The Bourne Evolution

by Brian Freeman

  “The Russians and Medusa? That’s interesting. Did you tell anyone?”

  Teeling shrugged. “Why would I? I’m out of the game. What do you think Medusa is planning on the island?”

  “I think they’re going to open those crates of champagne,” Bourne said.

  “A party, huh?”

  “Sort of.”

  Teeling’s mustache wrinkled. He capped the bottle of whiskey and grabbed a white captain’s hat from behind the bar. He shoved it low on his forehead over his long gray hair. The patch on the front of the hat read: Cut Bait.

  “Guess we better haul ass and get you out there,” Teeling said.

  * * *

  —

  BY the time Bourne saw the lush green island rising out of the water ahead of them, it was nearly sunset. The small piece of rock was shaped like a question mark, surrounded by miles of empty ocean. Through the binoculars, he saw a strip of white sand and dense foliage covering the shallow hillside. The roof and upper floor of a large estate barely cleared the tree line. A sleek yacht was docked at the pier that stretched from the beach into the deeper water.

  Bourne handed the binoculars to Teeling. “Is that the boat?”

  “That’s the one. Looks like they’ve unloaded some of those crates you were talking about. I don’t think we want to stay out here in plain sight for very long.”

  “All right, let’s head around to the far side. Move in as close as you can, but don’t draw attention to yourself.”

  “Not my first rodeo, Bourne,” Teeling replied with a wink as he revved the boat’s engine. The wind made his long gray hair fly. “Seems like you’re going up against an army. You want some backup in there?”

  “I don’t want to mess up your retirement, Teeling.”

  “Well, I appreciate that, although to be honest, there are days when I do miss the game. Tell you what, I’ll find a quiet spot on the horizon to drop a line. You need a round-trip ticket, you let me know, okay?”

  “Thanks.”

  Teeling navigated the catamaran westward until the beach disappeared from view, and then he steered closer, making the small island loom larger in front of them. The water got choppier, and the boat rose and fell like a bucking bronco with the waves. On this side, the island looked like a lonely patch of wilderness looming out of the ocean. Bourne saw trees crowded together and whitecaps breaking on the rocks at the shore. No one was visible.

  As the catamaran neared to within a hundred yards of the island, Bourne slipped off the boat into the cool ocean water. He’d changed into a black neoprene wet suit, and he had his gun, knife, and shoes secured inside a waterproof pouch in the zippered jacket. He waited as the boat passed him and veered toward the open sea, and then he swam for the island with measured strokes. The late-evening shadows and cresting waves kept him out of sight. He reached the rocky beach within a few minutes, but he lingered off the coast before emerging from the water, in case a welcoming party was prepared to meet him.

  However, the isolated beach seemed quiet. Too quiet.

  He was sure that Miles Priest would maintain surveillance on any craft drawing near to the island, particularly if a meeting of the tech cabal was underway. He would have expected the catamaran to draw guards to the beach, even if the craft made no attempt to land. Instead, there was no one. He was alone.

  Bourne shouldered his way out of the water. He retrieved his gun from inside the jacket and felt better with it in his hand. He looked up and down the thin, ragged coastline, which ended in a green wall of Caribbean pines, mahogany, and palm trees. Surf slapped on the shore, and a light, humid breeze blew across his wet skin. Birds chattered loudly over his head, as if agitated.

  Something felt wrong.

  Not far away, he saw a break in the trees that marked a trail leading inland. He spotted a flash of color near the path, and when he looked more closely, he recognized red stripes on the tough rubber frame of a Zodiac that had been dragged from the water and hidden inside the brush. He wasn’t the first visitor on the island. Bourne kept low as he jogged for the trees where the boat had been stowed. He thought about disabling it with his knife, but he decided to leave it intact, in case he needed to use the craft for his own escape.

  He continued deeper into the trees, but he hadn’t gone twenty feet before he spotted a body sprawled across the sandy path.

