The Bourne Deception

34





BOURNE WAS BLOWN BACK off his feet by the concussion of the bullets striking him. Searing pain racked him; he must have passed out for a moment, because the next thing he knew Arkadin had climbed up to the lip of the crater, looking down at him with an odd expression that might have been pity or even disappointment.

Here we are, he said as he walked toward Bourne. Karpov isnt going anywhere and Perliss men are dead, if not buried. Theyre both dead men. So now its just you and me, the first and last Treadstone graduates. But youre on the verge of death as well, arent you He crouched down. You are complicit in Devras death and I made you pay, but theres something I want to know before you die. How many more graduates are there Ten Twenty More

Bourne could barely speak, he felt paralyzed. There was blood all over the front of the jacket Boris had given him.

I dont know, he managed to get out. Breathing was more difficult than hed expected, and the pain was incredible. Now that he was in the center of the web, now that he had found the clever spider who crouched there spinning his intricate strands, he felt helpless.

You dont know. Arkadin cocked his head to one side, mocking him. Well, heres what I know and, unlike you, I dont mind sharing. I imagine you think I hired the Torturer, but nothing could be farther from the truth. Why would I hire someone to do something Im itching to do myself Doesnt make sense, does it But heres what does make sense: The Torturer was hired by Willard. Yes, thats right, the man who remade you in Bali, after you somehow survived a bullet to the heart. How did you manage that, by the way Never mind. In a moment, when youre dead, itll be irrelevant.

Ordnancemortars perhapsfrom the Iranians came whistling through the sky, detonating at two different flanking points not a hundred yards away. Arkadin never flinched or even blinked. He merely waited for an abatement of the screaming.

Where was I Oh, yes, Willard. Heres another news flash for you: Willard knew I was alive and that I was the one whod pulled the trigger in Bali. How did he know The typical Treadstone way, he interrogated the man I hired to make sure you were really dead. He called me on my own mans cell, can you believe the balls on that f*ck!

Not far away, aircraft engines whined into life. The Black Hawks rotors started spinning. Now Bourne knew where Perlis had gone.

I imagine youre wondering why he didnt tell you Because he was testing youjust like he was testing me. He wanted to see how long it would take you to find out about me because he already knew how long it took me to find out about you. Arkadin sat back on his heels. Clever little f*cker, Ill give him that.

Well, now that weve gotten to know each other a little better, its time to end it. Theres only so much time I can spend with my doppelgnger without getting sick to my stomach.

He got to his feet. Id make you crawl, but Im quite sure in your condition you cant manage it.

That was when Bourne rose up as if hed returned from the dead, and lunged at him.


* * *





Arkadin, in shock, raised the SIG and fired. Once again Bourne was knocked off his feet, once again he rose to one knee and then to his feet.

Good Christ! Arkadin said. His eyes harbored a hunted and dangerous look. What the f*ck are you

Bourne reached out and grabbed at the gun. At precisely that moment, a shot rang out, spinning Arkadin around. Blood leaked from a wound in his shoulder. He shouted, struck out at Bourne, then fired off two shots at Boris Karpov who, despite his broken leg, had crawled up the side of the charred crater. Arkadins SIG clicked hollowly; the magazine was empty.

The Black Hawk lifted off and, swinging around, began a raking fire of machine-gun bursts at the remaining members of Arkadins cadre. It made no difference to the Black River gunner aboard the helicopter that Arkadins men were still engaged with the Iranian guardsboth were being systematically mowed down.

Throwing the useless SIG into Bournes face, Arkadin raced toward what remained of his men. Bourne took three steps after him and fell to his knees. His heart felt as if it was about to burst. Despite the Kevlar vest and packets of pig blood Karpov had insisted he put on under his jacket, the impact of the four shots Arkadin had fired at him had torn open his original wound. He could barely catch his breath.

