Personal feelings interfere with the job, so you suppress them. Nova and I found we couldn’t do that. We kept our affair secret, but we were in love. I’ve only been in love one other time like that in my life. And both times, the woman died.”
“I’m sorry. What happened?”
“Nova was part of an operation in London that went bad. Innocent people were killed. She wasn’t to blame, but it was an embarrassment for the agency, and they forced her out. She became a pariah in the intelligence community. Nobody would hire her. She hated it, but on some level, it was also a new beginning for us. With her out, we didn’t have to keep our relationship hidden anymore. We arranged to meet in Las Vegas to spend time together. I got there on November 3, 2018.”
“November 3.” The date took a moment to register with her. “Oh, my God. The Lucky Nickel shooting. Was she there? Did Charles Hackman kill her?”
“The agency killed her,” Bourne said flatly. “I don’t know how it was done, but she was the sixty-seventh victim. Invisible. Unacknowledged. A man from my own agency carried away her body. I saw him. I knew him. I ran to the casino to see if I could get to the shooter, because I knew they’d cover up what really happened. But I was too late. The area was already locked down, and Nash Rollins was there. He had Nova killed.”
“But why?”
“They couldn’t let Nova stay on the outside. They couldn’t run the risk that some other rogue government would take her on.”
“So after Las Vegas, you quit?”
Bourne nodded. “I walked away from my past. It wasn’t the first time I’d had to do that.”
Her face screwed up in confusion. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing. Forget it.”
She frowned at his lack of an answer. “What about Medusa? How did you wind up chasing them?”
“An old friend approached me recently. He’s part of a group of powerful technology companies that Medusa is targeting. Stealing their data. Looking to gain control of their operations and their software. They decided the government was too impotent or too compromised to stop Medusa, so they hired me. The operation in New York—Sofia Ortiz—that was supposed to be my way in. Instead, Medusa set me up. It was perfect. A damaged rogue agent, upset over the murder of his lover, taking revenge on the government. A killer. Cain. Now everyone is gunning for me, and they won’t stop until I’m dead.”
Abbey didn’t look at him, but her hand snaked out from under the blanket and took hold of his hand. Her skin was warm and soft. It felt odd to enjoy a human touch again. To be close to a woman.
“Thank you for telling me all of this,” she said.
“Don’t thank me for anything. Staying with me is likely to get you killed. You should get as far away from me as you can. It’s not too late, but once you call Carson Gattor tomorrow, there’s no going back.”
“I know.” She paused and then went on. “I’m sorry about Nova.”
“Well, I’m sorry about Michel. We’ve both lost people.”
“At least you were in love. I’ve never been in love. Michel and I, I don’t know what that was, but it wasn’t love. He loved me, but I didn’t want to let him get that close. I’m not sure I could ever let down my guard long enough to let anyone in.”
“I would have said the same thing about myself,” Jason replied, “but I was wrong.”
“Why won’t you tell me who you really are? About your past. Is the Bourne identity some kind of secret?”
“I can’t tell you what I don’t remember,” Jason said.
“I don’t understand that.”
Bourne didn’t answer her. There were places he didn’t go. There were places he couldn’t go. Instead, he said, “I’ve been doing all the talking. Tell me about you.”
He heard a slight coolness take over her voice. “Isn’t that a little disingenuous?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, are you saying that you don’t already know everything about me? That you don’t have a file on me? Because I find that hard to believe. You’re a spy. You would have researched my whole life before you got in touch with me.”
He thought to himself again that Abbey was smart. Formidable.
“That’s true,” he admitted. “I know a lot of facts about you. But facts are bloodless things. Human beings are more than facts.”
“What do you know about me?”
“I know you were born in New York.