Robert Ludlum's the Bourne Evolution - Brian Freeman Page 0,74
chances. That’s why I was there, to watch you, to observe you, to follow you, to see if you’d been turned.”
Jason’s mind spun as he tried to process the revelations. He heard the words, but he couldn’t understand them. Benoit was an experienced agent. He was playing with his head, using lies to throw him off balance. If Jason lost his concentration for even a moment, he and Abbey would both be dead.
Shoot him!
“I’m not Medusa,” Bourne said. “I never was.”
“You shot Congresswoman Ortiz.”
“They framed me.”
“Nash says the evidence points to you.”
“I’m sure it does,” Jason agreed. “That’s what Medusa wanted. Go ahead, Benoit. Kill me. Do their bidding. But let Abbey go.”
“I can’t do that.”
But still Benoit didn’t pull the trigger. He didn’t fire. The standoff continued, guns pointed at each other, death inevitable. There was no way out for any of them. This would end only one way, with three bodies on the floor.
Benoit is Treadstone!
Nova is dead because of him! Shoot him!
But Jason didn’t pull the trigger, either. He aimed down the barrel at Benoit’s dark face, a face he’d known for years, and he couldn’t do it.
“Jason.”
Abbey called softly to him. He couldn’t look at her, couldn’t take his eyes away from Benoit, but he heard her voice, which was measured and unemotional. He no longer heard panic or tears. She was on her knees, about to die, but she didn’t sound afraid.
“Jason, this man doesn’t want to kill us.”
Bourne barely shook his head to tell her she was wrong. He stared at Benoit, and Benoit stared back. Their whole history flashed through his mind. “You don’t know him, Abbey. He’s Treadstone. He’s a killer. He does what he’s told. Just like me.”
“He wants to believe you,” she insisted.
“No, he wants me to put the gun down. That’s all. Then he’ll kill us both, and he gets out of here alive.”
“Jason, if that was his plan, I’d already be dead. He could have killed me the instant I answered the door, but he didn’t. He could have shot me and gone to the shower and shot you. That’s what a cold-blooded assassin would have done. He should have been in and out of this room in thirty seconds. Instead, he waited. He made me go on my knees, and he waited for you to come out here. He knew you’d have a gun. He knew he was giving you the chance to kill him, too. He wants the truth.”
Bourne faltered. He looked for confirmation in Benoit’s face, but the man gave nothing away. “You’re wrong.”
“No, I’m not. Jason, if this was your assignment, if you were here to kill the two of us, what would you have done?”
He hesitated, because it was true. Benoit’s actions made no sense. They were the opposite of everything Treadstone had trained them to do. Delay is your enemy. Delay means failure. Abbey should have been dead on the floor five seconds after Benoit entered the apartment, and Jason should have been dead another ten seconds after that. By now, Benoit should be back on the New York streets, his job done.
Instead, he was still here, with Jason aiming a gun at him. Benoit knew that waiting was the equivalent of signing his own death warrant, but he’d done it anyway.
Why?
“Jason, you’re not the man he thinks you are,” Abbey said. “Prove it to him.”
“How?”
“Put down your gun,” she said.
“That’s insane.”
“It’s not. You have to take a leap of faith. He already took his, Jason. Don’t you see? We’re still alive because he let us live. You have to trust him, too.”
Jason studied the man. “Is that true, Benoit?”
The Treadstone agent didn’t say a word. He was a poker player, not showing his hand, because he couldn’t. That was part of the test.
Slowly, reluctantly, Jason lowered his arm. He knelt, putting his pistol on the floor, and with one tap of his boot, he kicked it away across the carpet. Then he put both of his hands in the air, surrendering. He waited through the next tense, excruciating moment, unsure if the bullets would follow. First Abbey, then him. If this had all been a game, then Benoit would want him to see Abbey die first.
Instead, Benoit removed the gun from Abbey’s head and holstered it under his shoulder. He holstered the other gun, too, behind his back. Abbey sprang off her knees and ran across the room and threw her arms around Bourne.