Robert Ludlum's (TM) The Bourne Initiative (Jason Bourne series)(76)

“Stop,” Morgana said, jerking her hand away. “Just stop, okay?”

Fran?oise nodded, frowning deeply. “Okay. What then? I’m listening.”

“Fran?oise, Larry London isn’t Larry London.”

A look of disbelief crossed Fran?oise’s face. She laughed and shook her head. “What? I’m not following.”

“Larry London isn’t his real name.”

Fran?oise’s eyebrows rose. “No? What is it, then?”

“That’s just it. I don’t know.”

“Then how—?”

“He’s a Russian spy.”

Fran?oise’s laughter rang out. “Oh, come on! That’s ridiculous. Our Larry?”

“He isn’t our anything, Fran?oise. He’s not at all what he makes himself out to be.”

“Really?” Fran?oise’s tone turned skeptical. “Okay, then, show me the proof.”

Now it all spilled out: the Internet flash-carrier band that had delivered a four-packet message to Larry—“or whoever the hell his real name is”—the fourth packet Morgana had managed to translate. She took a sheet of paper from her handbag, unfolded it carefully, handed it to her friend. Fran?oise scanned a hard copy of the message, reading it over and over. Then Morgana pointed to the line in the top in very small print that showed the message came from Unit 309 of spetsnaz.

“I don’t know about you,” Morgana concluded, “but I had to look up that word: spetsnaz. It’s the ‘special action’ division of the Russian state police.” She shuddered. “I’ve been marked, Fran?oise—as have you, I surmise.”

Fran?oise found a stoop and sat down heavily, her eyes glued to the message fragment. “Calm down,” she said, as if by rote.

“Calm down?” Morgana’s hands flailed the air. “Fran?oise, this whole thing…I mean, my God, I’m working for the fucking Russians.”

“Wow, I…” Fran?oise ran a hand through her hair. “Okay, well, let’s think this through.”

Morgana bent over her. “Hey, there’s nothing to think through. I’m already guilty of treason. I want out, Fran?oise. Now. Tonight. Get me the fuck out of Dodge.”

“And leave me here to deal with this clusterfuck myself?” Fran?oise looked up. “Thank you very much.”

“That’s not what I—”

“Well, that’s what I meant when I said let’s think this through. Give me that much credit at least. I mean, I’m as shocked as you are. More, really. I’ve known Larry a long time. Christ, what a nightmare. What was he hoping to get from me?”

“Besides me, you mean?”

“We met years ago. He couldn’t have known—”

“What? We were already friends,” Morgana said. “D’you honestly think your meeting was accidental? D’you really think you weren’t vetted in every detail of your life—including your friends, associates and clients—before he made contact?”

“Oh, my God.” Fran?oise put a hand over her mouth.

“I know, right?”

“How could I have been so blind?” Fran?oise crumpled the sheet of paper in her fist. “I should’ve seen…”

“How could you?” Morgana sat down beside her friend, enfolded her hand, and Fran?oise began to cry. “No one could have seen it. It was just a fluke—a lucky break—that I stumbled on that fragment.”

“Morgana, what would I have done without you?” She wiped her eyes. “We’ve got to sort this out.”

“What? No. This guy’s a professional spy. Fran?oise, he’s been ordered to kill me.”

“Not until you’re done decoding the cyber weapon.”

Morgana reared back. “What the hell are you saying?”

Fran?oise looked down.

“What is it?”

Heaving a sigh, Fran?oise’s eyes met hers. “I can’t just cut and run. Larry knows too much about me. I have to figure out a way to—”

Morgana’s eyes opened wide. “A way to what?”

Fran?oise shuddered. “You know.”

Morgana uttered an incredulous bark. “Are you for real?”

Fran?oise’s eyes were imploring. “Morgana, I can’t do it on my own.”

“You must be out of your mind.”

“I wish I were, I really do.” She squeezed Morgana’s hand tight. “But I’m not.” Her expression was intense. “Please, Morgana. Help me. Please, please, please.”

“Jesus God.”

Morgana weighed her intense desire to get as far away from Larry London as she could, as quickly as she could, against her obligation to her friend. It was Fran?oise who got her out of the NSA’s clutches; without her, she would still be in a locked room somewhere in D.C. Fran?oise had saved her life. She owed her friend big time for that.

“All right,” she said at length. She had committed herself, though not without a deep sense of misgiving. “Let’s see what we can come up with.”





29



Quickly, now!” Bourne gestured. “Your mobile. Drop it under the heat lamps.”