Robert Ludlum's (TM) The Bourne Initiative (Jason Bourne series)(74)

“He’s been the gamut,” the Angelmaker said. Her voice was steadier now, sounding more like herself.

“The Whole Nine Yards.”

“What?”

“That’s how it’s known here,” Bourne told her. “The Whole Nine Yards.”

“Lovely.” She frowned. “What state is he in?”

Having stepped beside the table, he bent over it slightly so he could look directly into MacQuerrie’s eyes. They were open wide, terror having taken up residence behind them. He was strapped down as if he were a mental patient prone to violent outbursts. Glancing up, Bourne signaled to the Angelmaker to keep guard on the door they had slipped through.

“General?” Bourne raised his voice slightly. “General! Can you hear me?”

MacQuerrie’s eyes focused on Bourne, but his lips did not move. They were bluish as if he was chilled to the bone. He was wearing a sweat-stained undershirt and trousers. His hands and feet were bare, blue-white, utterly still.

“General, I’m not part of the NSA group. I’m not here to hurt you. Do you understand me?”

No response.

Bourne unstrapped him. “Do you understand me, General?”

After a long moment, MacQuerrie’s lips moved. “Who?” It was thin, barely a whisper.

“Who am I?”

The general blinked. “Yes.”

“Let me put it this way,” Bourne said, slowly and carefully. “I’m intimately connected to what you call the Bourne Initiative, though, oddly, I don’t know why or how.”

The general licked his lips. “They tried to break me.”

“What did they want from you?”

“I don’t think they know. It’s possible they didn’t even care.” He took a breath, blew it out his nostrils. “I’m a traitor.”

“In their eyes.”

“In here, that’s all that matters.” He grimaced as a deep shiver went through him. He coughed deep in his chest. “I would be grateful now to sit up.”

Grasping him by one hand, placing his other behind his back, Bourne levered him into a sitting position.

“What’s that smell? Never mind, it’s me.”

“We have very little time,” Bourne said. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

“Not even easily said,” the general said. He squinted, seeming in no hurry to go anywhere. “You’re not Bourne, are you?”

“I told you as much as I can,” Bourne countered. “I need you to tell me what the Bourne Initiative is, really.”

MacQuerrie was still squinting at Bourne. His cough rattled his chest; he turned his head, spat blood onto the floor. “I’ve been under duress for…I’ve lost all track of time. How do I know this isn’t all a part of the…that I’m not still under duress?”

Bourne stripped off his shirt, showing the general his wounds; the bruises he’d gotten during his fight with Boxer were just blossoming. “I’ve expended a lot of time and effort—not to mention pain—to get to you, General.”

MacQuerrie grunted, nodded. “Point taken.” He flicked his hand out, stared at the fingers trembling in midair, closed his eyes for a moment. “The Bourne Initiative is a weaponized cyber program started by Bourne’s—or should I say your—good friend, the late General Boris Karpov, of the Russian FSB, to penetrate our defenses and winkle out the president’s nuclear codes. Are you seriously telling me you don’t know anything about that?”

“More than that, I can tell you categorically that Boris would never be party to such a program.”

MacQuerrie lifted one eyebrow. “Really?”

“So either that’s not the true nature of the Initiative, or you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I always know what I’m talking about.” He grunted again, but this time he expelled a gout of blood. “Ugh, what the hell?”

Bourne laid the general back down, palpated the areas over his vital organs. MacQuerrie screamed.

“What is it?” the Angelmaker asked. “What’s the matter with him?”

“What isn’t?” Bourne looked down at MacQuerrie. “No point in sugar-coating it, General. Liver, kidneys. As a result there’s massive internal bleeding.” He bent lower. “Tell me what you know.”

“I don’t—”

“You always know what you’re talking about, General. You’re not a liar, are you?”

“Jason, I hear footsteps,” the Angelmaker said from her position by the door.

“Turn on the heat lamps,” Bourne ordered.

“What?”

“Just do it, Mala. And take your SIM card out of your mobile.”

She switched the heat lamps on, and immediately the temperature in the room increased.

“These things could roast the skin right off you,” the Angelmaker said, palming her SIM card.

“What they’re there for,” the general said with an infinite weariness. He’d taken the Whole Nine Yards and was about to pay the ultimate price.

Bourne’s eyes locked with MacQuerrie’s. “Spill it. Now.”

“I suppose it doesn’t matter now. The Initiative is indeed a cyber program—a DDOS malware.”