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

by Brian Freeman

  “They could still be on their way.”

  “Maybe so, but you know as well as I do that Medusa isn’t about to walk in blind. They’d start with an advance team to scout the area. They haven’t done that. No, I think your success in stopping them on the island forced a radical change in their plans.”

  Bourne frowned. He went over the flowchart he’d mapped out in his head of actions and reactions, moves and countermoves. He’d anticipated every possible plan of attack by Medusa, but he hadn’t considered the possibility that they might do nothing at all.

  “I don’t like this,” he said.

  “Agreed. I don’t like it, either, but if they move in, we’ll have plenty of warning that they’re coming. In the meantime, I’m glad you’re here. For now, let’s sit and relax until Miles gets back.”

  Bourne took another look through the castle windows. Below him, one of the guards patrolled the back of the estate, and somehow, he still expected to see the man crumple to the wet ground with a bullet in his head. He expected an assault team to appear from the trees on all sides, closing on the castle.

  But no one did.

  He turned away from the windows, but he didn’t sit down.

  “Nelly gave us a report from the island,” Scott told him, sitting on the stone hearth, where the warmth of the fire made his tanned skin glow. “That was amazing work, Jason. And honestly, it’s more than the cabal deserved, based on how we treated you. You saved a lot of lives. You also finally convinced Miles that he was wrong about you. He’ll be reaching out to his contacts in Washington to see if we can restore your reputation. It won’t be easy, given the evidence that Medusa mounted against you, but if anyone can get it done, it’s Miles.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “You validated my judgment, too,” Scott added. “But of course, I’m not surprised. I know you better than anyone.”

  “You know me better than I know myself,” Bourne replied.

  “I suppose that’s true. Someone has to remember everything you’ve forgotten. Like all those days we spent at the beach when we were kids. Thunder Mountain? Do you remember that? I guess not. We’d climb the trail up to the top of the hill through the trees and then race each other down the sand dunes on the other side. You always won.”

  “It’s all gone,” Bourne said.

  “And that summer in Europe? I was at a private college in Switzerland, and you came over and we traveled around together. That was the best summer of my life. Italy. Germany. Turkey. Estonia. Russia. The Czech Republic. We went everywhere.”

  “You showed me pictures. It looked like we did it all.”

  “We did. Two twenty-year-olds who weren’t afraid of anything. We were going to rule the world.”

  “I guess the plan worked out for you,” Bourne said.

  Scott shrugged. “It’s a work in progress. You know, that summer was also the time we had our one big fight. We went a couple years without speaking to each other after that. I guess in some regard, I’m glad your memory loss wiped that away. I have a lot of regrets about that time.”

  Bourne was surprised. “You never told me about that.”

  “Like I said, I was just as happy to have you not remember it.”

  “What was the fight about?”

  Scott got up from the hearth and refilled his glass from the bottle of Laphroaig. He wasn’t a big man, and the size of the room under the high ceiling made him look even smaller. And yet his personality, his ego, and his charm always filled the space wherever he was. Bourne’s skill was to disappear, whereas Scott’s was to have everyone remember him.

  “Oh, it started with an argument about politics,” Scott said. “We’d been simmering about that all summer. You were always the government boy, particularly after 9/11. Me, I became pretty cynical about government after going to school in Europe.”

  “You joined the FBI,” Bourne pointed out. “Doesn’t that make you a government boy, too?”

  “I thought I could change things from the inside. I was wrong. Some things need to be torn down before we can rebuild them. Back then, I already knew that technology would rule the world, but you had these naive notions about privacy.”

  “So was that what split us up? Government versus technology?”

  Scott smiled and shook his head. “Oh, no. In the end, we argued over a girl. Isn’t that always how it goes?”

  “We both wanted the same girl?”

