachable on a sat phone, she said at length, and rattled off a string of numbers for him to memorize. He nodded, giving her the number of his own sat phone, and was about to break away when she said, Theres something else. DCI Hart has been killed by a car bomb. A man named M. Errol Danziger is the new DCI and hes already recalled me from the field.

An order youre clearly refusing to obey. Good for you.

Soraya grimaced. Who knows what kind of trouble its going to get me into. She took his arm. Jason, listen, this is the hardest part. For some reason Moira was with DCI Hart when the car bomb detonated. I know Moira survived the blast, because she checked herself into and out of an ER right afterward. But now shes gone completely off the grid. She squeezed his arm. I thought youd want to know.

She kissed him as he had kissed her moments before. As she walked back to the Egyptian, who had clearly become impatient at the delay, Bourne felt as if he had vacated his body. He seemed to be looking down on the three people on the tarmac as if from a great height. He saw Soraya say something to Chalthoum, saw the Egyptian nod, saw them both head toward a small military jet. He saw Tracy staring after them, an expression of both curiosity and consternation on her face; he saw himself standing apart, as still as if he had been suspended in amber. He observed all these things without a trace of emotion or awareness of consequence, flooded as he was by images of Moira in Bali with the sun in her eyes, turning them luminous, lambent, phosphorescent, unforgettable. It was as if in his memory he needed to protect her, or at least keep her safe from the dangers of the outside world. It was an absurd impulse, but, he told himself, a wholly human one. Where was she How badly was she injured And over all, the terrifying question loomed: Was the car bomb that killed Veronica Hart meant for Moira Adding to his concern, when hed called, her number was out of service, which meant shed changed phones.

So deep had he sunk into himself that it was several moments before he realized that Tracy was talking to him. She stood facing him, her face a mask of concern.

Adam, whats going on Did your sister give you bad news

What He was still slightly distracted by the swirl of emotions that had been loosed from his tight control. Yes, she told me that yesterday our mother passed away unexpectedly.

Oh, Im so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help

His mouth smiled, though he remained far away. Thats very kind, but no. Theres nothing anyone can do now.


M. Errol Danziger had a soul like an angry fist. From adolescence onward, he had made it his business to know everything there was to know about Muslims. He had studied the histories of Persia and the Arabian Peninsula; he spoke both Arabic and Farsi fluently, could recite entire sections of the Quran by heart, as well as a multitude of Muslim prayers. He had absorbed the essential differences between Sunni and Shia, and despised them both with equal fervor. For years now he had used his knowledge of the Middle East in the service of a destructive force against those who wished his country harm.

His intensesome believed obsessiveantipathy toward Muslims of all stripes might very well have stemmed from his high school years in the South, when a rumor that he harbored Syrian blood raced around the schoolyard, causing him to be the butt of endless jokes and taunting. Finally, inevitably, systematically, he was isolated, then ostracized, from social life. That the rumor was based on the truthDanzigers paternal grandfather was of Syrian descentmade his misery complete.

He buried his curdled heart at precisely 8 AM when he took formal control of CI. He had still to appear on Capitol Hill, to be asked absurd and irrelevant questions by preening legislators looking to impress their constituents with probing questions fed them by their assistants. But that dog-and-pony show, Halliday had assured him, was a mere formality. The secretary of defense had amassed more than enough votes to push through his confirmation without a struggle or even much debate.

At precisely 8:05 AM he convened a meeting of the senior staff in the largest of the conference rooms at CI headquarters, an elongated oval without windows because glass was an excellent carrier of sound waves and an expert with field glasses trained on the room could read lips. Danziger was quite clear as to the attendees: the heads of the seven directorates, their immediate subordinates, and the chiefs of all the departments attached to the various directorates.

The spacious room was illuminated by indirect lights hidden by massive soffits built into the circumference of the ceiling. Specially designed and manufactured carpeting was so dense it absorbed nearly all sound, so that all those present were forced to focus their entire attention on whoever was speaking.

On this particular morning that was M. Errol Danziger, also known as the Arab, who, as he looked around the oval table, saw nothing but pale and anxious faces whose owners were still trying to digest the shocking news of his being anointed by the president as the next DCI. To a manand of this he was quite certainthey had been expecting one of the seven, most likely Dick Symes, chief of intelligence and the most senior of the heads of the seven directorates, to be convening this meeting.

