Robert Ludlum's™ The Bourne Evolution (Jason Bourne Book 12)

by Brian Freeman

  “What?”

  “You said he’d be gone for long stretches of times. You were concerned. You thought he was cheating on you. Did you ever follow him to see where he went?”

  Sylvia looked away, as if she were embarrassed. “Once.”

  “Did you tell the FBI?”

  “No, because it turned out to be nothing. Charles told me he had to visit a client, and he said it was a long drive, so he was going to stay overnight rather than make the round trip. I thought maybe he was meeting a woman. So yes, after he left, I followed him. As it happens, that was one time he wasn’t lying to me. He really did go to a client’s location. I felt stupid about it, so I went back home and never followed him again.”

  “Where did he go?” Abbey asked. “Who was the client?”

  “A casino in Mesquite called the Three Mountains. They were a new client, but they were generating a lot of business for him. He had to go out there almost every week.”

  Abbey frowned. “Charles was an actuary, right?”

  “Yes, he did complex statistical modeling. Anticipating risk. He was a brilliant man. He had an incredible mind for math.”

  “Had he worked for casinos before?”

  “In Las Vegas? Of course. They’re obsessed with balancing risk and reward.”

  “You said the Three Mountains casino was a new client. A lucrative one. Do you know how they picked Charles to work for them?”

  Sylvia shrugged. “It was a referral. That was how he got most of his business.”

  “Who referred him?”

  “He’d built a relationship with a New York lawyer who had connections at a number of the casinos in town,” Sylvia replied. “They’d known each other for several months. Charles got bumped up to first class on a flight to LaGuardia, and this man sat in the seat next to him. It was totally coincidental, but sometimes that’s how the best connections happen.”

  Abbey didn’t think the meeting on the plane was a coincidence. Not where Medusa was concerned.

  “What was the lawyer’s name?” she asked.

  Sylvia hesitated as she tried to place it in her memory. “It was an odd name,” she said finally. “Gattor, I think. Yes, that was it. Carson Gattor.”

  THIRTY

  JASON stood atop the hills directly across from the Three Mountains casino in the small desert town of Mesquite. He focused his binoculars on the neon-lit back door, watching elegantly dressed players come and go. It was nearly midnight, but that hadn’t slowed the arrival of high rollers. He saw limousines from Las Vegas bringing Arab and Chinese customers, each of them greeted by stunning escorts, sometimes male, sometimes female. The casino knew the sexual preferences of its best clients. An occasional private jet roared overhead, landing at the small Mesquite airport to ferry what the gaming industry called whales. They were the ones who didn’t blink at playing blackjack at ten thousand dollars a hand.

  A posse of guards in suits, obviously armed, roamed the porte cochere to keep out ordinary players. Anyone who tried to go inside at the rear door was politely redirected to an entrance on the other side of the building, where they could find penny slots and keno. There were two hotel towers rising above the casino, a taller one for the average tourist and a smaller venue that couldn’t be booked by outsiders. There was nothing about it online.

  “This definitely isn’t a sawdust joint,” Abbey commented, borrowing the binoculars. “Most of these people must be putting seven figures in play. How can a hole-in-the-wall casino in Mesquite handle that kind of action?”

  “Deep pockets,” Bourne replied. “Medusa.”

  “You think this is their headquarters?”

  “Probably not, but it’s part of their operation. They went to a lot of trouble to get Charles Hackman here, so I’m guessing this is where he was recruited. Look at the people going in the door. I’m sure they’re hand-selected. Everyone brings something different. Political influence. Corporate power. Technical expertise. Military background. Wealthy connections. Bring them in, ply them with drinks, drugs, women, money. That’s how you create leverage. Medusa is expanding its reach all over the world. It starts behind those doors.”

  “So what are you going to do?” Abbey asked.

  “Go inside,” Bourne replied.

  Abbey turned and stared at him in the darkness. “Are you crazy, Jason? They’ll recognize you as soon as you set foot inside the casino.”

