The Bourne Vengeance
Chapter 1: The Meeting
Prague, Czechoslovakia
Three months later
The three men who stood in the shadows of the basement of an abandoned office complex spoke in Russian. One man was a prominent figure in the Moscow underworld, suavely dressed in an Italian suit more suited to the finer nightclubs of London than his present surroundings. The other two men were Arabs, dressed in rather coarse business suits. Both men wore beards. One wore a skull-cap and the other wore thick black-rimmed glasses.
"So it is settled then", the skull-capped Arab told the bespectacled one, bringing an end to their meeting. "The first consignment will arrive next Friday in Munich". He spent a few minutes giving details of the elaborate precautions taken to protect the 'merchandise' from the prying eyes of German law enforcement and security agencies. With that, the meeting was adjourned, the bespectacled Arab shook hands with both the Russian mobster and the other Arab, and they all dispersed...stealthily departing from the vicinity of the building and merging into the shadows as was their way.
The bespectacled Arab, having ascertained he was not being followed, did nevertheless walk a considerable distance before he reached for his encrypted cell phone and dialled a secure number. After reciting the pre-arranged identification codes, he was granted access to the one he wished to speak to.
"I've got what you need", he said, his accent changing from Arabic to American virtually mid-speech, even as he stripped away the false beard and wig, and took of the glasses with his free hand. As the conversation progressed, he proceeded to extract the prosthetics he'd been wearing as well, transforming himself every second, bit by bit, into a man visually very different from the bespectacled Arab.
"The drop will be at Munich next Friday", said Jason Bourne into the phone. He gave the details.
"Great. Thanks again, Jason", said Soraya Moore. "Head over to Prague Ruzyne, Hanger No. 12, for extraction".
"Thanks but I'll make my own way, Soraya. You know that", Jason replied.
"Please Jason", Soraya insisted. "There are...people who need to get in touch with you. Urgently".
Bourne froze, all his instincts, all his razor-sharp senses, keenly attuned to any possible danger. Something wasn't right...Soraya wasn't levelling with him. And in Bourne's world, the slightest duplicity on the part of anyone, friend or foe, was occasion for alarm.
"What's this all about?" he said sharply. "What 'people'? You told me not even your boss knew about my involvement in this op".
"Yes but...these people aren't DOD. They're not even American. They approached Peter and me yesterday requesting us to put them in touch with you. They say they have something you need to know..."
"And what would that be?" Bourne said, wondering now about the identity of these mysterious contacts of Soraya's. Who knew to get in touch with him through Soraya? Who would have information he could possible want? Jason could actually think of a few individuals from his known past...but maybe, this had something to do with the unknown life he had left behind in the Mediterranean so long ago...
"They didn't tell me. They said it's for you. Eyes Only", Soraya said. "They're Interpol, Jason. I think they can be trusted".
Interpol. The alarm bells started ringing in his head again. As far as Interpol was concerned, he was an international assassin, an alleged rogue CIA operative long disavowed by the US Government; a fugitive wanted in several countries across Europe and Asia. Why would they want to meet him...unless...
Of course! They wanted to trap him! That seemed the obvious solution. Staggering in its simplicity...and yet, Bourne knew from experience that the simplest strategies were usually the most effective.
"Jason?" Soraya asked.
"It's a set-up Soraya. A pretty obvious one...but sometimes the obvious ones work best", Jason said. "Don't worry...I'll make my own way back".
"Jason, you're not currently on the Interpol Watch List...you haven't been since your 'death' in Indonesia. Hell, you're no longer on the CIA hit-list either...they've got enough trouble of their own now that Hendricks is breathing down their necks. They don't want to arrest you, and they definitely don't want your head. They just want to speak to you. I'll repeat their exact words...they have 'information vital to the safety of yourself and your family'", Soraya explained.
Safety of yourself and your family...the words echoed in Jason's head, and gave him room to pause. If it were true...if there was the slightest possibility that there was something he needed to know...could he ignore it...could he take that chance?
His family's security was the reason he didn't really have one anymore in any functional sense...he couldn't afford to walk away from that responsibility over mere suspicions of danger.
"All right", he told Soraya. "I'll be there".
ooo
It had been a favour to his old friend Soraya Moore, currently co-director of the new Treadstone, operating under the aegis of the DOD. Soraya's sources had told her of a new alliance between certain elements of the Russian Mafia and Islamic extremists in western Europe and the United States; the objective being Moscow arms dealers providing arms to terrorists in Europe, and the US...at a price of course. The negotiations between the Moscow underworld and the terrorist cell had been ongoing for months now and Soraya's agents on the field were unable to get a lead.
