The Bourne Deception

31





LEONID DANILOVICH ARKADIN roamed the passenger area of the Air Afrika flight that had been sent for him and his cadre in Nagorno-Karabakh. He knew their destination was Iran. Noah Perlis was certain that Arkadin didnt know the specific site, but Noah was wrong. Like many Americans in his position, Noah believed himself smarter than those who werent American and able to manipulate them. Where Americans got that idea was something of a mystery, but having spent time in DC, Arkadin had some ideas. Americas smug sense of isolation might have been shaken by the events in 2001, but not its sense of privilege and entitlement. When hed been there, hed sat in district restaurants, eavesdropping on conversations as part of his Treadstone training. But at the same time hed listen to the neoconsmen of power, substance, and influence who were convinced that they had the keys to how the world worked. For them, everything was childishly simple, as if there were only two immutable variables in life: action and reaction, both of which they understood completely, and for which they planned. And when the reactions were not what their brain trust had anticipatedwhen their plans blew up in their facesinstead of admitting their error, in a tide of amnesia they redoubled their efforts. To him, it was madness that turned these people deaf and blind to real events as they unfolded.

Perhaps, he thought now, as he checked and rechecked the readiness of his men and their equipment, Noah was one of the last of his kind, a dinosaur unaware that his age was ending, that the glacier that had been forming on the horizon was about to plow him under.

Just like Dimitri Ilyinovich Maslov.


She has to go back, Dimitri Ilyinovich Maslov said, she and the three girls. Otherwise there will be no peace with Lev Antonin.

Since when does a shit-kicker like Antonin dictate to you, Arkadin said, the head of the Kazanskaya grupperovka

Arkadin had the sensation that Tarkanian, who stood by his side, had winced. The three men were surrounded by sound, amplified to an earsplitting level. In the Pasha Room of Propaganda, an elitny club in downtown Moscow, there were only two other menboth Maslovs muscle. All the other attendeesof which there were more than a dozenwere young, long-legged, blond, busty, gorgeous, and sexually desirable, which pretty much defined them: tyolkas all. They were clothedor, more accurately, semi-clothedin provocative outfits, whether miniskirts, bikinis, see-through tops, plunging necklines, or completely backless dresses. They wore high heels, even the ones in bathing suits, and plenty of makeup. Some reluctantly returned to their high school classes each day.

Maslov stared hard at Arkadin, assuming that like everyone else he confronted, he could intimidate him just by a look. Maslov was wrong, and he didnt like being wrong. Ever.

He took one step toward Arkadin, which was an aggressive step, though not a threatening one, and his nose wrinkled. Whats that fire smoke I smell on you, Arkadin, are you a f*cking woodsman on top of everything else


Five miles from the Orthodox cathedral, Arkadin had taken Jokar into the dense pine forest. She was cradling Yasha in her arms and he was holding an ax hed drawn out of the trunk of her car. Her three daughters, sobbing hysterically, trailed along behind the adults in single file.

When theyd left the parked car, Tarkanian had yelled after them, Half an hour, after that Im getting the f*ck out of here!

Will he really leave us here she asked.

Do you care

Not as long as youre with me.

At least, thats what he thought shed said. Shed spoken so softly that the wind had taken her words almost as soon as they were out of her mouth. Wings fluttered by overhead as they tramped beneath the swaying pine branches. Once they crunched through the thin crust, the snow was soft as down. Overhead, the sky was as woolly as Jokars coat.

In a small clearing she set her son down on a bed of snowy pine needles.

He always loved the forest, she said. He used to beg me to take him to play in the mountains.

As he set about finding felled trees, deadwood, and chopping it up into foot-long logs, Arkadin remembered his own all-too-infrequent trips to the mountains around Nizhny Tagil, the only place where he could take a deep breath without the oppressive weight of his parents and his birthplace withering his heart and sickening his spirit.

Within twenty minutes he had a bonfire going. The girls had stopped their sobbing, their tears freezing like tiny diamonds on their ruddy cheeks. As they stared, fascinated, into the building flames, the frozen tears melted, dripping from their rounded chins.

Jokar delivered Yasha into his arms while she said the prayers in her native language. She held her daughters close to her as she intoned the words, which gradually became a song, her strong voice lifted through the pine boughs, echoing into the thick clouds. Arkadin wondered if the fairies, elves, gods, and demi-gods she had invoked in her stories were somewhere close, watching the ceremony with sorrowful eyes.

At length, Jokar instructed Arkadin on what to say when she placed Yasha onto the funeral pyre. The girls were crying again as they watched their brothers little body being consumed by the flames. Jokar said a final prayer, and then they were done. Arkadin had no idea how much time had passed, but Tarkanian and the car were still waiting for them when they broke out of the tree line and returned to civilization.


I made a promise to her, Arkadin said.

This f*cking baby factory Maslov scoffed. Youre stupider than you look.

Youre the one who risked two of your menone of them totally incompetentto bring me back here.

Yes, you shithead, not you and four civilians who belong to someone else.

You talk about them as if theyre cattle.

Hey, f*ck you, bright boy! Lev Antonin wants them back, and thats where theyre going.

Im responsible for her sons death.

Did you kill the little f*cker Maslov was fairly shouting now. The muscle had been drifting closer and the tyolkas were doing their best to look in another direction.

No.

Then youre not responsible for his death. End of f*cking story!

I made a promise that she wouldnt be sent back to her husband, shes dead scared of him. Hell beat her half to death.

What the f*ck does that mean to me In his fury, Maslovs mineral eyes seemed to shoot sparks. I have a business to run.

