Robert Ludlum's the Bourne Evolution - Brian Freeman Page 0,80
but he’s not alone. We think he’s still with the Canadian woman. Abbey Laurent.”
Priest’s brow furrowed. “That’s interesting. Is she a hostage?”
“It doesn’t look that way. She appears to be with him voluntarily. She’s the softer target, so if we find her, we find him.”
“I’ll do what I can to help,” Priest replied.
“Good. If you locate them, call me. We’ll take care of the rest.”
Priest fixed the knot in his tie and folded his arms across his chest. “You haven’t been too successful with that up until now, Nash.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m simply reminding you that your earlier attempts have failed. You have to ask yourself why. We’re both thinking the same thing—that Medusa has a spy inside Treadstone.”
“Or you do, Miles.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning no one inside Treadstone knew about the Nova operation in Las Vegas other than me and Benoit. But you knew, Miles. I told you about my plan when I asked for technology help on the surveillance. Someone betrayed her, and it wasn’t me.”
Priest frowned, as if this were a possibility he hadn’t considered. “Regardless, it doesn’t change where we are now. Cain has to be removed. So make sure your team is reliable.”
“I will. Hell, I’ll kill him myself if I have to.”
“You? You’re an old man, Nash. And I say that as an even older man myself. The last time you went up against Cain, he took pity on you. He shot you, but he left you alive. I doubt he’ll be so charitable next time.”
Rollins felt his anger surging again, but only because Miles was right. “Trust me, I’ll take down Medusa. And Bourne, too.”
“I hope that’s true.”
“If you find anything about where they are, let me know.”
“I will.”
Rollins reached for the door handle of the limousine, but then he turned back. “A word of warning, Miles.”
“About what?”
“I read about the Carillon deal with Prescix collapsing. I heard about Kevin Drake’s murder. Medusa is on the move. You better be ready for them to come after you. You’re used to being the king, but your Scottish ancestors could teach you a lesson.”
A little smile played across Priest’s face. “What would that be?”
“Kings have a way of getting their heads chopped off.”
TWENTY-SEVEN
A SCORCHING November sun beat down on Las Vegas, as if summer had never left. Jason walked hand in hand with Nova through the thousands of people crowded around the Phaetons, Bel Airs, Hornets, and Thunderbolts at the antique car show. What was normally a vacant lot steps away from the I-515 was a boisterous festival that day. The air was sweet with the smell of cotton candy. Twangy country music played from the stage, and the partiers drank yard-long margaritas. Nova wore a red bikini top and black short shorts, exposing most of her deep brown skin and taut physique. Her lush black hair hung loose around her shoulders, and she hid her dark eyes behind oversized sunglasses. She walked in high heels, but he was still a foot taller than she was. Her mouth broke into a big smile as she watched children running around them.
“I think I want kids,” she said.
Jason was surprised. She’d never expressed an interest in children before, but Nova was a woman of many dimensions. A ruthless killer, a voracious lover, but also a woman who could cry at a Schumann concerto and play chess with old men in the park. One of the things he loved about her was that she was impossible to predict.
“Someday,” she added, reading the look on his face. “Not today, Jason.”
“That’s a relief,” he said, grinning.
“I’m serious, though. Think about it.”
“I will.”
She dragged him toward a gleaming 1931 Cadillac roadster and posed for a picture beside the car’s owner. Her body was voluptuous, attracting stares from the men nearby. The sixty-something car owner in a plaid cap let his hand wander while Jason took the picture, and Nova just laughed. She looked happy. No worries, no fears. Jason felt happy, too, but happiness also dulled his reactions. Happiness meant letting his guard down. That was how he made mistakes.
As he took Nova’s picture in front of the Cadillac, everything changed, and he missed it entirely. He didn’t even notice what had happened until he looked at the photograph later that night. One instant, she was smiling at him. The next instant, as he snapped the photo, her smile had vanished. She was staring at something over his shoulder, her lips in a frown. Her whole body was tense.