The white panel van bumped over a rutted dirt road. Half an hour had passed. Bourne tried to keep track of the turns in his head, and he calculated that the vehicle had taken them somewhere into the rural lands southwest of Narva. He and Tati lay in the empty back, wrists and ankles tied, mouths gagged. With each lurch of the chassis, they rolled in the darkness, smashing against the walls and against each other.
Finally, he felt the van jerk to a stop. A few seconds later, the rear doors swung open, letting in a burst of cold and snow. Two flashlights lit up the interior. He blinked, then focused on half a dozen men with automatic rifles waiting for them on the snow-covered ground outside. They’d already searched Bourne and removed all of his weapons, but Cody was taking no chances.
One man yanked Tati out by her ankles and let her fall into the snow. Then he did the same with Bourne. He let them squirm in the cold for a while before he grabbed their feet and dragged them behind him across a dirt driveway that had recently been plowed. Sharp rocks cut their arms, shoulders, and faces, and left both of them bloody. Bourne couldn’t see where they were being taken, but soon after, their bodies thumped painfully over wooden steps and then over a threshold into a house. The hard, frigid ground turned to deep, soft carpet.
It was warm inside. The man left them face down, but Bourne was able to turn his head sideways and see that they were in the middle of a large ranch-style room with flagstone walls. Somewhere close by, wood popped and crackled in a fireplace, and the radiating heat felt good after so much time in the cold.
He heard heavy footsteps.
“The fuckers are bleeding on my carpet,” a voice growled. “Untie them.”
Someone kicked Bourne heavily in the kidney, causing a jolt of pain. A knife cut through the bonds on his wrists and ankles, and a large redheaded man yanked the tape off his face, then removed the dirty cotton towel that filled his mouth. He did the same for Tati, whose beautiful features were bruised and bloody. Bourne caught her eye and tried to give her a look of encouragement that he didn’t feel.
He stretched his limbs, then sat up on the floor. Next to him, Tati did the same.
“Welcome to Estonia, Cain,” a man said from a leather armchair near the fireplace. He had an open bottle of Stoli Elit in his huge left hand. His other hand held an MP-443 Grach pointed at the floor. “I’m Cody.”
Cody wore green fatigues, with a belt around his waist that boasted a nine-inch knife. His black calf boots were unlaced. He was tall and large, at least six foot five and built with the bulging physique of a wrestler. He had dirty, curly dark hair, long enough to hang below his shoulders, and a thick, unkempt beard. His eyebrows slanted in a wicked arch, and his eyes were blue and bright. Despite the sunless winter, his skin bore a chocolate-brown tan.
Bourne sized up his chances of fighting back and concluded he had none. His limbs were stiff, and by the time he leaped at Cody, the man would have delivered several rounds from the Grach into his face and chest. Plus, there were still four men with AK-12s forming a circle around the two of them. Cody had won.
And yet Bourne and Tati weren’t already dead. The man wanted something.
“I know a lot about you, Cain,” Cody went on. His accent betrayed his Russian roots, but he spoke English flawlessly. “I know you’re the man with no memory. What an interesting thing that must be, to have your past wiped out like a blank slate. I know all about Treadstone, including many of your missions for them—a big one in Tallinn, as I recall. But most of all, I know that you’re the one who murdered Lennon last year. Putin’s personal assassin. You realize what that means, don’t you? With you in my possession, I have quite the currency in my hands. The Moth would give me just about anything to take hold of you. I could deliver you across the border and name my price. Or I could throw you in a cell and keep you alive as—what do you Americans call it? My get-out-of-jail-free card. I’m sure Prigozhin wished he’d had something like that.”
Cody hoisted his muscled bulk out of the armchair. His footsteps thudded heavily on the carpet as he made his way to Tati. He traced the line of her jaw with his Grach, making her twitch and cry. Then he held out the bottle of Stoli.
“Want some, darling?”
“Cody, it wasn’t me,” she pleaded. “I didn’t do it. I told no one!”
The man shrugged. “Open your mouth and drink. Open!”
Tati’s mouth fell open, and he tilted up her chin and shoved the bottle between her lips. He poured vodka down her throat until she gagged and choked, spitting it down her chin. Then he took a giant drink himself. When he was done, he suddenly twisted around and threw the bottle into the fireplace, where the glass shattered against stone and sprayed glistening fragments onto the gray carpet.
