“But why?”
“They couldn’t let Nova stay on the outside. They couldn’t run the risk that some other rogue government would take her on.”
“So after Las Vegas, you quit?”
Bourne nodded. “I walked away from my past. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to do that.”
Her face screwed up in confusion. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
She frowned at his lack of an answer. “What about Medusa? How did you wind up chasing them?”
“An old friend approached me recently. He’s part of a group of powerful technology companies that Medusa is targeting. Stealing their data. Looking to gain control of their operations and their software. They decided the government was too impotent or too compromised to stop Medusa, so they hired me. The operation in New York—Sofia Ortiz—that was supposed to be my way in. Instead, Medusa set me up. It was perfect. A damaged rogue agent, upset over the murder of his lover, taking revenge on the government. A killer. Cain. Now everyone is gunning for me, and they won’t stop until I’m dead.”
Abbey didn’t look at him, but her hand snaked out from under the blanket and took hold of his hand. Her skin was warm and soft. It felt odd to enjoy a human touch again. To be close to a woman.
“Thank you for telling me all of this,” she said.
“Don’t thank me for anything. Staying with me is likely to get you killed. You should get as far away from me as you can. It’s not too late, but once you call Carson Gattor tomorrow, there’s no going back.”
“I know.” She paused and then went on. “I’m sorry about Nova.”
“Well, I’m sorry about Michel. We’ve both lost people.”
“At least you were in love. I’ve never been in love. Michel and I, I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t love. He loved me, but I didn’t want to let him get that close. I’m not sure I could ever let down my guard long enough to let anyone in.”
“I would have said the same thing about myself,” Jason replied, “but I was wrong.”
“Why won’t you tell me who you really are? About your past. Is the Bourne identity some kind of secret?”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t remember,” Jason said.
“I don’t understand that.”
Bourne didn’t answer her. There were places he didn’t go. There were places he couldn’t go. Instead, he said, “I’ve been doing all the talking. Tell me about you.”
He heard a slight coolness take over her voice. “Isn’t that a little disingenuous?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, are you saying that you don’t already know everything about me? That you don’t have a file on me? Because I find that hard to believe. You’re a spy. You would have researched my whole life before you got in touch with me.”
He thought to himself again that Abbey was smart. Formidable.
“That’s true,” he admitted. “I know a lot of facts about you. But facts are bloodless things. Human beings are more than facts.”
“What do you know about me?”
“I know you were born in New York. French-Canadian father, American mother. After your mother died, you and your father moved to Ottawa. You went to McGill for journalism school, and then you settled in Quebec City to take a job with a start-up online magazine called The Fort.”
Abbey shrugged. “See? You know everything there is.”
“Actually, I don’t know much at all,” Jason replied. “I don’t know why you seem to be largely estranged from your father. I don’t know why you’re still working at a small operation like The Fort when you’ve had offers from The Atlantic and Vanity Fair. I also don’t know why a smart, funny, very attractive thirty-two-year-old woman hates the idea of a serious relationship.”
“Did you think that last one would soften me up for the others?”
“No.”
“So what are you saying? I’m pretty but I’m screwed up?”
“I just want to know who you really are.”
“I’m a writer going after a story,” Abbey said. “That’s all. That’s my life.”
“I’m not sure that explains why you’re helping me.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I can’t really explain it to myself. Did you think about that? Maybe sometimes I leap at things and can’t explain why I do it.”
He smiled at her. “Now that I can believe.”
“I’ll get you to Carson Gattor. Beyond that, nothing else matters, does it?”
“You’re right. Nothing else matters.”
“Okay, then. I’m going to sleep. You said I need to sleep.”
She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him. She looked tense and restless now, and he could hear her breathing harshly. Her body had grown warm under the blanket, and she kicked it off. Jason stayed awake, waiting until her breathing slowed, going in and out as she slept, but it took a long time.
Then he closed his eyes, too. He noticed that she hadn’t let go of his hand.
SIXTEEN
ABBEY tried to calm her nerves as she sat on a stone bench in Washington Square Park the next day. The fountain reflected the park’s giant arch in the water like a blurry photograph. Hundreds of people came and went around her, and to her eyes, everyone looked like a threat. High-rises loomed over the trees, making her think of sniper rifles aimed from the windows. Being in the park again, where she’d witnessed an assassination, where she’d nearly been killed herself, made her want to get up and run away. She had to grab hold of the bench to stay where she was.
More than a week later, she could still see the aftereffects of the riot. Scorched ground from the fires. Protest signs stacked next to the overflowing garbage cans. Boarded-up windows in the buildings surrounding the park. The echoes of violence brought it all back for her. She flinched, remembering the shot that had killed Sofia Ortiz, seeing the blood spray. She heard screams again and the noise of panic around her.
“You look nervous,” a voice said in the receiver hidden in her ear. Jason. She could see him in the trees on the other side of the fountain. He wore a baseball cap, and his eyes were hidden by sunglasses.
“I am,” she murmured, barely moving her lips.