Which was why his gaze fixed on Symes last, why, as he commenced his inaugural address to the troops, he kept his eyes firmly fixed on Symes. After studying the CI organizational chart, he had made up his mind to reach out to Symes, to make of him an ally, because he would need allies, would need to gather to his side a cadre of the CI faithful whom he could bend to his will, whom he could slowly indoctrinate in the new ways, and who, as disciples of the new religion he meant to bring to CI, would spread the gospel as chosen ones should. They would do his work for him, work that would be too difficult, if not impossible, for him to accomplish on his own. Because his mission was not to replace CI personnel, but to convert from within, until a new CI emerged along the lines of the blueprint Bud Halliday had drawn up for him.

To this end, he had already decided to promote Symes to DDCI, after a suitable time. In this way, through flattery and then recruitment, he meant to cement his power at CI.

Good morning, gentlemen. I suspect you have heard rumorsand here I hope Im wrong, but in the event Im not, my aim this morning is to set the record straight. There will be no firings, no transfers, no forced reassignments, although in the natural course of events, there will inevitably be, as we move forward, reassignments, as, I understand, there have always been here, and, indeed, in any organically evolving organization. In preparation for this moment, Ive studied the hallowed history of CI, and I can confidently state that no one understands the legacy of this great organization better than I do. Let me assure youand my door is always open for discussion on this and any other topic that may be of concern to youthat nothing will change, that the legacy of the Old Man, who, I might add, I venerated from the time I was a young man fresh out of college, remains paramount in my mind, which leads me to say in all honesty and humility that it is a privilege and an honor to be among you, to become a part of you, to lead this great organization into the future.

The men ranged around the table sat in complete silence, trying to parse this long-winded preamble while, at the same time, trying to register it on their individual bullshit meters. It was a curious fact that Danziger had absorbed the involuted rhythm of Arabic so thoroughly that it had infected his English, especially when he was addressing a group. Where a word would do, a sentence would present itself; where a sentence would do, a paragraph appeared.

As a palpable feeling of relief washed over the conference room, he sat down, opened the file in front of him, and paged through the first half of it. All at once, he looked up. Soraya Moore, the director of Typhon, isnt present because she is currently on assignment. You should know that Ive canceled that assignment and ordered her to return at once for a thorough debriefing.

He watched some heads turning in consternation, but there was no murmuring at all. Taking one last glance down at his notes, he said, Mr. Doll, why isnt your boss, Mr. Marks, in attendance this morning

Rory Doll coughed into his fist. I believe hes in the field, sir.

As the Arab looked at Doll, a fair-haired wisp of a man with electric blue eyes, he smiled winningly. You believe hes in the field or you know hes in the field

I know it, sir. He told me himself.

All right, then. Danzigers smile hadnt budged. Where in the field

He didnt specify, sir.

And I assume you didnt ask him.

Sir, with all due respect, if Chief Marks wanted me to know, he wouldve told me.

Without taking his eyes off Markss second, the Arab closed the file in front of him. It seemed as if the entire room were holding its collective breath. Quite right. I approve of sound security procedure, the new DCI said. Please ensure Marks comes to see me the moment he returns.

His gaze broke away from Doll at last and roved around the table, engaging in turn each of the senior officers. All right, shall we proceed From this moment on all the resources of CI will be bent toward the undermining and destruction of the current regime in Iran.

A frisson of excitement raced like wildfire from officer to officer.

In a few moments Ill outline to you the overarching operation to exploit a new pro-American indigenous Iranian underground, ready and able, with our support, to topple the regime from inside Iran.


When it comes to the police commissioner in this town, Willard said, throwing your weight around is worse than useless. I say that because the PC is used to getting his own way, even with the mayor. He isnt intimidated by feds, and hes not shy about saying so.

Willard and Peter Marks were mounting the stone steps of a brown-stone far enough off Dupont Circle not to be snooty, but close enough to be a recipient of the areas innate urbanity. This was wholly Willards doing. Having ascertained that Lester Burrows, the police commissioner, was gone for the day, Willard had directed them to this block, to this specific brownstone.

That being the case, the only smart way to play him is with psychology. Honey is a powerful incentive inside the Beltway, never more so than with the Metro police.

You know Commissioner Burrows

Know him Willard said. He and I trod the boards in college; we played Othello together. He was a helluva Moor, let me tell you, scary-goodI knew his rage was genuine because I knew where he came from. He nodded, as if to himself. Lester Burrows is one African American who has transcended the utter poverty of his childhood in every sense of the word. Thats not to say hes forgotten it, not by a long shot, but, unlike his predecessor, who never met a bribe he didnt take, Lester Burrows is a good man underneath the mean streak hes cultivated to protect himself, his office, and his men.

