Jason sprinted past the Hariri Building and up a set of concrete steps that led to a small parking lot. From this height, he could look down on the athletic field below him and across at the university’s redbrick buildings. On the other side of the parking lot, he saw the white dome of the observatory telescope.
Abbey and Saira were nowhere to be seen. In his ear, he heard the rustle of leaves. They were already in the trees beyond the garden.
He walked slowly, alert for threats. He reviewed each car in the lot, looking for movement, but saw none. The fenced roof of the field house loomed just above him, but he saw no one hiding there. There were a handful of people coming and going around him, and automatically, his mind evaluated each one, but he concluded they weren’t threats. There were no killers here.
And yet there were! A man was dead!
His instincts screamed at him that he’d missed something. Something should have been there, but wasn’t. What?
Then he remembered. The elderly professor! The blond grad student! They’d come down the steps and headed in the same direction as Abbey and Saira. The professor was slow, walking with a cane. Where was he? Where were they? By now, Bourne should have caught up with them; he should have passed them. But instead, the professor and the blond girl with him had both vanished.
Bourne looked in every direction. From this height, he could see each alternate route they could have taken. They were gone. The professor who limped with a cane had suddenly been able to move as quickly as a panther. Because he was not old. Because he was not the faculty member he’d pretended to be. Because his awkward gait with a cane masked the odd grace that he used whenever he walked.
Lennon. Lennon was here.
And he had a new Yoko with him.
They’d been watching for Saira Kohli just as Bourne and Abbey had been, waiting for the scientist to leave the building. That told him that Saira was a target now. She’d been marked for death by the Pyramid, and they were taking no chances. They’d brought in the team from the master assassin to take her out.
And now Abbey was in the crosshairs, too.
“Abbey, where are you?” he murmured into the microphone. “Keep your voice down, but give me your location. There are two killers on the campus close by. At least two. One is pretending to be an older professor, tall, with a cane; the other is a young blond woman in a T-shirt and shorts. They’re both lethal and dangerous. Don’t let them see you.”
Jason waited. There was no response.
“Abbey? Where are you?”
Nothing.
“Abbey!”
He cursed out loud, and adrenaline surged through him.
Again Bourne ran, plunging into the garden that led past the observatory. The spring flowers were in bloom, and a few trees created shadowy groves. There were several benches, mostly empty, but he spotted a twentysomething man stretched out on one bench near a large stone urn with a fountain gurgling out of the top. Bourne slowed. The man had his head balanced on several textbooks, earbuds in, and he wore shorts, a T-shirt, and had bare feet. He looked like a student. But the kid was faced away from him, his hands invisible.
Bourne took no chances. He slid his gun from his pocket. He gave the bench a wide berth, but he didn’t take his eyes off the man as he continued toward the west end of the garden. He began to jog again, but at the same moment, a muffled pop sounded from above him, and pain sliced in a hot gash across the back of his shoulder.
Another shooter!
He dove, rolled in a somersault, and scrambled to his feet again at a dead run. The new assassin was to his right, firing down from the roof of the field house, using a suppressed semiautomatic through the rungs of the fence. With Bourne on the move, the man’s aim was wild, and Jason threw himself sideways and rolled until the field house wall blocked him from view. But at the same moment, more spits hissed around him, much closer and more deadly. The kid on the bench had spun backward and was shooting awkwardly as he repositioned himself, his gun held sideways. Grass and dirt exploded in Bourne’s face, nearly blinding him, but he swung his gun up and trained fire at the kid on the bench. The first shot missed left, thudding into the white observatory wall. The next seared through the kid’s throat.
He had to get to Abbey!
Firing toward the field house to keep the man on the roof at bay, Bourne covered the remaining distance to the end of the garden and launched himself down the grassy slope. More bullets chased him but landed harmlessly in the trees. At the bottom of the slope, he hopped a low fence and saw a gravel trail leading into the valley of Foundry Park. The trail took him into dense woods, and soon the campus buildings were invisible behind him.
He stopped, listening. Trees and brush made thick walls on either side of the path. He wasn’t alone. Somewhere in the forest, a branch snapped, caused by a footstep. He crouched, just as another pop blew from the trees and another bullet whistled above him. He fired back, deliberately high, not taking the risk of his shots getting anywhere near Abbey and Saira. But the return fire had its effect, because he heard the trampling of brush as the shooter changed locations at high speed.
Where were they?
“Abbey,” he whispered again into the microphone.
She didn’t answer.
On the trail, Bourne was an easy target. He plunged off the path into the woods. He couldn’t move silently, but he was more protected here. The park itself was a narrow ribbon that stretched through much of downtown DC. If he turned north, he headed through the city; if he turned south, the park ended barely a quarter mile away at the Potomac. Which way would Abbey go?