Tarkanian stirred. Boss, maybe you should

What Maslov turned on Tarkanian. Are you gonna tell me what I should do, too, Mischa F*ck you! I asked you for something simple: Bring this kid back from Nizhny Tagil. And what happens The kid beats the shit outta Oserov and you come back like a f*cking pack mule with a shitload of problems I dont need. Having effectively silenced Tarkanian, he turned back to Arkadin. As for you, you better get your f*cking head screwed on right, bright boy, or Ill send you back to the shithole you crawled out of.

Theyre my responsibility, Arkadin said levelly. Ill take care of them.

Listen to him! Now Maslov was shouting. Who died and made you boss And whatever gave you the crooked idea that you have a say in anything that happens here His face was red, almost swollen. Mischa, get this motherless f*ck out of my sight before I rip him apart with my bare hands!

Tarkanian dragged Arkadin out of the Pasha Room and took him over to the long bar on one side of the main room. A stage, lit up like it was New Years Eve, featured a tall nubile tyolka with very little on, who spread her mile-long legs to a beat-heavy song.

Lets have a drink, Tarkanian said with forced joviality.

I dont want a drink.

Its on me. Tarkanian caught the bartenders eye. Come on, my friend, a drink is just what you need.

Dont tell me what I need, Arkadin said, his voice suddenly raised.

The absurd argument carried on from there, escalating enough so that a bouncer was summoned.

What seems to be the trouble He might have been addressing both of them but, because he knew Tarkanian by sight, his eyes were firmly fixed on Arkadin.

With a venomous glare, Arkadin reacted. He grabbed the bouncer and slammed his forehead against the edge of the bar with so much force that nearby drinks trembled and the closest ones tipped over. Then he kept slamming it until Tarkanian managed to pull him off.

I dont have a problem, Arkadin said to the stunned and bleeding bouncer. But its clear you do.

Tarkanian hustled him out into the night before he could do any more damage.

If you think Im ever going to work for that pile of dogshit, Arkadin said, youre sorely mistaken.

Tarkanian held up his hands. Okay, okay. Dont work for him. He guided Arkadin down the street, away from the clubs entrance. However, I dont know how youre going to make a living. Moscow is a different

Im not staying in Moscow. Breath, condensing in the chill, was shooting out of Arkadins nostrils like steam. Im going to take Jokar and the girls and

And what Where will you go You have no money, no prospects, nothing. How will you feed yourselves, let alone the kids Tarkanian shook his head. Take my advice, forget about those people, they belong to your past, to another life. Youve left Nizhny Tagil behind. He peered into Arkadins eyes. Thats what youve wanted all your life, isnt it

Im not letting Maslovs people take them back. You dont know what Lev Antonins like.

Maslov doesnt care what Lev Antonins like.

F*ck Maslov!

Tarkanian rounded on him. You really dont get it, do you Dimitri Maslov and his kind own Moscow lock, stock, and vodka. That means they own Jokar and her girls.

Jokar and the girls arent part of his world.

They are now, Tarkanian said. You dragged them into it.

I didnt know what I was doing.

Well, thats clear enough, but you have to face facts: Whats done is done.

There must be a way out of this.

Really Even if you had moneysay, if I were stupid enough to give you somewhat would it accomplish Maslov would send his people after you. Worse, considering how you provoked him, he might come after you himself. Trust me when I tell you thats not what you want for them.

Arkadin felt like pulling his hair out by the roots. Dont you understand I dont want them going back to that f*cker.

Have you considered that it might be the best outcome

Are you out of your mind

Look, you yourself said that Jokar told you Lev Antonin promised to protect her and her children. You know what she is, and the girls have her blood. If her secret gets out shell never be able to have a normal life among ethnic Russians. Face it, you cant protect them from Maslov, but theyll be safe enough back in Nizhny Tagil, where no one is going to say a word against her for fear of her husband. And listen, shes smart enough to tell him that she and the kids were abducted to ensure your safe passage. Chances are he wont lift a hand to her.

Until the next time hes drunk or depressed or just in the mood for a little fun.

Thats her life, not yours. Leonid Danilovich, Im talking to you as one friend to another. This is the only way. You managed to escape Nizhny Tagil; not everyone can be so fortunate.

The fact that Tarkanian was telling the truth only made Arkadin angrier. The problem was he didnt know what to do with that anger, so he began to turn it inward. More than anything, he wanted to see Jokar again, he wanted to hold her youngest girl in his arms again, to feel her warmth, her heartbeat. But he knew that it was impossible. If he met with her again, hed never be able to let her go. Maslovs people would surely kill him and the family would be shipped back to Lev Antonin anyway. He felt like a rat in a maze with no beginning and no end, only an eternal race chasing his own tail.

This was Dimitri Maslovs doing. At that moment he vowed that no matter how long it took hed make Maslov pay: Death would come to him only when hed been systematically stripped of everything he held dear.

Two days later he watched from the shadows across the streetTarkanian at his elbow, either for moral support or to drag him back if he got any ideas at the last minuteas Jokar and the three girls were led into a large black Zil. Two of Maslovs muscle were with them, plus the driver. The girls, bewildered, allowed themselves to be stowed in the car as docilely as lambs to the slaughter.

For her part, Jokar, with hands on the cars roof, one foot already inside, paused and looked around for him. As she did so, Arkadin saw not the look of despair he had been expecting, but rather an expression of infinite sadness, which tore through him like phosphorus, burning his insides as black as Yashas flesh. Hed deceived her, broken his promise.

In his mind he heard her voice as if she were calling to him now: Dont make me go back to him.

Shed believed in him, trusted him, and now she had nothing.

She ducked down, and he lost sight of her. The car door slammed, the Zil drove off, and he had nothing as well. This was brought home to him in an even more vicious fashion when, six weeks later, Tarkanian informed him that Jokar had shot her husband to death, then turned the gun on her children and herself.