The Bourne Treachery

by Brian Freeman

  Jason finally let go, sucking in deep breaths. His head spun, and his vision turned upside down before righting itself. Blood and spongy gray matter covered his shoes. He heard a pounding of footsteps and suddenly Nova was next to him, calling his name. She let him wrap an arm around her shoulders, and she got him to one of the pews before he sank down.

  “Lennon?” she murmured.

  Bourne nodded. He stared at the chapel, but it was empty. Dr. Russel Amundsen had vanished. “He’s gone.”

  “Escaping?”

  Jason shook his head. “No. He’s not done. He’s going after Cafferty.”

  16

  Tati had flown in helicopters during her time in Antarctica, so the trip across the city didn’t scare her. She wore headphones to block out the noise, and so did Clark Cafferty, as well as the other men with them. One was a black man in a suit, who didn’t introduce himself but who sounded American when he talked. The other was a fierce-looking British police officer with an even fiercer-looking military rifle. No one made any effort to tell her where they were going or to explain why she was here.

  She watched London passing below them through a spitting rain. They stayed mostly south of the curving snake of the Thames, so she didn’t see any of the landmarks she knew. Instead, they passed over houses lined up in rows, square green fields, and trains running along tracks like centipedes. Up here in the air, they made the transit from the east to the west side of the city in a few minutes. As they neared the river again, the helicopter began to descend. They passed over a U-shaped dip in the Thames, and on the other side of the water, they hovered over wetlands spread out like an amoeba across several hectares of a densely wooded park.

  The pilot exchanged messages on the radio with the black man, but Tati couldn’t hear what they were saying. Then the helicopter headed straight down. There was hardly any open space among the lakes and trees, so she didn’t know exactly where they were going to land. However, the pilot guided them expertly into a patch of overgrown grass not much bigger than the helicopter itself. The overgrown brush and low trees near the water all whipped wildly from the turbulence, but then the pilot shut down the motor, and the rotors began to slow. She saw Cafferty and the others remove their headphones, and she did, too.

  “Where are we?” Tati asked.

  “It’s the London Wetland Centre,” Cafferty replied. “As an environmental scientist, I’m sure you’ll appreciate that. It’s one of my favorite places to walk when I’m in the city. We’ve arranged for this section of the park to be closed off today, so we have the entire area to ourselves.”

  The pilot popped the door of the helicopter. The black man and the police officer got out first and instructed Tati and Cafferty to stay where they were. The two men made a survey of the area while Tati looked through the window. She saw the intersection of two dirt foot trails, a wooden bridge stretching over a creek, and a small lake studded with tall reeds. No one else was in sight.

  The black man in the suit reached in to help Tati out of the helicopter into the patch of wet green grass, and then he did the same with Clark Cafferty. The pilot got out, too, and lit a cigarette near the water.

  “Are you going to tell me your name?” she asked the black man.

  “It’s Dixon.”

  “You’re American?”

  “That’s right.”

  She assessed him up and down. Well dressed. Sunglasses. Vaguely threatening. “CIA?”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “Russians develop a pretty good eye for spies,” Tati replied.

  “Well, I work for the U.S. government. Let’s leave it at that. It’s my job to keep everyone safe.”

  “Safe from what? Am I in some kind of danger being here?”

  “Not at all.” He pointed at the police officer with the scary rifle. “SFO Baxter from the Firearms Unit is here to make sure of that. I’ve asked him to stay with you the entire time we’re here.”

  “And where will you be?”

  Clark Cafferty smoothly stepped in front of the man called Dixon and answered her question. “As I told you, Tati, I have an important meeting scheduled here. The man I’m seeing will be arriving in a few minutes, and he and I need some time to chat before I bring you in. We have a lot of ground to cover, so it could take a little while. An hour or more, I imagine. I hope you’ll stay in this area with Baxter and enjoy the scenery until Dixon asks you to join us. There are sandwiches in the helicopter in case you get hungry. All vegetarian.”

