“Tell me, Ivan Ivanovich,” he said, “what if it were you Cherkesov ordered me to kill?”
Volkin’s eyes were almost all yellow now, a cat’s eyes, full of mysterious, unknowable thoughts. “A test is a test, my friend. A sacrifice is a sacrifice. I would trust you to know that.”
La Défense rose like a post-modern stranger at the extreme western edge of Paris. And yet it was a far better solution exiling the hightech business district of the city to La Défense than allowing modern construction to spoil Paris’s gorgeous architecture. The gleaming green-glass Île de France Bank building sat midway along the Place de l’Iris, which ran like an aorta through the heart of La Défense. On the top floor, fifteen men sat on either side of a polished marble table. They wore elegant made-to-measure business suits, white shirts, and conservative ties, even the Muslims. It was a requirement of the Domna, as was the gold ring on the forefinger of the right hand. The Domna was probably the only group in existence where the two major Muslim sects, Sunni and Shi’a, peacefully coexisted and even helped each other when the occasion called for it.
The sixteenth man commanded the head of the table. He had a cruel mouth, a hawk’s beak for a nose, piercing blue eyes, and skin the color of wild honey. By his left elbow and slightly behind him sat the lone woman, notebooks open on her lap. She was younger than the men, or at least seemed so, with her long red hair, porcelain skin, and wide-apart eyes, transparent as seawater. Occasionally, when the man at the head of the table extended his left hand, she passed him a sheet of paper in the crisp, professional manner of a nurse handing a surgeon a scalpel. He called her Skara and she called him Sir.
When the man at the head of the table read from the printout, everyone in the room listened, except perhaps for Skara, who had memorized the entire contents of her constantly updated notebooks, which she considered far too sensitive to be digitized.
The seventeen people inhabited a room made of concrete and glass into which had been embedded a network of electronic gear that would foil even the most sophisticated attempts at eavesdropping.
The directorate heads of the Severus Domna had convened from the four corners of the globe—Shanghai, Tokyo, Berlin, Beijing, Sanaa, London, Washington, DC, New York, Riyadh, Bogotá, Moscow, New Delhi, Lagos, Paris, and Tehran.
Benjamin El-Arian, the man at the head of the table, finished addressing the men at the table. “Frankly, America has always been a thorn in our side. Until now.” He curled his hand into a fist. “Our goal is within our grasp. We have found another way.”
For the next ten minutes El-Arian explicated every detail of the new plan. “This will, by design, put a great deal of pressure on myself and the other American members, but I have every confidence that this new plan will gain us far more than what was in place before Jason Bourne derailed it.” He continued with a few more words of summation, then called an adjournment.
The others filed out, and El-Arian used the intercom to call in Marlon Etana, the Domna’s most powerful and, therefore, influential field agent.
“I trust you are about to assign someone to terminate Bourne,” Etana said as he approached his leader. “He murdered our people in Tineghir, including Idir Syphax, who was beloved by all of us.”
El-Arian smiled toothily. “Forget Bourne. Your assignment is Jalal Essai. Since betraying his sacred trust to us, he has caused us considerable inconvenience. I want you to find him and terminate him.”
“But through Bourne’s interference we lost our chance at Solomon’s gold.”
El-Arian frowned. “Why do you remind me of something I already know?”
Etana’s hand curled into a ball. “I want to kill him.”
“And leave Essai free to do more damage?” He placed a hand on the other’s shoulder. “Trust in these decisions, Marlon. Carry out your assignment. Remember the dominion. The Domna is counting on you.”
Etana nodded, turned, and, without a backward glance, left the room.
All was silence in the vast echoless place until Skara rose. “Five minutes,” she said without looking at her watch.
El-Arian nodded and stepped to the north-facing window. He stared down at the wide road, the foreshortened people. He was a scholar, a professor of archaeology and ancient civilizations, a formal man with an almost regal bearing.
“This will work,” he said almost to himself.
“It will work,” Skara said as she came up beside him.
“What color?”
“Black. A Citroën.” She breathed against his shoulder. Her scent was curious, cinnamon and something slightly bitter, burnt almond, perhaps. “Three minutes from now no one will remember it.”
El-Arian nodded again, almost absently. The familiar frisson coming off her still made him slightly uncomfortable. He thought fleetingly of his wife and children safe, protected by many layers, but so far away.
“Who will I be tomorrow?”
He turned to see her slender hand extended. Reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket, he produced a thick packet.
Opening it, Skara found a passport, her new legend, a first-class air ticket with an open return, credit cards, and three thousand American dollars. “Margaret Penrod,” she read off the open passport.
“Maggie,” El-Arian said. “You call yourself Maggie.” He tilted his head slightly as his gaze returned to the street below them. “It’s all in the legend.”
Skara nodded, as if satisfied. “I’ll memorize it tonight on the plane.”
“There’s Laurent,” El-Arian said, indicating a figure in a dark suit exiting their building. He could not keep a certain excitement out of his voice.
Skara drew out a disposable cell phone and punched in Laurent’s number. At once, a pre-programmed code was transmitted. El-Arian had already commenced his mental countdown. Laurent gave a little shiver and, drawing out his cell, checked its screen.
“What’s he doing?” El-Arian said.
“Nothing,” Skara assured him. “He must have felt the pulse, that’s all.”
El-Arian frowned. “He shouldn’t have felt anything.”
Skara shrugged.