“You’ll do fine. Your call to Gattor was perfect. He’ll be here.”
Abbey checked her watch and saw that it was nearly three o’clock in the afternoon. Carson Gattor was due for their meeting.
If he was planning to show up at all.
If he hadn’t simply called Medusa to target her while she was waiting in the park.
“I’m too exposed. What if they try to kill me?”
“I’m watching the area, Abbey. Right now, there are no threats. If I see anything, I’ll move in immediately. Remember, the only thing Gattor knows is that you need to see him. Even if he called Medusa, they’d tell him to take the meeting and find out why you’re here and what you want. You’re safe.”
“I’m not sure. There’s a man near the hot dog cart. See him? With the T-shirt and the goatee? He’s watching me.”
“I see him. He’s not Medusa.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I know how operatives behave. I already ruled him out. He’s watching you because you’re attractive, Abbey. That’s all. His eyes follow every pretty girl who shows up in the park.”
She shook her head. “I don’t know if I can do this. I said I could, but now I don’t know.”
“You can. Just stay focused on the strategy. This is Phase One. We need to throw Gattor off balance. We need to get him so panicked that he goes running to his contact at Medusa. Remember, this is a man who’s almost certainly in it for the money, not ideology. He wants to keep his hands clean. If he thinks he’s going to be exposed, if he thinks his comfortable life is at risk, he’ll crack.”
“Will he believe me?” Abbey asked. “Will he buy the story we made up?”
“That’s up to you. You need to sell it.”
“What
if he knows I’m working with you?”
“Unlikely. There’s no way he’s high up enough for that kind of information.”
She glanced through the crowds in the park and recognized Carson Gattor heading toward her. “I see him. He’s coming.”
“You’ll be fine. Just do it like we practiced. I’ll be watching and listening the whole time. If anything goes sideways, I’ll be there in seconds.”
Abbey stood up from the bench and gave the lawyer a little wave. Carson nodded from near the fountain as he spotted her. He affected a calm, rich, self-confident walk, as if the world couldn’t touch him, and she wondered if she’d really be able to shake him with her lies. She felt nervous again about what she was doing. Then she reminded herself that this man had used her. He’d set her up to do Medusa’s dirty work and put her in a position to be killed. She wanted to make him shiver with fear all the way down to his Ferragamo shoes.
“Hello, Carson.”
“Abbey,” he said, giving her a quick, awkward embrace. He’d never done that before. It made her think that, underneath his cool exterior, he was nervous, too, wondering why she’d called him and what she wanted.
They both sat down. Carson draped an arm around the back of the bench and crossed his legs and smoothed the cuff of his pants. He was medium height and skinny enough that his clothes looked loose. He had a long, narrow head, which looked even longer because his black hair was greased straight back, leaving him with a high forehead. His five o’clock shadow was dark and pronounced. He was forty years old, which was a tough age for a New York lawyer. He hadn’t made enough money to retire, but to keep up with colleagues and friends, he had to spend his cash as if it were never going to run out.
“He’s already spooked,” Bourne said in her ear. “That’s good.”
Abbey suppressed a smile, because she’d been thinking the same thing.
“I appreciate your meeting me on short notice,” she told Carson.
“Of course. You made it sound important.”
“It is. I need your help.”
“What’s going on?”
“Well, first of all, I want to thank you for all of the information you’ve given me,” Abbey told him. “It’s been dead-on. You can’t believe the attention I’ve gotten for my recent articles. I’m grateful. It’s been a career maker.”
“Good for you, Abbey, but all I did was point the way. You did the rest.”
“A lot of doors are open to me now. A lot of people are coming out of the shadows with story ideas.”
“I’m pleased to hear it. If I can be useful, you know I will be. Is that what you need? More information?”
“No, that’s not it. I don’t need your help on a story.” She lowered her voice and took Carson by the wrist. “Actually, I need your help as a lawyer.”
“Are you in trouble?”
“It’s not for me. It’s for someone else.” She pretended to study the people in the park, and she let anxiety creep onto her face. “Did you tell anyone you were meeting me? Do people know where you are?”
“No. No one. Abbey, you can always count on my discretion.”
“Okay. Here’s the thing. I assume you have contacts inside the Justice Department, right? And the FBI?”
“Some, yes. What is this about?”
She bit her lip, as if struggling to get the words out. “Have you ever heard of an organization called Medusa?”
Carson was good, but not good enough. The muscles in his face made the smallest twitch, and then he recovered. His pale lips squeezed into a frown. “No, I don’t think so. What is it?”
“Apparently, it’s some kind of anarchist group trying to stir up violence and social unrest. Like the riot here after the assassination. I’m told they were involved in that. We’re not talking about a handful of nutjobs passing around manifestos from their parents’ basement. This is a well-funded, well-organized extremist faction with deep technology resources and tentacles throughout the government.”
Carson made a show of skepticism. “It’s hard to believe an organization like that could operate in secret. Wouldn’t everyone know about them?”