  “I hope so. That’s my plan. I need to go in there as Cain.”

  “But why?”

  “Medusa put out the word that I’m the one who murdered Congresswoman Ortiz. I’m counting on the people in there knowing that. It should be enough for them to roll out the welcome mat.”

  “But that was a lie,” Abbey protested. “You were set up. They framed you.”

  “Yes, but very few people inside Medusa are likely to know that. I’m betting there can’t be more than a few top people inside the organization who realize that Cain wasn’t actually a Medusa killer. As far as everyone else is concerned, I’m one of them.”

  “What if those top people are inside the casino?” Abbey asked him. “The ones who set you up?”

  “I know it’s a risk, but I’d only expect mid-level operatives at a place like this. This is still a Nevada casino, which means they have to worry about regulators dropping in unannounced. You don’t put your top people in offices where the Gaming Commission might come calling.”

  “And what do you hope to accomplish by going inside?”

  “We need information. A name. Or some hint about what they’re planning next. The clock is ticking, Abbey. I don’t know how much time we have. That casino is a Medusa hub. If Cain shows up looking for connections, they’ll point me up the chain.”

  “Or they’ll kill you,” Abbey told him. She added quietly, “Do you have a death wish, Jason? Is that what this is about?”

  He didn’t answer her. He wasn’t sure if he had an answer.

  “I’ll leave my phone with you,” he said. “I don’t want any devices inside. If I don’t come back, talk to Nash Rollins. Use that number he gave you. Tell him what we found.”

  Jason left before Abbey could protest further. He headed down the hillside toward the casino, his shoes kicking up dust as he walked. He chose not to go straight in through the private door, where the high rollers were. He hadn’t admitted it to Abbey, but he wasn’t at all sure whether his cover as Cain would keep him alive. If he gave them his name outside, he’d be in the middle of a dozen armed security guards who could take him down in seconds if the word came back that Cain was to be killed.

  No, he needed to get inside another way.

  He crossed the parking lot toward the other casino, where the ordinary gamblers played. There would be cameras everywhere, but he wore sunglasses and a baseball cap, which he hoped would buy him time before he was recognized. As he neared the doors, he spotted a rowdy group of young men, and he veered across the lot to intercept them. One of them wore an Imagine Dragons T-shirt, and Jason offered up his hand for a fist bump.

  “Dragons rule!” Jason shouted, taking on a slightly slurred, drunken tone in his voice. “Hey, you go to their last concert at the MGM?”

  “Are you serious?” the man shouted back, as if they were long-lost friends. “Hell, yes!”

  “Dan Reynolds is the man!”

  “He is, brother!”

  Jason kept up the banter as they passed through the doors into the crowded heart of the casino floor. He shoved his hat down, and the eyes of the security guards passed across the whole group with no interest.

  To avoid detection, blend in with others. A man who isn’t alone attracts less attention.

  Treadstone.

  Bourne split off from the Imagine Dragons fans when the men gathered around the roulette wheel. He did a casual circuit of the downscale casino, sizing up the locations of the guards, doors, and cameras. Every now and then, he stopped and played ten dollars at one of the slots. To anyone watching, he looked like a g
ambler hunting for a loose machine. It didn’t take him long to spot two double doors with smoked glass at the end of a short hallway, which was guarded by a heavyset security guard who looked more trained and serious than the others around him. On the other side of those doors was the private casino.

  The Medusa casino.

  Still wearing his hat and sunglasses, Bourne approached the guard, noting the bulge in the coat of his uniform and the radio wire in his ear. The guard sized him up; he knew a threat when he saw it. The man’s body tensed. His fingers flexed, ready to dive for his gun.

  “Can I help you, sir?” the guard asked warily.

  “Looks like a private party through there,” Jason replied.

  “Invitation only, sir. Sorry.”

  Jason removed his baseball cap and sunglasses. “Actually, I think I have an invitation.”

  “I’m afraid you don’t,” the guard told him. “I know every face who belongs in there. Yours isn’t one of them. Now please step back, sir, or I’ll have you escorted from the building.”

