The Bourne Objective

“Hit him?”

“Kill, terminate, murder, call it what you like.”

Arkadin paused a moment, then burst out laughing. “Where in the world did Berengária find you?”

Moira, glancing at Soraya, took a not-so-wild guess, thinking: Pretty much the same place you found your new partner.

Why would she do that?” Professor Atherton had his head in his hands. “Why would Tracy tell anyone that she had a brother?”

“Especially when that put her in Arkadin’s debt,” Chrissie added.

“She did more than mention her brother,” Bourne said. “She concocted an elaborate lie about him being alive and in debt over his head. It’s as if she wanted Arkadin to have something on her.”

Chrissie shook her head. “But that doesn’t make sense.”

It did, Bourne thought, if she had been sent to get close to Arkadin. To report on his deals and his whereabouts, for example. He was not, however, about to speculate with these people.

“That question can wait,” he said. “After the shots in the woods, we need to get out of here.” He turned to Professor Atherton. “I can carry Marks, can you maneuver on your own?”

The old man nodded curtly.

Chrissie gestured. “I’ll help you, Dad.”

“See to your daughter,” he said gruffly. “I can take care of myself.”

Chrissie packed up the first-aid kit. She carried it out the front door, holding Scarlett’s hand. Bourne picked Marks up, sliding him up onto his shoulder.

“Let’s go,” he said, herding the professor outside.

Chrissie took him around to his car, which was parked out back. Bourne packed Marks into the rental, which was miraculously unscathed. Chrissie pulled her father’s car around, and Scarlett clambered in.

Bourne approached her.

“What happens now?” she asked.

“You go back to your life.”

“My life.” Her laugh was uneasy. “My life-and my family’s life-will never be the same.”

“Maybe that’s a good thing.”

She nodded.

“In any case, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She smiled wanly. “For a moment, I was Tracy, and now I know that I never wanted to be like her, I just thought I did.” She put a hand on his arm, briefly. “It was good she met you. You made her happy.”

“For a night or two.”

“More than many get in a lifetime.” Her hand dropped away. “Trace chose her life, it didn’t choose her.”

Bourne nodded. Turning away, he peered into her car. When he tapped on the glass, Scarlett opened the window. He placed something in her hand and closed her fingers around it.

“This is just between us,” Bourne said. “Don’t look at it until you’re home and alone.”

She nodded solemnly.

“Let’s go,” Chrissie said, not looking at Bourne.

Scarlett raised her window. She said something Bourne couldn’t hear. He put his hand flat against the window. On the other side, Scarlett pressed her hand over his.

Marks had left the key in the ignition and now Bourne started it up.

A combination of the noise and vibration as Bourne came out of the driveway and turned onto the road woke Marks from his stupor.

“Where the hell am I?” he mumbled thickly.

“On your way to London.”

Marks nodded in the ma

“You were shot, you lost some blood, but you’ll be fine.”

“Right.” Then something in his face changed and a shudder passed through him as if the memories of recent events had resurfaced. He turned to Bourne. “Listen, I’m sorry. I’ve acted like a shit.”

Bourne said nothing as he continued to drive.

“I was sent out to find you.”

“I figured that out.”

Marks rubbed his eyes with his knuckles in an effort to clear his head of the last cobwebs. “I work for Treadstone now.”

Bourne pulled the car over to the side of the road. “Since when has Treadstone re-formed?”

“Since Willard found a backer.”

“And who might that be?”

“Oliver Liss.”

Bourne had to laugh. “Poor Willard. Out of the frying pan.”

“That’s it exactly.” Marks’s tone was mournful. “The whole thing’s a total fuckup.”

“And you’re part of the fuckup.”

Marks sighed. “Actually, I’m hoping to be part of the solution.”

“Really? And how would that work?”

“Liss wants something you have-a ring.”

Everyone wants the Dominion ring, Bourne thought, but he remained silent.

“I was supposed to get it from you.”

“I’d be curious to know how you were going to do that.”

“To be honest, I don’t have a clue,” Marks said, “and I’m no longer interested in that.”

Bourne was silent.

Marks nodded. “You have a right to be skeptical. But I’m telling you the truth. Willard called just before I arrived at the house. He told me the mission had changed, that I was now to get you to Tineghir.”

“In southeast Morocco.”

“Ouarzazate, to be precise. Apparently, Arkadin is being brought there, too.”

Bourne was silent for so long Marks felt compelled to say, “What are you thinking?”

“That Oliver Liss is no longer calling the shots at Treadstone.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Liss would no more order you to get me to Ouarzazate than he would open a vein.” He looked at Marks. “No, Peter, something’s changed radically.”

“I felt that myself, but what?” Marks took out his PDA and went on a number of government news sites. “Jesus,” he said at last, “Liss was taken into custody by the Department of Justice pending an investigation into his role in illegal Black River dealings.” He looked up. “But he was cleared of those charges weeks ago.”

“I told you something’s radically changed,” Bourne said. “Willard is taking orders from another source.”

“It has to be someone very high up the food chain to get the investigation reopened.”

Bourne nodded. “And now you’re as much in the dark as I am. It looks like your boss sold you down the river without even a second’s thought.”

“Frankly, this comes as no surprise.” Marks rubbed his leg. His pain-filled exhale was a whistle of protest.

“There’s a doctor in London who’ll be discreet about the gunshot wound.” Bourne put the car in gear and, checking for traffic, pulled out onto the road. “Just so you know, Diego led me into a trap. There were enemies waiting for me at the club.”

“Did Moreno have to kill him?”

“We’ll never know now,” Bourne said. “But Ottavio saved my life back there. He didn’t deserve to be shot down like a dog.”

“Which brings me to who the hell was firing at us.”

Bourne told him about Severus Domna and Jalal Essai without going into detail about Holly.

“I was attacked in London. I pulled an odd gold ring off the forefinger of my assailant’s right hand.” He fished around in his pockets. “Shit, I seem to have lost it.”

“Scarlett found it. I gave it to her as a souvenir,” Bourne said. “Every member of Severus Domna carries one.”

“So this is all about an old Treadstone mission.” Marks seemed to consider the implications for a moment. “Do you know why Alex Conklin wanted the laptop?”

“No idea,” Bourne said, though he thought he did know now. Was there anyone besides Soraya and Moira he could trust? Though he knew Soraya and Peter were good friends he still didn’t know whether he could trust Marks.

Marks shifted uncomfortably. “There’s something I need to tell you. I’m afraid I roped Soraya into joining Treadstone.”

Bourne knew that Typhon could not run successfully without her, so he assumed that Danziger was systematically dismantling the old CI and remaking it in the image of Bud Halliday’s beloved NSA. Not that it was any of his concern. He hated and distrusted all espionage agencies. But he knew the good work that Typhon had accomplished under its original director, and later under Soraya. “What is Willard having her do?”

“You won’t like this.”

“Don’t let that stop you.”