“Can he do anything about it?”
“Not a thing.”
At zero minus fifteen, a blur appeared in his peripheral vision, and he shifted his gaze to the oncoming black Citroën.
El-Arian craned his neck. “Is he calling someone?”
Skara’s shapely shoulders lifted and fell. “There’s no need to worry.”
The next instant El-Arian understood her certainty. The Citroën struck Laurent so hard he flew perhaps ten feet in the air. He hit the ground, lay there for several seconds, then, astonishingly, began to move, trying to crawl back to the curb. The car swerved to allow its right-hand tires to crush his head, then it sped off so fast that by the time bystanders started to rush out into the street it had vanished.
Table of Contents
Front Cover Image
Welcome
Dedication
A Preview of The Bourne Dominion
Prologue
Bangalore, India
Book One
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Book Two
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Book Three
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Book Four
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
&nb
sp; Chapter 31
By Robert Ludlum
Acclaim for the Bourne Thrillers
Copyright
By Robert Ludlum
The Bancroft Strategy
The Ambler Warning
The Tristan Betrayal
The Janson Directive
The Sigma Protocol
The Prometheus Deception
The Matarese Countdown
The Cry of the Halidon
The Apocalypse Watch
The Scorpio Illusion
The Road to Omaha
The Bourne Ultimatum
Trevayne
The Icarus Agenda
The Bourne Supremacy
The Aquitaine Progression
The Road to Gandolfo
The Parsifal Mosaic
The Bourne Identity
The Matarese Circle
The Holcroft Covenant
The Chancellor Manuscript
The Gemini Contenders
The Rhinemann Exchange
The Matlock Paper
The Osterman Weekend
The Scarlatti Inheritance
Written by Eric Van Lustbader
Robert Ludlum’s™ The Bourne Deception
Robert Ludlum’s™ The Bourne Sanction
Robert Ludlum’s™ The Bourne Betrayal
Robert Ludlum’s™ The Bourne Legacy
Also by Eric Van Lustbader
NICHOLAS LINNEAR NOVELS
Second Skin
Floating City
The Kaisho
White Ninja
The Miko
The Ninja
CHINA MAROC NOVELS
Shan
Jian
OTHER NOVELS
First Daughter
The Testament
Art Kills
Pale Saint
Dark Homecoming
Black Blade
Angel Eyes
French Kiss
Zero
Black Heart
Sirens
Last Snow
ACCLAIM FOR THE BOURNE THRILLERS
ROBERT LUDLUM’S™
THE BOURNE OBJECTIVE
“Thriller addicts who love an adrenaline rush of action and global adventure will snap this one up.”
—Library Journal
“Fast-paced and exciting… and you cannot look away for a split second for fear of missing something important… It is reassuring to know that, in the able hands of Eric Van Lustbader, Jason Bourne is alive and well and continuing to search for the truth to his own existence and overall purpose. Here’s hoping that Lustbader keeps this classic character going for more episodes of international intrigue and adventure.”
—BookReporter.com
“The rogue spy is one of the best characters in the genre.”
—US Metro Newspapers
“This novel rocks—it’s filled with action, adventure, and has plenty of plot twists and turns… an entertaining, thrilling roller-coaster ride you won’t want to end… a heart-pounding, adrenaline-inducing, action-packed novel that fans of the Jason Bourne franchise should eagerly embrace. It’s a great novel, really, whether you are a longtime fan, or are relatively new to the series… an excellent novel.”
—BestsellersWorld.com
ROBERT LUDLUM’S™
THE BOURNE DECEPTION
“Powerful and poignant development of characters old and new, as well as a hard-hitting plot, reinvent the series and ensure its place in contemporary political fiction… Once again, Van Lustbader has written a gripping novel that the reader can easily imagine being developed into another blockbuster film.”
—Fredericksburg Free Lance-Star
“I plowed through [this book], my heart racing at every turn of the page.”
—Wichita Falls Times Record News (TX)
“Fast-paced, intense action… a compelling read. The number of characters and their interconnections create a fascinating puzzle.”
—RT BookReviews Magazine
ROBERT LUDLUM’S™
THE BOURNE SANCTION
“Twisted, dark, and exciting.”
—Oklahoman
“A thrill-a-minute work… This is one novel that will keep you reading long into the night.”
—BookReporter.com
“Another jet-speed, action-packed episode… jam-packed with explosive action, shocking violence, and breathtaking betrayals… Suspense builds to a crescendo of a conclusion.”
—BookLoons.com
ROBERT LUDLUM’S™
THE BOURNE BETRAYAL
“Breathless writing that makes the pages fly.”
—Kirkus Reviews
“A fun thriller.”
—Chicago Tribune
“A cleverly plotted, incisive thriller with a hero I’m glad is on the good guys’ side. In an amazing work of fiction, Lustbader takes us into the minds of terrorists.”
—NightsandWeekends.com
“Lustbader is an excellent storyteller and is not afraid to keep the twists and turns coming in this sequel… This is an explosive addition to a series with an unrivaled heritage and storied pedigree.”
—BookReporter.com
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
Copyright © 2010 by Myn Pyn, LLC
Excerpt from The Bourne Dominion copyright © 2010 by Myn Pyn, LLC
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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The publisher does not have any responsibility for websites (or their content) that are not owned by the publisher.
Second eBook Edition: April 2011
ISBN: 978-0-446-56907-1
The Bourne Objective Page 46