  “Actually, no, you didn’t like her at all. She was younger than me. Sixteen years old, but all grown up, believe me. You thought she was wrong for me. Funny thing is, I always had the suspicion that she wanted you even more than me. Anyway, it came down to a choice, and I was young and in lust, and I chose her. You went home. I kept traveling with her. You and I didn’t talk again for a long time after that.”

  “Well, I’m sorry we let it come between us,” Bourne told him.

  “As am I. But it’s been water under the bridge for a long, long time.” Scott put down his glass as he heard the ringing of his phone. He grabbed it and listened to the call, and then he hung up with a smile. “The limo’s on its way in. Miles is back.”

  “I’d like to meet the car,” Bourne said.

  “Whatever you want, but it’s not really necessary. We have security on the grounds, and even a sharpshooter would struggle in this rain, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

  “Even so.”

  Scott nodded. “Of course, let’s go. But we’ll use the front door this time, if you don’t mind.”

  His friend gestured at a larger doorway out of the library, and the two of them headed down a wide set of carpeted stairs past walls paneled in oak, featuring ornate carvings and medieval paintings that Bourne assumed could be valued in the millions of dollars. In the marble foyer, Scott retrieved a trench coat and secured a hat on his head. A security guard opened the heavy castle door for them, and they walked out under the covering of the stone porte cochere. In front of them, an entrance road crossed over a pond from the gardens and led into a circular driveway. Bourne could see a stretch limousine emerging between the trees, drawing closer to the castle.

  He checked the area. There were no threats from the tree line. He spotted no aircraft over their heads, and Scott was right that there were no useful sightlines for a sniper. Four security guards converged on the car from both sides of the estate, and he saw that they had light weapons in their hands. The men looked capable and alert. Even so, Bourne left the cover of the porte cochere and walked into the driving rain to meet the limousine himself.

  His gun was in his hand.

  He wiped rain from his face and yanked open the back door of the limo. It took him a moment to see into the back seat, which was mostly in shadow. Miles Priest was there, his tall frame slumped down in the leather seat, his chin tucked on his neck. Bourne thought at first that he was asleep, but he wasn’t.

  He was dead.

  A bullet in his forehead. Blood covering his face.

  Bourne ducked out of the car to shout a warning, but as he spun around, the four security guards all pointed their weapons at him. He had nowhere to go. Meanwhile, the driver’s door of the limousine opened, and a dark-haired woman climbed out into the rain and pierced him with her reptilian eyes. Her lips bent into a nasty smile.

  Miss Shirley.

  “Scott, run!” Bourne shouted.

  But his old friend, his best friend, made no attempt to get away. He walked into the rain in his trench coat and headed for the limousine. There was no fear or surprise on his face. When he got to Miss Shirley, he grabbed her neck and their bodies slammed against each other like the horns of two rams as he pulled her into a violent kiss.

  “Hello, Shirl,” Scott said when they finally broke apart. “I’ve missed you.”

  FORTY-FOUR

  “MEDUSA is you?” Bourne said to Scott.

  His old friend slung his arm around Miss Shirley’s waist, and the dominatrix assumed an unexpected new role and nuzzled him l
ike a kitten, licking his face. “I’m sorry, Jason. There was never an assault team hiding in the woods. Medusa didn’t need to storm the castle. We’re already here.”

  Bourne shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t know you at all. I never did.”

  “Actually, you knew me better than you think,” Scott told him. “Right from the beginning. That political argument we had back in college? You accused me of believing the ends justified the means, and you were right. Profound change always requires disruption. I had the raw idea for Medusa even back then. It took a few years for the technology to catch up to what I wanted to achieve, but I knew it would eventually. When I saw what Gabriel Fox was doing with Prescix, I knew it was time to move. Of course, I needed funding to make it happen, but that wasn’t hard to arrange when I had the right bait to offer.”

  “Namely?”

  “Social manipulation. Conflict. Western civilization divided and at each other’s throats. Civil war. Don’t worry, it’s only temporary. Technology will be the greatest unifying force in human history, once we get rid of the obsolete nation states standing in the way. It will take a couple more generations, but we’ll get there in the end.”