So hell listen to you, Marks said.

I dont know about thatWillards eyes twinkledbut he sure as hell wont turn me away.

There was a brass knocker in the shape of an elephant that Willard used to announce their presence.

What is this place Marks asked.

Youll see soon enough. Just follow my lead and youll be okay.

The door opened, revealing a young African American woman dressed in a fashionable business suit. She blinked once and said, Freddy, is that really you

Willard chuckled. Its been a while, Reese, hasnt it

Years and years, the young woman said, a smile creasing her face. Well, dont just stand there, come on in. Hes going to be tickled beige to see you.

To fleece me, you mean.

Now it was the young womans turn to chuckle, a warm, rich sound that seemed to caress the listeners ear.

Reese, this is a friend of mine, Peter Marks.

The young woman stuck out her hand in a no-nonsense fashion. She had a rather square face with an aggressive chin and worldly eyes the color of bourbon. Any friend of Freddys Her smile deepened. Reese Williams.

The commissioners strong right hand, Willard supplied.

Oh, yes. She laughed. What would he do without me

She led them down a softly lit, wood-paneled hallway, decorated with photos and watercolors of African wildlife, most predominantly elephants, with a smattering of rhinos, zebras, and giraffes thrown in.

They arrived soon after at double pocket doors, which Reese threw open to a blue cloud of aromatic cigar smoke, the discreet clink of glassware, and the fast-paced dealing of cards on a green baize table in the center of the library. Six menincluding Commissioner Burrowsand one woman sat around the table, playing poker. All of them were high up in various departments of the districts political infrastructure. The ones Marks didnt know on sight, Willard identified for him.

As they stood on the threshold, Reese went ahead of them, crossing to the table, where Burrows sat, patiently playing his hand. She waited just behind his right shoulder until hed raked in the considerable pot, then leaned over and whispered in his ear.

At once the commissioner glanced up and a wide smile spread over his face. Goddammit! he exclaimed, pushing his chair back and rising. Well, wash my socks and call me Andy, if it isnt Freddy F*cking Willard! He strode over and engulfed Willard in a bear hug. He was a massive man with a bowling-ball head, who looked like an overstuffed sausage. His freckle-dappled cheeks belied the master manipulators eyes and the pensive mouth of a seasoned politician.

Willard introduced Marks and the commissioner pumped his hand with that sinister warmth peculiar to people in public life, which flicks on and off with the quickness of a lightning strike.

If youve come to play, Burrows said, youve come to the right joint.

Actually, weve come to ask you about Detectives Sampson and Montgomery, Marks said impulsively.

The commissioners brow pulled down, darkening into a furry mass. Who are Sampson and Montgomery

With all due respect, sir, you know who they are.

Son, are you some sort of psychic Burrows turned on Willard. Freddy, who the hell is he to tell me what I know

Ignore him, Lester. Willard inserted himself between Marks and the commissioner. Peters been a little on edge since he went off his medication.

Well, get the man back on it, stat, Burrows said. That mouth is a f*cking menace.

I will certainly do that, Willard said as he grabbed Marks to keep him out of the line of fire. In the meantime, do you have room for one more at the table


Noah Perlis, sitting in the lime-scented shade of the lavish rooftop garden at 779 El Gamhuria Avenue, could see all of Khartoum, smoky and indolent, laid out before him to his right, while to his left were the Blue and White Nile rivers that divided the city into thirds. In central Khartoum the hideous Chinese-built Friendship Hall, and the weird futuristic Al-Fateh building, so like the nose cone of an immense rocket, mixed uneasily with the traditional mosques and ancient pyramids of the city, but the unsettling juxtaposition was a sign of the timeshide-bound Muslim religion seeking its way in the alien modern world.

Perlis had his laptop open, the latest iteration of the Bardem program running the last of the scenarios: the incursion by Arkadin and his twenty-man cadre into that section of Iran where, like Palestine, the milk and honey flowed, in the form of oil.




