As he neared the stairs, he suddenly bolted into the woods, making no effort to hide his escape. The sudden movement sent pain knifing through his shoulder, and his brain swirled through a tornado of dizziness that almost drove him to his knees. He thundered up the steps and stopped, waiting for his mind to right itself. The house in front of him looked like a summer cottage, with a large porch and picture windows overlooking the river. When he crept to the rear windows and looked inside, he saw patio furniture stored near the door and covered with a plastic sheet. No one was home.
Jason looked back toward the trees. The policeman came after him, slowly, uncertainly. A smart cop would keep him pinned down and wait for backup to arrive. A nervous cop would try to be a hero. Bourne crouched and waited for the man to get closer, and he could see that the cop had his gun in his hand.
Do the unexpected.
Bourne stood up, in plain view, his hands over his head. “I surrender! I surrender, and I need your help!”
The cop aimed his gun at Bourne. “Don’t move!”
Jason moved anyway. Keep them off balance. He came off the porch, hands still in the air. He invented a limp as he walked toward the cop, locking eyes with him, feeling the man’s fear. “I’m unarmed. I need your help. They’re going to kill me!”
“I said, Don’t move! Stay where you are!”
“You can’t let them take me. You have to bring me in. If the Americans get hold of me, I’ll disappear.”
“One more step, and I’ll shoot!” the cop insisted.
Jason stopped. They were ten feet apart across a muddy trail. “Yeah, sure, whatever you say. I told you, I’m unarmed. Look, I know how this goes. I turn around, I get on my knees. You put on the cuffs. I don’t want any trouble. I want everybody to know about this. I’m telling you, that’s what’s keeping me alive. Hell, call the TV news and get them out here. Get your picture in the paper.”
“Shut up! Do it just like you said. Turn around and get on your knees. Do it!”
“Sure. Absolutely. Thank you. You’re saving my life!”
Bourne turned around and sank to his knees. He laced his hands behind his head. He closed his eyes and held his breath, focusing all of his senses on listening to the movements of the cop behind him. He heard the splash of boots in the mud and heavy, anxious breathing. The cop got closer. He was right there behind him, squatting, inches away. Then Jason heard the noise he was waiting for, the smooth slide of metal against leather as the cop holstered his weapon in order to reach for his cuffs.
Instantly, Bourne twisted and drove his elbow into the cop’s kidney. As he spun, he fished out the cop’s gun with his other hand. Bourne shot an elbow upward and cracked the man’s chin, snapping his head backward. At the same time, he backhanded the man’s ear and knocked him sideways. He swung the heavy gun into the cop’s forehead, drawing blood and dizzying him. Bourne hit him again, harder, and this time the cop crumpled onto his back with his eyes closed.
Jason scrambled to his feet. He felt wetness on his skin and glanced at his shoulder, where blood seeped through his shirt. His stitches had opened. He stumbled down the steps toward the beach, but as he neared the water, he stopped. They were already coming for him, but not the police. He didn’t hear sirens. Instead, overhead, he heard the fierce throb of an engine getting louder.
A helicopter.
He looked up and saw a black helicopter descending toward the beach like a giant insect. Before it even landed, half a dozen operatives in paramilitary gear leaped from the open door and landed in the shallow water not even a hundred yards from the trees. They all had automatic rifles in their hands. From where they were, he was invisible, but his location had already made its way from a nervous cop’s radio to the men who were hunting him. They knew where he was. Half of them moved down the beach, heading straight for the woods, and the other half crept toward the street to cut him off.
Before Bourne could move, he heard another engine. A second helicopter soared into view over the trees and descended toward the other end of the beach like a pincer,