  “At the cost of how many lives?” Bourne asked.

  Scott shrugged. “You never did see the big picture. Always too focused on the individual. By the way, gun on the ground, please, Jason.” Scott gestured at two of the Medusa operatives. “Take away his weapons.”

  Bourne felt the guards take away his smoke grenades. His hacksaw blade. His knives. The backup pistol on his ankle. The only thing they didn’t find was the length of slim nylon rope clipped under his shirt.

  “I’m sorry you don’t remember our time in Prague,” Scott went on. “That visit changed my life. I met Shirl there. You didn’t understand that she and I were two halves of the same soul. You thought she was amoral, ruthless, violent, and you’re right, she was all of those things. She was only sixteen, but how many old men had you killed in bed by that point, lover?”

  “Nine,” Miss Shirley said with a smirk.

  “Nine. I told you, she was all grown up. Anyway, the thing you never understood, Jason, is that you weren’t wrong about Shirley. You were wrong about me. I was just like her, but you didn’t see it.”

  Bourne was tired of the game. “So what happens now, Scott?”

  “Isn’t it obvious? Miles takes the fall for everything. Miles and the rogue intelligence agent he recruited. The two of you are the perfect villains. Let everyone think Medusa has been crippled. I’m sure you remember the Treadstone lesson. When your enemy thinks he’s winning, he’s at his most vulnerable.”

  “People will know that’s not true,” Bourne said.

  “A few. But they won’t say a word. Nelly Lessard will be suspicious, but she’s a loyal soldier, and if she gets out of line, well, she’ll be dealt with. Of course, there’s one other inevitable consequence, Jason. I can’t have you around to get in the way of our plans again. Now that you’ve played your part, you have to die. I want you to know, I’m genuinely sorry about that. Growing up, you were like a brother to me. But those days are gone. After all, you don’t remember any of it, do you?”

  “For the first time, I’m actually glad about that.”

  Scott shrugged off the insult. He signaled to the men to drag the body of Miles Priest out of the limousine. “Make sure he’s never found. It’ll be to our advantage for people not to be sure if he’s alive or dead. And Jason, it’s time to say goodbye. I’ve got to get to Washington to get the next phase of our plans underway. Just so you know, I wanted to make the end quick for you. But Shirley decided to make it more interesting, and I really hate to say no to her. Like I told you, I always had the sneaking suspicion that she wanted you more than me.”

  Miss Shirley studied him with her snake eyes and gave him another smile that was colder than the rain.

  “Goodbye, old friend,” Scott told him.

  He got into the back of the limousine, and two of the Medusa agents climbed into the front. The vehicle’s engine roared to life, and the limo continued around the circular driveway and disappeared across the castle pond into the trees. The other two agents took hold of the body of Miles Priest and dragged it across the wet grass.

  Bourne was alone with Miss Shirley.

  She wore a black bodysuit that clung to her lithe frame. Her soaking-wet black hair was pasted to her face. They were the same height, staring at each other eye to eye. He tried to grasp a memory of her from his youth, when she was a depraved sixteen-year-old in Prague, seducing his best friend. Every now and then, images of his past came back like photographs, but the only memory he had of this woman was the look on her face outside the Lucky Nickel hotel.

  It was as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

  “Yes, it was me, Bourne,” she told him. “I’m the one who killed your precious Nova.”

  He shook his head in despair. “Why?”

  “She found out about Hackman. She was trying to figure out how he fit into our plans. That was what gave her away, actually. We traced the online research she was doing on him, and so I knew she was still taking orders from Treadstone. We had to get rid of her before she put it all together. Hackman was our ultimate beta test, you see. He was our proof of everything we could do to manipulate people once we combined Prescix with the data hack. We couldn’t let that be discovered.”

  “So you lured Nova to the car show,” Bourne said. “And you killed her.”