That was when she had called in Jason. There was no love lost between Bourne and the American intelligence community. Too often they had used him, manipulated him...even tried to eliminate him. After the death of his friend and mentor Alex Conklin, his relationship with Washington had deteriorated even further. True, there had been others he could trust-the late lamented Martin Lindros, and now Soraya Moore and her co-director Peter Marks...but Bourne was unwilling to be an instrument of Washington anymore. And yet, he'd agreed to accept this mission purely as a favour to Soraya. And, in being honest to himself, he admitted that the yearning for action, for work, had been far too strong to resist...
So he had infiltrated the terrorist cell, intercepting their couriers, uncovering their communications. Eventually, he reached an Arab named Mahmoud, one of the chief negotiators of the deal with the Russian Mafia. He took Mahmoud out, and replaced him, putting his skills as a chameleon to the test yet again. He'd now discovered the date and location of the first arms drop in Munich, amongst other intel which would be invaluable to Soraya. Her Treadstone agents on the field would move in and clean up. That wasn't his concern any longer.
But this was...whatever it was...
He reached the airport and moved through Immigration without much difficulty using the Diplomatic passport Soraya had issued him with. He hadn't intended to use it, but he would now.
Soon, he found himself seated in a chartered plane, opposite a man and a woman.
The woman was dressed in a simple yet elegant black suit. She had shoulder-length black hair and piercing blue eyes, and appeared to be in her late twenties. The man beside her was a balding man in his thirties, in a business suit.
"I'm glad you could join us, Mr. Bourne", the woman said as soon as he seated himself opposite her, and accepted the cup of coffee she'd handed him. "My name is Janet Renauld. This is my assistant, Charles Drexel. We're with Interpol, Paris branch...as I'm sure Ms. Moore would have told you".
"A pleasure", Jason replied in a neutral tone. There did not appear to be anything threatening in the least about the pair opposite him. He had already frisked them with his eyes the moment he saw them and they did not appear to be carrying any concealed weapons. There was only one crew member in the cabin at the moment, and she did not appear to be armed either. Whatever this was...it did not seem to be a trap.
The woman leaned back in her seat and stared at him intently, studying his face. "So this is what you look like", she said finally. "I've seen photographs of course, but most of them were blurred...and it is well known that you are a virtuoso at disguise."
"Jason Charles Bourne", she continued, as though reciting from a dossier. "Alias Cain, amongst others. Wanted for murder in three continents. The subject of a worldwide manhunt by American intelligence more than once. Rumoured to have been the product of a covert CIA black ops division..." Her voice trailed off as she stared straight into his hazel eyes. "But we both know there's more to that than rumour, don't we, Mr. Bourne?"
"That's something I'd like to ask you. How do you know?" Bourne asked.
"Let's just say I have inside sources", Janet replied. "Besides, given how desperate Washington has been to silence you in the past...it really is no surprise".
"Soraya...Director Moore...told me you have information for me. She claims its 'vital' to my safety and the safety of...others", Jason said. "Care to elaborate, Ms. Renauld?"
"Certainly", she said. "It's why we're here". She handed him a dossier, one amongst the many papers on the table in front of her. He opened it and was greeted by several photographs...of corpses. Crime scenes.
Assassinations.
"First it was a Russian attaché at the embassy in Paris", she said. "Then came a Iranian diplomat in New Delhi. The Hungarian ambassador to Turkey...a deep cover MI6 agent in Pakistan...the list goes on", she said. "Over twelve kills in the last seven months. No seeming connection. The victims from both the East and the West. Each kill carried out under tight security conditions...professionally and efficiently. No trace of the assassin...not one trace, electronic or human".
"There aren't many who can do all that", Jason commented, leafing through pages of the dossier detailing the circumstances of each assassination. "Assuming it is the same man".
"It is. That's been confirmed. I'll come to that later", she replied. "As you said, there aren't many who can do this. But there are at least a few. Jason Bourne for one", she said.
"But we both know that isn't true", she said, before he could say anything. "Which leads us to look elsewhere...but we didn't need to look. The killer sent us a message five days ago".
"The killer? You know who it is?" Bourne asked, anxious to know how any of this related to him.
"Yes", she replied. "And that's where you come in", she said. "You see, the killer claims to be an old...sparring partner...of yours".
She paused and added, almost as though for calculated dramatic effect, "The killer claims to be Carlos the Jackal".