After dropping Wilson Scott back at his Corvette in the museum parking lot, Bourne headed out of the city, leaving the lights of Tucson behind him. It only took him a few minutes in the darkness on I-10 to realize that he was being followed.
The driver hung back, keeping a couple of vehicles between them, but when Bourne slowed enough that cars began to pass him, one set of headlights in his rearview mirror slowed, too, staying nearly half a mile behind the Land Rover. Then he took the SUV up to ninety miles an hour, and the headlights kept pace, decelerating as soon as he slowed back to his cruising speed. He wondered when the car had picked him up and whether the driver had spied on his meeting with the congressman in the empty desert.
Not long after he passed the town of Marana, Bourne saw an exit sign for Pinal Airpark. He took the lonely cloverleaf from I-10 and headed west through flat scrubland toward the airport. The GPS screen on his dashboard guided him. With an arrow-straight road ahead, he switched off his headlights, making the Land Rover mostly invisible. Half a mile in his wake, the glow of the other car kept following him. No doubt the driver was wondering where Bourne had gone, and he or she certainly knew that Bourne had spotted the tail.
Even so, the car kept coming.
He drove until the road ended with the lights of the airfield just ahead of him. Beyond the barbed-wire fence, he saw the white bodies of dozens of jets lined up like ghosts across the tarmac of the maintenance facility. His tires scraping, he pulled the Land Rover off the road and shut down the engine. He got out and jogged to the other side of the highway, his Glock in his hand. Less than a minute later, the trailing headlights got larger.
A dark Mercedes slid to a stop on the road as the driver spotted the Land Rover parked near the airfield. It stayed where it was, not moving at all, its engine purring. Bourne waited, his gun trained on the door of the car. He couldn’t see through the windows.
How many were inside?
Were they in league with the Chinese assassins at the museum?
Then the driver’s window rolled down.
“It’s me, Jason,” a voice called.
Bourne’s heart quickened. He knew that voice. Even so, he didn’t reveal himself from the darkness or loosen his grip on the Glock. The driver’s door opened and a woman got out, nothing but the palest shadow in the distant lights from the airport. He recognized that tall, lean outline, with its waterfall of wheat-colored hair. He knew her body from head to toe. He remembered the taste of her mouth and the scent of her skin.
He also remembered her pointing a gun at his head and threatening to kill him.
“Johanna,” Bourne said.
Hearing his voice, she raised her arms in the air. He was sure she had a gun, but she hadn’t drawn it from her holster. She walked into the middle of the dusty, deserted road, and he listened to the click of her heels.
Bourne drew a penlight and bathed her in a circle of light, making her squint. He crossed the road, his Glock still aimed at her heart. She didn’t move. Her pale blue eyes took note of the gun in his hand, and her mouth bent into a small smile. She was dressed much as she’d been when he first met her, in jeans and a tie-dyed tank top, untucked, with a swirling design that looked like the radar map of a hurricane. He wondered if that was an inside joke for his benefit. Johanna had previously been the Treadstone agent known as Storm.
“What do you want?” Bourne asked.
“No foreplay?” Johanna replied. “That’s disappointing. As I recall, you were really good at foreplay.”
“What do you want?” he repeated.
She shrugged. “Same as you. The Files.”
He appreciated that she didn’t lie. Not that he would have believed a lie. He’d already heard too many lies from her in the past.
“My gun’s in the car, Jason,” Johanna went on. She turned around slowly and lifted the tank top high on her torso so he could see that she wore no holster in the small of her back. “You can put the Glock down.”
He did. He knew Johanna well enough to know that if she’d wanted to kill him, he’d already be dead. She was every bit as good an agent as Bourne, and she was almost ten years younger. She was also—according to Shadow’s psychological profile—emotionally unstable and prone to fits of violence and revenge. He’d become involved with her not knowing who she was, but even after he learned the truth, he’d been unable to give her up. They were drawn to each other. When they had sex, it was with the frenzied passion of two wounded souls. But being with her was risky and potentially deadly, like two scorpions trying to mate.
“How did you find me?” Jason asked.
Johanna, who was a techie and a hacker, gave him a look that said it was no big deal. “I broke into the London street cams to take a look at al-Najjar’s murder. I saw you there. So I knew you were after the Files. After that, it was only a matter of time before you came looking for Wilson Scott.”
“Two assassins tried to kill him in the park,” Bourne said. “Did you send them?”
“No. I spotted them, though. I’m surprised they got by you the first time, Jason. Did you forget to look at the hands? But I assumed you’d be able to take them out. I was watching in case you needed help.”
“And what about Scott? Did you eavesdrop on my meeting with him?”
“No.”
“You don’t want to know what he said?”
“Tell me or don’t tell me. I don’t care. I’m not interested in him. I’m interested in you, Jason. But you already know that.”
Bourne ignored the innuendo. “Again, what do you want?”
“I told you what I’m after the last time we talked in Paris. You know what I’m trying to do. I want you with me, not against me. I know Shadow is sending you after the Files, just like me. I don’t intend to get in your way. It’s a race, and I intend to win, but who knows? You may outsmart me and get there first.”