Jason turned south. He stayed close enough to the trail that he could see it through the trees, but his progress was slow, picking through a web of branches and brush. Every few feet, he stopped to get his bearings and listen for any sounds that Abbey and Saira might make. They weren’t pros; they wouldn’t be able to keep silent for long. But he heard nothing. When he called softly, he got no answer.
The black thought occurred to him that they might already be dead.
But no. They weren’t. He knew, because he spotted a tall man slipping from the woods onto the trail fifty yards away. Gun in hand. The figure looked like an old man, but he moved like someone decades younger.
Lennon. He was still hunting them. They were still alive!
Bourne raised his gun, but he didn’t have a shot at that distance. In the next instant, the assassin was gone, moving southward toward the river. Jason followed. He returned to the path, where he could close the distance between them with stealth. His footsteps were hushed, but he couldn’t move fast, and he couldn’t see beyond the curve of the trail. He didn’t have to go far. As he came around the curve, the path opened into a grassy clearing, and a rusted trestle bridge spanned the narrow valley between the treetops.
Lennon was in the middle of the clearing.
He wore a tweed sport coat—like a college teacher’s uniform—plus khakis and Top-Siders. Thinning gray hair sprouted in tufts from his mostly bald head. And yet it was him. Wasn’t it? The walk was the same—that strange gliding walk that gave him away. He’d ditched the cane that he’d used when he limped past the campus buildings. This was Lennon. This was the killer he’d hunted for a year. The killer who claimed to be a crucial link in the chain of Jason’s missing past.
Or was he making a mistake?
Was this really just an old man out for a hike?
If he was Lennon, where was his gun? Jason was sure he’d seen a gun through the trees, but the man’s hands were empty. It could be in his belt. Or under the coat. For the first time, Bourne found himself gripped by hesitation. Doubt. Unable to act.
Never hesitate. Hesitation kills.
Treadstone.
He stopped where he was and raised his gun. He took aim across the field at the old man’s back. There was no time to wait. Lennon—it was Lennon, it had to be Lennon—kept walking, getting farther away, making the shot more difficult with each step. If Bourne missed, he wouldn’t get a second chance.
Shoot!
Then a scream pierced the woods behind him. The opposite direction, to the north. It was a woman’s cry, muffled but not far away. His heart lurched.
Was it Abbey?
The unmistakable crack of a gunshot followed the scream.
In the field, the old man—the young man—lurched leftward and spun, drawing the gun from where it had been holstered in his coat. But Bourne was already gone, leaving Lennon behind, letting him go. A hail of bullets chased Jason down the path as he plunged toward the source of the scream.
“Shit,” Abbey hissed as she dragged Saira Kohli to a stop on the trail. She whispered to Jason over and over without getting a response, and when she checked her ear, she found it empty. “I lost the receiver. It must have fallen out as we ran. I don’t have any way to tell him where we are.”
They were heading north, deeper into the park that led through the city, but they hadn’t gone far. Now she felt the weight of the silence, knowing Jason couldn’t find her. He’d told them to hide, but Saira had suggested they put as much distance between themselves and the Georgetown campus as they could. If there were really killers hunting them, then the best thing they could do was get far away. Abbey had agreed, but now, with the two of them on their own, she began to hesitate.
“We should go back,” she said. “Turn around. We can find a place in the woods to take shelter until Jason finds us.”
Saira shook her head. “And march into a trap? Abbey, we need to keep going.”
“But what if there are more of them coming down from the north? We’ll run right into them if we stay on the trail. We need to get to Jason.”
“No. He’ll find us later. Come on, let’s go, hurry.”
Saira headed north, and Abbey reluctantly followed. But they hadn’t gone more than a few yards when she took hold of Saira’s wrist. “Wait. Listen!”
From behind them, they heard the pounding of footsteps. Someone was getting closer, running toward them from the campus. Abbey’s gaze shot to the woods, but there was nowhere to hide, and they didn’t have time to get off the trail unseen. With nausea gripping her, she remembered Jason’s advice, and she unlatched her purse and shoved her hand inside. She felt the cool metal of the gun, and she pulled the slide back, preparing a cartridge. Her thumb undid the safety. Her index finger curled around the trigger, not along the barrel.
Be ready to use it.
Abbey tensed, her eyes glued to the trail. She didn’t see what she expected. Through the shadows, she spotted a woman jogging their way. She couldn’t have been more than her mid-twenties. Her hair was blond, tied in a ponytail behind her, and she wore a Georgetown T-shirt and satin blue running shorts. Her feet were in neon yellow sneakers. Her eyes didn’t look alert or cautious; instead, she ran with her head bopping to whatever music was coming through her wired earbuds.
Next to her, Saira relaxed. “It’s okay. That’s just Tara. She’s in one of my classes.”
Seeing them, the girl made a little start, then stopped on the path. Her face broke into an easy grin, and she slipped one of the earbuds—just one—out of her ear. “Oh, hey, Dr. Kohli.”