The Black Hawk was swinging around for another run at the men on the ground, but now Arkadin had slammed a missile into the shoulder launcher. Bourne knew that it was imperative for Arkadin to protect what was left of his cadrewithout them, there was nothing he could do here. He couldnt hold the oil fields by himself. His only chance now was to bring the Black Hawk down.

With an extreme force of will, he rose and loped toward a tangle of dead soldiers. Picking up an AK-47, he aimed it at Arkadin and pulled the trigger. The magazine was empty. Throwing it aside, he wrenched a Luger from a holster on one of the soldiers, checked that it was loaded, and ran toward where Arkadin stood, spread-legged, the rocket launcher on his right shoulder.

Bursts of machine-gun fire from the Black Hawk tracered through the air as Bourne ran and squeezed the Lugers trigger, forcing Arkadin to fire the missile at a run. Possibly the launcher had sustained damage or else the missile itself was defective because it missed the helicopter. Without breaking stride, Arkadin tossed aside the launcher and, with almost the same motion, ripped a submachine gun out of a fallen soldiers grip. He fired at Bourne on the run, forcing Bourne to scramble for cover. Arkadin kept firing until the clip ran out, then Bourne was up and running, though he could scarcely catch his breath. He fired, still on the run, but Arkadin was lost in a plume of dense black smoke. Above their heads the Black River helicopter lifted away in the direction of the oil wells.

There were no Black River personnel left alive that Bourne could see, and Arkadins cadre lay strewn on the smoking ground. Bourne ran into the smoke and immediately his eyes began to tear; his breath felt ragged in his throat as his lungs labored. In that moment he sensed something coming at him from out of the swirling blackness, and he ducked, but not quite in time.

Arkadins two-handed blow caught him on the shoulder, spinning him around. For the moment, the Luger was useless, and Arkadin delivered a punch to the side of Bournes head, staggering him further. Bourne felt as if both his head and his chest were about to explode, but when Arkadin lunged for the Luger, he struck out with the barrel, flaying open a long bloody wound on Arkadins cheek, so deep he could see bone.

Arkadin reeled backward into the thick black pall, and Bourne squeezed off the Lugers last three rounds. He careered through the smoke, searching for his foe, coming at last out of the plume. He turned in all directions, but Arkadin was nowhere to be seen.

All at once he was on his knees, felled by the pain in his chest. His head hung down, the agony all-encompassing. In his mind he saw the fire creeping through him, threatening to consume him, and he thought of what Tracy had said as she lay in his arms, dying: Its in our darkest hour that our secrets eat us alive.

And then in the center of that fire a face appeareda face made of fire. It was the face of Shiva, the god of destruction and resurrection. Was it Shiva who lifted him to his feet Hed never know, because one moment he was on the verge of collapse, the next he stood swaying on his feet.

And it was then that he saw Boris lying at the edge of the crater, his head covered in blood.


Ignoring his own pain, Bourne dug his hands under Karpovs armpits and hauled him up. Then, with the tracers buzzing through the air overhead, he dipped his knees and threw Boris over his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he began to pick his way past the dead and the dying, the still-smoldering remnants of human beings, toward the Russian helicopter.

Several times, he was forced to stop either by the hail of machine-gun fire or by the pain that gripped his heart like a vise cinched so tight he could scarcely breathe. Once, he went down on one knee, and the blackened hand of a soldierof which side it was impossible to tellgrabbed at the fabric of his trousers. Bourne tried to brush it away, but the fingers stuck to him like glue. All around him half-shattered faces seemed to turn to him, shrieking in the silent agony of their death throes. They were all the same now, these victims of violence that was always, at heart, senseless. Their allegiances were rendered irrelevant by chaos, blood, and fire, erasing not only their humanity but also their beliefsthat one thing that drove them, whether it be politics, religion, or simply money. They were all jumbled together under a lowering sky filled with the ashes of their compatriots and their enemies.

