Chapter 10

Photo Finish

Present day

Jason Bourne dialed the number Nicky had typed on the piece of paper and Nicky picked up before the phone even rang on his end, "Code in," came her familiar but wary voice.

"…it was very difficult for me… with you…" he said, repeating words she had used to describe their prior involvement, the words that still echoed in his head.

"…it gets easier…" she repeated his last words to her, her voice full of joy and elation, which would be short lived. He could tell she was now holding the phone in two hands, as though that might bring him closer. He could imagine the light dancing behind her eyes and the slight smile on her lips, the most she ever allowed. He quickly turned those thoughts off as easily as he would a faucet; he allowed the cold and robotic side to take over.

"South East Corner of Park and 97th at 1:30 pm, stay there until you're told. Dress warm; wear a short coat and gloves, bring the phone."

"I'll be there," was all she could manage before he disconnected, although he did note the deflation of her spirit.

Nicky arrived at the corner at 1:29 intentionally. She always thought losing a CIA tail was difficult but the paparazzi reporters were something else entirely. Where did they find scooters in Manhattan anyway? She had planned on being on the news, that was the point, but she hadn't planned on pushing LiLo and the Kardashian's off the tabloid pages. Just in the National Enquirer alone she had been returned by alien abductors, discovered Atlantis, and traveled through time by flying through the Bermuda Triangle, which was apparently in the north Atlantic now since that's where her plane went down.

She had already shed two layers and ducked in to a department store to buy another coat, a black beret, and white scarf. She stood at the corner for ten minutes before her nerves got the better of her; she turned to leave and took two steps when the phone rang. It was in her hand the whole time, she popped it open to be greeted by Bourne's terse voice, "'Stay there until you're told' doesn't mean stand there ten minutes and leave. Where were you going?"

His tone on the last sentence scared her to the core of her being, he sounded like he had in Berlin when she thought he was going to blow her head off. "I-I thought we were burned, the paparazzi are all over me…"

"No, you lost them at Macy's, along with the two agents posing as paparazzi…Wait there… here it comes… don't hang up."

She hadn't noticed the traffic die off, but it did then she saw the police cars go by with their lights on, but no sirens. They were blocking the traffic at the cross streets, she wondered why for a moment until she heard a deep rumbling. Looking down the street she saw hundreds of motorcycles coming down the street. Dozens rolled by, with police Harleys in the lead and people on the sidewalks had all stopped and an ad hoc crowd was growing. One of the bikes had pulled over about fifteen feet from her; its owner was toying with the shifter or something on the other side of the bike and looking down at the engine as if something was wrong with it. It clearly wasn't Bourne; he was too tall and too thin, not to mention way too old, so she kept looking for Bourne.

"That bike, go and get on it…" he instructed. She locked her jaw and squared her shoulders; she strode forward and reached for her gun. Bourne didn't see her gun in the crowd, but knew her purposeful stride, "No! Don't hurt the guy; get on the BACK of the bike…"

She saw the rider whip his head in her direction, "Oh," she felt like an idiot, she should have known that he didn't want her to gun down a biker in front of hundreds of bikers, dozens of police officers, and scores of pedestrians. It was his voice though, she was in fear of her life and didn't know why, but she would have been willing to gun the man down rather than further enraging Bourne.

She put the gun back under her coat as well as the phone, but left it open and on. As she got to the bike the rider pointed to the back of the bike, she jumped on and he handed her a helmet over his shoulder; he had been unhooking it from the other side of the bike... She put it on as he sped off, but she couldn't see out the visor, she tried to lift it but it was glued down. She realized the chemical odor that she smelled was from the helmet, not the bike. It was from spray paint and super glue.

She was perplexed at not being able to see where she was going, or rather the rationale behind it. She felt them take off into the crowd of other bikes and wasn't sure what was going on, but she could tell that they were passing other bikes at a fairly fast rate.

"Just hang on miss. Please keep calm…" the gruff biker said in a less than reassuring tone looking over his shoulder. His voice sounded clearer than it should.

"Great," she responded, knowing he couldn't hear her.

"Please keep quiet Sparrow, this is a party line," said Bourne into her ear, then she realized the helmet was wired with a blue tooth or something. "Osprey, how are we looking?"

A third voice with an eastern bloc accent spoke, "We have two thorns on one scooter, a hundred yards behind Sparrow; please advise, over." She felt that she recognized the voice as a Blackbriar asset named Paz.

"Spare them if you can, but slow or distract them when I say… Sparrow, hold on." several seconds went by."Now," instructed Jason in a cool even tone. The bike swung hard left and accelerated as she heard a crash behind them, the bike banked right and abruptly stopped and listed to the right as the rider lowered the kickstand and jumped off. She started to lift off the seat to get off when a firm hand pressed down on her shoulder.

The eastern voice spoke again, "they are both down but alive. Their vehicle is ruined and they are commandeering a motorcycle that went down, orders…?"

