Robert Ludlum's (TM) The Bourne Initiative (Jason Bourne series)(71)

“My brother.” Savasin set down a forkful of karsky shashlik, marinated in red wine and crushed bay leaves. “Do tell.” The tender bits of lamb were bedded on wild rice, surrounded by baked tomatoes, string beans showered with slivered almonds. He steepled his hands. “Continue.”

“Konstantin is in bed with Gora Maslov.”

“The head of the Kazanskaya? That’s mad.”

Dima poured himself more tea out of the porcelain samovar. “It’s the truth.”

“Unlike his father, Gora is a weakling. Why in the world—?”

“Precisely because he’s a weakling. Konstantin can control him.”

“But that’s only the tip of the iceberg,” Ekaterina interjected.

This time, her father did not silence her.

“This also is true, Timur.” Dima sipped, watching Savasin from over the rim of the glass. “You are aware of an agent abroad with the legend Larry London, real name Nikolay Ivanovich Rozin.”

“Of course.” Savasin nodded. “As I told your daughter.”

“Little Niki,” Ekaterina said with the ghost of a smile.

Savasin’s brows knit together in growing annoyance. “What about him?”

“Has your brother mentioned Niki recently?” Dima asked.

Savasin hesitated a moment, then said, “You know he has. You just heard me tell Ekaterina that he’s appointed Rozin as the new head of spetsnaz.”

Ekaterina glanced at her father, then commenced laughing. She laughed so hard tears came to her eyes.

The first minister, glancing from one to the other, said, “What the hell is so amusing?”

Dima put down his glass. “Tell him, my dear.”

Ekaterina wiped her eyes. “Dear, dear Timur. Your brother is about to fuck you well and good. Guess whose payroll little Niki is on?”

Savasin gaped at her, swallowed, and said, “Not Gora’s. Tell me he’s not working for Gora.”

“Oh, but he is,” Dima said. “And from what you’ve just told me, Gora’s plans are further advanced than I had thought.”

“So.” Savasin stared down at his shashlik for a moment, trying to orient himself. Strange as it might seem, nothing that Dima or Ekaterina said surprised him all that much. He put nothing past his brother; his ambition, his lust for fame and fortune was unbounded. That’s why he had hated Boris Karpov so much. The general had blocked his way in every avenue.

He looked up at Dima and Katya. “The most interesting thing about my brother is this: he fancies himself faster, stronger, and cleverer than he is.” Savasin spoke slowly and thoughtfully. “But I now have to say this for General Karpov—he actually was faster, stronger, and cleverer than anyone else, including my brother, possibly even the Sovereign. And, unlike Konstantin, he knew his limits, and he never stepped across that line into the danger zone.”

Ekaterina frowned. “We were under the impression that you hated Boris Illyich.”

“Ah, well. It seems to me now that my hatred was merely a reflection of Konstantin’s. I took on his hatred without really knowing why.” Savasin placed his hands flat on either side of his plate. “But now you must tell me what the devil my brother is up to.”

Dima lifted a hand, and Cerberus cleared the plates, replaced them with small saucers of sweetmeats before retreating to see to the dirty dishes. It occurred to Savasin that the running water might be deliberate and wondered whether even in the Orlov sanctum sanctorum there loomed the specter of hostile ears, electronic or otherwise. He ought to know if there were, no? But then he realized that he knew absolutely nothing of Konstantin’s activities over the last year.

Savasin, in no mood for procrastination, said testily, “What about my brother?”

Dima’s face clouded over. “Yes, well, we’ll get to that in a moment. First, we must speak of Boris Illyich.”

“I admit I’ve had a hand in erasing him and all he’s done from the memory of the Russian Federation.”

Dima spread his hands. “Timur, this is the trajectory of Russian history, is it not? Who among us has not had the opportunity to erase that which we do not like or find objectionable.”

“But in General Karpov’s case—”

“In his case, perhaps it was a necessary evil.”

Savasin cocked his head. “How so?”

Dima held a saucer of sugar cookies out to the first minister, who silently declined. “Pity. Cerberus made them. They’re really quite excellent.” He plucked one, popped it into his mouth. “Circling back, we come to what you yourself said about Boris Illyich—that he never overstepped his limits.” He licked powdered sugar off his fingertips, wiped them on a napkin. “Now I will tell you why—well, one of the reasons, anyway. Boris had a stvol.”

“A weapon,” Ekaterina said. “A secret weapon.”

“Even more than that, First Minister.” For the first time Dima smiled. It was almost identical to his daughter’s smile—midway between that of a dolphin and the Mona Lisa.

“Boris Illyich had a secret weapon in plain sight.”

Savasin shook his head. “I don’t quite—”

“Bourne,” Ekaterina said, leaning forward to put added emphasis on her words. “His best friend, Jason Bourne.”