He howled in agony. As he thrashed to dislodge her, she clung to him without letting go. Still holding Abbey by the neck, the assassin cracked the barrel down against the top of her head. As soon as Jason saw the man’s gun shift away, he leaped across the space between them. The assassin tried to bring his gun back around, but Bourne locked his fingers around the man’s wrist and piled his weight against him, bringing all of them to the ground.
Unconscious, Abbey spilled to the concrete beside them.
Jason was on top, pinning the killer down. He slammed the man’s wrist against the pavement until his hand released the gun. The assassin had his own hand locked around Jason’s gun, and their arms seesawed for control. Bourne snapped his forehead against the man’s nose, breaking it in a mass of blood, but the killer didn’t relent. The Renault was right next to them, and Jason rolled, throwing the man sideways and slamming his head into the steel frame of the sedan.
The blow dizzied the man. His grip on Jason’s gun hand loosened. Bourne shoved the barrel into the killer’s temple and squeezed the trigger. The shot was like a cannon in his ears. Bone, blood, and brain flew. Deadweight, the assassin collapsed on top of him, and Jason shoved away the body and tried to get air into his chest again.
Then his head turned sideways.
Abbey Laurent had disappeared.
Go after her! You can’t let her go!
Bourne staggered to his feet. Just beyond the Renault, Abbey limped away, zigzagging, too dizzy to make a straight path. Her hands were still tied behind her. He marched toward her, and when she looked back, she tried to run. But she couldn’t. She swayed and fell, and her eyes leached tears as he loomed over her. She struggled to fight him, but her kicks were weak. Jason picked her up under the shoulders and carried her to the Renault, and then he opened the back door and laid her across the seat.
She stared at him with wide-open brown eyes that struggled to focus.
“Are you going to run?” he asked. “If I were you, I’d try to run.”
She didn’t answer.
“I’m going to tie your legs, just to be sure,” he said. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you go right now. We need to talk, and we can’t talk here. I’m going to get us out of town.”
He slid off his belt and wrapped it around her ankles. She didn’t resist as he tied them together.
“Did he hurt you in any other way?” Jason asked. “Do you need medical help?”
Abbey simply watched him with a blank expression. Her face was oddly calm.
“I’m not going to kill you,” he added.
Still she said nothing. Her skin was pale. Her red bangs hung in messy strands across her forehead. Her eyes followed everything he did, as if trying to figure him out.
“I’m going to get the keys,” Jason told her, “and then we’ll go.”
He backed out of the Renault and began to close the car door, but then Abbey spoke to him for the first time.
“Hey.”
Jason stared at her, waiting.
“What do you like most about Quebec?” she asked.
He allowed himself a quick laugh.
“Those wonderful little maple candies,” Bourne replied.
TWELVE
BOURNE drove for hours until it was dark and the Renault was in the hills north of Montreal. He took a dirt road that ended at the shore of a mountain lake, with dense stands of pines filling the slopes over the water. A small wooden pier jutted into the lake, and stars crowded the night sky. Behind him, tied up in the back seat, Abbey Laurent was silent. She hadn’t spoken again during the long trip.
He got out into the cold air and opened the rear door. Starlight shined in Abbey’s eyes. She was awake, watching him, waiting to see what he would do. He leaned inside and untied the belt that bound her ankles, and then he gently pulled her up by the shoulders and reached around to release her wrists. Slowly, she stretched her limbs, wincing, and she glanced through the car windows. Her eyes registered the remoteness of where they were.
“This looks like a good place to kill someone,” she said.
“I told you. I’m not going to do that.”
“No? Isn’t that what Cain does? You killed that man by the river. Not that I’m complaining, by the way, since he was going to kill me. You killed four people at the boardwalk, right? Four. And then there’s Sofia Ortiz. You shot her in the throat. As far as I can tell, killing is what you’re good at.”
“I didn’t shoot Sofia Ortiz,” Bourne replied. “As for the others, I killed them because they were trying to kill me.”
He watched her try to figure out if he was telling the truth or simply letting her believe what she wanted to hear. Her lips pushed together in a frown. Then she fidgeted on the seat.
“Not that you care or anything, but I need to pee so bad you wouldn’t believe,” she said.
“Sorry. Of course. Go ahead.”
“Aren’t you afraid I’ll run?”
“There’s nowhere to run out here, Abbey.”
They both got out of the Renault. Abbey held on to the car to steady herself as the blood returned to her limbs. She walked a little way into the trees, and Jason turned his back to give her privacy. He heard the noise of her zipper and then of her relieving herself in the dirt. He headed to the edge of the lake, and he was surprised when she came up beside him after she was done. He’d assumed that, regardless of what he’d told her, she would try to run and he’d have to chase her down.
Abbey knelt at the shore and washed her hands in the cold water, and then she splashed it over her face and did her best to clean off the dried blood. When she was done, she walked onto a sturdy pier, where she sat down and dangled her feet above the water. He followed and sat down next to her.
“I’m sorry about your friend Michel,” he said.
Abbey stared out at the lake. “It’s my fault. I got him killed.”