  “You do your research,” Tati said.

  “Always.”

  “Are you going to tell me what this is about now?”

  “Soon. I promise I’ll tell you as soon as I’m able. The fact is, it’s better if you not know anything until the last possible moment.”

  “Why is that?” Tati asked.

  Cafferty and Dixon exchanged glances. “Candidly, there’s a possibility that my meeting will not go well. The person I’m talking to may conclude that he has no interest in what I’m offering. If that’s true, then we’ll leave. In America, we say ‘no harm, no foul.’ If that’s the way it ends up, then you can go back to your life, and the only thing you’ll need to know is that you spent a couple of hours in a pretty park.”

  “In other words, you’ll never tell me what was going on.”

  Cafferty shrugged. “I was told you were smart. Obviously, you are.”

  “Yes, I am smart, Mr. Cafferty. I also took note of the way you said that if the meeting goes badly, ‘then you can go back to your life.’ Do you know what that says to me? That you may not let me go back to my life. Is that what’s going on here? Am I being kidnapped? Because I’m a Russian citizen, and what’s more, I have connections to some very important people. They would not look kindly on your detaining me.”

  Cafferty put a hand firmly on her shoulder, and she saw a glint of the hardness for which he was known. “I’m well aware of who you are, Ms. Reznikova.”

  She noticed that he didn’t answer her questions. He also didn’t make any promises that she’d be allowed to leave when this mysterious meeting was over. “I know who you are, too, Mr. Cafferty. And I can tell you that those important people I mentioned don’t like you very much.”

  He stared at her from behind dark, sunken eyes. “That means I’m doing my job.”

  Dixon put a hand to the radio receiver in his ear, and then he nodded at Cafferty. “He’s here.”

  “Excellent.”

  Cafferty’s sunken eyes brightened. His nostrils flared as he inhaled warm, damp air. His whole body got taller as he stood up straight, and he checked his expensive suit for any lint or other imperfections. He rubbed his hands together with nervous anticipation. Tati knew plenty of Russian men like him, men who were creatures of adrenaline and relished the thrill of the chase. They lived for deals. For negotiations. For power. When an opportunity was close, they could smell it the way a wolf could track raw meat.

  “I’ll return as soon as I can,” Cafferty told her.

  “I hope so.”

  Cafferty and Dixon headed off down a footpath that took them across the creek bridge. In a few seconds, they disappeared, enveloped by the trees. She noticed that the pilot had climbed back into the helicopter, which left her alone with Baxter, who kept his rifle at the ready, an index finger outstretched above the trigger. His eyes never stopped moving.

  “Are you here to protect me, or keep me prisoner?” Tati asked.

  “My job is to keep you safe,” Baxter replied. He was a stern man in his thirties, with a nondescript face, the kind of features you’d forget moments after meeting him. His brimmed cap covered buzzed dark hair. He wore a short-sleeve white shirt, and she noticed that he had hairy arms. Over the shirt, he wore a heavy armored vest.

  “Can I at least take a walk?”

  “I’m sorry. I have to keep you in sight
.”

  Tati pointed at a tree about twenty yards away. “Well, how about I sit in the grass by that tree and do my yoga? You can see me there.”

  “That’s fine.”

  “I don’t suppose there’s a blanket in the helicopter that I can spread out?”

  “I’ll check.”

  Baxter retreated to the helicopter. A few moments later, he returned with a checkered wool blanket under his arm. Tati took the blanket and wandered down the trail, enjoying the view despite the mist in the air. Butterflies floated around her, and insects kept a steady whine in the brush. At the tree, she spread the blanket over the damp weeds and took off her blazer. She kicked off her heels, then knelt and draped her blazer across her legs.

  Tati inhaled, calming herself, and slipped one hand inside the pocket of the jacket on her lap. She discreetly removed both her phone and the small plastic case containing her earbuds. Hiding the phone on the blanket next to her right thigh, she flipped open the case and slid one of the earbuds into her ear.