Perlis never did one thing when he could do two or, preferably, three at once. He was a man whose mind was so quick and restless that it needed a kind of internal web of goals, puzzles, and conjectures to keep from imploding into chaos. So while he studied the probabilities of Pinpricks end phase the program was spitting out he thought about the devils deal hed been forced to make with Dimitri Maslov and, by extension, Leonid Arkadin. First and foremost, it galled him to partner with Russians, whose corruption and dissolute lifestyle he both loathed and envied. How could a bunch of scummy pigs like that be so awash in money While it was true that life was never fair, he mused, sometimes it could be downright malevolent. But what could he do Hed tried many other routes but, in the end, Maslov had been the only way to get to Nikolai Yevsen, who felt about Americans the way he, Perlis, felt about Russians. Accordingly, hed been forced to make a deal with too many partnerstoo many partners for whom double dealing and backstabbing had been ingrained in their nature virtually from birth. Contingencies had to be made against the threat of such treachery, and that meant triple the planning and man-hours. Of course, it also meant hed been able to triple the fee he was charging Bud Halliday, not that the price meant anything to the secretary, the way the US Mint was printing up dollars as if they were confetti. In fact, at the last Black River board meeting, members of the steering committee were so concerned with the threat of hyperinflation that they had voted unanimously to convert their dollars into gold bullion for the next six months while they put their clients on notice that starting September 1, the company would accept fees only in gold or diamonds. What bothered him about that meeting was that Oliver Liss, one of the three founding members and the man he reported to, was absent.

Simultaneously, he was thinking of Moira. Like a cinder in his eye, she had become an irritant. She was firmly lodged in a corner of his mind ever since she had abruptly quit Black River and, after a short hiatus, had started her own company in direct competition with him. Because, make no mistake, Perlis had taken her defection and subsequent treachery personally. It hadnt been the first time, but he vowed to himself that it would be the last. The first time well, there were good reasons not to think about the first time. He hadnt for years and he wasnt about to start now.

Besides, how else should he take actions that directly drained him of his best personnel Like a jilted lover, he seethed for revenge, his long-withheld affection for her curdled into outright hatrednot only of her, but of himself. While she was under his control, hed played his cards too close to the vesthad, he had to admit bitterly, misplayed them altogether. And now she was gone, out of his control and in complete opposition to him. He took whatever solace he could salvage from the fact that her lover, Jason Bourne, was dead. He wished her only ill now, he wanted to see her not simply defeated but humiliated beyond redemption; nothing less would appease his appetite for vengeance.

When his satellite phone rang, he assumed it was Bud Halliday, giving him the signal to launch the final phase of Pinprick, but instead he discovered Humphry Bamber on the line.

Bamber, he shouted, where the hell are you

Back at my office, thank God. Bambers voice sounded thin and metallic. I finally managed to escape because the woman Moira Something was too badly hurt in the explosion to hold on to me for long.

I heard about the explosion, Noah said truthfully, though of course he didnt add that hed ordered it to keep Veronica Hart and Moira from finding out about Bardem from Bamber. Are you all right

Nothing a few days rest wont cure, Bamber said, but listen, Noah, theres a glitch in the version of Bardem youre running.

Noah stared out at the rivers, the beginning and the end of life in North Africa. What kind of a glitch If the program needs another security patch, forget it, Im almost finished using it.

No, nothing like that. Theres a calculation error; the program isnt producing accurate data.

Now Noah was alarmed. How the hell did that happen, Bamber I paid through the nose for this software and now you tell me that

Calm down, Noah, Ive already solved the internal error and corrected it. All I need to do now is to upload it to you, but youll have to shut down all your programs.

I know, I know, and Jesus, I ought to know the protocol by now considering how many versions of Bardem weve been through.

Noah, you have no idea how complex this program isI mean, come on, literally millions of factors had to be incorporated into the softwares architecture, and per your orders at the speed of light, too.

Can it, Bamber. The last thing I need now is a lecture from you. Just get the f*cking thing done. Perliss fingers were running over his laptops keyboard, shutting down programs. Now, youre sure the latest parameters Ive loaded into the program will be there when I bring up the new version

Absolutely, Noah. Thats why Bardem has one monster-size cache.

Nothing better be missing, Noah said, and silently he added, Not at this late date. Were almost at the finish line.

Just let me know when youre ready, Bamber prompted.

All the programs were closed, but it took several minutes of going through one deliberately convoluted protocol after another until he exited the proprietary Black River security software. While this was happening, he muted his line with Bamber and dialed a number on a second satellite phone.

Someone needs to be put to sleep, he said. Yes, right away. Hold on and Ill transfer the particulars in a minute.

He unmuted the line with Bamber. All set, he said.

Then here we go!