Finally, he peeled the soldiers grip off him and, rising unsteadily, continued on his agonizing journey over the blasted landscape. Visibility was now an issue, what with the oily smoke that choked the already filthy air. As if in a dream, the Russian helicopter seemed to fade in and out of focus, to be at first near at hand, then thousands of yards distant. He ran, stopped, crouched over, panting, then ran on again, feeling like Sisyphus rolling the boulder up the hill but never getting to the top. His goal still seemed a mile away, and so he kept on, one foot in front of the other, stumbling and loping with his ungainly burden, zigzagging through the zone of death this mini-war had produced. And at last, lungs bursting, eyes tearing, he saw Boriss men pour out of the shelter of the helicopter to meet him and their fallen commander. They took him off Bournes numb shoulder, and he fell to his knees. Two of Boriss men lifted him to his feet and fed him water.

But more bad news awaited him here. Boriss crew had been forced to abandon the Havoc, which had been rendered inoperable by the missile strike. Bourne, looking around while he tried to regain his breath, directed them to the Air Afrika jet, sitting idle three hundred yards away.

They encountered no one around the jet or on the gangway. The door gaped open. Inside, they discovered why: The crew had been bound and gagged, presumably by Arkadin and his cadre. Bourne gave the order to free them.

They lay the colonel down on the floor of the Air Afrika jet and the medic crouched over him, beginning his examination.

After five anxious minutes, when he tested and probed, he looked up at Bourne and the men hovering around. The leg is a simple break and is no problem, he said. As for his wound, it could have been worse. The bullet grazed the side of his head, but didnt crack the skull. Thats the good news. His hands continued to work on his fallen commander. The bad news is hes got a serious concussion. Pressure is building in his brain; Im going to have to relieve it by drilling a small holehe pointed to a spot on Boriss right templejust here. He took a closer look at Bourne and clucked his tongue. Still and all, I can only do triage. We need to get him to a hospital as quickly as possible.

Bourne went up front and gave the Air Afrika pilot and navigator orders to take them back to Khartoum. At once, they began their preflight checklist. The engines came on one by one.

Please strap yourself in, the medic said when Bourne returned. Ill see to you as soon as Ive got Colonel Karpovs condition stabilized.

Bourne was in no condition to argue. He collapsed into a seat, stripped off his jacket and the spent packets of pig blood Arkadins bullets had ripped open. He said a silent prayer to the spirit of the pig whod given its life to spare his own, and could not help seeing in his minds eye the great carved pig at the pool in Bali.

He unstrapped the Kevlar vest and buckled up, but his gaze never left Karpovs prone form. He looked deathly pale, there was blood all over him, and for the first time in Bournes spotty memory he looked truly vulnerable. Bourne found himself wondering whether hed looked like that to Moira after hed been shot in Tenganan.

As they began to roll down the runway, he had the presence of mind to call Soraya on his sat phone and tell her what happened.

Ill get to General LeBowe, whos commanding the allied forces, and tell him to stand down, Soraya said. Hes a good man, hell listen. Especially when I tell him that by tomorrow morning well have enough hard evidence to prove it was Black River, not Iranian terrorists, who fired the Kowsar 3.

A lot of people in the US government are going to have egg on their faces, Bourne said wearily.

With what we have, Im hoping more than egg for some of them, Soraya said. Anyway, it wouldnt be the first time and it sure as hell wont be the last.

He heard three huge blasts from somewhere outside. Looking through the Perspex window he saw Perliss parting gift: the Black Hawk had fired missiles into each of the wells. They were now all on fire. Doubtless this was his way of ensuring that, even if he survived, Arkadin wouldnt get his hands on them.

Jason, you told me Colonel Karpov will be okay, but are you all right

Bourne, sitting in the cabin of the jet that was just now airborne, had no idea what to say.