"Not worth risking your exposure… reel it in Osprey. Good work," Jason responded. Someone else got on her bike and they sped off at a high rate of speed, she knew to hold on for her life because she knew Jason was now on the bike with her and he was worse at wrecking bikes than cars and she could tell they were zipping down an alley dodging obstacles.

She wrapped her arms around him and relished in the way their bodies fit together, she wished she could take the helmet off so she feel and smell the leather of his jacket. He was alive and in her arms, she felt like she could fly. She couldn't easily think of a happier moment in her life and she wanted it to last forever, sadly it lasted about as long as she expected.

"They are on us…"

"How," she implored.

He didn't respond vocally, but she felt him tense up. It was a rhetorical question and they both knew it. They were being tracked, or more correctly she was being tracked. Her mind raced, how were they tracking her? All of her clothing was purchased that day, even her bra. She had a book on her, but she just bought it today too. Her guns, ID, and watch came out of storage. The watch hadn't been off her wrist. Her guns had been out of her sight, one of them anyway. She had broken them down twice including this morning. Then it hit her, "the bullets…" she muttered forgetting they could hear her.

"What bullets?" snapped Jason.

"The ones in my gun, that's the only thing that makes sense. They must have loaded a fake bullet with a tracker at some point…"

"Lose the clip," he instructed.

"How about I shoot at them?"

"No, dump them."

"Look mom no hands…" she said as a nervous warning as she let go of him and leaned back. She got the gun out of her pocket and released magazine and tossed it, then emptied the chamber and replaced the gun. She reached in her purse for the other gun, but there was no point, it had been in her hand almost every second.

Just then she felt a heavy rain start to fall and for once she was happy to be wearing the helmet so that at least her head would be warm, the rest of her was already freezing.

"Hold on," he said abruptly.

"Are we cutting through the park?"

"You can see?"

She sighed, "I forgot you don't remember, I am a world class navigator and I'm from the Big Apple. You only made two turns Jason. There is this thing called Central Park that's 6.1 miles long… Would you like me to be your tour guide? Over on the left…"

The eastern voice spoke up, "please be silent, they should have named you Mocking Bird." Paz and the gruff biker laughed, she was less than amused. "Phoenix, I have made my egress uneventfully. I am headed to location B now."

The gruff voice responded, "I am headed to the nest. See you both soon. I'll have some cold ones waiting…"

"Roger that."

She felt the bike slow and then she could tell they were on grass. It felt like they were making looping patterns and most assuredly not taking the most direct route. She heard Jason laugh, but didn't ask him to elaborate. It felt like they were on a side walk now and a few minutes of what she would call uneventful travel ensued, they had apparently lost them.

She felt the bike come to a stop, "get off, but leave the helmet on." She obeyed and stood there in the pouring rain and she heard a metal door screech open and the sound of him moving something heavy, the motorcycle… he must be hiding it. He returned and grabbed her by her upper arm and half carried and half drug her into the building and led her through the building and he opened a door and shoved her into a smaller room. She stood there with her shoulders uncharacteristically slouched, even though he didn't remember much he knew she looked utterly defeated. He had crushed her spirit and he had even done anything yet. She knew bad things were about to happen he thought, just as he saw her try to swallow hard.

He walked up behind her and pulled her purse from over her head and dropped it to the floor, he then unceremoniously pulled her coat and scarf off. He grabbed a hand from behind her and she moved the other hand behind her too, knowing he was going to bind her. This made him feel very ashamed and her unquestioning complacency stunned him. "Feet too?" she asked.

"Sit," he instructed as he lowered her to a chair and then bound her feet too. Only then did he remove her helmet, although he at least did it gently. Her hair was very short almost boyish and brown.

"Jesus Jason, you should sleep more… you look tired," she said only half kidding. His face was pale and had a greenish tint and it looked like he had black eyes he was so sleep deprived.

"Okay, we are going to try this again," he said as he was riffling through her pockets, he removed the gun and silencer. "What the hell do you need a silencer for?" he asked with a suspicious but irritated tone.

She stammered, "I-It was in my dead drop here in New York, so I took it too. I-It was before I found you; I wasn't sure what I was getting into." She watched as he sifted through her coat and purse.

He took out her other gun from her purse and saw it was still loaded, he held it up with a questioning look. She stuttered, "It-it has been in my hand or on me at all times. The other I left in the hotel safe several times."

He screwed the silencer onto her gun and she tried to look away and control her breathing. She swallowed hard as he pulled something from his pocket; it was the same photo he had shown her in the coffee shop of Hirsch and Daniels only obviously in far worse shape. He rested his gun arm on his leg and the barrel was casually but obviously aimed at her kneecap. "Let's try this one more time and I swear if you tell me a single lie I will blow your kneecap off. Who is this?"

"I don't know…" she began…