Robert Ludlum's the Bourne Evolution - Brian Freeman Page 0,58
slip it down. Immediately, he moved toward her and took hold of both of her hands to stop her. He meant nothing personal by touching her. This was about keeping them safe, nothing else.
But that was a lie.
He bent down close to her. She tilted her chin, meeting his eyes. The message passing between them was unmistakable. Her lips moved and parted, inviting him, and he put his mouth on hers. The kiss started soft and slow, then grew intense. Their fingers were still laced together, and she pressed forward with her body against his. As she did, the hoodie slipped down, but he didn’t notice. They stayed that way, their lips exploring each other, until the elevator doors opened on the fourteenth floor.
He let go of her hands. Abbey backed up, embarrassed, a flush on her face. They got out of the elevator and walked silently to the end of the hall, where the room was. He undid the lock and murmured, “Stay here while I make sure it’s clear.”
Her eyes stared at the floor. “Okay.”
Jason went into the one-bedroom apartment. Nothing had changed, not the paint, the furniture, the curtains. It was the same as it had been when he was here with Nova. He went back to the door and held it open so that Abbey could come inside. He closed the door behind her and did the dead bolt.
“Are we safe here?” she asked softly.
“I think so.”
“Good.”
“Do you want anything? They usually keep the fridge stocked.”
“No, thanks.”
“I’ll sleep on the couch. You can have the bed.”
“Okay.”
“Abbey, listen, I’m sorry.”
She shoved her hands in her pockets. “Don’t be. You got the signal right.”
“It’s better if nothing happens between us.”
“Definitely,” she replied. “Definitely better. Sure.”
“I kill people,” Jason said. “Don’t forget that.”
“I haven’t forgotten.” She went to the window and looked out at the lights of the city. “Did you kill Carson?”
“It wasn’t me. But he’s dead.”
“Medusa?”
Jason nodded. “One of them was definitely Medusa. His job was to make sure Gattor died. The rest, I don’t think so.”
“Then who were they? Why were they after him?”
He sat down at the apartment’s dinette table and pulled out the phone he’d taken from the last of the assailants. Abbey sat down next to him, and she pulled her chair close enough that their legs brushed together. He unlocked the phone using the code he’d seen the man enter, and he opened the app for the Prescix software.
As he scrolled through the man’s news feed, Abbey whistled, seeing the photos and articles about Carson Gattor. “He was a lawyer for white power groups? I never would have guessed that.”
“That’s the thing, I don’t think he was,” Bourne replied. “These articles are all deepfakes. So are the photos. This incident was manipulated. Someone knew where Carson was going, and they put him in the crosshairs for a bunch of anti-fascist thugs who love to go around beating up Nazis. Look at these posts. The software targeted these people, fed them sophisticated misinformation, and sent them after Gattor. And then Medusa included one of their own just to make sure they got the result they wanted. Gattor dead.”
“Software can do all that?” Abbey asked.
“Apparently so. With the right code and the right people pulling the strings.”
“Prescix,” she murmured. “Congresswoman Ortiz talked about Prescix. Are they part of Medusa?”
“I don’t know. Medusa obviously has people who can hack parts of the Prescix system.”
“There was a news station on TV in the cab. A top exec at Prescix was found murdered in Las Vegas today.”
“Whatever Medusa is planning, they’re moving forward,” he said.
“But what do we do now? Carson was our only link to Medusa, and now he’s dead.”
Bourne frowned. “I know. Medusa outplayed us.”
Abbey looked deep in thought, and he found himself unsettled by how attractive she was. Then she took the assailant’s phone out of his hands and reopened the Prescix software. “Hang on a minute, Jason. Don’t be so sure.”
“What do you mean?”
She scrolled to the very end of the thread and then turned the phone around for Jason to see. “Look at this last photo of Carson. The one they posted to make sure the thugs could find him. It was taken at Villiers. Medusa was there.”
He studied the phone and saw that she was right. The photograph showed Carson Gattor in the wine bar, his coat over his arm, his wineglass in his hand. The lawyer looked down at the hidden camera without realizing it was there.