He placed the barrel of the Grach between her eyes.
“Shall I make it quick, my love?”
“Oh, Cody, God, please, don’t, don’t. I did nothing!”
He racked the slide on the pistol. “Trust me, pretty one, you won’t feel a thing.”
“Cody!” Bourne hissed at him from six feet away as Tati whimpered. “Enough. What do you want?”
The big man smiled. “What makes you think I want anything other than to see this little bitch die and send you on a train to Lefortovo?”
“Because you’re a smart man, and smart men don’t waste their time on petty revenge. Only fools do that. Plus, I think you know that Tati isn’t the one who betrayed you. She’s telling you the truth.”
Cody yanked away the gun. He sat back down in the leather armchair and snapped his fingers, and a new bottle of vodka appeared from one of his men. He satisfied himself with another drink, then wiped his wet beard. His eyes glittered, and his white teeth shined in his smile.
“You’re right, Cain. I do know that. But only because I’ve been listening to Tati and tracking her for days. That pretty little cameo I gave you, my love? It told me everything. It was very sweet of you to wear it just like I said.”
Tati’s eyes turned angry. “Then why hunt me down if you know I didn’t do anything? Why make me think you wanted me dead?”
“Because I wanted to see what would happen next,” Cody snapped. “I wanted to know who you would talk to and what you would tell them. And don’t play innocent with me. You were ready to sell me out to Interpol to get out of Narva. But Cain is right. I know the leak didn’t come from you. I was actually planning to come see you myself and tell you that all was forgiven—but then something unexpected happened. Cain showed up. That changed everything.”
“What do you want?” Bourne repeated.
Cody jabbed a thick finger at him. “You tell me. I think you can guess.”
Bourne didn’t have to guess. He knew. “The Files.”
The big man laughed. “Yes. Yes, of course, the Files. I’ve heard about them for more than a year, like everyone else. For a while, I thought it was nothing more than rumor—but then strange things began to happen. Wilson Scott resigned, and the stories on the dark web pointed at me. At my website. But how? I didn’t even know the congressman was one of the men playing with Tati. And yet someone did. Someone knew enough to get him to resign—and that had to be about more than his sexual appetites. Someone had unearthed his interest in my assassin. So naturally, I began to suspect that the information on my own site had somehow become part of the Files. But not just my site. There had to be much more. Other databases. Other information. My little enterprise had become one piece in a bigger puzzle. To be truthful with you, Cain, I’ve become somewhat obsessed with the Files. My funny little tech people have combed the code on my site, trying to figure out how anyone could be stripping our data. But they’ve come up empty. I was beginning to give up. And then, very recently, I got a phone call.”
“From your hit man in the U.S.,” Bourne concluded.
“Very good, Cain. That’s exactly right. He called me. He said he was being blackmailed. Someone knew who he was, his name, his cover job, his history of kills. Needless to say, he was furious and wanted to know how this had happened. How had the information leaked? But I was as shocked as he was. You can imagine that I guard his identity quite religiously. There is absolutely nothing about him on our website. Literally the only person with whom I’ve shared even his anonymous contact information is the lovely Tati here. That’s why I suspected her initially. However, I soon realized that I was wrong. Whoever reached out to my assassin knew much more than Tati could ever have given them. This person knew everything about my man. There’s only one way that’s possible.”
“The Files,” Bourne said.
Cody swigged more vodka. “Yes indeed, my friend. It had to be someone with access to the Files. Most likely the person behind the whole scheme. Whoever has the Files wants someone dead. So they needed a hit man. Voilà, they comb through a million databases and do whatever voodoo they do, and it delivered the name of my assassin. That’s the opportunity, you see. That’s the way to get the Files. Through my killer.”
“I don’t see how the assassin helps you,” Bourne said. “The approach he received had to be anonymous, right? Maybe you could figure out which databases led to your man, but that’s a needle in a haystack. It would take months of coding, if not years, to trace it back. Plus, it still wouldn’t narrow down who’s behind it.”
“Cain, Cain, Cain, keep up with me,” Cody bellowed cheerfully. “It’s not my assassin. He’s not the lead.”
Bourne thought about it, and then he understood. “It’s the target.”