  “You’re right, I’m not on your list,” Bourne acknowledged. “I didn’t know I’d be here tonight. Mine’s more of a standing invitation. Why don’t you check with your boss and see what he says?”

  The guard hesitated, his eyes narrowing. He didn’t want to make the mistake of offending a whale, even one who showed up without an appointment.

  “What’s your name, sir?”

  “Cain.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it. Call it in, buddy. I’m getting impatient. Trust me when I say you don’t want that.”

  The guard stepped back into the dark recess of the hallway that led to the other casino. His voice was a murmur, and Jason couldn’t hear what he was saying. When the guard returned, his entire demeanor had changed. He was submissive now. “I’m very sorry for the delay, sir. You’re welcome to go on through.”

  “Thank you.”

  Jason tipped the man a hundred dollars. He headed down the hallway to the glass door, unable to see through to the other side. When he pushed it open, he found himself in a completely different world. The drab décor of the rest of the building disappeared, and he found himself in a glittering venue, populated by people who were rich and beautiful. The atrium ceiling soared two stories over his head. The artwork on the walls, and the sculptures set among tranquil fountains, had to be valued in the millions. The gaming tables were leather-bound and hand-carved. Waitresses in cocktail dresses, all of them attractive enough to be L.A. actresses, passed silver trays of appetizers and champagne.

  As he had in the other room, Bourne quickly assessed the casino security, looking for the armed guards and exits. If he needed to leave quickly, he wanted to know where to go, but his options were limited. Medusa left nothing to chance. He also noted the extensive lineup of cameras and knew that he was already being scrutinized by people in the private hotel tower over his head.

  He wasn’t alone for long.

  A slim Asian woman in a low-cut burgundy dress zeroed in on him from across the casino floor. She had flowing raven hair and diamonds dripping from her earlobes. She walked on sky-high red heels, and her dark eyes gave him a direct, knowing stare. Her smile was equal parts friendly and suspicious.

  “Welcome,” she said. “My name is Nomi. It’s our pleasure to serve you, Mr…. Cain.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Please forgive our man outside. You took him by surprise. A man of your stature typically doesn’t arrive here without advance warning. I hope you weren’t offended.”

  “Not at all,” Bourne replied. “I should have called, but I had an unexpected opening in my calendar.”

  “How lucky for us. Would you like to play some blackjack? I have a table waiting for you.”

  “I confess I came woefully unprepared with cash,” Bourne said.

  “No matter. I’m sure credit can be extended.”

  She put an arm through his elbow and guided him across the casino to a luxury chair at an empty blackjack table. The dealer was another Asian woman, this one with long chestnut hair and a body that spilled out of a formfitting pink dress. She wore an emerald bracelet and a matching necklace on a gold chain.

  “This is Shay,” Nomi told him. “She’ll take good care of you. Would one hundred thousand dollars suffice to start?”

  “Fine.”

  Shay pushed a stack of chips across the table. She hadn’t spoken yet, but she had smart eyes.

  “Would you like me to bring you a drink?” Nomi asked.

  “No, thank you.”

  “Well, then I’ll leave you in Shay’s good hands.”

  The dealer nodded at the hostess as she left, and Shay welcomed Bourne with a smile as she stared down at the table. Their eyes didn’t meet. “We have a little tradition here, sir. The first bet is on the house. Shall I play five thousand dollars for you?”

  “Go ahead,” Jason told her.

  She withdrew a single chip from her tray and put it on the lush felt in front of him. From the shoe, she dealt Bourne a ten, then drew a three for herself on the up card. Bourne took another card, which was a king, and he stood. Three cards later, the dealer busted. Shay smiled as she paid him his winnings, but she still never looked at him.

  “I trust your luck will continue in the same vein,” she said.

  “I hope so, too,” Jason replied.

  “Fortune favors the risk-taker.”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Shall we play?”

  “Let’s.”

