Robert Ludlum's (TM) The Bourne Initiative (Jason Bourne series)(100)

Savasin’s eyes narrowed. “I am no novice in reading between the lines, Mr. Bourne. There is something about General MacQuerrie’s explanation that doesn’t ring true to you.”

“Not exactly,” Bourne replied. “My sense is this. Boris loved money as much as the next person, more maybe. But he wasn’t about to steal from anyone and everyone; that simply went against his grain. So what then? First, I believe Boris was getting ready to leave Russia. He had just gotten married; he had no other family left alive. When he left Russia on his honeymoon, he couldn’t be pressured to return. He and his wife weren’t coming back.

“So if we accept this scenario, which I do, where was Boris going to get his drop-dead money? He was well off, but not an oligarch by any means; he was unbribable. No, the cyber Initiative was meant to allow him to pick and choose, to take from the terrorist leaders and criminals who were housing their money in those banks whose coffers would be open to him. That plan is Boris Karpov to a T.”

“Then he was murdered.”

“Which set off a power struggle between the two remaining partners,” the Angelmaker said.

“During which someone made off with the codes,” Bourne continued. “He or she has them and now means to auction them off to the highest bidder, someone who doesn’t have Boris’s sense of morality.”

Savasin raked his fingers through his hair. “They’ve created a very deep pit, indeed.”

“Add another ‘very,’” Bourne said. “MacQuerrie told me that while Boris meant the codes to freeze banks’ security software, the Initiative could be directed at the deepest secrets of a sovereign nation.”

“Like the United States.”

“Or the Russian Federation.”

“The stars are aligning.” Savasin smiled. “You see, Mr. Bourne, you and I are moving toward the kind of détente you shared with General Karpov for many years.”

Mala grunted in clear derision.

“I think it’s safe to say,” Bourne said, “that we’re nowhere close to a détente, Timur.”

Savasin nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “As you wish. But now I must tell you something, and from what you’ve told me the truth of it is unclear. Dima said that there is a timer set into the Initiative.”

“A timer?”

“Yes. A zero-day trigger, he called it.”

Both Bourne and Mala knew what a zero-day trigger was.

“Did he tell you when the exploit will activate?”

Savasin shook his head. “He claimed not to know. But he also said that the day was close. Very close.”

Mala looked from Bourne to Savasin and back again. “There are two things Dima can do with the Initiative if he can retrieve the codes. He can use it for himself, or he can set up an international auction. Can you imagine how much such a cyber weapon would fetch on the clandestine network that terrorist leaders, demagogues, and heads of state of evil intent inhabit?” Her gaze returned to Savasin. “That group would include your Sovereign, First Minister, you know that, right?”

“It would also include my brother,” Savasin replied. “He’s doing everything in his power to get his hands on the Initiative.” Savasin leaned forward, elbows on knees. “To do so, I guarantee that he’s going to cross any and all lines he feels he needs to. Sooner or later, Konstantin always gets what he wants.”





37



I’m only doing this for the money.” Natalie, the young woman Morgana had spoken to after she had debarked from Gora’s boat, swept her blond hair behind her ear. “I have a toddler. She was at my aunt’s the night you slept over.”

“Spare me,” Morgana told her bluntly. “You want your revenge on Gora Maslov. You wouldn’t have agreed to meet me otherwise.”

They were in Kalmar City Park, standing at the apex of a small but beautiful wooden bridge painted a bright Dutch blue. Below them, in the water of the pond it spanned, water spiders skated across the surface, and now and again, a fish would rise, its mouth agape to scoop up unwary insects flying too low.

Natalie stirred uneasily beside Morgana. “Okay, but there’s only so much punishment and humiliation I’m willing to take.”

“Think of your toddler at home,” Morgana said with evident cynicism. “Do you have an ailing mother, as well?”

Fire erupted behind Natalie’s eyes, then just as quickly was extinguished. Her laugh was deep-throated and genuine. “Christ, I can’t get away with anything with you.”

“Better not to try,” Morgana said, her tone lightened considerably by an intimation of friendship. How quickly she had learned from Fran?oise. It was still difficult to think of her as Alyosha Orlova.

“I like you, Morgana. You’re not like other girls I’ve met.”

“I don’t believe in playing by the rules,” Morgana said, “because they’re all made by men.”

“Men like Gora.” Now Natalie could not keep the bitterness out of her voice. “Corrupt men. Evil men.”

The afternoon was waning, the light richer, deeper, the shadows lengthening, so that the children who skipped along the bridge behind them broke out in laughter, running after each other’s shadow, as if they could actually be caught. To be a child again! Morgana thought. She thought of Peter Pan, whose shadow Wendy had to stitch on him so that he would have one just like everyone else. She felt a bit like Peter Pan now, skimming, like the water spiders, over the atmosphere of Kalmar, seeing the park, the neighboring castle, all the way down to the marina, where Gora’s boat basked in the late-day sunlight like a monstrous beast waiting to tear her limb from limb.