The Bourne Objective Page 0,122

communication."

He put a hand on her breast. "Like this?"

"Untie him." Soraya tried not to grit her teeth. "Let him go."

Arkadin appeared to consider her request. "I think not," he said after several moments of tense silence. "He means something to you, which makes him valuable as leverage." Reaching into his pocket, he produced a switchblade. It snikked open and, pushing her away, he advanced on Antonio. "What should I cut off first, do you think? Ear? Finger? Or something even lower down?"

"If you cut anything off..."

He turned to her. "Yes?"

"If you cut anything off you'll never be able to sleep while I'm lying beside you."

He leered at her. "I don't sleep."

She had begun to despair for Antonio's life when her cell rang. Without waiting for Arkadin to give her permission, she answered it.

"Soraya." It was Peter Marks.

"Yes."

"What's happened?" Intuitive as ever, he'd picked up on the tension in her voice.

She stared into Arkadin's eyes. "Everything's hunky-dory."

"Arkadin?"

"You bet."

"Excellent, you've made contact."

"More than."

"There's a problem, I get it. Well, you'll have to find your way out of it and fast, because our mission's become urgent."

"What the hell is going on?"

"You need to get Arkadin to the following address within seventy-two hours." Then he recited the address Willard had given him.

"That's an impossible order to fill."

"Obviously, but it's got to be done. He and Bourne have to meet, and that's where Bourne will be."

A pinpoint of light appeared in the darkness ahead of her. Yes, she thought, it just might work. "Okay," she said to Peter, "I'll put a rush on it."

"And make sure he takes his laptop with him."

Soraya let out a breath. "How d'you propose I do that?"

"Hey, that's why you get the big bucks."

He rang off before she could tell him to go to hell. With a grunt of disgust, she pocketed her cell.

"Business problems?" Arkadin said in a mocking tone.

"Nothing that can't be solved."

"I like your can-do attitude." Mocking her still, he brandished the switchblade. "Are you going to solve this problem?"

Soraya put a thoughtful expression on her face. "Possibly." Walking past him, she went into the hearth, where Antonio watched her with the one eye that wasn't swollen shut. She was shocked to find him grinning at her.

"Don't mind me," he said in a hoarse voice, "I'm having fun."

Without Arkadin being able to see, she put her forefinger to her lips, then pressed it to his. It came away bloody. She turned back to Arkadin. "It all depends on you."

"I don't think so. The ball's in your court."

"Here's how this will work." She emerged back into the flickering candlelight. "You let Antonio go and I'll tell you how to find Jason Bourne."

He burst out laughing. "You're bluffing."

"When it comes to someone's life," she said, "I never bluff."

"Still, what does an importer-exporter know about Jason Bourne?"

"Simple enough." Soraya had already worked out her answer. "From time to time, he uses my company as a cover." This was a plausible enough story to give him reason to believe her.

"And why does an importer-exporter think I care where Jason Bourne is?"

She cocked her head. "Do you?" This was no time to back down or show weakness.

"And what if you're not what you say you are?"

"What if you're not what you say you are?"

He waggled a forefinger at her. "No, I don't think you're an importer-exporter."

"All the more intriguing then."

He nodded. "I confess I like mysteries, especially when they bring me closer to Bourne."

"Why do you hate him so?"

"He's responsible for the death of someone I loved."

"Oh, come on," she said. "You never loved anyone."

He took a step toward her, but whether it was a threat or simply to get closer to her was difficult to tell.

"You use people, and when you're finished with them, you crumple them up like a used Kleenex and throw them in the garbage."

"And what of Bourne? He's exactly like me."

"No," she said, "he's not like you at all."

His smile broadened, and for the first time it was without even a hint of menace or irony. "Ah, finally I have a useful bit of knowledge about you."

She almost spit in his face, but she realized that would make him even happier, because it would indicate just how close he'd come to the bone.

All at once something seemed to change in him. He reached out and ran his fingertips along the line of her jaw. Then, indicating Antonio with the tip of the switchblade, "Go ahead, untie the stubborn fucker."

As she entered the hearth one last time and

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