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“The perfect beast? What do you mean?” But Bourne already knew, because he’d seen it when he’d looked into Arkadin’s eyes, when he understood that what he was seeing reflected there was himself.
“The ultimate warrior.” Willard, one hand on the door handle, smiled now. “That’s what you are, Mr. Bourne. That’s what Leonid Danilovich Arkadin was-until, that is, he came up against you.” He scrutinized Bourne’s face, as if searching for a trace of the man who’d trained him to be a consummate covert operative. “In the end, Conklin succeeded, didn’t he?”
Bourne felt a chill go through him. “What do you mean?”
“You against Arkadin, it was always meant to be that way.” Willard opened the door. “The pity of it is Conklin never lived to see who won. But it’s you, Mr. Bourne. It’s you.”
***