The Bourne Deception - By Robert Ludlum & Eric van Lustbader Page 0,51
funeral, when hed stood dry-eyed and mute as the casket containing the mortal remains of his wife was lowered into the ground.
Dont you feel anything? Oren had confronted him with an anger that had apparently been building for years. Anything at all?
Im relieved that its over, Willard had said.
It was only much later that he realized telling his son the truth had been a grievous mistake. That was a time, however brief, when hed grown tired of lies. He never made that error again. Human beings, it became clear to him, thrived on lies; they needed them in order to survive, to be happy, even. Because the truth was often unpleasant, and people didnt care for that. Furthermore, it didnt suit many of them. Theyd much rather lie to themselves, have those around them lie to them to preserve the illusion of beauty. Reality wasnt pretty, that was the truth.
But now, here in Bali, he wondered whether he was like all the others, weaving a prison of lies around himself to blot out the truth. For years, hed tunneled his way into NSA like a mole, arriving at last at the safe house in Virginia, where all the lies were housed. For years, hed told himself it was his duty. Other people, even his own son, seemed like ghosts to him, part of someone elses life. What else did he have? he asked himself over and over as he toiled away as an NSA steward. It was duty, only duty he could connect with.
The NSA mission had been fulfilled. By necessity his cover had been blown with them, and he was free. No one inside CI had yet figured out what to do with him. In fact, so far as the new DCI was concerned, he was on a long-overdue vacation.
Now, free of the servile persona of Willard, the NSA steward, hed come to realize that being a steward was only a role hed been playing; a role that wasnt him at all. When Alex Conklin had begun to train him, Willard had had visions of perilous derring-do in far-off corners of the world. Hed read all the James Bond novels countless times; he itched for the adrenaline rush of covert battles. As he became more and more accomplished, as he excelled at his teachers increasingly difficult exercises, Conklin had begun to confide in him. Then the fatal mistake: As he began to learn Treadstones secrets, hed allowed himself the fantasy of becoming Conklins successor: the master manipulator. But reality had sent him crashing to earth. The Old Man had called, wanting Willard for the role in which hed already cast him. Willard was sent underground, into NSA, into prison with, it seemed, no chance for a reprieve.
Hed done whatever had been asked of him, had done it well, masterfully, even. Thats what everyone had told him. But what had he gotten out of it? Truth, the truth: nothing, not a damn thing.
Now, at last, he had the freedom to fulfill his dream of becoming a master manipulator, of outdoing his old teacher. Because, in the end, Conklin had failed. Hed allowed Leonid Arkadin to slip away, and then, instead of going after Arkadin and bringing him back, hed forgotten about the Russian and had tried to better him with Jason Bourne. But you cant turn your back on a creation like Arkadin. Willard knew every decision Conklin had taken with Treadstone, he was aware of every misstep. He wouldnt repeat the last one, which was to allow Leonid Arkadin to escape. Hed do better, much better. Hed fulfill Treadstones final goal. Hed succeed in creating the ultimate fighting machine.
He turned as the gate to Firths compound opened and Jason Bourne stepped inside. It was twilight, the western sky streaked with sherbet colors, overhead pure cobalt. As he approached, Bourne was holding a small object between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand.
A .30 M118 shell, Bourne said.
Willard held out his hand and took a close look at it. Military-grade, specifically made for a sniper rifle. He gave a short, warbly whistle. No wonder the bullet went clear through you.
Ever since the 2005 bombings in Kuta and Jimbaran, the government has been fanatic about weaponry. No matter how good this sniper is theres no way he could have smuggled in the gun and ammo. Bourne smiled grimly. Now, how many places on Bali do you think would carry full-metal-jacket .30-caliber M118 ammo and the rifle that could fire it?