build the LNG terminal in Long Beach. That's how I got my promotion to executive vice president."
Bourne took back the file. He, too, was relieved. For him, trust was like an ill-made boat, springing leaks at every turn, threatening at any moment to sink him. He'd ceded part of himself to Moira, but the loss of control was like a knife in his heart.
Moira looked at him rather sadly. "Did you suspect me of being a Mata Hari?"
"It was important to make sure," he said.
Her face closed up. "Sure. I understand." She began to stuff papers into a slim leather briefcase more roughly than was needed. "You thought I'd betrayed Martin and was going to betray you."
"I'm relieved it's not true."
"I'm so very happy to hear that." She shot him an acid stare.
"Moira..."
"What?" She pulled hair off her face. "What is it you want to say to me, Jason?"
"I... This is hard for me."
She leaned forward, peering at him. "Just tell me."
"I trusted Marie," Bourne said. "I leaned on her, she helped me with my amnesia. She was always there. And then, suddenly, she wasn't."
Moira's voice softened. "I know."
He looked at her at last. "There is no good thing about being alone. But for me it's all a matter of trust."
"I know you think I haven't told you the truth about Martin and me." She took his hands in hers. "We were never lovers, Jason. We were more like brother and sister. We supported each other. Trust didn't come easily to either of us. I think it's important for both of us that I tell you that now."
Bourne understood that she was also talking about the two of them, not her and Martin. He'd trusted so few people in his life: Marie, Alex Conklin, Mo Panov, Martin, Soraya. He saw all the things that had been keeping him from moving on with his life. With so little past, it was difficult letting go of the people he'd known and cared about.
A pang of sorrow shot through him. "Marie is dead. She's in the past now. And my children are far better off with their grandparents. Their life is stable and happy. That's best for them."
He rose, needing to get moving.
Moira, aware he was ill at ease, changed the subject. "Do you know how long you'll be in Moscow?"
"The same amount of time you'll be in Munich, I imagine."
That got a smile out of her. She stood, leaned toward him. "Be well, Jason. Stay safe." She gave him a lingering, loving kiss. "Remember me."
Chapter Sixteen
SORAYA MOORE was ushered cordially into the hushed sanctuary of the Library where less than twenty-four hours before, Luther LaValle and General Kendall had had their post-rendition fireside chat. It was Kendall himself who had picked her up, chauffeured her to the NSA safe house deep in the Virginia countryside. Soraya had, of course, never been here.
LaValle, in a midnight-blue chalk-striped suit, blue shirt with white collar and cuffs, a striped tie in the Yale colors, looked like a merchant banker. He rose as Kendall brought her over to the area by the window. There were three chairs grouped around the antique card table.
"Director Moore, having heard so much about you, it's a genuine pleasure to meet you." Smiling broadly, LaValle indicated a chair. "Please."
Soraya saw no point in refusing the invitation. She didn't know whether she was more curious or alarmed by the abrupt summons. She did, however, glance around the room. "Where is Secretary Halliday? General Kendall informed me that the invitation came from him."
"Oh, it did," LaValle said. "Unfortunately, the secretary of defense was called into a meeting in the Oval Office. He phoned me to convey to you his apologies and to insist that we carry on without him."
All of which meant, Soraya knew, that Halliday had never had any intention of attending this little t泻te-邪-t泻te. She doubted he even knew about it.
"Anyway," LaValle said as Kendall sat in the third chair, "now that you're here you might as well enjoy yourself." He raised his hand, and Willard appeared as if by prestidigitation. "Something to drink, Director? I know as Muslim you're forbidden alcohol, but we have a full range of potions for you to choose from."
"Tea, please," she said directly to Willard. "Ceylon, if you have it."
"Of course, ma'am. Milk? Sugar?"
"Neither, thank you." She'd never formed the British habit.
Willard seemed to bow before he vanished without a sound.
Soraya redirected her attention to the two men. "Now, gentlemen, in what way can I