"You mean she was milking him for intel. I find that hard to believe."
"Right. Now you know why I didn't want to tell you about it."
"I'd like to see these communications for myself."
"For that you'll have to see the DCI, which, quite honestly, I wouldn't recommend. There are still high-level operatives in CI who blame you for the Old Man's death."
"That's absurd," Bourne said. "I had nothing to do with his death."
Soraya ran a hand through her thick hair. "It was you who brought Karim al-Jamil back to CI thinking he was Martin Lindros."
"He looked exactly like Martin, spoke exactly like him."
"You vouched for him."
"So did a phalanx of CI shrinks."
"You're an easy target around CI. Rob Batt, who's just been promoted to deputy director, is the ringleader of a group who are convinced you're a schizophrenic, unreliable rogue agent. I'm just saying."
Bourne closed his eyes for a moment. He'd heard these allegations leveled against him time and again. "You've left off another reason why I'm an easy target. I'm a legacy left over from the Alex Conklin era. He had the Old Man's confidence but hardly anyone else's, mainly because no one knew what he was doing, especially with the program that created me."
"All the more reason for you to stay in the shadows."
Bourne glanced out the window. "I've got an early breakfast meeting."
As he was about to get out of the car, Soraya put a hand on his arm. "Stay out of this, Jason. That's my advice."
"And I appreciate the concern." He leaned toward her, kissed her lightly on the cheek. Then he was crossing the street. A moment later he'd vanished into shadow.
As soon as he was out of her sight, Bourne flipped open the cell phone he'd lifted from her when he'd leaned in to kiss her. Quickly he scrolled through to Veronica Hart's number, connected with it. He wondered if he'd be pulling her out of sleep, but when she answered she sounded wide awake.
"How's the surveillance going?" She had a rich, mellow voice.
"That's what I want to talk with you about."
There was the briefest of silences before she answered. "Who is this?"
"Jason Bourne."
"Where is Soraya Moore?"
"Soraya is fine, Director. I simply needed a way to contact you once I'd broken the surveillance, and I was quite certain Soraya wouldn't give it to me willingly."
"So you stole her phone."
"I want to meet with you," Bourne said. He didn't have much time. At any moment, Soraya might reach for her phone, would know he'd hijacked it and come after him. "I want to see the evidence that led you to order the surveillance on Moira Trevor."
"I don't take kindly to being told what to do, especially by a rogue agent."
"But you will meet with me, Director, because I'm the only one with access to Moira. I'm your fast track to finding out if she's really rotten or whether you're on a wild goose chase."
I think I'll stick to the proven way." Veronica Hart, sitting in her new office with Rob Batt, mouthed the words Jason Bourne to her DDCI.
"But you can't," Bourne said in her ear. "Now that I've broken the surveillance I can ensure that Moira vanishes off your grid."
Hart stood up. "I also don't respond well to threats."
"I have no need to threaten you, Director. I'm simply telling you the facts."
Batt studied her expression as well as her responses, trying to get a reading of the conversation. They had been working nonstop since she'd returned from her meeting with the president. He was exhausted, on the point of leaving, but this call interested him intensely.
"Look," Bourne said, "Martin was my friend. He was a hero. I don't want his reputation tarnished."
"All right," Hart said, "come to my office later this morning, say around eleven."
"I'm not setting foot inside CI headquarters," Bourne said. "We'll meet this evening at five at the entrance to the Freer Gallery."
"What if I-?"
But Bourne had already severed the connection.
Moira was up, clad in her paisley robe, when Bourne returned. She was in the kitchen, making fresh coffee. She glanced at him without comment. She had more sense than to ask about his comings and goings.
Bourne took off his coat. "Just checking the area for tails."
She paused. "And did you find any?"
"Quiet as the grave." He didn't believe that Moira had been pumping Martin for CI intel, but the inordinate sense of security-of secretiveness-instilled in him by Conklin warned him not to tell her the truth.