Robert Ludlum's the Bourne Evolution - Brian Freeman Page 0,51

them.”

“My God! You’re Medusa…. You mean, this is real? There’s a mole?”

“There is. Be glad Ms. Laurent reached out to you, Mr. Gattor. It puts you in the clear. Some of us were convinced that you were the mole.”

“Me? Never! I would never!”

“We’ll be in touch again before the meeting. Take precautions until then, and assume you’re under surveillance.”

“Wait! You can’t leave it like that. I have questions.”

“We can’t talk here. The light is green. Walk. Don’t look at me. When you get to the Church of the Ascension on the next block, go into the courtyard and around to the far corner of the building. I’ll be there.”

Bourne pushed past Gattor and continued northward until he reached the Episcopal church, where he let himself inside the gate and took cover behind the trees. He didn’t have to wait long. The rapid tap of Gattor’s leather shoes announced his arrival, and as the man came around the building, Bourne grabbed him and shoved him against the brick wall.

Gattor’s eyes widened with recognition. “Oh my God, it’s you! You’re Cain!”

“Of course I am. I told you, you did well, Mr. Gattor. You’ve played your part perfectly up until now. Don’t blow it.”

“My part? What are you saying? You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Yes, that’s what we wanted everyone to think. The setup worked just as we hoped, thanks in large part to you, Mr. Gattor. The information you gave Abbey Laurent worked exactly as intended. Medusa is grateful. But now we have a problem.”

“I don’t understand. Why are you here? There’s never supposed to be direct contact! I’m a resource, nothing more. She swore to me I was safe!”

She.

Gattor’s contact at Medusa was a woman.

“Your previous terms of engagement no longer apply,” Bourne informed him. “The mole changes everything. You’re on a list, Mr. Gattor. You’re blown.”

“My God, what do I do?”

“I told you, as soon as the journalist calls you again, set up a meeting. We’ll take care of the rest.”

“But what if she gives him my name? What if he knows me? You just said I’m blown.”

“If she gives him your name, it won’t be the mole at that meeting. It’ll be the FBI. You’ll be under arrest. And don’t get any ideas about cutting a deal with them, Mr. Gattor. We can get to you anywhere.”

“This is madness!”

Bourne slid out the gun he’d taken from the Canadian policeman. Gattor squirmed, seeing the weapon, and Bourne held him in place against the wall. He pressed the butt of the gun, which was empty now, into the lawyer’s hand. “Look, there’s a slim chance you may need to take care of this situation on your own.”

“What?”

“The mole is part of Medusa. That means he’ll be cautious. If he suspects a trap, he may contact you outside the scheduled time and place, when we don’t have a wet team ready to go. In that case, we’ll need you to eliminate him yourself. The woman, too, if she’s with him.”

“Eliminate them? You want me to kill them? That was never part of the deal! I don’t even know how to fire a gun!”

“If he thinks he’s dealing only with you, he’s less likely to expect an ambush. That’s your advantage. As for the gun, it’s easy. Point and shoot. Be careful, the trigger is sensitive, so don’t put your finger on it until you’re ready to fire. A forehead shot is best, so you’ll need to be close. Anywhere else, and he’ll take time to bleed out, so he may have an opportunity to grab his own weapon and kill you.”

“Jesus!”

“Good luck, Mr. Gattor,” Bourne told him. “We’ll be watching.”

Jason left the lawyer a quivering mess inside the shelter of the trees. He melted back onto the New York streets. As he walked downtown, he slipped his phone into his hand and sent a text to Abbey.

Phase Two complete. It’s a go.

Carson Gattor was in full panic mode. The lawyer would be screaming into his phone soon and demanding a meeting, but not with Abbey Laurent.

The only thing he could do now was reach out to Medusa.

SEVENTEEN

“IT was Cain!” Carson Gattor screamed into his phone after he closed and locked the door of his twentieth-floor office near Union Square. “He’s in New York. He confronted me on the street. He said he was part of Medusa. He said you’re looking for a mole inside the organization who knows about me. My God, is that true?”

The sultry voice of his contact showed no emotion.

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