Déjà vu.
Bourne had traveled this road ten years earlier. It led up into the mountains, and the boy, Josef, squinted to follow the twists and turns at the end of his headlights. A granite cliff loomed over their heads on one side, and a steep drop-off fell into air on the other. Jason could smell the kid’s sweat and see his hands slipping on the steering wheel. The SUV crawled, barely going twenty miles an hour.
Josef’s stare drifted to the mirror. He’d done that several times.
“Focus on the road,” Bourne snapped.
“Ja, of course, but I think—”
“What?”
“I think someone is following us!”
Jason twisted around in the passenger seat. He looked down into the blackness of the mountain road. At first, he saw nothing, but then a flash of headlights came and went somewhere in the curves below them. Josef was right. Coming up the mountain road, another car was in pursuit.
“Did Manfred have any other backup at Rudy’s?” Bourne asked.
“I don’t think so. It was just us. Justin told us to stay at the house of Herr Graz in case you showed up. But he believed you would go to the chalet. He assumed you’d guess that was where they had taken the woman.”
Bourne frowned.
“Faster,” he told Josef.
“Mein Gott, on this road? Do you want to die?”
“Faster.”
The boy accelerated, making the tires scrape. Josef’s arms and legs quivered with fear, and Bourne had to grab the wheel to make sure he didn’t drive them off the cliff. He was glad when they finally emerged onto the high plain, where rolling hills spread out under the night sky. The mountains made silhouettes on the horizon. The chalet wasn’t far. He could see it in his mind from a decade ago.
His first mission.
His first failure.
“What now?” Josef asked.
“Let me out before we get to the chalet. They’ll have guards waiting. Drive right up and tell them it’s done. Go in and tell Justin that I’m dead. You killed me.”
“He’ll never believe me!”
Bourne shrugged. “Then tell him Manfred killed me, but I was able to kill Manfred with return fire. Say you came up here to inform Justin in person, but you need help to get the bodies away. He needs to send men there.”
“I—I don’t know if I can,” Josef protested.
“If he doesn’t believe you, he’ll shoot you on the spot.”
“Oh, fuck!”
Jason spotted lights ahead of them, appearing and disappearing with the swells of the road. They were almost there. He looked behind them, and whatever vehicle was chasing them hadn’t reached the summit of the mountain yet. Bourne put a hand on the wheel, and Josef slowed the SUV to a crawl. He dug inside the inner pocket of his jacket and handed the teenager a miniature receiver.
“Put this in your ear. I’ll be able to hear you.”
Josef did as instructed.
“Okay, let me out,” Bourne said.
The vehicle stopped, and he climbed out and pointed his Sig across the seat. “Remember what I said. Make the story good. If Justin doesn’t believe you, you’re dead. I’ll hear everything you say. If you tell them I’m outside, I’ll be the one to kill you, and you won’t like what I do to you.”
“No! Not a word, I swear!”
“Good. Now go.”
The SUV sped away over the hill that led to the chalet. With the vehicle gone, the night turned black, and he could barely see his hand in front of his face. He backed away into the field and stretched out in the wet grass. Soon after, in the mountain silence, he heard the approach of a car engine. Two headlights came around the curve and then were extinguished, making the vehicle virtually disappear. The car passed him and stopped halfway up the low slope. The engine shut down.
He crept forward, approaching the Mercedes sedan from behind. As the door opened, he dragged out the driver and threw her to the ground. He held her there with a knee to her chest and the barrel of his Sig pushed into her throat.
His flashlight blinded her. The woman opened her eyes, squinting and blinking into the bright light.
“Cain,” she said, gagging as she tried to speak. “Nice way to say hello.”
“Vandal.”
“Are you going to let me up?”
Jason didn’t move the Sig. “That depends. Who are you working for?”
“Come on,” she hissed. “I’m on your side. I’m Treadstone. You know that.”
“Do I?”
“Fuck, Cain, I’m the one who sent you the warning in Paris!”
He kept the gun pressed hard against her neck. “Someone gave me up. Someone working in intelligence. Le Renouveau made the connection between me and David Webb. How did they do that?”
“I don’t have a clue. It wasn’t me.”
“Then what are you doing here?”
“What do you think? Nash told me to follow you.”
Jason stared into Vandal’s dark, fiery eyes. His light shined on the lavender streaks shooting through her black hair. The last time he’d seen her had been in the woods in suburban Maryland, and she’d done something Treadstone agents didn’t do. She’d hugged him and let him cry about Nova’s death in her arms.
He holstered his Sig and let her go.
“Did Nash tell you about Monika?” Bourne asked.
“Only that I should keep you away from her.”
He shook his head with no surprise. “What about Johanna? I came to Engelberg with a woman. She’s the one who was hunting for me at the Drei Alpenhäuser. Does Nash know about her?”
“No, I only picked you up after your meeting with Nash, and you were alone,” Vandal said. “Who’s Johanna?”
“She’s Monika’s sister. Le Renouveau have her in the chalet.”
The Treadstone agent got to her feet and brushed mud from her clothes. “Well, I’ve got gear in the trunk. Let’s get her the fuck out of there.”
Justin Ely sat in a chair in front of Johanna and casually crossed his legs. A Marlboro dripped from his mouth, and he removed it and blew smoke toward the vaulted ceiling of the chalet. He nodded at one of his men to remove the woman’s gag. There were ten agents of Le Renouveau with him, seven inside, three monitoring the exterior on timed shifts. He’d read up on the incident with David Webb ten years earlier. This time he was taking no chances on being outmaneuvered by the agent known as Cain.