26





KHARTOUM HAD about it the air of a disreputable mortuary. The sweet rot of death was everywhere, mingled with the sharp odor of gun barrels. Baleful shadows hid men smoking as they observed the night-lit street with the inscrutable look of a hunter searching for prey. Bourne and Tracy, in a jangling three-wheeled raksha, going at a hellish speed against traffic, rushed down avenues filled with donkey-pulled carts, wheezing minibuses, men in both traditional and Western dress, and vehicles belching blue smoke.

They were both tired and on edgeBourne had had no luck contacting either Moira or Boris, and, despite what shed claimed, Tracys experience in Seville seemed to have made her anxious about meeting Noah.

I dont want to be caught napping when I walk in the door, shed said as they checked into a hotel in the main section of the city. Thats why I told Noah I wasnt coming over until tomorrow morning. Tonight I need a good nights sleep more than I need his money.

What did he say

They rode up in the mirrored elevator, heading for the top floor, which Tracy had requested.

He wasnt happy, but what could he say

He didnt offer to come here

Tracys nose wrinkled. No, he didnt.

Bourne thought that odd. If Noah was so anxious to take possession of the Goya, why wouldnt he offer to complete the transaction at the hotel

They had adjoining rooms with nearly identical views of al Mogranthe junction of the Blue and White Nile riversand a connecting door that locked from either side. The White Nile flowed north from Lake Victoria, while the Blue Nile flowed west from Ethiopia. The Nile itself, the main river, continued north into Egypt.

The decor in the room was shabby. Judging by both the style and the wear, it certainly hadnt been updated since the early 1970s. The carpets stank of cheap cigarettes and even cheaper perfume. Putting the Goya on the bed, Tracy crossed directly to the window, unlocked it, and pushed it up as far as it would go. The rush of the city was like a vacuum, sucking all the hums out of the room.

She sighed as she returned to sit beside her prize. Ive been traveling too much, I miss home.

Where is that Bourne asked. I know its not Seville.

No, not Seville. She pushed her hair back off the side of her face. I live in London, Belgravia.

Very posh.

She laughed wearily. If you saw my flatits a tiny thing, but its mine and I love it. Theres a mews out back with a flowering pear tree that a pair of house martins nest in come spring. And a nightjar serenades me most evenings.

Why would you ever leave

She laughed again, a bright, silvery sound that was easy on the ears. I have to earn my way in the world, Adam, just like everyone else. Lacing her fingers together, she said more soberly, Why did Don Hererra lie to you

There are many possible answers. Bourne stared out the window. The bright lights illuminated the bend in the Nile, reflections of the city dancing across the dark, crocodile-infested water. But the most logical one is that hes somehow allied with the man Im trying to find, the one who shot me.

Isnt that too much of a coincidence

It would be, he said, if I wasnt being set up for a trap.

She seemed to digest this news for a moment. Then the man who tried to kill you wants you to come to Seven Seventy-nine El Gamhuria Avenue.

I believe so. He turned to her. Which is why Im not going to be with you when you knock on the front door tomorrow morning.

Now she appeared alarmed. I dont know whether I want to face Noah alone. Where are you going to be

My presence will only make things dangerous for you, believe me. He smiled. Besides, Ill be there, I just wont go in through the front door.

You mean youll use me as a distraction.

She was not only uncommonly smart, Bourne thought, but quick as well. I hope you dont mind.

Not at all. And youre right, I will be safer if I go in alone. She frowned. Why is it, I wonder, that people feel the need to lie altogether Her eyes found his. She seemed to be comparing him with someone else, or perhaps only with herself. Would it be so terrible if everyone just told each other the truth

People prefer to remain hidden, he said, so they wont get hurt.

But they get hurt just the same, dont they She shook her head. I think people lie to themselves as easily asif not more easily thanthey do to others. Sometimes they dont even know theyre doing it. She cocked her head to one side. Its a matter of identity, isnt it I mean, in your mind you can be anyone, do anything. Everything is malleable, whereas in the real world, effecting changeany changeis so bloody difficult, the effort is wearying, you get beaten down by all the outside forces you cant control.

You could adopt an entirely new identity, Bourne said, one where effecting change is less difficult because now you re-create your own history.

She nodded. Yes, but that has it own pitfalls. No family, no friendsunless, of course, you dont mind being absolutely isolated.

Some people dont. Bourne looked beyond her, as if the wall with its cheap print of an Islamic scene was a window into his thoughts. Once again, he wondered who he wasDavid Webb, Jason Bourne, or Adam Stone. His life was a fiction, no matter in which direction he looked. Hed already determined that he couldnt live as David Webb, and as for Jason Bourne, there was always someone, somewhere in the world, hidden in the shadows of his forgotten former life, who wished him ill or wanted him dead. And Adam Stone He might be called a blank slate, but that would be, in practice, untrue because the people who encountered this identity reacted to himreacted to whoever the real Bourne was. The more he was with people like Tracy, the more he learned about himself.