  When she was certain that the police officer wasn’t watching her, she unlocked the phone and tapped a button to dial Vadik.

  “It’s me,” she breathed when he answered, so softly that she hoped he could hear her.

  “Tati? I can’t talk now.” Vadik’s voice in her ear sounded stressed and frantic, and she could hear street noise in the background.

  “I need help.”

  “What? What is it?”

  “Something very strange is going on.”

  “What do you mean? I thought you were at the WTO.”

  “I was, but now I’m with Clark Cafferty. He asked me to come with him, and he won’t tell me why. He flew me here in a helicopter, Vadi. Some sort of super-secret meeting is going on. There are men with guns.”

  There was a long pause on the phone. She heard the background noise go silent, as if Vadik had rolled up the window of a car. “A meeting?”

  “Yes.”

  “With who?”

  “He won’t say, but I was thinking . . .” Tati checked on Baxter, and then she kept whispering, even more urgently. “Remember when I told you about Gennady Sorokin coming to London?”

  “I remember,” Vadik replied.

  “Well, I’m wondering, could it be him? Cafferty talked about Russia and climate change and fossil fuels. Doesn’t that make sense? But why would they want me here?”

  Her husband’s voice turned cool and calm. “Where are you, Tati?”

  “Some place called the London Wetland Centre. It’s on the Thames, west of the city.”

  “Stay where you are,” Vadik told her. “I’ll be there soon.”

  * * *

  —

  Bourne and Nova ran through the Greenwich streets. A fire had been set two blocks from the Naval College, and gray smoke thickened the air and made a haze. In front of them, rioters in black tangled in a bloody confrontation with a lineup of police. He pulled Nova against the wall of a NatWest bank with boarded-up windows and tried again to reach Dixon Lewis. The call went nowhere.

  “Their phones are down,” Bourne said, putting his lips against her ear to be heard. “Holly, Dixon, Cafferty. I can’t reach any of them.”

  “So how do we find the meeting?”

  On the street, Jason spotted a break in the crowd, and he took her hand. They ran again, south out of the protest zone, where the mash-up of rioters thinned. Tear gas lingered in a choking cloud, and their skin was dusty with ash. They stopped to catch their breath, and then they ran down an empty side street leading from the town center, where they found Nova’s car parked alongside a row of three-story brick apartments buildings.

  She retrieved handguns for them from the trunk. They got inside, with Nova behind the wheel.

  “How do we find Cafferty?” she asked again.

  “Dixon planned this weeks ago. He must have booked the space under a cover story. It’s got to be remote to avoid witnesses, and he’s got to have armed security in place, too. You can’t do that in secret.”

  Nova nodded. “I’ll try my contact at MI-5.”

  She took her phone and dialed, and Anthony Audley answered on the first ring in a very British voice.

  “Tony,” she said. “It’s Nova.”

  “Ah, hello, my love. Twice in two days. See, you can’t stay away from me.”

  Nova shot a glance at Jason. “Tony, I’ve got you on speaker.”

  There was a long pause from the MI-5 agent. Then he continued in a cooler tone, “Cain is with you, I presume?”

  “I’m here,” Jason said.

  “I just received a text about someone being killed at the Naval College. Brained inside the chapel, left quite a mess. Your work?”

  “He was trying to kill me.”

  “No doubt. Well, what can I do for you?”

  “Dixon Lewis took Clark Cafferty to a secret meeting by helicopter. We need to find out where they went.”

  “If you think Dixon confides in MI-5, you’re mistaken,” Audley replied.

  “He had to leave a trail. Wherever he is, he probably has support from the Firearms Unit. Are there any operations underway in the city?”

  “During the WTO?” Audley said dryly. “A few.”

  “This is probably nowhere near the WTO meetings,” Jason said.

