Robert Ludlum's (TM) The Bourne Initiative (Jason Bourne series)(72)

“You mean the general leveraged his friendship with Bourne to get things done he couldn’t do himself?”

“No.” Dima shook his head. “You misunderstand.”

“What do you expect, father,” Ekaterina said with open contempt. “He’s first minister.”

“I think it would behoove us all to be a bit more flexible in our thinking.”

It was a clever way to gently admonish his daughter without pointing a finger at her, Savasin thought. Then he realized that Dima must mean him as well.

Dima smiled to soften the rebuke. “Listen, Timur. I knew Boris Illyich better than you. And as for Katya, she knew him better than both of us put together.”

“He was a Russian, yes, loyal to Mother Russia,” Ekaterina said. She was perched on the edge of her chair, her body so tense it found its way into her voice. “But, at heart, he was a humanist.”

“Just as Bourne is a humanist,” Dima said. “For them, their friendship transcended both politics and ideology.”

“I don’t get it,” Savasin said truthfully; he felt that he had failed at something vital to what was happening now. “A Russian and an American—both spies. They should have been mortal enemies.”

Dima tried not to express his frustration. “First Minister, if nothing else, you must understand this about them: they both hated politicians and ideologues, of every stripe. That’s what brought them together; that’s what formed the bedrock of their extraordinary friendship.”

“Why must I understand this?”

“Konstantin wants everything,” Dima said tersely. “He craves the unprecedented power General Karpov wielded over the FSB and the FSB-2. In his hands, that power would be, well, destructive to all of us. I still maintain my ties with the grupperovka old guard.”

“And the money,” Savasin replied. “We mustn’t forget the money.”

“Your cynicism does you proud, First Minister.” Dima’s mouth twitched upward in a sardonic smile. “Nevertheless, we are talking about your brother. He has the ambition of a Caesar. He knows the Sovereign will never give him your position, just as he would never have given it to Boris Illyich—far too dangerous, considering the personalities involved. The Sovereign’s strategy with your brother is the same one he used with General Karpov—give him his head within a circumscribed area, keeping him happy and controlled at the same time.”

“It wasn’t working with Boris,” Savasin said with a distinctly sour intonation.

“Indeed not.” Dima nodded. “Boris Illyich had devised a number of work-arounds, none of which were known to the Sovereign and his minions.”

“I see. So my brother is seeking to do the same.”

Dima nodded. “But while Boris sought an equilibrium between east and west, Konstantin craves the opposite. Like the Sovereign, he wants to destroy the West—particularly America, whose presidents have time and again insulted him and Mother Russia. He bridles every time Russia is termed a ‘regional power’ in the Western press, while the United States is known as the only true ‘global power.’”

Savasin ran his hand across his forehead, finding it damp. “So he’s going to destroy America.”

“That is his goal, undoubtedly.”

Savasin shook his head. “But how, specifically? Gathering power clearly isn’t enough.”

“No, it isn’t,” Dima said. Perhaps it was the changing light, as the day began to die, but he suddenly looked ten years older.

“The problem is we don’t know what Konstantin is planning,” Ekaterina said.

“We’ve tried and failed,” Dima added. “What we need now—”

“Father,” Ekaterina interrupted, “can we trust him?”

“My dear,” he said mildly, “we have trusted him this far.” He shrugged. “Besides, he has a personal stake in siding with us now.”

Ekaterina took a deep breath, let it out slowly. Then, shooting Savasin a sideways glance, she nodded.

“What we need now,” Dima continued, “and by we I include you, First Minister, is Bourne. We need him to be the tip of the spear. We need him to be our stvol.

“As I said, we have failed. Bourne won’t. You, Tamerlane, are the only one who can get to him without your brother finding out and sending us straight into the bowels of the Lubyanka.”

“What do you say, First Minister?” Ekaterina regarded him coolly. “As it turns out, you need us as much as we need you.”





27



By the time we get through with you, I fucking guarantee you’ll wish you were dead.”

Bourne popped the face mask off MacQuerrie. The body began to thrash, and Boxer took his eye off Bourne just long enough for Bourne to grab the coping of the pool with one hand, grasp Boxer’s ankle with the other.

He jerked hard just as the gun went off, but Boxer was already on his way into the float tank, and his aim was high. Bourne grabbed Boxer’s wrist, twisted so hard he was forced to drop the gun. Boxer bent double, then straightened up, the crown of his head slamming into Bourne’s chin. His right hand balled into a fist, buried itself in Bourne’s solar plexus, sending Bourne to one knee. The water lapped at his nose.