And so, on this, his young son’s birthday, his mind was flooded with thoughts of his older son. Where was Joshua? Shortly after he’d heard from Ozskar that Annaka Vadas’ body had been found by the side of the motorway leading to Ferihegy Airport, Joshua had slipped away, vanishing as quickly and completely as he had appeared. Had he returned to Budapest to see Annaka one last time? Webb hoped not.
In any case, Karpov had promised to keep his secret, and Webb believed him. He realized that he had no idea where his son lived or even if he had a real home. It was impossible to imagine where Joshua was or what he might now be doing, and this caused a pain in Webb unlike any other. He felt the lack of him as acutely as if he’d lost a limb. There was so much he wanted to say to Joshua, so much time to make up for. It was difficult being patient, painful not even knowing whether Joshua would choose to come to him again.
The party had begun, the twenty or so kids playing and yelling at the tops of their lungs. And there was Jamie in the center of it all, a born leader, a boy others his own age looked up to. His open face, so like Marie’s, was shining with happiness. Webb wondered whether he’d ever see such a look of unalloyed pleasure on Joshua’s face. Instantly, as if there was a telepathic link between them, Jamie glanced up and, seeing his father’s gaze on him, grinned hugely.
Webb, having drawn greeter duty, once again heard the bell ring. He opened the door to find a FedEx agent with a package for him. He signed for it and at once took it down to the basement, where he unlocked a room to which there was only one key. Inside was a portable X-ray machine Conklin had procured for him. All packages coming to the Webbs were, unbeknownst to the children, run through this machine.
Determining it was clean, Webb opened it. Inside were a baseball and two gloves, one for him and the other just the right size for an eleven-year-old. He unfolded the accompanying note, which read, simply:
For Jamie’s birthday
–Joshua
David Webb stared at the gift, which meant more to him than anyone would ever know. Music drifted down to him from above, along with the intermittent laughter of the children. He thought of Dao and Alyssa and Joshua as they existed in his splintered memory, and this kaleidoscopic image, stimulated by the sharp, earthy scent of the oiled leather, was brought vividly to life. Reaching out, he felt the supple grain of the leather, ran his fingertips over the rawhide stitching. What memories were stirring inside him! His smile, when it came to his face, was bittersweet. He slipped his hand into the larger of the gloves and threw the baseball into the heart of it. Catching it there, he held it as tightly as if it were a will-o’-the-wisp.
He heard a light tread on the top of the stairs, and then Marie’s voice calling to him.
“I’ll be right up, sweetheart,” he said.
He sat very still for some moments longer, allowing the events of the recent past to swirl around him. Then he exhaled deeply and set aside the past. With Jamie’s present cradled in the other hand, he mounted the basement stairs and went to rejoin his family.
Also by Eric Van Lustbader
Nicholas Linnear Novels
Second Skin
Floating City
The Kaisho
White Ninja
The Miko
The Ninja
China Maroc Novels
Shan
Jian
Other Novels
Art Kills
Pale Saint
Dark Homecoming
Black Blade
Angel Eyes
French Kiss
Zero
Black Heart
Sirens
By Robert Ludlum
The Tristan Betrayal
The Janson Directive
The Sigma Protocol
The Prometheus Deception
The Matarese Countdown
The Apocalypse Watch
The Road to Omaha
The Scorpio Illusion
The Bourne Ultimatum
The Icarus Agenda
The Bourne Supremacy
The Aquitaine Progression
The Parsifal Mosaic
The Bourne Identity
The Matarese Circle
The Gemini Contenders
The Holcroft Covenant
The Chancellor Manuscript
The Road to Gandolfo
The Rhinemann Exchange
The Cry of the Halidon
Trevayne
The Matlock Paper
The Osterman Weekend
The Scarlatti Inheritance
THE BOURNE LEGACY
Copyright © 2004 by the Estate of Robert Ludlum.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. For information address St. Martin’s Press, 175 Fifth Avenue, New York, NY 10010.
ISBN: 978-1-4299-0680-7
The Bourne Legacy Page 54