“Exactly! Now we’re on the same page. Whoever has the Files wants the target dead so badly that he’s willing to risk using an assassin to do it. Maybe it’s personal. Maybe it’s professional. But there are only so many motives for murder. Somewhere in there is a guided trail that leads back to the Files.”
“Who’s the target?” Bourne asked.
Cody shrugged. “I have no clue. My man refused to tell me. He no longer trusts me, you see. And the person who hired him made it very clear that the anonymity of the deal was the only thing that would keep my man alive and out of prison. However, I can give you the name of the assassin. I have absolute faith that you have the skills to take it from there.”
Bourne frowned. “Why would you do that?”
“Because when you find the Files, you’re going to bring them to me,” Cody said.
“I don’t work for you. Take me to Putin if you want. I’m not going to do your dirty work.”
“Oh, I think you will, my friend. You see, if you don’t, Tati dies.”
Bourne’s mouth went dry. “Tati’s not a part of this. She had nothing to do with exposing your hit man. Let her go.”
Cody holstered his Grach. Then he drew out the long, wide knife from the scabbard on his belt. He pushed himself out of the armchair again, and he approached Tati and dragged the dull side of the blade along her throat. Bourne watched her whole body tremble like leaves in the wind. She stared at him, gray eyes wide.
“Jason!”
“Maybe Tati means nothing to you, yes?” Cody mused, turning the knife sideways and putting its point against her windpipe. “No matter how beautiful she is. Is that true? If so, tell me, and I’ll kill her now, and we’ll come to some other arrangement. But I told you, Cain. I know a lot about you. That means I know you have a weakness for women in trouble. That is your Achilles’ heel. I’m told that, in the past, you saved Tati’s life more than once. Are you really willing to let her die right now?”
Bourne held up his hands. “Stop! Okay, you win. Let her go. I’ll get you the Files.”
“Let her go?” Cody chuckled. “Oh, no, no, no. Tati stays with me. You see, Cain, now you do work for me. You’re my own private spy. Go get me the Files, and bring them back here. If you do, I’ll set Tati free. If you don’t, she dies. And she won’t die easy, my friend. Believe me. I will make a video of her death, a long, long video, and I will put it in your hands so you can see the results of your failure.”
Cody snapped his fingers. The men with the rifles jerked to attention. He nodded at the redheaded killer who’d dragged them from the van. “Take her away. Lock her in the wine cellar. Strip her naked in case she gets any ideas about trying to run.”
“Jason!” Tati screamed, bolting off her knees and throwing her arms around Bourne’s neck. He held her hard as the man began to drag her away, and she clung to him desperately, her nails scraping on his skin.
“I’ll get you out,” he whispered. “I promise.”
“Jason!” she screamed again, limbs flailing, her whole body fighting back. The redheaded man pulled her off, and she collapsed to the carpet, and he began wrestling her out of the room.
“Wait!” Cody said suddenly, holding up a hand.
His voice had changed. It had a frozen hardness to it. The glitter in his eyes vanished and became cruel. His mouth pushed into a thin, mean line above his beard. Everyone in the room sensed the change in atmosphere. Especially Tati. She knew this man. She knew his capacity for evil, and her face bled white.
“Do you believe me, Cain?” Cody asked calmly.
“What do you mean?”
“Answer the question, please. Do you understand that Tati will die in a terrible way if you fail?”
Bourne didn’t like the darkness in what he was hearing. His body went cold with sweat. “I understand.”
“I’m not sure you do. I must impress upon you my absolute seriousness.”
“I understand,” Bourne repeated. He noticed several of Cody’s men drawing closer, preparing to restrain him.
“Alas, I am not convinced. I think you need a demonstration.”
Alarm bells went off in Bourne’s brain.
“No! I understand. I’ll do what you want. You don’t need to do anything.”
Cody held up the sharp blade of the knife. He strolled over to Tati, who struggled in the redheaded man’s arms, and he squeezed his hand around her thin wrist, locking it in his grasp. He nodded at Bourne. “Pick a finger.”
Tati began to shriek with wild terror.
“Cody, don’t do this!” Bourne shouted at him. “I will get what you want!”
“Pick a finger,” Cody repeated.
“You fucking monster! Don’t do this!”
The big man sighed, as if bored by the delay. “I’m a man of my word, Cain. I always do exactly what I say. It’s very important that you understand that. Now pick a finger. You have five seconds. If you don’t, I take her whole hand.”