THE stars spread across the Caribbean night sky, crystal clear over the dark ocean. Bourne lay on his back on the deck of the catamaran with his hands behind his head. Inside, at the boat’s bridge, Teeling steered them north toward the Bahamian town of Freeport. From there, Bourne could charter a plane back to the U.S. and make arrangements to cross the Atlantic on his way to find Miles Priest.
His mind swirled with details. Maps. Money. Equipment. Transport. Scott had taught him long ago to break down a plan into a thousand steps, like a flowchart, with moves and countermoves that depended on how each component of the plan played out in real life.
A strategy is only as good as the steps you take to execute it.
Scott DeRay.
Bourne hadn’t told Nelly what he was planning to do, but it didn’t matter. He was sure that Scott knew he was coming. Scott would have put himself inside the heads of the Medusa leadership and come to the same conclusion that Bourne did. The next attack would happen in Scotland. They would strike at Miles Priest directly. And if that was where Medusa was headed, then Bourne would be there, too.
The exhaustion of the day made him want to sleep, but he couldn’t do that yet. He stared at the stars and felt the wind racing across his body and listened to the low throb of the motor. Normally, that was the perfect environment in which to separate himself from everything else and focus exclusively on the mission in front of him.
But he couldn’t.
He kept finding his mind distracted. The more he thought about what he had to do, the more he found his thoughts interrupted by something else.
Someone else.
Abbey Laurent.
He’d left her behind, but he hadn’t really left her behind at all. She was still with him. When he closed his eyes, he could picture her face, the spiky red bangs hanging over her eyes, the pale lips when she wiped her lipstick off, the smart dark eyes that didn’t miss a thing. He could feel the softness of her skin and her fingertips running across his body. He remembered the catch in her breath as they coupled in bed.
Don’t think about her! She’s gone!
Marie had left him alone. Nova had left him alone. And now the only safe thing he could do was let Abbey go. He couldn’t have anyone in his life. As soon as he did, they were both vulnerable. Both at risk.
But the desire to be close to her overwhelmed him. Teeling had given him a satellite phone, and all he needed to do was dial her number to hear her voice again.
Let her go!
Jason’s fingers hesitated over the phone keypad. He tried to hold himself back the way an alcoholic stares at a glass full of whiskey and looks for willpower, but he couldn’t stop himself. He punched in the numbers and waited through an interminable length of silence on the water as the satellites tried to connect him to Abbey Laurent.
The silence lasted so long that he thought the call had gone dead.
Then he heard her voice, curious, nervous, hopeful. “Hello?”
Jason took a long time to answer. He thought about hanging up. He’d found her; he knew she was alive. That was enough.
But it wasn’t.
“It’s me,” he said.
Relief poured out of her across the miles between them. “Oh, Jason, thank God! Are you okay? What happened?”
“I’m fine,” he replied.
“You don’t sound fine. Are you hurt?”
“It’s nothing serious.”
“Did you get to the island? Did you stop them?”
“I stopped the worst of it. Medusa didn’t get what they wanted.”
“What does that mean? Is it over?”
Bourne hesitated. “No. It’s not over yet.”
“What about our twisted friend?” Abbey asked.
“She’s still alive. She’s still out there. That’s one reason I have to keep going.”
He heard Abbey breathing hard and fast. There was something strange in her voice when she spoke again. “Where are you now?”
“On the water, but not for long. I’m going after them.”
Again the silence lasted forever and made him wonder if he’d lost her. Finally, she said, “Jason, it’s not too late to quit. Come back to me.”
He’d never felt so tempted by anything in his life. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
“I know.”
“I have to go,” Bourne said.
“No. Wait. Stay with me a while longer.”
“I wish I could, Abbey. What about you? Are you okay? Where are you now?”
“On the road,” she told him. “Where else would I be?”
He thought that was an odd thing for her to say. “Is everything all right?”
“Fine. I’m fine. But do you want the truth? I miss you. I can’t stop thinking about that night we spent in Oklahoma City.”
