The Bourne Deception - By Robert Ludlum & Eric van Lustbader Page 0,58

it blandly, but Moira discerned the quickening of interest behind her eyes. “The man who’s had it in for you from the moment the president floated your name to take over the DCI position. Bud Halliday.”

For a moment Moira was certain she felt the brief crackle of heat lightning in the room. Then Veronica Hart pushed her chair back and stood up.

“What precisely do you want from me?”

“I want an admission of your guilt.”

“A signed confession? You must be joking.”

“No,” Moira said. “Just between us chickens.”

Hart shook her head. “Why would I do that?”

“So that we can have something other than the past, so that we can go on, so that there isn’t this poison between us.”

The telephone rang several times, but the DCI ignored it. Finally, it stopped, and only the small sounds remained: the humming of the air vents, the soft intakes of their breathing, the beating of their hearts.

Hart sighed then, a long exhalation of breath. “You don’t want to hear this.”

At last! Moira thought. “Try me.”

“What I did,” Hart said slowly, “I did for the good of the company.”

“Bullshit, you did it for yourself!”

“You were never in any real danger,” Hart persevered, “I made sure of that.”

Instead of feeling better Moira was feeling more and more wronged. “How could you have made sure of it?”

“Moira, can’t we leave it at that?”

Moira was back in her attack position, leaning over the desk, resting on her white knuckles. “End it,” she said. “End it now.”

“All right.” The DCI raked her fingers through her hair. “I was sure you’d be okay because Noah said he’d take care of you.”

“Oh.” Moira felt the floor open up beneath her. Dizziness forced her back to the chair, where she sat heavily, staring at nothing. “Noah.” Then it hit her and she felt sick. “It was all Noah’s idea, wasn’t it?”

Hart nodded. “I was his runner. I did his dirty work for him. I was required to be the one you hated when you came back so he could keep using you when he saw fit.”

“Jesus God.” Moira stared down at her hands. “He didn’t trust me.”

“Not for that mission.” Hart said it so softly that Moira had to lean forward to hear her. “But for others, as you know perfectly well, he preferred you.”

“No matter.” Moira felt numb from the inside out. “What a shitty thing to do.”

“Yes, it was.” Hart sat back down. “In fact, it was the reason I left Black River.”

Moira looked up, her eyes focusing on the woman who had been her archenemy for so long. She felt as if her mind had been stuffed with steel wool. “I don’t understand.”

“I’d done a lot of awful things while at Black River; you’re the last person I have to explain that to. But this—what Noah had me do—” She shook her head. “Afterward I was so ashamed of myself I couldn’t bear to face you, so after the mission was completed I went to see you. I wanted to apologize—”

“I wouldn’t let you; I cursed you instead.”

“I couldn’t blame you. I wasn’t angry at the hurtful things you said, who was more entitled? And yet it was a lie. I wanted to disobey orders, to tell you the truth. Instead, I quit. It was a cowardly act, really, because then I was certain I’d never have to face you.”

“And now here we are.” Moira felt drained, sick at heart. She’d known Noah was amoral, she knew he was devious; he wouldn’t have risen to his position at Black River otherwise. But she’d never have thought him capable of fucking her over so thoroughly, of using her like a piece of meat.

“Here we are,” Hart agreed.

Moira felt a shudder run through her. “Noah is the reason I’m in this situation, the reason I’m here without a place to go.”

The DCI frowned. “What do you mean? You have your own organization.”

“It’s been compromised, either by Noah or by the NSA.”

“There’s a big difference between Black River and the NSA.”

Moira looked at Hart and realized she no longer knew how she felt about anyone or anything. How did one recover from a betrayal like this? All at once she was suffused with a terrible fury. If Noah had been in the room she would have grabbed the lamp off Veronica Hart’s desk and swung it into the side of his face. But no, better he wasn’t. She recalled a line from Les Liaisons Dangereuses, her favorite novel because it involved drawing room