The Bourne Sanction - By Robert Ludlum Page 0,86

how it must be what happened. Icoupov didn't kill Pyotr himself, surely that much must be clear to you." He observed the fear mounting behind her eyes. "Who else would Icoupov have trusted to do it? Leonid was the only other person to know you were spying on Pyotr for Icoupov."

The truth of what he said was written on Gala's face like a road sign appearing out of the fog. While she was still in shock, Bourne said, "Please tell me Leonid's full name."

"What?"

"Just do as I tell you," Bourne said. "It may be the only way to save him from being killed by the Kazanskaya."

"But you're Kazanskaya."

Pushing up his sleeve, Bourne gave her a close-up look at the false tattoo. "A Kazanskaya was waiting for Leonid in Tarkanian's apartment this evening."

"I don't believe you." Her eyes widened. "What were you doing there?"

"Tarkanian's dead," Bourne said. "Now do you want to help the man you say you love?"

"I do love Leonid! I don't care what he did."

At that moment, the driver cursed mightily, turned in his seat. "My client's coming."

"Go on," Bourne urged Gala. "Write his name down."

"Something must've happened in the VIP," the driver said. "Shit, he looks pissed. You gotta get outta here now."

Bourne grabbed Gala, opened the street-side door, nearly burying it in the fender of a hurtling bombily. He flagged it down with a fistful of rubles, made the transfer from Western luxury to Eastern poverty in one stride. Gala Nematova broke away from him as he was entering the Zhig. He clutched her by the back of her fur coat, but she shrugged it off, began to run. The cabbie stepped on the gas, the stench of diesel fumes foaming up into the interior, choking them so badly Bourne had to crank open a window. As he did so, he saw two men who'd been at her table come out of the club. They looked right and left. One of them spotted Gala's running figure, gestured to the other one, and they took off after her.

"Follow those men!" Bourne shouted to the cabbie.

The cabbie had a flat face with a distinctly Asian caste. He was fat, greasy, and spoke Russian with an abominable accent. Clearly, Russian wasn't his first language. "You're joking, yes?"

Bourne thrust more rubles at him. "I'm joking, no."

The cabbie shrugged, crashed the Zhig into first gear, depressed the gas pedal.

At that moment the two men caught up with Gala.
Chapter Twenty
AT PRECISELY that moment, Leonid Danilovich Arkadin and Devra were deciding how to get to Haydar without Devra's people knowing about it.

"Best would be to extract him from his environment," Arkadin said. "But for that we need to know his habitual movements. I don't have time-"

"I know a way," Devra said.

The two of them were sitting side by side on a bed on the ground floor of a small inn. The room wasn't much to look at-just a bed, a chair, a broken-down dresser-but it had its own bathroom, a shower with plenty of hot water, which they'd used one after the other. Best of all, it was warm.

"Haydar's a gambler," she continued. "Almost every evening he's hunkered down in the back room of a local caf泄. He knows the owner, who lets them play without imposing a fee. In fact, once a week he joins them." She glanced at her watch. "He's sure to be there now."

"What good is that? Your people are sure to protect him there."

"Right, that's why we aren't going to go near the place."

An hour later, they were sitting in their rented car on the side of a two-lane road. All their lights were off. They were freezing. Whatever snow had seemed imminent had passed them by. A half-moon rode in the sky, an Old World lantern revealing wisps of clouds and bluish crusty snowbanks.

"This is the route Haydar takes to and from the game." Devra tilted her watch face so it was illuminated by the moonglow coming off the banked snow. "He should show any minute now."

Arkadin was behind the wheel. "Just point out the car, leave the rest to me." One hand was on the ignition key, the other on the gearshift. "We have to be prepared. He might have an escort."

"If he's got guards they'll be in the same car with him," Devra said. "The roads are so bad it will be extremely difficult to keep him in sight from a trailing vehicle."

"One car," Arkadin said. "All the better."

A moment later the night was momentarily

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