Robert Ludlum's the Bourne Evolution - Brian Freeman Page 0,89
That’s my plan. I need to go in there as Cain.”
“But why?”
“Medusa put out the word that I’m the one who murdered Congresswoman Ortiz. I’m counting on the people in there knowing that. It should be enough for them to roll out the welcome mat.”
“But that was a lie,” Abbey protested. “You were set up. They framed you.”
“Yes, but very few people inside Medusa are likely to know that. I’m betting there can’t be more than a few top people inside the organization who realize that Cain wasn’t actually a Medusa killer. As far as everyone else is concerned, I’m one of them.”
“What if those top people are inside the casino?” Abbey asked him. “The ones who set you up?”
“I know it’s a risk, but I’d only expect mid-level operatives at a place like this. This is still a Nevada casino, which means they have to worry about regulators dropping in unannounced. You don’t put your top people in offices where the Gaming Commission might come calling.”
“And what do you hope to accomplish by going inside?”
“We need information. A name. Or some hint about what they’re planning next. The clock is ticking, Abbey. I don’t know how much time we have. That casino is a Medusa hub. If Cain shows up looking for connections, they’ll point me up the chain.”
“Or they’ll kill you,” Abbey told him. She added quietly, “Do you have a death wish, Jason? Is that what this is about?”
He didn’t answer her. He wasn’t sure if he had an answer.
“I’ll leave my phone with you,” he said. “I don’t want any devices inside. If I don’t come back, talk to Nash Rollins. Use that number he gave you. Tell him what we found.”
Jason left before Abbey could protest further. He headed down the hillside toward the casino, his shoes kicking up dust as he walked. He chose not to go straight in through the private door, where the high rollers were. He hadn’t admitted it to Abbey, but he wasn’t at all sure whether his cover as Cain would keep him alive. If he gave them his name outside, he’d be in the middle of a dozen armed security guards who could take him down in seconds if the word came back that Cain was to be killed.
No, he needed to get inside another way.
He crossed the parking lot toward the other casino, where the ordinary gamblers played. There would be cameras everywhere, but he wore sunglasses and a baseball cap, which he hoped would buy him time before he was recognized. As he neared the doors, he spotted a rowdy group of young men, and he veered across the lot to intercept them. One of them wore an Imagine Dragons T-shirt, and Jason offered up his hand for a fist bump.
“Dragons rule!” Jason shouted, taking on a slightly slurred, drunken tone in his voice. “Hey, you go to their last concert at the MGM?”
“Are you serious?” the man shouted back, as if they were long-lost friends. “Hell, yes!”
“Dan Reynolds is the man!”
“He is, brother!”
Jason kept up the banter as they passed through the doors into the crowded heart of the casino floor. He shoved his hat down, and the eyes of the security guards passed across the whole group with no interest.
To avoid detection, blend in with others. A man who isn’t alone attracts less attention.
Treadstone.
Bourne split off from the Imagine Dragons fans when the men gathered around the roulette wheel. He did a casual circuit of the downscale casino, sizing up the locations of the guards, doors, and cameras. Every now and then, he stopped and played ten dollars at one of the slots. To anyone watching, he looked like a gambler hunting for a loose machine. It didn’t take him long to spot two double doors with smoked glass at the end of a short hallway, which was guarded by a heavyset security guard who looked more trained and serious than the others around him. On the other side of those doors was the private casino.
The Medusa casino.
Still wearing his hat and sunglasses, Bourne approached the guard, noting the bulge in the coat of his uniform and the radio wire in his ear. The guard sized him up; he knew a threat when he saw it. The man’s body tensed. His fingers flexed, ready to dive for his gun.
“Can I help you, sir?” the guard asked warily.
“Looks like a private party through there,” Jason replied.