“Then what?”
“Then I think you should fuck Shadow and give them to me,” Johanna said.
“Why would I do that?”
“Lots of reasons. First of all, you can’t trust her. She lied to you and tricked you once before. She’ll do it again.”
“I could say the same about you.”
“Yes, you could,” Johanna agreed, “but I haven’t lied to you since you found out who I am. It’s cards on the table for the two of us now, Jason. Shadow is an evil, conniving bitch who would slit your throat if it got her what she wanted. She’ll play you, she’ll seduce you, and then she’ll throw you away when she doesn’t need you anymore. You’re expendable to her.”
“Whereas you?”
“Whereas you and me make a fucking good team. In every sense of the word. Give the Files to me. They’re gold. With them, we can bring down Treadstone and the rest of Alphabet City.”
“It’s tempting,” he admitted.
Because it was. There were days when he wanted to destroy Treadstone as much as Johanna did. Every time he tried to get away from them, the agency slithered its way back into his life. And now, with Shadow on top, he felt himself more bound to this life—and to her—than ever before.
Maybe Johanna represented a way out.
Or maybe she was lying to him again.
“Who are you working for?” Bourne asked. “You’re not doing this on your own.”
Johanna hesitated, as if she were weighing what to say. “You’re right. Are you familiar with Callie Faith? The Nevada congresswoman?”
“The new head of the House Intelligence Committee?”
“That’s her. I’ve been feeding her information about Treadstone. I know a lot of dirt, believe me. I hacked Shadow’s files last year, remember? Callie wants to see Treadstone obliterated as much as I do.”
“You can’t trust Callie Faith any more than I can trust Shadow.”
“Oh, I know that,” Johanna agreed, “but we share a common goal. For now, that’s enough.”
“Is it? You’re being used, Johanna. Callie Faith is where she is because Wilson Scott resigned and set up a domino effect that elevated her on the House committee. She got exactly what she wanted. So maybe Callie already has the Files.”
“If she did, she wouldn’t need me. She reached out to me because she’s scared that Shadow will get them first and be able to destroy her. Those two hate each other. But I’m not saying Callie didn’t find a way to use the Files. She obviously did. If she paid whoever has them to get rid of Wilson Scott, then I’m sure that whetted her appetite to get the whole database for herself.”
“Do you think she knows who has them?”
Johanna frowned. “She knows more than she’s saying, but she had no leads to give me about how to find them. All she could tell me was that Shadow is looking for them, too. When I heard that, I knew our paths would cross again, Jason. I admit, I liked that idea. I’ve missed you.”
He didn’t reply, but he couldn’t deny to himself that he’d missed her, too.
“Where are you going next? Want to give me a clue? Come on, do you really want Shadow to get the Files? You know her, Jason. You know what she’s capable of.”
“Do you really want Callie Faith to get them? She’s no better.”
“Maybe I have no intention of giving them to her,” Johanna replied with a wink. “But first we have to find them before anybody else does. Why not work together?”
“I work alone,” Bourne said.
“So do I, but it doesn’t have to stay that way. I know your weakness, Jason. You’re not a loner, not by choice. You need someone in your life.”
“As I recall, you used that weakness against me.”
Her face darkened. “Yes, I did. I’m sorry. But my own weakness is even worse. I hate the idea of having someone in my life. I don’t want to rely on anyone but myself. And yet here I am with you. No gun. No hidden agenda. This is me, Jason. I want you back. I can’t say it any plainer than that. I want you in my bed. I want you in my life. You and me side by side. Isn’t that better than Treadstone?”
She took a step toward him, raising her arms as if to wrap her body against his. He wanted that. He wanted to feel her softness on his skin again, but instead, he raised the Glock, which made her freeze where she was. A flash of anger crossed her face, and Johanna’s anger had a life of its own.
“Seriously? You think I’m playing you?”
“No. I don’t.”
“Then what is it? I know you want me, too. We’re good that way.”
“You and me? That’s not happening, Johanna. Not again.”
“Because of Shadow?” Her blue eyes narrowed, squinting at him. “No, it’s not because of her. It’s still Abbey Laurent, isn’t it? She’s the problem.”
Bourne didn’t like hearing Abbey’s name on her lips. He’d never seen Johanna jealous, and he didn’t think he’d enjoy the experience. But she was right. He’d made the mistake of telling Johanna all about his relationship with Abbey, how they’d loved each other without being able to stay together. She didn’t fit in his world. She didn’t belong with killers.
Like Shadow. Like Johanna. Like himself.
“I haven’t spoken to Abbey in more than a year,” Bourne said.
“Does that matter? You can’t let go of her.”
He saw no point in lying. “Maybe I can’t.”
“So you don’t know,” she murmured. “Interesting.”
Concern flitted across Bourne’s face. “Know what?”
“About Abbey.”
“How do you know anything about Abbey?”
“I keep an eye on my rivals, Jason,” Johanna replied with a sharpness in her voice that gave him a chill.
“What about Abbey?” he asked, emphasizing each word.
Johanna leaned forward until their lips were almost touching, and then she whispered to him in the quiet desert. “She got married last month.”