“A lot of people in government do know, but they’re not saying anything. I know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t just a wild conspiracy. Medusa is real. I can prove it.”
His eyebrows flicked with curiosity. “You can prove it? How?”
“I have a mole.”
This time she scored a direct hit. He couldn’t keep the surprise off his face. “A mole? You mean—”
“I have a source inside Medusa,” Abbey told him.
“Who?”
“I can’t say. Not yet.”
Carson backtracked. “Oh, of course. Obviously.”
“But my source is high up in the organization. He says he was a true believer, but the violence has gone too far for him. He thought New York—the assassination, the riot—was a mistake. He saw my articles and reached out to me, because he wants the story to come out. The thing is, this guy knows everything. He knows details of their operations and how their technology works. Plus, he’s got a list of contacts in the government and private sector who have been compromised by Medusa.”
“Impressive,” Carson replied evenly, but she could imagine the ocean wave of terror rolling through his mind. “Did he give you any names on this list?”
“Not yet.”
“Well, how exactly can I help?” Carson asked.
“My source is going to need a lawyer. Someone who can guide him through the system. You know this story is going to lead to hearings, criminal investigations, prosecutions. He’ll need immunity in order to talk. Plus witness protection.”
“Yes, definitely,” Carson replied. Then he added with studied casualness, “Did you already give him my name? Did you tell him you were going to talk to me?”
“No, I just said I knew a lawyer who could help. I wanted to reach out to you first. I’d like to get the two of you together. Would you be willing to meet with him?”
“Of course, but I need more details before I do that.”
“No more details,” Jason said in her ear. “He’s hooked. He’s scared. Let him twist.”
Abbey bolted to her feet from the bench. “I’ll get back in touch and tell you everything soon. I just needed to know you were in, Carson. Thank you.”
“Abbey, wait, if I’m going to research the legal issues, I need to know more of what we’re facing. What is this person’s role inside the organization? What crimes has he been involved with? That will affect any immunity discussions with the feds.”
“Let me talk to him first,” Abbey replied. “He’s cautious, because his life is in danger as soon as he goes public. I’ll share everything you told me, and I’ll make sure he knows he can trust you.”
“Abbey, you have to be careful what you say to him. There could be legal conflicts with me or my firm that need to be cleared before we can move forward. I’m worried about my name getting out before I know who I’m dealing with.”
“Don’t worry, Carson,” she said. “I’ll be careful. We’ll work it all out. I’m sorry, I have to go. I’ll call you, and we’ll meet soon.”
“When? Where?”
Abbey didn’t answer him. She put her head down and disappeared into the crowd.
*
PHASE One was done. Now it was time for Phase Two.
Once a target is off balance, keep him that way. Don’t let him recover.
Treadstone.
Bourne fell in behind Carson Gattor as the lawyer headed under the arch out of Washington Square Park. The man walked as if in a daze up Fifth Avenue, not looking behind him. Abbey had done well. Gattor was scared. His pace was quick; he needed to get back to the safety of his office; he needed to make a phone call to Medusa.
Now it was time to ramp up the fear.
At the stoplight, Bourne came up immediately behind the lawyer. He whispered in his ear. “You handled that well, Mr. Gattor.”
; The man began to spin around in shock, but Bourne hissed, “Don’t look back. The feds could be watching. Take out your phone and pretend you’re making a call.”
Gattor did as instructed, but Bourne could see sweat on the back of the man’s neck. “Who are you? What’s going on?”
“We’ve been watching Abbey Laurent. We were wondering who she would meet with.”
“Why?”
“You heard her. This is a mole hunt, Mr. Gattor. We’ve known for some time that we had a leak. Operations have been compromised. Agents have been killed. Whoever it is has been very careful, but now he’s shown himself. When Ms. Laurent calls you again, we need you to set up a meeting. We’ll have someone standing by to eliminate both of them.”
“My God! You’re Medusa…. You mean, this is real? There’s a mole?”
“There is. Be glad Ms. Laurent reached out to you, Mr. Gattor. It puts you in the clear. Some of us were convinced that you were the mole.”
“Me? Never! I would never!”
“We’ll be in touch again before the meeting. Take precautions until then, and assume you’re under surveillance.”
“Wait! You can’t leave it like that. I have questions.”
“We can’t talk here. The light is green. Walk. Don’t look at me. When you get to the Church of the Ascension on the next block, go into the courtyard and around to the far corner of the building. I’ll be there.”
Bourne pushed past Gattor and continued northward until he reached the Episcopal church, where he let himself inside the gate and took cover behind the trees. He didn’t have to wait long. The rapid tap of Gattor’s leather shoes announced his arrival, and as the man came around the building, Bourne grabbed him and shoved him against the brick wall.
Gattor’s eyes widened with recognition. “Oh my God, it’s you! You’re Cain!”
“Of course I am. I told you, you did well, Mr. Gattor. You’ve played your part perfectly up until now. Don’t blow it.”
Robert Ludlum's™ The Bourne Evolution (Jason Bourne Book 12) Page 13