How many times do you have to die, he thought, before you learn how to live


The moment Moira ripped open the package Soraya had sent her and pulled out the titanium tags, she knew she had the last piece of physical evidence to take Noah and Black River down. The tags were Black River, all right. After she had decoded them, had gotten the names and serial numbers of the four operatives, she took the tags and Humphry Bambers laptop with Bardem to the only person she knew she could absolutely trust: Frederick Willard.

Willard accepted her evidence with a controlled amount of glee and, it seemed to her, a curious equanimity that spoke of a degree of foreknowledge. In due course Willard presented the evidence against Black River to a multiplicity of sources, to ensure the evidence would not somehow be deliberately mislaid or otherwise disposed of.


Soraya and Amun Chalthoum returned to Cairo. Despite the fact that Sorayas people had gathered compelling evidence on the identity of Chalthoums enemy, it was not a happy time for them personally. Soraya knew that hed never leave Egypt, that he felt comfortable only in his homeland. Besides, he still had political battles to fight here, and she knew that even if she hadnt helped him, hed never run away from them. She also knew that shed never leave America to live here with him.

What are we going to do, Amun she said.

I dont know, azizti. I love you in a way Ive never loved anyone in my life. The thought of losing you is unbearable. He took her hand. Move here. Live with me. Well get married and youll have babies and well raise them together.

She laughed and shook her head. You know I wouldnt be happy here.

But think how beautiful our children will be, azizti!

She laughed again. Idiot! She kissed him on the lips. Shed meant it as a friendly kiss, but it turned into something else, something deeper, something ecstatic, and it lasted a long time.

When at last they broke apart, she said, I have an idea. Well meet once a year for a week, a different place each year, or wherever you wish.

He looked at her for a long time. Azizti, there is nothing else for us, is there

Isnt this enough This has to be enough, you must see that.

I see very clearly. He sighed and held her tight. Well make it enough, wont we


Three days later the Black River scandal hit the Internet and newswires with the force of a hurricane, overshadowing even the disbanding of the allied forces on Irans borders, which had already been parsed to death by the news medias talking heads.

This is it, Peter Marks told Willard, both Black River and Secretary Halliday are going down.

He was surprised when Willard gave him an inscrutable look. I hope youre not eager to back out of our deal, princeling.

That cryptic remark became clear when, hours later, Secretary of Defense Bud Halliday held a press conference condemning Black Rivers role in what he termed a stupefying abuse of power that goes so far beyond the parameters of the companys stated mission that steps are being taken to dismantle it. Ive spoken personally to the attorney general, who confirmed to me that both civil and criminal charges are at this moment being prepared against members of Black River, including the principals. I want to make perfectly clear to the American people that the NSA hired Black River in good faith on the basis of that organizations assurances that they had met with and had come to an agreement with leaders of a pro-democracy group inside Iran. Documentation was provided as to dates, times, names of the principals, and issues discussed, all of which I have turned over to the attorney general as evidence against Black River. I want to assure the American people that at no time did I or anyone in the NSA know that this was a total fabrication on the part of Black River. To that end, a blue-ribbon panel is at this moment being created to investigate the entire matter. My pledge to you today is that the perpetrators of this unthinkable plot will be punished to the full extent of the law.

Not surprisingly, no link was ever discovered between the NSA, let alone Halliday himself, and Black River other than the one he publicly described. And to Markss astonishment, the principals charged by the attorney general were Kerry Mangold and Dick Braun. Nowhere was there a mention of Oliver Liss, the third member of Black Rivers triumvirate.

When Marks asked Willard about this, he received the same inscrutable look, which sent him scrambling to Google stories on Black River. What he discovered, after an exhaustive search, was a small article buried in The Washington Post of several weeks back. It seemed that Oliver Liss had tendered his resignation without notice from the company he had helped found for personal reasons. Try as he might, Marks could find no mention anywhere of what those personal reasons might be.

Thats when Willard, with a Cheshire Cat grin, told him there werent any.

I trust youre ready to start work, Willard said, because Tread-stone is back in business.