believe you."
LaValle produced an icy smile. "I doesn't matter what you believe, Director. Only the facts matter." He flicked the photo away with his fingernail. "Whatever General Kendall did, he did on his own. I have no knowledge of it."
Soraya was wondering how everything could have gone so wrong, when, once again, LaValle pushed the phone across the table.
"Now call Bourne."
She felt as if there were a steel band around her chest; the blood was singing in her ears. Now what? she said to herself. Dear God, what can I do?
She heard someone with her voice say, "What should I tell him?"
LaValle produced a slip of paper with a time and an address on it. "He needs to go here, at this time. Tell him that you're in Munich, that you have information vital to the Black Legion's attack, that he has to see it for himself."
Soraya's hand was so slick with sweat, she wiped it on her napkin. "He'll be suspicious if I don't call him on my own phone. In fact, he might not answer if I don't, because he won't know it's me."
LaValle nodded, but when she produced her phone, he said, "I'm going to listen to every word you say. If you try to warn him I promise your friend Tyrone will never leave this building alive. Clear?"
She nodded, but did nothing.
Observing her like a frog split open on a dissecting table, LaValle said, "I know you don't want to do this, Director. I know how badly you don't want to do this. But you will call Bourne and you will set the trap for me, because I'm stronger than you are. By that I mean my will. I get what I want, Director, at any cost, but not you-you care too much to have a long career in intelligence work. You're doomed and you know it."
Soraya had stopped listening to him after the first few words. Acutely aware that she had vowed to take control of the situation, to somehow turn disaster into victory, she was furiously marshaling her forces. One step at a time, she told herself now. I have to clear my mind of Tyrone, of the failed ploy with Kendall, of my own guilt. I have to think of this call now; how am I going to make the call and keep Jason from being captured?
It seemed an impossible task, but that kind of thinking was defeatist, totally unhelpful. Still-what was she to do?
"After your call," LaValle said, "you'll stay here, under constant surveillance, until after Bourne is taken into custody."
Uncomfortably aware of his avid eyes on her, she flipped open her phone, and called Jason.
When she heard his voice, she said, "Hi, it's me, Soraya."
Bourne was standing in Egon Kirsch's apartment, staring down at the street when his cell phone rang. He saw Soraya's number come up on the screen, answered the call, and heard her say, "Hi, it's me, Soraya."
"Where are you?"
"Actually, I'm in Munich."
He perched on the arm of an upholstered chair. "Actually? In Munich?"
"That's what I said."
He frowned, hearing echoes in his head from far away. "I'm surprised."
"Not as much as I am. You came up on the CI surveillance grid at the airport."
"There was no help for it."
"I'm sure not. Anyway, I'm not over here on official CI business. We've been continuing to monitor the Black Legion communications, and at last we got a breakthrough."
He stood up. "What is it?"
"The phone's too insecure," she said. "We should meet." She told him the place and the time.
Glancing at his watch, he said, "That's a little over an hour from now."
"Right as rain. I can make it. Can you?"
"I think I can manage," he said. "See you."
He disconnected, went over to the window, leaned on the sash, replaying the conversation word by word in his mind.
He felt the jolt of a dislocation, as if he had moved outside his body, experiencing something that had happened to someone else. His mind, recording a seismic shift in its neurons, was struggling with a memory. Bourne knew he'd had this conversation before, but for the life of him he couldn't remember where or when, or what significance it might have for him now.
He would have continued on with his fruitless search had not the downstairs bell rang. Turning from the window, he went across the living room, pressed the button that released the outer door's lock. The time had finally come when he and Arkadin would meet face-to-face-the assassin of legend, who