Chapter 2

Present day

If there was something Jason Bourne despised more than bright lights in his face, it was water. He had a horrible knack for being shot or shot at and ending up unconscious in large bodies of water. First he had been shot escaping Wombosi's yacht and spent some time bobbing around the Mediterranean. He used to be thankful for that for changing him, but now he had regained enough of his memories to believe that he would have quit the program and ran even if he hadn't lost his memory, he just would have been better at it. The second time had been when Marie had been killed while driving over a bridge in Bhagalpur. The image of her ghostlike lifeless corpse floating off into the emerald green waters of the Ganges would always haunt his dreams. Now he was once again floating underwater with a bullet in his back.

He tried to swim and had trouble getting his limbs to move correctly and for a moment he was horrified, had he been hit in the spine? After a few seconds his mind must have gotten the signals sorted out and he fought the urge to swim directly to the surface and swam as far as he could in a random direction before slowly breaking the surface. It was mid January and the Hudson was near freezing, he could feel his energy being sapped by the second. He could only hope that it was from the cold or the fall and not blood loss. There was a retaining wall along the length of the shore which was too high for him to reach the top of.

"God damn man, you are fucking crazy son!" he heard male a voice exclaim from above him, he looked up and saw a big fluffy beard and immediately thought of Santa Claus.

"Hey, can you help me out of here?"

"No, you're too far down, its low tide. There is a ladder fifty feet to the right…" He was able to make it to the ladder and the man helped fish him out of the river. "Damn man, I saw Evel Kenevil do that as a kid, but he had a bike and a helmet, he also broke every bone in his body… Are you okay man?"

Now that he could see more of him he was decidedly not St. Nick. He was a sixty something year old biker that looked like he had been down too many bad roads. He was wearing a leather jacket, ancient jeans, leather boots and gloves. He had a blue doo rag covering his bald head. He saw prison tattoos on his neck and an ancient pair of dog tags hung around his neck.

Jason looked up at the building and actually laughed, "Yeah, I feel great given the circumstances… I need to get some place and get dry before I die of exposure." As if on cue, faint police sirens could be heard. Both of their heads craned, which wasn't missed by either of them.

"Names Red and I feel a bit chilly myself; you want to catch the last of the Cowboys game, I got a place two blocks up…"

Every fiber of his being told him to flee, but he was out of time, wounded, battered and soaking wet in freezing weather. "Great to meet you, I'm Brian. That sounds terrific; you sound like you're from Texas…"

They both started hobbling down the street, "nah, Oklahoma. The good Lord didn't see fit to make me a Texan but I am a 'boy through and through."

Jason saw that Red was hobbled as well, "did you jumped off a building too?"

He laughed, "Nah a cab ran a light the other day and I laid my sled down, they are holding her hostage in the city impound, I think I am going to have to break in to get her out, at the daily rate they are charging me. Wait, you jumped off? There are easier ways to kill yourself you know, try getting married…"

Bourne started to laugh, but it hurt too much, "Somebody was shooting at me, so it seemed like a good idea at the time."

"I think that depends on who's shooting at you…"

He couldn't help but laugh at that, "I guess so… Maybe we can work something out on your bike…"

They walked back to a tiny bar that was wedged in between two buildings and despite the size of the place it looked packed with a bunch of Harley's out front. "We usually aren't this busy; we are doing a benefit ride for a little girl with cancer later this week, she's the daughter of the guy that owns the place, her names Sophia. We got clubs coming in from all over. We should use the back stairs..." He unlocked the three locks on the door and let him in. "You're welcome to a cot, sorry that's all there is, we let people crash here when they've had too much to ride out. I gotta get back down stairs. My buddy the owner is at the hospital with Sophia, so I came to town to help out; I live upstate. You better lock the doors when I leave. The man isn't going to come in here without a warrant and a full on SWAT team. I'll be back up in an hour or so."

As soon as he locked the door Bourne leapt into action, first stripping and laying his clothes out by the heater. Second was his weapon, while sitting in front of the heater he quickly took the bullets out of the clip, dumped the water out and sat the ammo near the heater and stripped down the weapon, he wiped the moving parts with some motor oil he found on a windowsill and put it back together, he did this in under two minutes.

Next he found a pair of needle nose pliers and tried to remove the bullet from his back. He couldn't really reach it; the bullet hit right on the shoulder blade which may have saved his life. He was still trying to reach it when Red came back; he had been gone less than twenty minutes, surprising Bourne.

"Damn Hoss, why didn't you tell me you caught one?" he said concerned. "You got cash on you? I know a guy…"

"I got some… depends on how much."

"I'll ask…" he pulled out his phone and dialed."Hey man, this is Ole Red… A buddy of mine caught one, what are you running these days? Oh, it's on the top left of his back on the shoulder blade, looks like a thirty-eight or a 9 mill." He looked at Bourne, "Five hundred, without locals… he's out." Bourne nodded, "Yeah, we are up stairs. See you soon brother. He'll be here in twenty minutes; he called in a prescription and said to have the money on the table. Would you prefer generic or does your insurance cover name brands?" he asked as he handed him a plastic bottle of rum.

So, his friend Stevie who was a retired army nurse pulled the bullet out, stitched the wound and dressed it. He had pain killers and antibiotics that cost him extra, but were obviously worth the money. Jason paid his normal rates plus five hundred extra so that he could go out drinking until he 'blacked out and forgot what he did that night'.

Every fiber of his being was telling him to move on, to run, to hide, but even the great Jason Bourne was in fact a human being. His batteries were dead and if they sent a girl scout to arrest him right now, he wouldn't be able to put up a fight. He slept for days, only waking to urinate what was mostly blood and eat soup that Red force fed him.

Three or four days later Red kicked his cot awaking him up, he had learned not to touch him while he was sleeping. "Hey Hoss, wake up!" he said in a concerned tone that made Bourne jump to his feet. "You're on the news man…" he pointed at an old picture of David Webb on the TV and he turned it up full blast.

"FBI agents arrested several senior CIA officials today in connection with the broadening scandal enveloping Washington. Assassination program code-named "Blackbriar" was exposed by a former assassin named David Webb. The program reportedly targeted US Citizens in some cases... CIA Deputy Director Pamela Landy produced explosive documents for the Senate Committee indicating "Blackbriar" was authorized at the highest levels of government. Webb, who was known inside the intelligence community, as "Jason Bourne" jumped from the fourteenth floor of the CIA facility where he was trained and into the East River below. While experts say it would be nearly impossible to survive the fall, despite three days of search efforts, his body has still not been recovered..."

"You're a Fed? I thought I was a good judge of character…" Red sounded aghast…

Jason rubbed his hands through his hair, "I was told I would be helping my country, they lied. I love my country, but now I hate my government…" he said with true remorse.

"Shit, welcome to the club kid, we got jackets. We'll have you wearing colors yet… Still, you've been here too long. Shits going to get real… You are on an island after all."

Bourne was looking at a helmet on the fridge and asked in his best Schwarzenegger voice, "How much for your clothes, your boots, and a motorcycle?" He paid cash for his gear and for a '69 Triumph without paperwork, which red pronounced as the same style bike that 'the Fonz' rode. It was rough looking but ran well.

As he got ready to ride off he asked Red, "What are Sophia's chances?" Red shook his head sadly. Bourne handed him a huge knot of bills, "go rescue your sled and the rest is a gift to the make a wish fund… take her to swim with the dolphins or something…"

Red was genuinely moved, "you are a righteous man, good luck to you Mr. Bourne…"