What about you she said now as she joined him at the window. Do you mind being alone

Im not alone, he replied. Im with you.

She laughed softly and shook her head. Listen to you, youve perfected the art of answering personal questions without revealing one iota of yourself.

Thats because I never know who Im talking with.

She watched him for a moment out of the corner of her eyes as if trying to figure out the real meaning of what hed just said, then she stared out the window at the two Niles winding their way through North Africa, like a story you read while falling asleep.

At night, everything becomes transparent, or insubstantial. Reaching out, she touched their reflections in the window. And yet our thoughtsand why is it especially our fearsare somehow magnified, taking on the proportions of titans, or gods. She stood very close to him, her voice lowered almost to a whisper. Are we good or evil Whats really in our hearts Its dispiriting when we dont know, or cant decide.

Perhaps were both good and evil, Bourne said, wondering about himself, about all his identities, and where the truth lay, depending on the time and the circumstance.


Arkadin was lost in the star-dazzled Azerbaijani night. Starting promptly at five in the morning, he and his one-hundred-strong cadre of hardened soldiers had hiked into the mountains. Their mission, hed told them, was to find the snipers hiding along their route and shoot them with the long-range paintball guns that looked and felt exactly like AK-47s that had been shipped at his request to Nagorno-Karabakh. Twenty members of the indigenous tribe, equipped with paintball sniper rifles, had secreted themselves along the route. When Arkadin had handed them out, hed had to explain their use to men who thought them both amusing and idiotic. Still, within half an hour the tribesmen had become proficient with the pseudo-weapons.

His men had missed the first two snipers completely, so two of the hundred had been killed before they hunkered down and learned from their inattention and lapses in judgment.

This exercise had lasted all day and into the swiftly falling dusk, but Arkadin drove them on, deeper and deeper into the mountains. They stopped once for fifteen minutes, to eat their rations, then it was on again, climbing ever upward toward the clear, shining vault of heaven.

Toward midnight, he called a completion to the exercise, graded each man as to performance, stamina, and ability to adapt to a changing situation, then allowed them to make camp. As usual, he ate little and slept not at all. He could feel his bodys aches and strains, but they were small and, it seemed to him, very far away, as if they belonged to someone else, or to a different Arkadin he knew only in passing.

Dawn had arrived before he stilled his feverishly working mind and, marshaling his energies, pulled out his satellite phone and punched in a specific set of numbers, connecting him to an automated zombie line that switched his call several times. With each switch, he was required to punch in a different code, which allowed him to continue the call. At length, after the last code was digested by the closed system at the other end of the line, he heard a human voice.

I didnt expect to hear from you. There was no rebuke in Nikolai Yevsens voice, only a faint curiosity.

Frankly, Arkadin said, I didnt expect to call. His head tilted up, he was staring at the last stars as they were banished by the pink and blue light. Something has come to my attention I thought you should know.

As always, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Yevsens voice was as harsh as a saw cutting through metal. There was about it something feral, a fearsome kind of power that was his alone.

It has come to my attention that the woman, Tracy Atherton, is not alone.

How is this information of interest to me

Only Yevsen, Arkadin thought, could convey a lethal stillness with the mere tone of his voice. In the course of his freelance career with the Moscow grupperovka he had gotten to know the arms dealer well enough to be exceedingly wary of him.

Shes with a man named Jason Bourne, he said now, who is out for revenge.

We all are, in one way or another. Why would he seek it here

Bourne thinks you hired the Torturer to kill him.

Where would he get that idea

A rival, possibly. I could find out for you, Arkadin said helpfully.

It doesnt matter, Yevsen said. This Jason Bourne is already a dead man.

Exactly what I wanted to hear, Arkadin thought as he could not stop his mind from turning toward the past.


Approximately five hundred miles from Nizhny Tagil, when daylight had bled into dusk and dusk fell victim to night, Tarkanian drove toward the village of Yaransk to look for a doctor. He had stopped three times on the way, so everyone could relieve themselves and get a bite to eat. At those times, he checked on Oserov. The third stop, near sunset, hed found that Oserov had peed himself. He was feverish and looked like death.