  He stopped, listening for other movement. He spun, slowly, with his gun arm outstretched. When he was convinced he was alone, he approached the body and saw a muscular black man in the beige uniform of a security guard. The man’s gun holster was empty, and his throat had been cut in a deep red slash. Bourne checked for a pulse and found none, but the body was still warm. The assault had been recent.

  Medusa was already making its way into the heart of the tech cabal.

  Still crouched by the body, Bourne looked up sharply as he heard the crack of gunfire from the eastern side of the island.

  He got to his feet and ran through the jungle.

  THIRTY-NINE

  MISS Shirley perched on the white-sand beach with her hands on her hips. Gabriel Fox stood next to her, in a red Chinese silk robe decorated with a fierce dragon. From behind her sunglasses, she watched the posse of the tech cabal arrive to greet them. Five of the group’s CEOs piled out of a Jeep, and two others exited a second Jeep, along with two security guards in uniform. Seeing the guards, Miss Shirley casually tapped two fingers on her hip in a wordless signal to the Medusa operatives standing next to the artillery crates stacked on the pier. She saw the leader of the team acknowledge the signal with the barest of nods, and her men began using crowbars to loosen the lids.

  She’d long ago memorized the names, biographies, and corporate histories of the CEOs who met on the island. Tyler Wall led the group, his hair and beard nearly to his waist. He was dressed as he always was, in a flowing gown with a staff that made him look like Moses returning from the mountain. Hon Xiu-Le, the diminutive social messaging wizard from Shanghai, walked beside him, dressed in black despite the warm day. The two appeared to be the appointed spokespeople for the cabal, with the other five executives hanging back beside the security guards. Four were men; one was a woman. They were all Americans.

  Miles Priest wasn’t among the welcoming party, which likely meant that the Carillon CEO hadn’t yet arrived on the island. That was a setback, but she couldn’t let it delay their plans.

  “Gabriel!” Tyler Wall announced in a booming voice, striding up to them and extending his hand. “How are you, man? Good to see you. Welcome to the island. You’ll love it here. I may not always see eye to eye with Miles about things, but he and Nelly don’t skimp when it comes to entertaining.”

  Gabriel stepped forward to let his fingers get wrapped up in Wall’s burly hand. “Tyler, how goes the world of microrobotics? I heard a doctor at Mayo took one of your latest critters on a test-drive through somebody’s innards. No more cameras up your ass, just swallow a robot and let it cruise through your colon.”

  “Good to see you keep up on my work, Gabe,” Wall replied.

  “Oh, trust me, I keep up on everybody’s work.”

  “Well, that’s what partnership is all about, buddy. Hey, have you met Hon Xiu-Le?”

  “I haven’t, but I’m looking forward to it.”

  Xiu-Le stepped forward and made a slight bow. Miss Shirley noticed the jaundiced look the Shanghai entrepreneur gave Gabriel’s robe, which was tied loosely with a sash over his ample waist and only dropped to his mid-thighs. “Mr. Fox, we are honored by your presence at long last. I hope this is the beginning of a close and trusting relationship among our various companies.”

  Gabriel winked. “Your messaging data, Hon, and my behavioral algorithms. Now, that’s a marriage made in heaven. Oh, and speaking of marriage, I need to introduce you folks to my wife and business partner. Me, I’m just the eye candy around here. She�
��s the one with the brains and the balls. Gents, this is Miss Shirley.”

  Miss Shirley gave the two CEOs a frigid smile and offered up one hand to be kissed. Their eyes traveled over her body, which was barely contained by a Brazilian bikini tied with the skimpiest of white strings. Wall didn’t hide his hunger as he looked at her. Hon Xiu-Le was more discreet, but he made a deep bow, with his face close enough that he could have licked her breasts like an ice cream cone.

  “I’ve heard stories about you, Shirley, but they don’t do you justice,” Wall told her, shaking his head in awe.

  “It’s Miss Shirley,” she instructed him.

  “Well, isn’t it really Mrs. Shirley, now that you two have tied the knot?” the CEO replied with a chuckle.

  “No,” she said in a tone that broached no argument.

