Robert Ludlum's (TM) The Bourne Initiative (Jason Bourne series)(114)

It was then that Bourne saw Konstantin had a gun pressed against the side of his brother’s head. “So now to the finale,” he said. “Or, rather, I should say the starting line.” He tilted his head. “Your Treadstone file revealed your one weak spot, Bourne. You’re a humanist. You actually care about human lives.” He pursed his lips. “Which makes you some kind of conundrum I’m at a loss to explain.” He shrugged. “Well, I suppose some mysteries aren’t meant to be solved. No matter. The point here is that if you don’t tell me what Boris Karpov left you, I’m going to blow my brother’s brains all over your face. How’s that for a succinct message?”

“Okay, let’s have a talk,” Bourne said through the cotton of his swollen lips. “There’s no reason to kill your brother.”

“Oh, there are any number of reasons, Bourne, but at the moment I have no time to enumerate them. The auction is almost upon us.” He removed the gun from the side of his brother’s head. “Go ahead. Tell me what Karpov left you regarding the workings of the cyber weapon.”

Of course, Bourne had nothing. He was playing for time in order to keep Timur alive. He was about to open his mouth, to tell Konstantin some nonsense that, knowing Boris’s MO as well as he did would make some sense, when the sound of a gunshot hammered them from the other side of the door.

Konstantin started. “Go see what the fuck is happening out there,” he told Vlad.

But before Vlad could get to the door, two more shots exploded. Then nothing. No one inside the room moved. The harsh noise of their breathing was the only sound. Then, a knock on the door, not urgent but relaxed, as if a neighbor had come to ask for a cup of sugar.

Konstantin gestured silently for Vlad to see who it was. Obediently, Vlad put his eye to the peephole, only to be hurled backward by the bullet that, having shattered the glass of the peephole, penetrated his eye and lodged itself in his brain. As he slammed against the rear wall, Timur took advantage of the shock to wrestle the handgun out of his brother’s hand. Konstantin punched him full in the face, and he staggered back. With a snarl of fury Konstantin launched himself after him, grabbing his gun hand, lifting it above their heads.

A fifth gunshot shattered the door’s lock, and the Angelmaker stepped inside the room.

“Jesus Christ,” she said, seeing Bourne, “what the hell did they do to you?”

Bourne gave her a lopsided grin. “Not enough.” He gestured with his head at the two antagonists. Konstantin and Timur were locked in a death grip, neither one giving any quarter.

“Now that’s what I call sibling rivalry.”

“Get me out of here,” he said.

“In a minute.” The Angelmaker appeared fascinated by the two brothers locking horns.

“They’ll kill each other,” Bourne said.

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

“Mala. Cut me loose.”

“You’ll stop them.”

“I will.”

“They’re like a pair of Siamese fighting fish.”

“Mala!”

She shrugged and, with a knife, cut through his bonds front and back.

Konstantin drove his fist into his brother’s solar plexus, doubling him over, and tried to wrest the gun from Timur. Bourne raised himself off the chair, got halfway to where the brothers were struggling, went down on one knee. He waved the Angelmaker back, rose of his own accord, closed with the two brothers. He wrenched the gun out of their shared grip. Reversing it, he smashed the butt into Konstantin’s face, shattering cheekbone and eye socket. Konstantin moaned, sank to his knees. Bourne dropped him with a massive blow to his right ear. He lay unmoving.

“Christ, that was close,” Timur said, the relief clear on his face. Then, as Bourne grabbed his arms, “Wait, what are you doing?”

Bourne pushed him into the chair he had occupied.

“Now that’s better.” Grinning, the Angelmaker bound his wrists and ankles.

“What is this?” Timur said. “I led you here, I gave you my trust, now you tie me up?”

“I’ve no intention of letting you get your hands on the Initiative,” Bourne told him.

“I’ll kill you for this!” he shouted. “Both of you!”

Bourne turned the gun on him. “Think hard, First Minister. Do you really want to threaten us?”

“He did kill your brother,” the Angelmaker pointed out.

“Now your path is clear,” Bourne said. “I suggest you make the most of it.” Before Timur could reply, he stuffed the rubber bung into his mouth.

“Someone’s sure to come by,” Bourne said.

“Sooner or later,” the Angelmaker added. “And if not?” She shrugged.

As they crossed the room, Bourne swept up the folder that contained his Treadstone file, slid it inside his shirt.

“What was that?” the Angelmaker asked.

Bourne had questions of his own. “What about Dima and Ekaterina?”

“What about them,” she said tersely.

“Dead or alive?”

“Do you really care?”

“Ekaterina told me she was running the auction.”

“That’s what she said, on the point of death,” the Angelmaker said with distaste. “It was a surprise. My money was on Dima. She told me that he was the one who made contact with Konstantin.”