a restless sea. A humid breeze lifts her hair off her ears, and it streams behind her like a banner.
He speaks to her. "You can get me what I want. I have faith in you."
There is fear in her eyes, but also courage, and determination. "I'll be back soon," she says. "I won't let you down."...
Bourne staggered under the assault of the memory. The acacia trees, the cobbled street: It was the approach to the cable car terminal. The face, the voice: It wasn't Marie he was speaking with. It was...
"Soraya!"
She gripped him now, fearing he'd lost so much blood that he couldn't continue.
"It was you! When I was in Odessa years ago, I was here with you!"
"I was the agent in place. You wanted nothing to do with me, but in the end you had no choice. It was my conduit who was funneling the intel you needed to get to your target."
"I remember talking to you under the acacia trees on French Boulevard. Why was I here? What the hell happened? It's driving me crazy."
"I'll fill in the blanks."
He stumbled. With a strong hand, she pulled him upright.
"Why didn't you tell me we'd worked together when I first walked into the Typhon ops center?"
"I wanted to-"
"That look on your face-"
"We're almost there," Soraya said.
"Where?"
"The place where you and I holed up before."
They were now perhaps a thousand meters down the left-hand fork. Conditions looked particularly bad here. Cracked beams and seeping water were everywhere. The catacomb itself seemed to emit a terrible groaning sound, as if forces were threatening to pull it apart. He saw that she had led him toward a gap in the left wall. It wasn't an offshoot at all, but a section that had been worn away by seepage, as the tide will create a cove over time. But quickly they were confronted by a debris fall that filled the space almost to the top.
He watched as Soraya climbed the mound, slithering on her belly through the space between the top of the fall and the ceiling. He followed her, each step, each reach upward bringing a fresh stabbing pain to his side. By the time he wormed through, his entire body seemed to throb with the beat of his heart.
Soraya led him on, down a dogleg to the right, where they came upon what could only be called a room, with a raised plank platform for a bed, a thin blanket. Opposite were three smaller planks nailed between two wooden pillars on which several bottles of water and tins of food were arrayed.
"From the last time," Soraya said as she helped him onto the plank bed.
"I can't stay here," Bourne protested.
"Yes, you can. We have no antibiotics and you need a full dose, the sooner the better. I'm going to get some from the CI doctor. I know and trust her."
"Don't expect me to just lie here."
"Oleksandr will stay with you." She rubbed the boxer's shiny muzzle. "He'll guard you with his life, won't you, my little man?" The dog seemed to understand. He came and sat by Bourne, the tiny pink tip of his tongue showing between his incisors.
"This is crazy." Bourne swung his legs over the side of the makeshift bed. "We'll go together."
She watched him for a moment. "All right. Come on."
He pushed himself off the planks, and got to his feet. Or rather he tried to, his knees buckling as soon as he let go his grip on the plank. Soraya caught him, pushed him back onto the bed.
"Let's can that idea, okay?" She rubbed her knuckles absently between Oleksandr's triangular ears. "I'm going back to the fork in the catacombs. I need to take the right fork to get to the doctor, but I'll do it with just enough noise that they'll follow me, assuming it's the two of us. I'll lead them away from you."
"It's too dangerous."
She waited a moment. "Any other ideas?"
He shook his head.
"Okay, I won't be long, I promise. I won't leave you behind."
"Soraya?"
She faced him in profile, her body already half turned to go.
"Why didn't you tell me?"
She hesitated for a split second. "I figured it was better all around that you couldn't remember how badly I'd fucked up."
He watched her leave, her words echoing in his head.
A rugged fifteen-minute march brought them to a crossroads.
"We're at a major juncture," Lieutenant Kove said as their searchlights probed the beginnings of the Y.
Fadi didn't like hesitation. To him, indecision was a sign of weakness.