Bourne tensed, because she’d made a deliberate mistake. They’d spent the night together in Amarillo, not Oklahoma City. She was telling him something. Sending him a message.
She wasn’t alone.
“I remember that night, too,” he told her, to make clear he understood.
“Good. When will I see you again, Jason?”
“Someday.”
“That’s not enough,” she told him. “Tell me when.”
He didn’t want to make promises he couldn’t keep, but he did it anyway. “It’s April now. On June 1, if I haven’t found you before then, go back to where we were supposed to meet the first time. Same time, same place.”
“The last time you didn’t show up,” Abbey reminded him.
“This time I will. If I’m alive, I will.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I have to go,” he said again.
“Tell me where you’re going next,” Abbey pressed him. “Please, Jason. Tell me the truth. If all I do is find a headline in a newspaper about people being killed, I have to know if you were involved. If June 1 comes and goes and you’re not there, I need to know where to start looking for you. Because I will.”
He knew she wasn’t the only one listening. He was sure it was Treadstone. She’d warned him; she’d given him a chance to lie. But he was tired of lying. It was time to face everyone who was hunting for him. Let them come.
“Miles Priest has a castle in Scotland,” he said. “Medusa is going to bring everything they have against him. That’s the endgame.”
“Be careful, Jason.” He heard the pleading in her voice. “I’ll see you on June 1?”
“June 1.”
Bourne hung up the phone and was left alone with the darkness of the ocean.
SCOTLAND,” Abbey told Nash Rollins. “Are you satisfied? Jason is on his way to Scotland.”
“Miles Priest?”
“Yes.”
Rollins took a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. “It’s me. Get the jet ready. I need to leave immediately. Destination is Glasgow, but keep this off the books. I don’t want any notice of the trip circulating on our computer systems. We don’t know who’s going to be watching for activity inside Treadstone.”
He hung up the phone and began gathering up his things in the Denver safe house where they’d spent the last day. Abbey found that she could barely look at him.
“That was well done, Ms. Laurent,” Rollins said. “Bourne wouldn’t tell many people what he told you. Obviously, he trusts you.”
Abbey said nothing. She wondered whether Jason trusting her would cost him his life. She’d hoped that he would lie when he realized she wasn’t alone, that he would give her the wrong information and send Nash Rollins off on a fruitless chase to the other side of the world. But she could hear in his voice that Jason had told her the truth. He really was going to Scotland, and for some reason, he wanted Treadstone to know it.
“You did the right thing by helping me,” Rollins added.
“Spare me your bullshit,” Abbey snapped back. “Am I free to go now? Can I finally get the hell out of here and go home?”
Rollins shrugged. “Of course. One of my agents will accompany you and make sure you get back home to Quebec City. Obviously, she’ll also be there in case you and Bourne make any further contact and you try to warn him away.”
Abbey shook her head. “He won’t contact me again.”
“Well, I’m taking no chances.”
Abbey got off the sofa, and her lip curled with disgust as she stared at the Treadstone agent. “I hate you people. All of you. You threaten, manipulate, plot, and kill, and somehow you convince yourself that none of this is wrong.”
Rollins paused in the safe house with his briefcase in his hand. Slowly, he put his hat on his head and then leaned on his cane. “I’m well aware that we have to cross terrible lines, Ms. Laurent.”
“Then why do you do it?”
“Theoretically? For a greater good.”
Abbey shook her head. “You want the greater good, Mr. Rollins? Look at Jason. He seems to be the only one who hasn’t forgotten what that is. Which is pretty ironic, isn’t it, given his past. What does it take to convince you of the truth? He’s not Medusa, and he never was. He’s been trying to take them down from the beginning. He still is.”
The Treadstone agent frowned. “Assuming you’re right—assuming Bourne isn’t simply lying to you, playing you—then what would you suggest I do?”
“You keep trying to kill him,” Abbey replied. “Maybe, instead, you should try to help him.”