Read Online The Prometheus Deception by Robert Ludlum - Free Book Online

bravado. His legend was designed to evade suspicion, not withstand it.
    â€œNeither one of us has any time to waste,” Dunne said. “In any case, I do hope you realize that we intended no harm.”
    â€œI realize no such thing. You CIA boys, from everything I’ve read, have a long menu of ways to inflict harm. A bullet in the brain, for one. Twelve hours on a scopolamine drip, for another. Shall we talk about poor Nosenko, who made the mistake of defecting to our side? He got the red-carpet treatment from you gentlemen, didn’t he? Twenty-eight months in a padded crypt. Whatever it took to break him, you were all too willing to do.”
    â€œYou’re talking ancient history, Bryson. But I understand and accept your suspicion. What can I do to allay it?”
    â€œWhat’s more suspicious than the need to allay suspicion?”
    â€œIf I really wanted to take you down,” Dunne said, “we wouldn’t be having this conversation, and you know that.”
    â€œIt might not be quite as easy as you think,” Bryson said, his tone blasé. He smiled coldly to let the CIA man pick up on the implied threat. He had given up the pretense; there seemed little point.
    â€œWe know what you can do with your hands and your feet. No demonstrations are required. All I’m asking you for is your ears.”
    â€œSo you say.” How much did the Agency really know about him, about his Directorate career? How could the security firewall have been breached?
    â€œListen, Bryson, kidnappers don’t supplicate. I guess you know I’m not a man who makes house calls every day. I’ve got something to tell you, and it won’t be easy to hear. You know our Blue Ridge facility?”
    Bryson shrugged.
    â€œI want to take you there. I need you to listen to what I’ve got to tell you, watch what I’ve got to show you. Then, if you want, you can go home, and we’ll never bother you again.” He gestured toward the car. “Come with me.”
    â€œWhat you’re proposing is sheer madness. You do realize this, don’t you? A couple of third-rate thugs show up outside my class and try to strong-arm me into a car. Then a man I’ve seen only on TV news shows—a high official in an intelligence agency with little credibility to speak of, frankly—shows up on my front lawn trying to entice me with a titillating combination of threats and lures. How do you expect me to respond?”
    Dunne’s gaze did not waver. “Frankly, I expect you’ll come anyway.”
    â€œWhat makes you so sure?”
    Dunne was silent for a moment. “It’s the only way you’ll ever satisfy your curiosity,” he said at last. “It’s the only way you’ll ever know the truth.”
    Bryson snorted. “The truth about what? ”
    â€œFor starters,” the CIA man said very quietly, “the truth about yourself.”

THREE
    In the Blue Ridge mountains of western Virginia, near the borders with Tennessee and North Carolina, the CIA maintains a secluded area of hardwood forest interspersed with northern spruce, hemlock, and white pine, about two hundred acres in all. Part of the Little Wilson Creek wilderness, within the Jefferson National Forest, it is a rugged territory of a wide range of elevations, dotted with lakes, streams, creeks, and waterfalls, far removed from the main hiking trails. The nearest towns, Troutdale and Volney, are none too close. This wilderness preserve, enclosed by electric security fence and topped with concertina wire, is known within the Agency by the generic, colorless, and quite forgettable name of the Range.
    There, certain exotic forms of instrumentation, such as miniaturized explosives, are tested amid the rocky outcroppings. Various transmitters and tracking devices are put through their paces there, too, their frequencies calibrated away from the surveillance range of hostile parties.
    It is