“Don’t blame yourself for that.”
“Why not? I asked him to help me, and now he’s dead.”
“Were the two of you involved?”
She shrugged. “Yes and no. He was kind of like my safety net.”
They sat in silence. He watched her try to quash her fear, as her knee jiggled nervously on the dock.
“Is it really true that you didn’t shoot the congresswoman?” she asked him finally.
“Yes, it’s true.”
“The shot came from your hotel room. That’s what my source told me.”
“You’re right. It did.”
“So?”
“I wasn’t there when it happened.”
“Oh, yeah? Where were you? Taking the Circle Line tour or something?”
“Actually, I was saving your life,” Bourne said.
Abbey swiveled to look at him. “What?”
“Someone tried to shoot you as you ran from the scene. I knocked you out of the way.”
“That was you?”
“Yes.”
“Why should I believe that?”
“Because you never shared on your social media accounts that somebody tried to kill you. Did you tell anyone about it?”
Abbey hesitated. “Nobody.”
“That’s why you should believe me. I was there on the street with you. I wasn’t in that hotel room. I didn’t shoot Congresswoman Ortiz.”
“Am I supposed to think that this was just a big coincidence? You happened to show up and be my hero?”
“No. I was following you.”
“Why?” Abbey demanded.
“Because you have information I need.”
“I don’t know anything.”
“Yes, you do. You heard what the man on the pier said. He’s part of an organization that’s been feeding you stories. They played you, Abbey Laurent. You were their pawn. That’s why you got the interview with Sofia Ortiz. That’s why you knew about the data hack. That’s why they told you about me.”
“Medusa,” Abbey murmured.
Bourne felt a rush of adrenaline. He grabbe
d Abbey’s wrist and twisted. Too hard. “What do you know about Medusa?”
“You’re hurting me,” she complained.
“Tell me about Medusa!”
“I don’t know anything about them! The first time I heard the name was today. Michel said that whatever Medusa is, it has government officials scared to death. And oh, by the way, Mr. Cain, they think you’re part of it.”
Jason let go of her wrist, and she massaged it with her other hand.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Regardless of what Michel told you, I’m not part of Medusa. They set me up. They framed me for the murder in New York and put me in the crosshairs of every intelligence agent on the planet.”
“You mean like Nash Rollins?” she asked. “He came to my apartment last night.”
“I know.”
“He said you were a killer and that I should be afraid of you.”
“Well, you should probably believe him.”
“He said you were damaged. He called you a man with no past. What does that mean?”
“It’s not important,” Bourne replied.
“The man on the pier said the same thing. He said you didn’t have a past.”
“You ask a lot of questions.”
“I’m a reporter. Asking questions is what I do. Besides, I’m still not sure you aren’t going to kill me, so what difference does it make?”
“The less you know about me, the better.”
Abbey opened her mouth to say something more, but she stopped. She brought her knees up on the pier and wrapped her arms around them. “What do you think I know? Why did you want to meet with me in the first place?”
“I want to know who your source is,” Jason said. “You have a source in New York. Someone gave you information about the data hack. I think whoever it is can point the way to Medusa. That’s where I need to start. That’s my only lead right now. I need to leverage your source to get inside the organization.”
“In order to do what?” Abbey asked.
“Destroy them. Expose the conspiracy.”
She studied his face in the darkness and then shook her head. “I’m sorry, who the hell are you? Who do you work for?”
“Right now, nobody. I’m on my own.”
“Why do they call you Cain?”
“It’s an identity from the past,” Bourne said.
“Do you have a real name?”
“I did, but that was a long time ago. I’m not that person anymore. I’ve had to accept that.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t.”
She gave an annoyed little sigh at his unwillingness to talk. Then she said, “Did you really save me in New York?”
“Yes, I did.”
“And you saved me again today. I guess I should say thank you.”
Bourne shrugged. “I saved you because I needed information. That’s all it is.”
You’re an asset. Nothing more.
“Why didn’t you show up on the boardwalk?” Abbey asked.
“Because it was a trap.”
“Well, how did you know I wasn’t part of Medusa, too? Why were you so sure it wasn’t me who set you up?”
He turned and stared at her. “I wasn’t sure at all.”
“Then what’s changed? Why do you trust me now?”
“I don’t trust you. I think you’re a pawn, not part of Medusa, but that doesn’t mean I trust you. Generally speaking, I don’t trust anyone.”
“I guess we’re even. Generally speaking, I don’t trust killers.”
“Smart choice,” Bourne said.
“So what happens now?”
“Now you tell me your source in New York. Who told you about the data hack? Who was feeding you information?”
“Journalists don’t reveal their sources,” Abbey said.
“Unless a source burns you, which this one did. Do you think the attempt on your life in New York was random? It wasn’t. It was Medusa. You’d outlived your usefulness to them, and they were using the riot as cover to eliminate you.”
He could see in her eyes that she hadn’t considered that possibility. “You really think they were targeting me?”
“They still are. The man on the pier proved that.”
She chewed on her fingernail. “Jesus.”
“Who’s your source?” Bourne asked again.