During the long drive at high speed over incomplete highways, rough detours, and suspect roads, the children had been remarkably quiet, listening with rapt attention to their mother spin talesfabulous adventures and magnificent exploits of the god of fire, the god of wind, and especially the warrior-god, Chumbulat.

Arkadin had never heard of these gods and wondered whether Jokar had made them up for her daughters benefit. In any event, it wasnt just the three girls who were held rapt by the stories. Arkadin listened to them as if they were news reports from a distant country to which he longed to travel. In this way, for him, if not for Tarkanian, the long days journey into night passed with the swiftness of sleep.

They arrived in Yaransk too late to find a doctors office open, so Tarkanian, asking several pedestrians, followed their directions to the local hospital. Arkadin was left with Jokar in the car. They both climbed out to stretch their legs, leaving the girls in the backseat, playing with the sets of painted wooden nesting dolls Arkadin had bought them during one of the rest stops.

Her head was partly turned away from him as she glanced back at her children. Shadows hid most of the damage done to her face, while the sodium lights drew out the exoticism of her features, which seemed to him a curious mixture of Asian and Finnish. Her eyes were large and slightly uptilted, her mouth was generous and full-lipped. Unlike her nose, which seemed formed to protect her face from lifes tougher blows, her mouth exuded a sensuality bordering on the erotic. That she seemed quite unaware of this quality in herself made it all the more magnetic.

Did you make up the stories you were telling your children he asked.

Jokar shook her head. I was told them when I was a little girl, looking out at the Volga. My mother was told them by her mother, and so on back in time. She turned to him. Theyre tales of our religion. Im Mari, you see.

Mari I dont know it.

My people are what researchers call Finno-Ugrik. Were what you Christians call pagans. We believe in many gods, the gods of the stories I tell, and the demi-gods who walk among us, disguised as humans. When she turned her gaze on her girls something inexplicable happened to her face, as if she had become one of them, one of her own daughters. Once upon a time, we were eastern Finns, who over the years intermarried with wanderers from the south and east. Gradually, this mixture of Germanic and Asian cultures moved to the Volga, where our land was eventually incorporated into Russia. But we were never accepted by the Russians, who hate learning new languages and fear customs and traditions other than their own. We Mari have a saying: The worst your enemies can do is kill you. The worst your friends can do is betray you. Fear only the indifferent, because at their silent consent, treachery and death flourish!

Thats a bleak credo, even for this country.

Not if you know our history here.

I never knew you werent ethnic Russian.

No one did. My husband was deeply ashamed of my ethnic background, just as he was ashamed of himself for marrying me. Of course, he told no one.

Looking at her, he could see why Lev Antonin had fallen in love with her. Why did you marry him he said.

Jokar gave an ironic laugh. Why do you think Hes ethnic Russian; moreover, hes a powerful man. He protects me and my children.

Arkadin took her chin, moving her face fully into the light. But who protects you from him

She snatched her face away as if his fingers had burned her. I made certain he never touched my children. That was all that mattered.

Doesnt it matter that they should have a father who, unlike Antonin, genuinely loves them Arkadin was thinking of his own father, either falling-down drunk or absent altogether.

Jokar sighed. Life is full of compromises, Leonid, especially for the Mari. I was alive, hed given me children whom I adore, and he swore to keep them from harm. That was my life, how could I complain when my parents were murdered by the Russians, when my sister disappeared when I was thirteen, probably abducted and tortured because my father was a journalist who repeatedly spoke out against the repression of the Mari That was when my aunt sent me away from the Volga, to ensure I stayed alive.

Arkadin watched one of the girls playing in the backseat of the car. Her two sisters had fallen asleep, one against the door, the other with her head on her sleeping sisters shoulder. In the pale, ethereal light slanting in they looked like the fairies in their mothers stories.

We must find a place soon to immolate my son.

What

He was born on the solstice of the fire-god, she explained, so the fire-god must take him across into the death-lands, otherwise he will wander the world forever alone.

All right, Arkadin said. He was impatient to get to Moscow, but considering his complicity in Yashas death he felt he was in no position to refuse her. Besides, she and her family were his responsibility now. If he refused to take care of them, no one else would. As soon as Tarkanian and Oserov return well head out into the woods so you can find a suitable spot.

I will need you to help me. Mari custom dictates a males participation. Will you do this for Yasha, and for me

Arkadin watched the play of light and dark chasing themselves across the flat planes of her face as vehicles swept by, their headlights pushing back the oncoming night. He didnt know what to say, so he nodded mutely.