“Johanna Roth,” he announced to the woman, who was tied to a chair by her wrists and ankles, with the chair pushed against the wall. “American sister to Monika Roth. You could save all of us a lot of time if you told us where she is.”
“I wouldn’t tell you if I knew,” she spat back at him, “and I don’t.”
“No? You don’t? I have a lot of trouble believing that. Two sisters. Sisters stick together. I’m sure you and Monika found a way to stay in contact somehow, even if you don’t know her actual location. Phone number? Email? Social media account? Give me any of those, and we’ll track her down.”
Johanna worked her jaw to loosen the stiffness. “Fuck you.”
“What about Cain? Or David Webb, as you know him. Does he know where Monika is?”
“Fuck you,” she repeated.
Justin sighed. “We know Cain arranged Monika’s new identity ten years ago. But from what I’ve learned about him, he doesn’t actually remember doing so. So now he’s trying to cover old ground and figure out where he hid her away. I expect he told you how he plans to do that. Has he given you names? Locations? And yes, yes, I know, fuck me. The thing is, you’re only alive as long as you’re useful to me, Ms. Roth. I want Cain, and I want your sister. I don’t give a shit about you. That might work to your advantage if you helped me.”
She clamped her mouth shut, saying nothing.
Justin blew smoke in the woman’s face, making her cough. His fingers stroked along her cheekbones and played with her blond hair. He popped open two buttons on the shirt she was wearing and put his palm on the swell of her breast.
“Your heart is going fast,” he murmured. “Are you scared of me?”
“What do you think? Of course I am.”
“I’m sorry about that. I wish circumstances were different. You know, you’re a very pretty girl. Has Cain told you that? Have you fucked him yet? Or is he still pining for that mystery woman from his youth?”
Flame erupted in her eyes, making him smile. That was fine. He loved the ones who hated him.
Justin heard a disturbance at the chalet door. He spun, his Glock already in his hand, and saw one of his men muscling a teenager into the house. He snapped his fingers for the man to bring the pimply-faced child closer. The boy stood in front of him, knees knocking, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed down bile. He brushed brown hair out of his face and came to attention.
“Ich bin hier, um der Sache mein Leben—” he began.
“Yes, yes, I know how it goes,” Justin interrupted. “Who are you?”
“Josef. I am from Stiftsschule Obwalden.”
“Right. You were with Manfred. Where is he?”
Josef’s nervous face grew more nervous. “Manfred is dead.”
“How?”
“The one you wanted. David Webb. Cain. He killed him at the house of Rudolph Graz.”
“And not you?” Justin asked. “How is it that you’re still alive? Where’s Cain?”
“Cain is dead, too.”
Behind him, he heard a gasp and a low moan from the woman tied to the chair.
Justin frowned with suspicion. “What are you saying, Josef? You killed Cain?”
“No, Manfred did that. There was an exchange of gunfire. Both of them were killed. I came here immediately to inform you. But the scene is unchanged and must be attended to. The dead bodies are there, not just them, but the two others you ordered us to kill. Herr Graz and his wife.”
Justin walked a slow circle around the teenager. He saw no injuries, but the boy’s face was smeared with dirt, and he smelled of gasoline. “Where are your weapons, Josef?”
“I—I lost them, sir.”
“You lost them? How?”
“Cain started a fire. There was an explosion. In the chaos, I left my weapons behind.”
“And then you drove here? By yourself?”
“Yes.”
Justin nodded at the man who’d brought Josef into the chalet. His name was Beau, a local agent he’d used in Geneva. “Is the boy’s SUV outside?”
Beau nodded.
“Search it thoroughly. Then report back.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the man left, Justin studied the unimpressive teenager in front of him. Something about his story didn’t add up. He knew Manfred, who was one of his own recruits. A rock. A superb fighter, a perfect physical specimen. He found it hard to imagine this boy Josef surviving an encounter with Cain when Manfred did not.
“Take off your clothes,” Justin snapped.
“What?”
“Your clothes. Now.”
Josef hesitated only for a moment, then began to strip. He removed his shirt and undershirt, then stepped out of his shoes and pulled down his pants and underwear to his ankles. His body was scrawny, his limp dick shrinking up to nothing. Justin confirmed that the boy wasn’t wearing a wire, and he saw no injuries to suggest he’d been beaten or influenced in other ways.
So perhaps even the strangest stories could be true.
Justin grabbed a radio from his belt. “Beau, give me a report. The boy’s vehicle, do you see anything of concern?”
He waited. There was no response.
“Beau?”
Justin instantly shot a severe look at Josef. He watched the teenager, who had a damp sheen of sweat on his sunken chest. The boy’s eyes began to blink at a rapid pace. Justin clicked the button on the radio again and continued to transmit to the other two guards outside. “Pieter? Drobac? Report immediately.”
The guards didn’t answer.
“Report,” he repeated, but he no longer expected a response.
Calmly, Justin raised the Glock and fired a single shot into Josef’s head.
The boy collapsed forward, dead. In the chair by the chalet wall, Johanna reacted to the killing with fevered screams. Justin turned and fired again, burying a bullet in the wall less than an inch from her face. He drew a finger across his throat, and her screams cut off into silence.
Below him, next to Josef’s head, he spotted a small radio transmitter that had slipped from the boy’s ear. He crushed it under his boot with a curse.
“Cain is out there,” he announced to his men. “Go get him.”