  Wall laughed again, but he looked uncomfortable when he realized that she wasn’t joking.

  “You’re going to want to remember what she says about that, Tyler,” Gabriel warned him. “Miss Shirley is particular about how you address her. That’s not a mistake you want to make more than once. When I did it, I felt those nails of hers in places you do not want to feel nails, believe me.”

  “Okay, that’s good to know, Miss Shirley,” Wall said. “I have to tell you, all of us here are curious about the people you work for. A private equity group with the resources to make a play for Prescix? Impressive. But you know, the members of our little cabal don’t lose very graciously. I think we’d all like to find a way to bring Prescix into our fold. Who knows, maybe we can lure you away from your current employers and get you on our side.”

  “Unlikely.”

  “Well, wait until you hear our offer before you say that,” Wall replied with a wink.

  “Where is Nelly Lessard?” Miss Shirley demanded, cutting him off. “Isn’t she the one coordinating this meeting? I assumed she would be here in person for our arrival.”

  Wall gestured into the trees from where the Jeeps had emerged. “Oh, Nelly’s up at the estate with the others. She’s getting everything set up for us. If you know Nelly, you know every detail has to be perfect.”

  “And Miles Priest?” Miss Shirley asked.

  “Inbound. Weather delayed him and DeRay out of Glasgow, so they didn’t get to Pindling until an hour ago. He and Scott should be arriving at the helipad in a few minutes.”

  “Everyone else is here? All of the other CEOs?”

  “Oh, yeah. Nelly wouldn’t take no for an answer about attending this meeting. Everyone canceled plans to be here. That’s how important this is, Gabriel. We figured we’d have a little cocktail get-together before we get down to business. We have some serious things to discuss, but serious things usually go better when they’re washed down with a little coconut rum. Of course, I see that you’ve brought along some of the best bubbly, too. We’ll definitely want to open some of those bottles tonight.”

  “What about security?” Miss Shirley asked, as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “What measures have you taken?”

  Wall shrugged. “Don’t worry about that, Shirley. The island is secure.”

  “Miss Shirley. How many men, and what weapons do they have?”

  Hon Xiu-Le knitted his brow with suspicion and crossed his arms over his skinny chest. “I’m sorry, but why do you wish to know that?”

  “I’m responsible for Gabriel’s safety,” Miss Shirley replied. “If I’m not satisfied with the security arrangements, we’re leaving.”

  She snapped her fingers at the two guards who had accompanied the CEOs in the second Jeep. “You two. Over here. Now.”

  The guards exchanged glances and then approached the group across the sand. The taller one, who had dark close-cropped hair, seemed to think he was James Bond and gave Miss Shirley a condescending look as he sized up her body in the bikini. The shorter one, who was heavyset and Hispanic, was more cautious and had his hand close to the butt of his gun. He was obviously the smarter of the two.

  “You need help with something, ma’am?” the Bond look-alike asked.

  “The details of your security. Number of men, where are they located, what is their weaponry.”

  The guard gave her a tight smile. “Sorry, sweetheart. That’s confidential. But don’t you worry, we’ve got everything under control.”

  Tyler Wall interrupted them. “Trust me, Shirley, I’ve been coming here for years, and there’s never been a problem.”

  “That’s two,” she said.

  “Sorry?”

  “You’ve now called me Shirley two more times following my warning. It’s Miss Shirley. A third time will result in punishment.”

  Wall laughed, making his large body shake. “Shit, Gabe, this one’s a hell of a spitfire. You’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

  “She’s not kidding, Tyler,” Gabriel told him cheerily.

  Wall’s eyes took another slow tour around Miss Shirley’s bikini, and then he rubbed his big hand up and down the handle of his walking staff in a deliberately suggestive manner. “Well, I didn’t get where I am without taking risks. I think I might actually enjoy a little punishment from someone like you . . . Shirley.”

  Miss Shirley sighed.