“He couldn’t be involved. He’s legit.”
“If he’s not involved, then he’s a pawn like you. But one way or another, he’s a link in the chain that leads to Medusa.”
“What will you do if you find him?”
“Get him to tell me what he knows,” Bourne said.
“What does that mean? Are you going to torture him? Kill him?”
“It depends. I need him to be scared enough to send an alarm up the chain. He needs to reach out to his contact. And then I follow that person. That’s how it works.”
“You make it sound so normal,” Abbey said. “Not like twisted bullshit, which it is.”
“It’s just my world.”
She gripped the end of the pier with both hands. “If I tell you his name, how do I know you won’t kill me? We’re sitting in the middle of the forest where no one will ever find my body. You said yourself you only saved me because you needed me. What makes you any different from Medusa once I’ve outlived my usefulness?”
“I can’t give you any guarantees, Abbey. You wouldn’t believe them anyway.”
“So what are you saying? I should trust you? You just said I was smart not to trust you.”
“That’s right.”
“You know what, Mr. Mystery Man?” she snapped. “You’re scarier than the guy on the pier. I knew what his deal was. I knew what he was going to do to me. You, I have no idea. You’ve killed how many people in the past couple of days, and now you sit there like you’re not going to hurt me and like you’re some kind of hero.”
“I’m definitely not that,” Bourne said.
Abbey bit her lip. She didn’t trust this man, but she knew he was telling her the truth. She’d been set up. From the beginning, she’d been played. “Okay. His name is Carson Gattor. He’s a lawyer and partner at the firm of Davis, Nelvis and Bear in New York.”
“How did you get involved with him as a source?”
“I met him in Las Vegas,” Abbey replied.
Bourne closed his eyes. Gunfire exploded in his head again. He saw people running, blood on the ground. Sweat gathered on his neck despite the cold night air, and he felt his hands curling into fists. Nova!
“Are you okay?” Abbey asked. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Bourne said, trying to steady himself. “Why Las Vegas?”
“His firm represented the casino after the mass shooting there. I was doing a profile on the killer, Charles Hackman, and Carson helped me with background. He called me a couple of weeks after the article came out and told me how much he liked it. He said he had a story I might be interested in. In addition to his legal work, Carson is a big shot in New York political circles. That’s when he told me that Sofia Ortiz was planning a big rally to take on the tech companies and expose their cover-up of a huge data hack.”
“Did Gattor tell you how he knew about it?” Bourne asked.
“No, but the congresswoman confirmed it off the record when I interviewed her.”
“I know she did.”
“You know?” Abbey asked. Then her face darkened. “It was you. You broke into the magazine office and searched my desk. You found my voice recorder.”
He nodded. “I also found out that Medusa has been watching you. Your webcam was hacked. They’ve been keeping an eye on you, Abbey. Every keystroke on your computer has probably been monitored. You can also assume that your apartment is bugged.”
“This is crazy!” she replied.
“I know.”
“So what happens now?”
“Now I go after Carson Gattor,” Bourne said.
“I m
ean, you’ve got what you wanted. Do you kill me?”
Jason slipped a hand inside his pocket. He saw her flinch, expecting a gun. Instead, he pulled out the keys to the Renault and let them dangle from his fingers. “Here. Take the car.”
Abbey stared at him. “What?”
“Take the car. Drive back to Quebec City. When you get there, write the story. Everything. Write it all down and publish it. Make sure there isn’t any secret left that would give them a reason to come after you. Right now, you’re a loose end, but if you go public and put whatever you know online, they might decide you’re not worth the trouble to kill. But be prepared. They’ll come after you in other ways. They’ll discredit you. Smear you. They’ll paint you as a conspiracy nut, and they may even plant evidence to convict you of a crime. Watch your back, Abbey.”
“You’re really letting me go?” she asked.
“I told you I would.”
“And what the hell are you going to do if I take the car? Sit here in the woods?”
“Why do you care?”
“Call it morbid curiosity. I’m a reporter, remember?”
“We’re only a hundred yards from a parking lot for long-term campers,” Jason replied with a tight smile. “I have a friend in Montreal. When I came across the border, I arranged for him to leave a car, ID, and cash from one of my accounts.”
“You don’t leave much to chance, do you?”
“No.”
Always have a backup. Always assume you’ll need a way to escape. Treadstone.
“And that’s it?” Abbey asked.
“That’s it.”
“You’re not worried that I’ll warn Carson Gattor that you’re coming after him?”
“You took a risk by giving me the name. I’ll take the same risk with you. Now get the hell out of here, Abbey Laurent. The longer you stay with me, the more danger you’re in.”
Abbey clutched the car keys in her hand. She pushed herself to her feet on the dock and didn’t say anything more to him. As she walked away, he didn’t look back at her. Sitting by the lake, he heard the car door open and shut, and then he heard the purr of the engine. The headlights came on, throwing his shadow over the water. He heard the crunch of the tires in the dirt as she did a three-point turn and drove toward the highway.
Robert Ludlum's™ The Bourne Evolution (Jason Bourne Book 12) Page 10