  “That’s right. I took the first shot. I couldn’t rely on Hackman finding her in the crowd, but the truth is, I wanted to do it myself. Partly because she betrayed us and partly because she was with you. I’m very possessive when it comes to you, Jason. I always have been.”

  “But you didn’t kill me,” Bourne said.

  “No. That would have been too easy. Scott is right. I’ve wanted you since I first met you as a girl. Not just for sex, of course. Sex is easy. I’ve wanted the battle. The battle is so much more satisfying. So yes, I could have killed you from the Lucky Nickel, but I had to be patient. Sooner or later, I knew I’d get my chance to deal with you up close. To end things in an appropriate way. And here we are.”

  “How do you know you’ll win?” Bourne asked.

  “Because I’m better than you. I always have been.”

  She slid her hands behind her back, and when they emerged again, she had a Glock in her left hand. In her right, she held the viciously sharp crescent-moon knife that she’d used to threaten Abbey.

  “Piece by piece, Bourne,” she told him, making a threshing motion with the knife. “That’s how this goes down for you. Piece. By. Piece. Now turn around and walk. Keep your hands up.”

  “Walk where?”

  Miss Shirley gestured over his shoulder. “To the cliff.”

  Bourne had no choice. He walked. The rain poured down over both of them, filling the air with a ceaseless drumroll of water slapping against skin, earth, and stone. Black clouds massed overhead. The distant low hills disappeared into mist and fog. Still he walked, hearing her footsteps right behind him. Beyond the castle, they reached an old cemetery, where the carved names had been worn away by centuries of weather. Some of the tombstones had fallen; some sagged toward the wet ground. Mold and moss grew on the gray stones. The ruins of an old chapel stood watch from behind fallen walls and gaping window holes that had once housed gleaming stained glass. The wind howled, as if trying to wake up generations of ghosts.

  “Keep going,” Miss Shirley ordered him.

  Ahead of him, Bourne saw the twelve-foot castle wall clinging to the cliff’s edge. On the other side of that wall, a hundred feet below, he heard a storm of sea waves assaulting the rock and mud of the hillside. Stone steps led up to the top of the wall. When he stopped at the base of the steps, he felt the sharp point of Miss Shirley’s knife. With the barest touch, it cut through his black shirt and made a bloody line across his back.

  “Up.”

  He climbed t
he wet, slippery steps. Miss Shirley followed. At the top, he found himself on a walkway no more than three feet wide. A low stone parapet was built along the edge, but erosion had worn it down, and entire stretches had long since tumbled into the sea. He glanced down and saw black rocks jutting out of the water like broken teeth scattered at the base of the cliff. The waves made a nonstop crashing thunder.

  “Turn around,” Miss Shirley called loudly over the rain and the waves.

  Bourne did. She stood no more than five feet away. They faced each other, both soaked to the skin. She had heels on, but she kicked them off and stood on the wall in her bare feet.

  “Jump if you want,” she said to him. “I won’t stop you. Take the coward’s way out.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Do you still think you can beat me? I told you, Bourne, I’m superior. Before we’re done, I’ll take off your clothes. I’ll take off your skin. I’ll take off your limbs. And then I’ll fuck what’s left while you’re still alive. You’ll wish you’d jumped.”

  “It’s easy to say you’re superior when you’re holding a gun and a knife.”

  Her face had no expression. Like a poker player, she showed nothing. But he’d succeeded in inflaming her ego. With her eyes as hard as two aquamarine jewels, she flicked the pistol off the parapet and into the sea.

  “No gun,” she said.

  “And the knife?” Bourne asked.

  Miss Shirley squatted to place the crescent blade at her feet, never taking her eyes off his face. “If you want the knife, you’ll have to come and get it.”

  Bourne did. He took the first step toward her, but she struck back with insane speed. He never even saw her move. Her foot lashed out, hammering him under his ribs, driving the air from his lungs. He stuttered backward, barely keeping his balance on the rampart, and he doubled over, coughing and gasping for air.