  She wore a white leather Prada purse over her shoulder, and she dug both hands inside the main pouch. When her hands emerged again, she had a gun in each one. She aimed the first gun at Tyler Wall’s throat and fired a single shot that severed his brain stem and spinal cord, dropping him dead to the sand. With the second gun, she delivered a shot to the center of the forehead of the Hispanic guard, and he collapsed with equal speed.

  In the same instant, the half-dozen Medusa operatives on the pier bent over the crates at their feet and grabbed automatic rifles, which they began firing toward the five CEOs who were waiting near the first Jeep. The startled executives tried to run toward the jungle, but the hail of bullets cut them down and left their bodies twitching.

  The gleaming white sand ran red with blood.

  The James Bond look-alike guard finally awoke from his total shock and reached for his Glock, but Miss Shirley placed the barrel of one of her guns between his eyes, and he immediately raised his hands in surrender.

  Hon Xiu-Le’s face twisted into a mask of terror and disbelief as he stared at the bodies and the blood. Miss Shirley pointed her other gun at his throat and said calmly, “What’s my name?”

  “Miss Shirley! Miss Shirley!”

  “Excellent.” She focused on the remaining guard. “Security details please.”

  The remaining guard couldn’t talk fast enough. “They’ve got cameras on the beach, so they’ve been watching since you arrived. They know what just happened, and that means they’ll be calling in backup. They’ll seal everything up and hold you off until the cavalry arrives. You’ll never get through the gate.”

  “Let me worry about that. How many men?”

  “Four men doing shifts on the island perimeter, a dozen more men inside the estate with body armor and semi-automatic rifles.”

  “Wonderful. Thank you for the information.”

  Miss Shirley squeezed the trigger and shot him in the head.

  She gestured toward the men on the pier to join her on the beach and then separately signaled toward the jungle, where three other Medusa operatives emerged from the trees. They had rifles in their hands, and their clothes were already streaked head to toe with blood.

  The guards on the island perimeter were no longer a problem.

  “Shall we?” Miss Shirley said to Gabriel Fox.

  “Absolutely, my love.”

  The team prepared to move out, and she nudged one of her guns against the neck of the Chinese CEO. “Lead the way to the Jeeps, Mr. Xiu-Le. Medusa would like to meet the rest of the tech cabal.”

  * * *

  —

  THE silver Airbus helicopter carrying Miles
Priest and Scott DeRay flew low enough to make whirlpools on the ocean water as it howled toward the island. As they got closer in the waning daylight, Priest saw the profile of the yacht docked at the pier, and it annoyed him that Gabriel had arrived ahead of them. Priest prided himself on his punctuality, with every meeting starting right on time.

  “I hope your plan works, Scott,” Priest said.

  Scott, in the rear seat next to him, looked equally unhappy with their delay. “I’m not sure we have any alternatives.”

  Priest rubbed the long chin on his drooping face. He knew they were running out of time. “Our lobbyists in Washington tell me that the Senate has the votes to pass the tech reform bill, despite all the calls I’ve made. The House was a given, but we’d been hoping to stop it in the Senate. We’ll all be dogs on congressional leashes if this goes through. Except for Prescix, of course. If Medusa grabs hold of Prescix and takes it private, they’ll be able to operate with a fraction of the oversight on the rest of us, and there won’t be a damn thing we can do to stop them. Which I’m sure was the plan all along.”

  “I’m afraid that’s not the only bad news,” Scott told him. “The feds are taking the war to another front, too.”

  Priest scowled. “Namely?”

  “I just got an email from one of my sources in the AG’s office. He says the Justice Department is threatening antitrust action against several of the largest players in the tech cabal. Starting with Carillon.”

  “Outrageous!”

  “It’ll be a long battle,” Scott said. “This will be a huge legal fight.”

  Priest shook his head. “That’s the whole point. It will be another expensive distraction. We’ll be battling the government instead of battling Medusa. The timing is no coincidence. They’re trying to bleed us with a thousand cuts.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “It isn’t about the other companies,” Priest added, staring at the water below them. “It isn’t even about Carillon. It’s me they want. This is a personal vendetta against me. I’m the biggest obstacle to their plans, and they want me gone.”