The Bourne Deception - By Robert Ludlum & Eric Van Lustbader Page 0,47

than arak.”

“Want to bet?”

Willard opened the booklet for him and the doctor stared down at the passport photo of Ian Bowles, the New Zealander who’d been masquerading as a patient, who was blackmailing him into taking photos of Jason Bourne. This was why he had been getting stone-cold wasted. He couldn’t bear to think of what he had to do or what would happen to him if he didn’t.

“What ?” He shook his head, confused. “What are you doing with this?”

Willard sat down beside him. “Let’s just say Mr. Bowles will no longer be a problem for you.”

Firth sobered as if the other man had thrown a bucket of cold water in his face. “You know?”

Willard took the passport. “I heard it all.”

A shiver ran down the doctor’s spine. “There was nothing I could do.”

“It’s a good thing, then, that I was here.”

Firth nodded despondently.

“Now I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” Firth said. “I owe you my life.”

“Jason Bourne must never know this happened.”

“None of it?” Firth looked at him. “Someone suspects he’s here, someone is after him.”

Willard’s face was impassive. “None whatsoever, Doctor.” He held out his hand. “Do I have your word?”

Firth gripped the other’s hand, which was firm and dry and somehow comforting. “I said anything, didn’t I?”

10

AS MOIRA LAUNCHED HERSELF out of the booth, she pulled the thumb drive out of the USB slot. By this time she’d taken off through the coffee shop, down the narrow, dingy hallway that led to the toilets and the kitchen.

Turning left into the kitchen, she was engulfed by a surge of heat, steam, and raised voices. She was heading for the pantry when the delivery entrance at the rear burst open, and an NSA agent came through the doorway. As he did so, she pressed her thumb into the reader twice in succession even though the computer was still on. Then she threw it at him. He raised his arms reflexively to catch it and she raced into the small pantry cubicle. Kneeling, she pulled the ring on the trapdoor. As she was raising it from its mount flush in the floor, she heard the laptop’s incendiary device explode. Shouts and the confusion caused by a fire in a confined space came to her as she slipped down the ladder, closing the trapdoor behind her. The device was a last-ditch security measure she’d had her techs install in all Heartland laptops. Pressing the thumb reader twice while the laptop was on activated the device on a ten-second delay.

At the bottom of the ladder, she found herself in the basement, where bulk deliveries were stored. She felt above her head until she found the cord and pulled it. A bare bulb illuminated her surroundings in chiaroscuro starkness. She saw the metal doors leading to street level and opened them. There was a metal ramp used to slide the cartons of canned goods into the basement. She scrambled up this, bending almost double to hold on to the sides so as not to slip on the smooth surface. To do this, she had to slip the thumb drive, which she’d been clutching for dear life, into her pocket. As she did so, the back of her hand brushed against what felt like a stiff card. Gaining the street, she found herself directly to the right of the entrance to the coffee shop, where people were piling out like boiling water. As she walked away she could hear the klaxon call of fire engines. She walked away from the melee, her hand in her pocket to check that she still had the thumb drive, and she felt again the presence of the card. Drawing it out, she saw that it had the EMS logo on it and Dave’s name. Below, he’d handwritten a cell phone number. Then she remembered him brushing by her and knew he’d slipped her the card then. Any port in a storm, she thought. Flipping open the burner, she punched in the number.

Just then, glancing over her shoulder, she saw one of the NSA agents spill out of the entrance and she walked faster. But he’d already spotted her and took off after her.

Rounding the corner, she put her phone to her ear.

“Yes?” She was relieved to hear Dave’s familiar voice.

“I’m in trouble.” She gave him her approximate location. “I’ll be at Fort Myer Drive and Seventeenth Street North in three minutes.”

“Wait for us,” he said.

“Easy for you to say,” she replied and raced around the