  Audley gave an exaggerated sigh. “All right, let me see what reports I have. We have a few restaurants closed for private events. There’s armed security on a couple of those, but the guest lists look long and legitimate. Nothing that smells like Dixon. I assume this is a relatively private party?”

  “Most likely,” Jason said. “Somewhere they won’t be easily seen.”

  “Hmm. Well, there’s an interesting one out in the Barnes district. Private corporate event, but they’re using several of our lads as paid security. Definitely armed. They’ve closed off about half of the London Wetland Centre.”

  “What kind of corporate event?”

  “It says here they’re demonstrating some kind of new drone for overseas customers. Lots of worries about competitors spying on the test, and they claim they’ve had ISIS-connected threats because of the military applications. Hence the firearms.”

  “What’s the company?”

  “An outfit called Parsifal. American, based in Florida.”

  Nova looked at Jason. “Do you know it?”

  He nodded. “Lots of government contracts. Their CEO spent five terms in Congress. She was on the House Intelligence Committee.”

  “Sounds like someone Dixon might call for help,” Nova said.

  “Exactly. I think we’ve found Cafferty and Sorokin.”

  17

  Cafferty strolled along the footpath, which was bordered by dense greenery. Sorokin walked beside him, a cigarette in his mouth. The sky overhead was a patchwork of dark clouds, and a sticky breeze blew off the wetlands. Nature sounds rose around them, but the only human noise was their own voices.

  Sorokin stopped at a bend in the trail that overlooked one of the ponds. “Lovely spot. I haven’t discovered this place before. Odd to think we’re in the middle of the city.”

  “It reminds me of parts of New Hampshire,” Cafferty replied.

  “I was thinking of places outside Novgorod. Have you been there?”

  “Several times, in fact. I’ve traveled extensively throughout Russia over the years. It’s a beautiful place with amazing people, laboring under a government that robs them of their potential.”

  Sorokin chuckled. “Americans, always trying to tell us how to run our country.”

  “In fairness, Russia has devoted a lot of effort in the last few years trying to tell us how to run ours.”

  Sorokin smiled slyly behind his cigarette. “True, but you made it so easy.”

  “Did you think we’d never fight back? New sheriff,
new rules.”

  Sorokin was silent for a while, enjoying the view. “Is that what you want to talk about? Politics? You should know I’m not a politician, Clark.”

  “Neither am I. We’re money men. We spend our days trying to make sure politicians don’t get in the way of what we need to do.”

  “I agree completely,” Sorokin replied.

  “That’s why I wanted to talk to you. You’re young, which means you don’t have an automatic allegiance to the status quo. You’re powerful and rich, but also pragmatic. You’re ruthless, which is fine, but more importantly, you’re a risk-taker. You’re more focused on the ends than the means. Put it all together, and you strike me as someone I can make a deal with.”

  Sorokin cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, yes? Then why did you kick me in the balls with your sanctions? Why am I under American indictment? That doesn’t leave me inclined to make deals.”

  “I’ve found that a kick in the balls has a way of getting a man’s attention,” Cafferty replied.

  The Russian removed his cigarette and blew smoke in the air. He swept an imaginary bit of dust off his sleeve. “All right. You definitely have my attention. Let’s get down to business. What is it exactly that you want?”

  “I want a powerful Russia,” Cafferty told him.

  “Really.” Sorokin didn’t hide the doubt in his voice.

  “It’s true. A Russia that’s strong and self-sufficient is in the world’s best interest.”

  “You don’t think we are now?”

  “No, I don’t. I think you’re not even using a fraction of your human capital. I think the bullying and scheming of the government merely hides weakness. Economic weakness. Political weakness. What’s more, everyone knows it, including your own people. Russians cheer Putin’s swagger, because it’s the only thing that makes them feel good about their country. But that’s hollow pride.”

  “Your interest in our well-being is touching, but not convincing. Why would America want a strong Russia?”