Read Online Robert Ludlum's (TM) The Bourne Ascendancy by Eric Van Lustbader - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eric Van Lustbader
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Rebeka emerged, Bourne several paces behind her. Their business completed, they exchanged no words of farewell.
“This way,” Rebeka said, leading Blum down the alley in the opposite direction Bourne took.
“Do we have an assignment?” he said, hurrying to keep up with her.
“Yeah,” she said tersely. “Keep the fuck out of the way.”
8
E verything go all right?” Zizzy said when Bourne climbed into the shimmering leather and chrome interior of the Gulfstream G650.
Bourne seated himself across from Zizzy. “Nothing has gone right since I got here.”
Noting his grim expression, Zizzy said, “Should I be alarmed at Mossad’s presence in my city?”
“No one’s planning an invasion or a coup,” Bourne said shortly.
“Well, that’s a relief.” Zizzy grunted, picked up a phone, and called for the Gulfstream to get under way. “Strap yourself in.”
Bourne sat back, closed his eyes. The jet engines’ whine rose in pitch, the brakes came off, and the plane taxied, turned onto the head of the runway.
“You know, I’m getting worried about you,” Zizzy said, after takeoff.
“Who’s your contact at the ministry?” Bourne said, as if he hadn’t heard.
Zizzy regarded Bourne for a moment, as if trying to find the fly in the ointment. “A pig, that’s who,” he said, apparently giving up. “Bugger looks like one and acts like one. He’s as rich as Croesus, as degenerate as Caligula. Drinks in secret, and don’t get me started on his harem of young girls and boys.”
Bourne opened his eyes. “I didn’t know you were so indiscriminate about your friends, Zizzy.”
Zizzy laughed. “Business often makes for uncomfortable bedfellows. And believe me when I tell you that Nazim Hafiz is very good for my business. He knows how to keep my deals running smoothly and without interruption, no matter how shitty things get in Damascus.”
“What deals would those be, Zizzy?”
“You know perfectly well: platinum, palladium, my usual strategic metals. But I’ve more recently planted my flag in titanium—cars, planes—tough and lightweight. Titanium’s the future, Jason.”
Bourne swallowed, cleared his ears. “How does Hafiz feel about westerners?”
“Hates them like poison,” Zizzy admitted. “But you are my friend. He’ll make an exception.”
“I’m not going to take the chance.”
Zizzy flagged down an attendant, ordered sweet Moroccan tea for them both. “Please! Jason. He will have no choice.”
“Of course he’ll have a choice. People always have choices.”
Zizzy looked at Bourne queerly. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t. It’s all part of the game.”
“This isn’t a game.”
Bourne said this with such force that Zizzy looked taken aback. “What’s gotten into you, my friend?”
Bourne stared at Zizzy mutely.
“For the love of Allah, this is me who’s asking.”
Bourne looked away for a moment; when he turned back he looked stricken. “A year or so ago someone close to me died. I tried to save her, but couldn’t. After that…I don’t know, this shadow life seemed to lose its appeal. I was cajoled back with the prospect of revenge on the man who had her killed. But after that…” He shrugged. “I went into business for myself as a Blacksmith.”
“Until this dire threat reared its head.” The tea came, was poured into two narrow cups of colored glass woven with gold filigree. Zizzy handed one glass to Bourne, took up the other. He sipped meditatively. “You know, my friend, there is always going to be someone or some thing that will bring you back into what you call the shadow life. This is the way of it. You’ve lived so long in the margins you would not be comfortable in the light, living the rest of your days among civilians.”
“These civilians,” Bourne said, “have lives too.”
Zizzy leaned forward. “They exist in another world altogether, a place that can no longer support you. No point in fooling yourself, my friend. Neither of us
“This way,” Rebeka said, leading Blum down the alley in the opposite direction Bourne took.
“Do we have an assignment?” he said, hurrying to keep up with her.
“Yeah,” she said tersely. “Keep the fuck out of the way.”
8
E verything go all right?” Zizzy said when Bourne climbed into the shimmering leather and chrome interior of the Gulfstream G650.
Bourne seated himself across from Zizzy. “Nothing has gone right since I got here.”
Noting his grim expression, Zizzy said, “Should I be alarmed at Mossad’s presence in my city?”
“No one’s planning an invasion or a coup,” Bourne said shortly.
“Well, that’s a relief.” Zizzy grunted, picked up a phone, and called for the Gulfstream to get under way. “Strap yourself in.”
Bourne sat back, closed his eyes. The jet engines’ whine rose in pitch, the brakes came off, and the plane taxied, turned onto the head of the runway.
“You know, I’m getting worried about you,” Zizzy said, after takeoff.
“Who’s your contact at the ministry?” Bourne said, as if he hadn’t heard.
Zizzy regarded Bourne for a moment, as if trying to find the fly in the ointment. “A pig, that’s who,” he said, apparently giving up. “Bugger looks like one and acts like one. He’s as rich as Croesus, as degenerate as Caligula. Drinks in secret, and don’t get me started on his harem of young girls and boys.”
Bourne opened his eyes. “I didn’t know you were so indiscriminate about your friends, Zizzy.”
Zizzy laughed. “Business often makes for uncomfortable bedfellows. And believe me when I tell you that Nazim Hafiz is very good for my business. He knows how to keep my deals running smoothly and without interruption, no matter how shitty things get in Damascus.”
“What deals would those be, Zizzy?”
“You know perfectly well: platinum, palladium, my usual strategic metals. But I’ve more recently planted my flag in titanium—cars, planes—tough and lightweight. Titanium’s the future, Jason.”
Bourne swallowed, cleared his ears. “How does Hafiz feel about westerners?”
“Hates them like poison,” Zizzy admitted. “But you are my friend. He’ll make an exception.”
“I’m not going to take the chance.”
Zizzy flagged down an attendant, ordered sweet Moroccan tea for them both. “Please! Jason. He will have no choice.”
“Of course he’ll have a choice. People always have choices.”
Zizzy looked at Bourne queerly. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t. It’s all part of the game.”
“This isn’t a game.”
Bourne said this with such force that Zizzy looked taken aback. “What’s gotten into you, my friend?”
Bourne stared at Zizzy mutely.
“For the love of Allah, this is me who’s asking.”
Bourne looked away for a moment; when he turned back he looked stricken. “A year or so ago someone close to me died. I tried to save her, but couldn’t. After that…I don’t know, this shadow life seemed to lose its appeal. I was cajoled back with the prospect of revenge on the man who had her killed. But after that…” He shrugged. “I went into business for myself as a Blacksmith.”
“Until this dire threat reared its head.” The tea came, was poured into two narrow cups of colored glass woven with gold filigree. Zizzy handed one glass to Bourne, took up the other. He sipped meditatively. “You know, my friend, there is always going to be someone or some thing that will bring you back into what you call the shadow life. This is the way of it. You’ve lived so long in the margins you would not be comfortable in the light, living the rest of your days among civilians.”
“These civilians,” Bourne said, “have lives too.”
Zizzy leaned forward. “They exist in another world altogether, a place that can no longer support you. No point in fooling yourself, my friend. Neither of us
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