Robert Ludlum's (TM) The Bourne Initiative (Jason Bourne series)(52)

She frowned. “A well-documented one.”

“What good would a cover be if it weren’t? It was created by the best professionals.” Now he drew back, his expression one of sudden doubt.

Morgana leaned toward him to maintain their close proximity. “What is it?”

“I’m not sure this is a good idea.”

“Why not? I thought you said you trusted me.”

He reflected a moment, then nodded. “You’re right.” His voice lowered even further. “Actually, I work for the Company.”

Of course she knew that meant the CIA; the putative enemy of the NSA. The two agencies were eternally at odds on how to gather intel.

He allowed her time to digest this bit of information.

“Honestly…” she began.

“Yes?”

“Any American agency antagonistic to the NSA is okay with me.”

He laughed softly. “Fran?oise said you’d say that.”

“Did she really.”

“Well, something like it, anyway.” He opened up his laptop, booted it up, then opened an app that provided him with a military-level shield, a bogus ISP that could not be traced. “Okay,” he said, rubbing his hands together. “Let’s get the ball rolling.”

And that’s how, five days ago, Morgana’s hunt for the initiative continued. Of course, Morgana was under the impression that she was schooling Larry London in looking for other pieces of the cyber weapon on the dark web, and in a sense that was correct. But it was also correct that he was schooling her, in the sense of getting her used to working with him beside her.

In the evenings, Fran?oise played the perfect friend—empathetic, solicitous, strong of opinion and the strength to fight adversity.

“We can’t expect to succeed,” she said over their late supper in a small, ramshackle seafood house near the water, “until we’ve failed at least once.” She extracted a bit of pink langoustine flesh with the tines of her tiny fork. “It’s a cliché, I know, but in my experience it’s true enough.”

“It’s happened to you?” Morgana cleared away a piece of shell to get at more of her langoustine’s delicious meat. “Failure, I mean.”

Fran?oise laughed shortly. “More than once.” Playing Morgana’s friend wasn’t difficult. For one thing, they had been friends for years, having met in Paris, at the Musée D’Orsay, admiring édouard Manet’s Le Déjeuner sur l’Herbe, and, after discussing the painting in the most positive terms, spending the next forty minutes strolling through the museum. Thereafter, they repaired to lunch, where, over salads ni?oise and a bottle of a commendable Sémillon, she had presented herself as a business advisor to the rich and famous. At the end of four hours together, they had struck up a lasting friendship. For another, Fran?oise genuinely liked Morgana. She was smart and quick; Fran?oise found her na?veté charming. That Fran?oise was at some point able to use that na?veté to her advantage was an unexpected bonus. If she felt any remorse at using her friends, it was pushed to the sidelines, where it languished unnoticed in the shadows.

“Give me an example,” Morgana said.

Fran?oise considered for a moment, tapping her lips ruminatively with a forefinger. “Bien, well, to be honest, I failed as a sister. My brother is a shit.” All true. “But as the better person I should have found a way to maintain a relationship with him.” Like hell. Also, a lie. But she was considering Morgana’s sister, who had cut Morgana off because Morgana did not want to revisit the pain her parents’ bitter divorce had caused her. “He, well, you know, he made life impossible for me, so…” Her hand lightly fluttered. “Pffft!”

“I’m sorry.”

Fran?oise smiled. “Don’t be. I’m not.”

Morgana, abandoning her langoustine for the moment, leaned forward. “You said that you had more than one failure.”

“Yes, well, but I’d rather not—”

“Oh, come on. You know all my secrets.”

“Not all your secrets, surely.”

Morgana reached out, squeezed Fran?oise’s hand. “Besides, what are friends for?”

Fran?oise gave a little chortle. “Since you put it that way.” She took a breath. “I made a mistake with Larry.”

“Larry London?”

“The very same.” Fran?oise put down her fork. “When we met I fucked up. I came on like an army tank, but that was the wrong approach. It took me six months to mend that particular fence. But the point is I learned, from both the failures. You can’t use the same strategy with everyone. Assessing the playing field before deciding on how to act is essential.”

“That sounds so cold, so clinical.” Morgana’s eyes narrowed. “Is that what you did with me?”

“What, no. Oh, my God, Ana, no.” Ana and Franny were their secret names for each other, never to be used when there were others around. “I was speaking of business, not friendship. My God, if I was reduced to doing that with friends—with you, of all people—I’d be on antidepressants.”

Morgana, with her hand still on Fran?oise’s, turned her friend’s hand over, tapped the blue vein on the delicate flesh of the inside. “I’m glad to hear that.”