Robert Ludlum's the Bourne Evolution - Brian Freeman Page 0,133

knife.”

Her face had no expression. Like a poker player, she showed nothing. But he’d succeeded in inflaming her ego. With her eyes as hard as two aquamarine jewels, she flicked the pistol off the parapet and into the sea.

“No gun,” she said.

“And the knife?” Bourne asked.

Miss Shirley squatted to place the crescent blade at her feet, never taking her eyes off his face. “If you want the knife, you’ll have to come and get it.”

Bourne did. He took the first step toward her, but she struck back with insane speed. He never even saw her move. Her foot lashed out, hammering him under his ribs, driving the air from his lungs. He stuttered backward, barely keeping his balance on the rampart, and he doubled over, coughing and gasping for air.

“I’ll make one last offer of mercy,” Miss Shirley told him. “Crawl over here on your hands and knees and kiss my feet. If you do that, I’ll make it quick. I’ll just cut your heart out and we’ll be done.”

Bourne steadied himself on the wall. Oxygen slowly swelled his chest again. He felt the tiredness of the past days catching up to him. His headache throbbed. His wounds opened up and leaked blood. A part of him knew it would be easier to jump. A part of him knew he was going to lose. Then he stared through the driving rain at Miss Shirley, and instead of her face, he saw Nova. He could see Nova’s body coming into focus through the scope of this woman’s rifle. He could see Miss Shirley’s finger, her sharp black fingernail, as she squeezed the trigger.

He charged. He threw himself at her across the walkway. She deflected his blow as if she were schooling a child and then drove a knee into his groin and hit him in the head three times, left right left. Pain split open his skull. His ears rang. Dizziness made the wall spin. She hit him once more, a jab square in the neck, and he fell backward, choking. His legs crumpled underneath him. He collapsed to the stone, rain and sky spinning around his eyes like a kaleidoscope. Blood spat from his lips.

Miss Shirley picked up the knife and came for him.

Bourne tried to move, tried to scramble away, but her foot kicked across the bottom of his chin like it was a football, and his head crashed against the stone. He lay stretched out on the walkway over the sea, unable to fight back. Miss Shirley knelt on top of him. Her knees held his thighs down. With the point of the blade, she cut open his shirt and exposed his bare chest. The cool fingers of her other hand found his heart, which was beating wildly. She caressed him, stroking his skin. Then her fingers squeezed into a fist, and she thumped down hard on his torso with a single blow that made his entire body scream with agony. His heart, staggered by the impact, nearly stopped right there.

“Shall we begin?” Miss Shirley said.

Her right arm raised the crescent blade in the air. She swung it like a scythe, with lightning speed, and his left hand reacted by instinct. He grabbed her wrist and locked it in his fingers. He held her arm frozen in place, the blade inches from severing his shoulder. She pushed down; he pushed back, like a tug-of-war. But her strength was unbelievable. Millimeter by millimeter, she overpowered him. The knife drew closer.

Miss Shirley’s other hand pinched his throat. She cut off his air. With his right hand, he tried to pry away her fingers, but her grip was like a tiger’s jaws clamped around prey. His lungs boiled. His eyes began to roll up into his head. His left arm, the one keeping the knife at bay, began to weaken. In a few more seconds, he’d lose consciousness, and he’d awaken to find himself in the midst of a slow, torturous death.

She knew she was winning. She bent down close to his face, eye to eye, and kissed his lips like a lover.

“After we’re done here, I think I’ll take a little vacation, Bourne,” she told him with a sadistic giggle in her voice. “I know just where to go. Quebec City.”

Bourne’s muscles tightened with rage. He saw the threat in her eyes, and he believed every word of it. She’d go after Abbey next. She’d kill her, too, slowly and horribly. And he was the only one who could stop