  Bourne found himself playing five thousand dollars a hand, and his luck did continue. Within a few minutes, he was thirty thousand dollars ahead. As they played, he tried to read the dealer’s face, and he could see that Shay knew exactly who he was. He’d been put at this table, with this dealer, for a reason.

  “People seem surprised to see me here,” he said finally. “Why would that be, Shay?”

  She dealt him another winning hand. “I couldn’t say, sir.”

  “Something tells me you could say.”

  She manipulated the cards and chips and showed nothing on her pretty face. “Perhaps because some of us wondered if you were still alive. It isn’t often we’re visited by a ghost, Jason Bourne.”

  “I’m very much alive,” he told her.

  “We’re all pleased to know that. Your work in New York was … impressive.”

  “Thank you.”

  “However, it isn’t a wise thing to show up here where you could be seen. Some of our players have government connections. It’s possible someone might know who you are.”

  “Your security seems up to the task,” Bourne said.

  “Even so.”

  The two of them went silent. Bourne began a losing streak across several hands. He dropped nearly back to even before pulling ahead again.

  “You must have a reason for coming here,” Shay said. “Would you like to tell me what it is?”

  “Maybe I’m just looking for a good time.”

  “In which case, you’re very welcome. Stay. Gamble. Drink. If you want companionship, you have many options.”

  “Including you?” Bourne asked.

  This time, Shay’s eyes grazed across his. “If you wish.”

  “Actually, I’m here for another reason. I have urgent information to pass along to Medusa. It can’t wait.”

  Shay’s hand froze over the cards. “Some words are not to be spoken here.”

  “I understand, but I told you. This is urgent.”

  “If you have information, it should be passed on to your contact. There is protocol. Why come here to deliver your message?”

  “Maybe my Prescix account told me I was going to pay you a visit.”

  Shay’s lips turned downward. “You’re not funny, Mr. Bourne. Again, I would encourage you to bring your concerns to your contact.”

  Bourne remembered Carson Gattor talking about his Medusa contact. A woman. “What I have to say is above her pay grade.”

/>   He saw surprise on Shay’s face. And a little suspicion. “Very little is above her pay grade. Certainly no one at the Three Mountains.”

  “Who’s in charge here?” Bourne asked.

  “That would be Mr. Yee. He is upstairs.”

  “I’d like to see him.”

  Shay hesitated. He watched her face and realized she wore a small earpiece, in which she was obviously receiving instructions. “If you wish to speak to Mr. Yee, he would be honored to make your acquaintance.”

  “Thank you.”

  Shay looked over his shoulder and sent a message with a single blink. Like phantoms, two security guards in suits arrived, one on either side of Bourne. “These men will take you to him,” she said. “Shall I cash out your winnings? It’s fifteen thousand dollars.”

  “Keep it for yourself, Shay.”

  “That’s very generous of you.” She scooped up the chips and gestured to the two guards, who waited with stoic faces as Bourne got out of the chair. “One word of warning, Jason Bourne.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You’re very good at what you do, but so are these men. Please don’t give them a reason to kill you.”

  THIRTY-ONE

  AS soon as the guards led Bourne off the casino floor, they searched him and took his gun. Holding his arms tightly on both sides, they guided him to a keycard elevator and stayed with him on the ride to the top of the tower. The elevator opened onto a lushly decorated hallway that ended at double doors covered with red silk, on which had been painted an elaborate Chinese landscape. Bourne suspected that behind the expensive cloth, the doors were made of bulletproof steel.

  He noticed a camera observing their arrival. He also assumed he was being scanned for electronic listening devices and other weapons and his identity confirmed through facial recognition. A few seconds later, a click sounded, and the doors both swung inward automatically. The guards let go of his elbows, and Bourne walked alone into a large office that hummed with white noise. Behind him, the doors swung shut and the locks clicked back into place.

  High-definition video screens took up one wall of the office, and he could see views of the high-roller casino alternating every few seconds among the screens. The rest of the office was decorated with gold leaf and jade. Behind the cherrywood desk, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the Mesquite Mountains.