The Bourne Deception - By Robert Ludlum & Eric van Lustbader Page 0,39
train here.
It was hardly a surprise that when he arrived the leaders greeted him like a conquering hero.
Not that this homecoming of sorts was simply pleasant; nothing in Arkadins life was simple. Possibly he had misremembered the landscape or perhaps something had changed inside him. Either way, the moment he drove into the Nagorno-Karabakh area it was as if hed been hurled back into Nizhny Tagil.
The camp had been set up precisely to his specifications: Ten tents made of camouflage material ringed a large oval compound. To the east was the landing strip where his plane had touched down. At the other end of it was a short L-shaped extension on which was sitting a Air Afrika Transport cargo plane. The tents had an aspect he hadnt anticipated: They reminded him of the ring of high-security prisons that girdled Nizhny Tagil, the town in which hed been born and raised, if you could call living with psychotic parents being raised.
But again, memory was not a simple matter. Twenty minutes after arriving, having entered one of the tents that had been set up as his command station, he was inspecting the impressive array of weaponry hed had transshipped: AK-47 Lancasters, AR15 Bushmasters and LWRC SRT 6.8mm assault rifles, World War II US Marine M2A1-7 flamethrowers, armor-piercing grenades, shoulder-fired FIM-92 Stinger missiles, mobile howitzers, and, the key to his mission, three AH-64 Apache helicopters loaded with AGM-114 Hellfire missiles with specially made dual-charge nose cones of depleted uranium, unconditionally guaranteed by the seller to penetrate even the most heavily armored vehicle.
Dressed in camo fatigues, armed with a metal baton on one hip and an American Colt .45 on the other, Arkadin emerged from the largest of the tents and was met by Dimitri Maslov, the head of the Kazanskaya, the most powerful family of the Moscow mob. Maslov looked like a street fighter who was calculating how to pin you in the least amount of time and with the maximum pain. His hands were large, thick, and broad, and looked like they could wring the neck of anyone and anything. His muscular legs ended in outlandishly dainty feet, as if theyd been grafted on from someone elses body. Hed grown his hair since the last time Arkadin had seen him and, dressed in lightweight camo fatigues, had something of the anarchic air of Che Guevara.
Leonid Danilovich, Maslov said with false heartiness, I see youve wasted no time in putting our war matériel to use. Well, good, it cost a fucking fortune.
With Maslov were two no-neck bodyguards, their fatigues sporting immense sweat rings, clearly out of their element in this hot climate.
Looking past the human weapons, Arkadin eyed the grupperovka chief with a kind of impersonal distrust. Ever since hed defected from being the Kazanskayas main enforcer to working exclusively for Semion Icoupov, he wasnt sure where he stood with the man. That they were doing business now meant nothing; a combination of compelling circumstance and powerful partner thrust them together. Arkadin had the impression that they were two pit bulls deciding how to finish the other off. This was borne out when Maslov said, I still havent gotten over the loss of my Mexican pipeline. I cant help feeling that if youd been available, I wouldnt have lost it.
Now I believe youre exaggerating, Dimitri Ilyinovich.
But instead you dropped out of sight, Maslov continued, deliberately ignoring Arkadin. You were unreachable.
Arkadin thought hed better pay attention now. Did Maslov suspect that he had taken Gustavo Morenos laptop, a prize that Arkadin was certain Maslov thought was rightfully his?
Arkadin thought it best to change the subject. Why are you here?
I always like to see my investments firsthand. Besides, Triton, the man coordinating the entire operation, wanted a firsthand report on your progress.
Triton need only have called me, Arkadin said.
Hes a cautious man, our Triton, or so Ive heard. Ive never met him myselffrankly, I dont know who he is, only that hes a man with deep pockets and the wherewithal to mount this ambitious project. And dont forget, Arkadin, it was I who recommended you to Triton. Theres no one better to train these men, I told him in no uncertain terms.
Arkadin thanked Maslov, even though privately it pained him to do so. On the other side of the ledger, it warmed him to know that Maslov had no idea who Triton was or who he worked for, whereas he himself knew everything. Maslovs amassed millions had made him overconfident and sloppy, which in Arkadins