“Hello, Tara,” the scientist said.
“Out for a hike? Great day for it.”
“Yes, it is. Did you pass anyone? Did you see anything unusual as you were heading this way?”
The girl shrugged. “Didn’t see a soul.”
“Or hear anything?”
She lifted up the coil of her earbuds. “Just Billie Eilish.”
Abbey still had her hand wrapped around the gun. She hadn’t loosened her grip yet. Jason’s words echoed in her head. If someone approaches you, if anyone approaches you, pull out the gun. But Tara didn’t look like a threat. Saira knew her. She was a Georgetown grad student out for a run.
Tara shifted her gaze and smiled at Abbey, inviting her to introduce herself. The girl gave her a curious look when Abbey said nothing. But Abbey kept staring back at her, her mind racing. She was trying to see everything, absorb everything, trying to remember the things Jason had told her about the life he led.
Nothing is a coincidence.
Force your brain to ask questions.
Why was this girl jogging out here in the park now, at this exact moment?
Why was she acting out of breath when she wasn’t sweating at all?
Why did she leave one of her earbuds in her ear, and why could Abbey not hear any music from the earbud that dangled at the girl’s side?
“Everything okay, Dr. Kohli?” Tara asked casually. “Your friend here looks kinda tense.”
Saira noticed it, too. “Abbey?”
Abbey tried to control the trembling she felt. She wanted to panic and give into the fear. If only she could pretend what was happening was not happening.
But it was.
“I’m Tara,” the girl said lightly to Abbey, taking a step forward and extending her hand. “Tara Dean.”
Abbey held up her hand to stop her. “Back away. Take two steps back.”
A confused grin crossed the girl’s face, but she didn’t back up. “Huh?”
“Abbey, it’s okay,” Saira reiterated. “I told you, I know Tara.”
But Abbey ignored the scientist and kept all her focus on the girl in front of her. “Turn around. Let me see what’s behind your back.”
“Behind my back? What are you talking about?” Tara’s blue eyes darkened. “I don’t like this. Dr. Kohli, you want me to call the cops or something? Is this woman causing problems for you?”
Abbey gripped the gun tighter. Her breathing came faster in her chest, and she felt light-headed. Bending her elbow, she drew the Sig out of her purse and straightened her arm, pointing the barrel across the short space between her and Tara.
Beside her, Saira gasped. “A gun? For God’s sake, Abbey, put that away now!”
Tara held up her hands, but she didn’t move. “Whoa, what the fuck? Are you crazy? Chill out, okay?”
“How many are there?” Abbey asked.
“What?”
“How many? Where are they coming from? Just the south, or do you have more men coming from the north?”
“Lady, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Put down that gun, okay? Seriously, you don’t want to hurt anybody.”
“She’s right, Abbey, put away the gun,” Saira said, reaching for her arm. “Tara’s right. You’re going to hurt someone with that thing.”
Abbey’s arm stayed rigid, and she shrugged Saira off. Her eyes burned into Tara’s blue eyes, but the girl gave nothing away. “Turn around. Slowly. Do it right now. I think you’ve got something hidden in your belt. If I’m wrong, I’ll lower the gun. But first you have to turn around.”
“Hey, sure, no problem, whatever you say.”
Tara spread her arms wide, and she began to rotate at the hips. Her next movement happened so quickly that Abbey barely had an instant to react. Tara drew a bloody knife from behind her back, and she leaped across the space between them, slashing the blade toward Abbey’s throat.
Saira screamed, and Abbey fired. She didn’t think, she just fired. A bullet tore into Tara’s shoulder, making the girl stumble backward in disbelief, as if she couldn’t believe Abbey had really done it. Tara shook herself and looked down, watching the blood spread on the gray T-shirt, the stain getting larger. The girl actually laughed. She dipped a finger into the blood, and she laughed. Her eyes went from Abbey to the bullet wound and back to Abbey again.
“Fuck you, you bitch! You shot me!”
Tara hoisted the knife and charged.
Abbey fired a second time, and again a bullet seared through Tara’s body, breaking her collarbone with this shot, making her howl with pain. Her knees buckled. Her head tilted, and her face grimaced into twisted agony.
Abbey grabbed Saira, and the two of them backed away from the girl. A roar growled from Tara’s throat, and she came at them again. This time Abbey’s arm shook as the terror caught up with her, and she missed. The bullet soared high into the trees. She didn’t have time to shoot again.
The knife came flying for her throat.
Then another gunshot erupted with a crack. Tara bent backward stiffly, her whole body stretching, like a runner at the finish line. The knife fell from her hand. She stood there, swaying, a tree deciding which way to fall. Her mouth went slack, and blood dripped from her lips. Then she crashed sideways to the trail, dead.
Behind her, gun at the end of his outstretched arms, was Jason.