Robert Ludlum's the Bourne Evolution - Brian Freeman Page 0,86

the barred windows, next to a fat orange cat that was sound asleep. Abbey pulled a wooden chair from the kitchenette and sat near her. She glanced around the apartment and saw nothing personal here. No family photographs. Nothing from the woman’s past.

Sylvia was tall and slim. She had short gray hair and wore glasses, and her makeup and nails were carefully done, even though she didn’t look as if she went out much. Her orange blouse and beige pants were old but clean and wrinkle-free. Abbey got the impression that Sylvia was a woman clinging to the tiniest bits of who she’d once been.

“I’m sure the last eighteen months have been very difficult,” Abbey said.

Sylvia frowned and stroked the cat’s fur. “You have no idea. I was fired from my job. I had to sell my house. It was partly for the money, but also because people kept breaking the windows and painting obscenities on the garage. My neighbors didn’t want me around anymore. My children haven’t spoken to me in a year.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No one can seem to believe that I didn’t have the faintest idea what Charles was planning. I’m as disgusted and horrified as anyone. Everyone tells me, ‘You must have known! You must be guilty, too!’ Well, I didn’t know. I didn’t have a clue. Whatever broke inside his head, it came out of nowhere. I’ll tell you what I told the FBI, Ms. Laurent. I wish I could help you, but I can’t. I have no idea why Charles did what he did. If the government couldn’t figure it out, I really don’t see how you think you can.”

Abbey looked around the apartment and wondered if it was bugged. By Treadstone. By Medusa. By the FBI. “I think the government knows more about your husband’s motive than they’re saying,” she told Sylvia.

“Are you one of those conspiracy nuts?” the woman asked. “Because if that’s all this is, you can leave now.”

“No, there’s more. I know that an intelligence agent was investigating your husband before he killed all those people.”

Sylvia stared at her. “That’s impossible. You’re mistaken.”

“I saw the information this agent gathered. She was looking into his whole life. The material was dated several days before the massacre.”

“Charles didn’t have so much as a parking ticket before the shooting. How could anyone have known what he was planning?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” Abbey said.

“Who was this agent? Who did she work for?”

“I can’t say. But I do have some questions for you. I think you can help me.”

Sylvia looked shaken. “Yes, all right. I still can’t believe this is true. If someone in the government knew about Charles, why didn’t they stop him? Why didn’t they do something?”

“I’m not sure if she knew what he was going to do. She simply knew he was involved in something.”

Sylvia shook her head. “What can I tell you? What information do you want?”

“Did Charles ever mention an organization called Medusa?” Abbey asked.

“No.”

“The name never came up? You never saw it in any papers he had?”

“No, I’ve never heard of it before. What is Medusa?”

“I think they may have been involved in recruiting or manipulating your husband to do what he did.”

“Recruiting him how?”

“It may have started online. That seems to be their specialty. Are you familiar with a social media software called Prescix?”

A shadow crossed Sylvia’s face, and her lips tightened with disgust. “Oh, yes.”

“Do you know if Charles used it?”

“All the time. He signed up almost as soon as it came out. He thought it was a joke, this idea that software could predict what you were going to do next. But he couldn’t believe how accurate it was. Charles was an actuary, so he was impressed at the statistical modeling that was built into the code. He said it was like Prescix knew him better than he knew himself. What started out as a hobby became kind of an obsession for him. At first, I thought it was just a professional thing, trying to reverse engineer how they did it. But it became personal, too. He used Prescix all the time. He’d spend hours going through the feed, seeing what others were saying, going into chat rooms. I told all this to the FBI, you know. I told him this was where Charles’s problems started.”

“What do you mean?” Abbey asked.

“He became a different person because of Prescix. He was addicted to the software and obsessed with trying to understanding its algorithms. He started pulling