The Bourne Deception - By Robert Ludlum & Eric van Lustbader Page 0,40
opinion made him ripe for the slaughter. That would come, he told himself, in time.
When Maslov had phoned him with the proposition laid out by Triton, hed at first refused. Now that he was the power behind the Eastern Brotherhood he neither needed nor wanted to hire himself out as a free-lancer. When Maslovs flattery, describing Arkadin and the Black Legions crucial part in the plan, had failed to move him, the twenty-million-dollar fee was dangled in front of his face. Still, he hesitated, until hed learned that the target was Iran, the objective to overthrow the current regime. Then the dazzling prospect of Irans oil pipeline danced through his head: untold billions, untold power. This prize took his breath away. He was canny enough to know, though Maslov was careful not to mention it, that Tritons aim must be the pipeline, too. His endgame was to double-cross Triton at the last minute, to snatch the pipeline for himself, but to do that he needed to properly assess his enemys resources. He needed to know who Triton was.
He saw someone emerge from the interior of the jeep that hed been warned by tribal lookouts had brought Maslov and his thugs here. At first the heat rising from the freshly laid tarmac obscured the mans face. Not that it mattered; Arkadin recognized that easy, loping gait, so deliberately like Clint Eastwoods in A Fistful of Dollars.
Whats he doing here? Arkadin struggled to keep the sharp edge out of his voice.
Who? Oserov? Maslov said in all innocence. Vylacheslav Germanovich is now my second in command. He shook his head ingenuously. Did I fail to mention that? I would have if Id been able to get hold of you to protect my Mexican interests. He shrugged. But, alas
Oserov was smiling now, in that half-ironic, half-condescending expression that had been tattooed into Arkadins brain in Nizhny Tagil. Was graduating Oxford a license to act superior to every other grupperovka member in Russia? Arkadin didnt think so.
Arkadin, really? Oserov said in British English. Bloody shocking youre still alive.
Arkadin hit him hard on the point of the chin. Oserov, that vile smile still stitched to his face, was already on his knees, his eyes rolling, by the time Maslovs bodyguards stepped in.
Maslov held up one hand to stay them. Nevertheless, his face was dark and congested with anger. You shouldnt have done that, Leonid Danilovich.
You shouldnt have brought him.
Unmindful of the weapons drawn on him, Arkadin knelt beside Oserov. So here you are in the blazing Azerbaijani sun, so far from home. How does it feel?
Oserovs eyes were bloodshot and a thin trail of pink drool descended like a strand of a spiders web from one corner of his mouth, but he never stopped smiling. All at once, he reached out and grabbed Arkadin by his shirtfront, jerking him closer.
Youll live to regret this insult, Leonid Danilovich, now that Mischa is no longer alive to protect you.
Arkadin sprang away and rose to his feet. I told you what Id do to him if I saw him again.
Maslovs eyes narrowed. His face still had that congested look. That was a long time ago.
Not for me, Arkadin said.
Now he had made his stand, made an unequivocal statement that Maslov couldnt ignore. Nothing would be the same between them, which came as a distinct relief to Arkadin, who had the captives innate horror of inaction. To him, change was life. Dimitri Maslov had always thought of Arkadin as a workman, someone he hired and then forgot about. That perception needed to change. Maslov had to be made aware that the two men were now equals. Arkadin didnt have the luxury of time to finesse his new, elevated status.
As Oserov regained his feet, Maslov threw his head back and laughed, but he sobered quickly enough. Get back to the car, Vylacheslav Germanovich, he said under his breath to Oserov.
Oserov was about to say something, but changed his mind. With a murderous look at Arkadin, he turned on his heel and stalked away.
So, youre a big man now, Maslov said in an easy tone that didnt quite mask the undertone of menace in his voice.
Which meant, Arkadin understood, I knew you when you were nothing but a ragged fugitive from Nizhny Tagil, so if you mean to come after me, dont.
There are no big men, Arkadin replied with equanimity, only big ideas.
The two men stared at each other in total silence. Then, as one, they began to laugh. They laughed