In the near distance, the spire of the Orthodox church rose up like a reproachful finger, in admonition to the worlds sinners. Arkadin wondered why so much money was spent in the service of something that couldnt be seen, heard, or felt. Of what use was religion he wondered. Any religion

As if reading his thoughts, Jokar said, Do you believe in something, Leonidgod or godssomething greater than yourself

Theres us and theres the universe, he said. Everything else is like those stories you tell your children.

I saw you listening to those stories, Leonid. They caught and held something inside you even you might not know about.

It was like watching movies. Theyre entertainment, thats all.

No, Leonid, they are history. They speak of hardship, migration, sacrifice. They speak of deprivation and subjugation, of prejudice and of our unique identity and our will to survive, no matter the cost. She studied him closely. But youre Russian, you are the victor, and history belongs to the victor, doesnt it

Funny, he didnt feel like a victor, and he never had. Who had ever stood up and spoken for him Werent your parents supposed to be your advocates, werent they supposed to protect you, not imprison you and abandon you There was something about Jokar that touched a place inside him that, as shed said, he hadnt known existed.

Im a Russian in name only, he said. There is nothing inside me, Jokar. Im a hollow man. In fact, when we place Yasha on the funeral pyre and light the wood Ill envy him the pure and honorable method of his dissolution.

She looked at him with her bourbon eyes and he thought, If I see pity in her face Ill have to strike her. But no pity was evident to him, just a singular curiosity. He glanced down and saw that she was holding out her hand to him. Without knowing why, he took it, felt her warmth, almost as if he could hear the blood singing in her veins. Then she turned, went back to the car, and gently drew out one of her daughters, whom she deposited in his arms.

Hold her like this, she directed. Thats right, shape your arms into a cradle.

She turned and stared up into the night sky where the first saltings of stars were becoming visible.

The brightest ones come out first, because theyre the bravest, she said in the same voice she used when telling her stories of gods, elves, and fairies. But my favorite time is when the most timid appear, like a band of gossamer lace, the last decoration of night before morning comes and spoils it all.

Through this all, Arkadin held the slender-limbed child in his arms, his skin brushed by her diaphanous hair, her small fist already curled around one of his calloused forefingers. She lay within the heart of him. He could feel her deep, even breathing, and it was as if a core of innocence had been returned to him.

Without turning around, Jokar said softly, Dont make me go back to him.

No one is sending you back. What makes you say that

Your friend wants no part of us. I know, I see how he looks at me, I feel his contempt burning my skin. If it werent for you, hed have dumped us at one of the rest stops and Id have no choice but to go back to Lev.

Youre not going back to him, Arkadin said, hearing the sleeping girls heartbeat close to his own. Ill die before I let that happen.


This is where we part company, Bourne said to Tracy the next morning. As close as he could tell, they were five blocks from 779 El Gamhuria Avenue. I told you I wasnt going to put you at risk. Ill make my own way into the building.

They had exited their raksha when El Gamhuria Avenue had become permanently blocked by a military rally that had attracted a huge, vocal crowd, gathered around a portable dais on which stood a pantheon of officers in khaki, dark green, and blue uniforms, depending on their rank. These officers, their freshly shaved faces shining in the sun, huge smiles on their faces, waved to the crowd as if they were genial uncles. With all the noise and confusion it was impossible to understand what they were shouting or celebrating. Nearby, on a side street, a manned tank, bristling with weaponry, hunkered like a fat tomcat licking its chops. They paid their fare and, skirting the agitated crowd, picked their way along the palm-lined avenue.

Bourne glanced at his watch. What time do you have

Nine twenty-seven.

Do me one favor. Bourne adjusted his watch slightly. Give me fifteen minutes, then walk directly to Seven Seventy-nine, go in through the front door, and announce yourself to the receptionist. Hold the receptionists attention and dont let go until either Noah sends for you or he comes out to get you.

She nodded. Her nervousness had returned. I dont want anything to happen to you.

Listen to me, Tracy. Ive told you that I dont trust Noah Perlis. I particularly dont like the fact that he wouldnt come to the hotel last night to complete the deal.

With him as a shield, she raised her dress to reveal a gun in a sleek holster strapped to a thigh. When youre a transporter of precious objects, you cant be too careful.

If Seven Seventy-nine Gamhuria has any kind of security, theyd find that, he said.

No, they wont. She tapped the butt. Its ceramic.

Clever girl. I assume you know how to use it.

She laughed at the same time she gave him a withering look. Please be careful, Adam.

You, too.

Then he walked off into the crowd, disappearing almost at once.