Winter Bourne

Chapter 19 Bodies At Rest

Jason Bourne

Two days and three hundred miles away from the vet's office, Jason and Nicky were hiding in the non-descript Hotel Esser in the heart of Cologne. To confuse their trail, he'd stolen a third car, a silver Passat. Two towns after that, he'd switched license plates with another car. In the parking lot of the hotel, Jason used a beat-up child-seat and worn toys purchased from a second-hand shop to turn it into a family car that no cop would look at twice.

Nicky wasn't doing well. Despite his care, an infection had set in. Hauling her across Germany in the back seat of a car hadn't helped. Every bump and rough patch of road had strained the internal stitches holding her together. The constant emotional stress she'd been under wasn't helping either.

After cleaning out the infection, Jason reapplied antibiotic, then bandaged the wound, taping it in place. He'd stolen a considered selection of medical supplies from the ambulance and the vet's office. With that and what he'd been able to purchase legitimately, he had enough to get Nicky through another four days. The tiny refrigerator was sufficient to yield ice packs and cool towels to help lower the fever. All he could do now was hope that his surgery had been competent enough and that her immune system was strong enough to fight off the infection.

A firm knock sounded on a nearby door, and a deep voice demanded entry. Checking the pocket-sized monitor for the video camera he'd set up earlier, Jason recognized the motel repairman.

Not a threat.

Except his loud voice woke Nicky.

"Conklin!" Nicky jerked upright on the bed, her eyes bright with fever. She cast a terrified look around the room. "Oh, God. He found us." She tore at the covers, frantic to get up.

Jason caught Nicky's flailing hands and pressed her back against the mattress. In her delirium, she thought Conklin was alive. Projecting a calm he didn't feel, Jason said, "Nicky, It's okay. We're safe."

"David?" Her eyes found his. Her breathing slowed as the fear faded. She didn't resist as he rearranged the bedding around her. Nicky's hand crept over to cling to his wrist. He let it rest there, feeling the heat radiating from her skin. The spurt of fear had sent her heart rate soaring. Jason upped the sedative level, wanting her to sleep. Soft brown eyes watched him. Her eyelids drifted down. Nicky's head drooped. He eased her down to the pillow, combing the short silky hair out of her eyes with his fingers.

She'd called him David. She'd been afraid that Conklin would 'find us'. She'd trusted him when he told her she was safe. Nicky was too sick for this to be a pretense to manipulate him.

He backed away from the bed, his hands rubbing against the thighs of his pants. The way she looked at him. The trust. It made something hurt in his gut, an uneasy emotion he couldn't put a name to.

A flicker of pictures was all he had of his life in Paris. Fewer memories of Nicky. A teasing smile. The touch of her hand on his face. Nothing coherent enough to give him an emotional connection. She'd made it clear that they'd had a relationship in Paris, but he couldn't feel it. Marie's death was less raw, but he woke every morning hoping his faulty memory had tricked him and she would be there, ready to laugh at his fears. A moment later he'd remember that she was gone and a sick surge of pain would start his day. The world was so much grayer without her.

He settled into a worn chair and picked up his notebook. It was a dangerous habit, leaving little bits of himself scribbled down on paper. It revealed the way he thought, what he remembered. Yet he couldn't let it go. Too much of Marie seemed to be pressed between the pages. He tucked a stray scrap of an article cut from a Italian newspaper back where it belonged and smoothed the page.

Landy's last updates to the dead drop had added another dimension to his mental collection of facts and impressions. For the first time, the pieces were fitting into a pattern, one that made sense once he considered how the ability to generate large amounts of money had corrupted Treadstone. Blackbriar may have been intended as an upgraded version of Treadstone, but the new program appeared to have changed both too much and not enough.

It was after midnight when Jason finished writing his last speculative question and closed the notebook. Jason did a final check of the surroundings, then he snapped off the hotel's lights. He plugged in a child's nightlight, a half-moon that glowed a soft yellow. He didn't want Nicky waking up in a dark unfamiliar room and panic. Jason kicked off his shoes and climbed into the second bed.

Tomorrow would be the third day in this hotel. The antsy feeling was getting stronger as a familiar pressure urged him to leave. If Nicky wasn't better by tomorrow night, he'd have a hard decision to make. Abandon her at a hospital and hope her papers were good enough to protect her or tell Landy to come get her. Both options put Nicky in danger.

He pressed hands against his eyes, feeling them burn from fatigue. He hadn't been able to sleep since Munich. It was going to be another one of those nights when he couldn't turn his brain off. Against his will, his mind refused to stop spitting out cards, playing out different scenarios and options that he'd already considered two and three times. Logic warned him that he was being foolish by taking care of a woman who couldn't defend herself, while at the same time he was beating himself up for placing Nicky in even more danger by keeping her with him. Annoyed with the internal debate, Jason settled back on the lumpy pillow, resigned to another sleepless night when he heard Nicky moaning.

"David, please don't go."

Jason tensed on the bed, waiting to hear what else Nicky would say in her sleep. The words were intermingled with deep moans, a sound of grief that hurt him to hear. Reluctant, Jason went over. Taking her hand, knowing the contact would reach her even if his words couldn't, he said, "It's all right. I'm right here."

Her eyes didn't open, but the brittle tension in her muscles faded.

The second time it happened, Jason reassured her again, then sat down on the bed, planning to sit there until her sleep cycle deepened. When he woke up hours later, Jason was lying down on his side, his body pressed against Nicky's, his head on her shoulder and a hand curled around her arm.

This isn't right. He slid off the bed, staring down at her with his heart pounding. What the hell is happening to me?

Nicky Parsons

"Where are we?" The words came out weaker than she wanted.

"Cologne, Germany."

Nicky took another drink of coffee, having to lift the cup with both hands to hide the tremors. The fever had broken. She felt better. At least her head wasn't spinning. She was even able to string two coherent thoughts together. Except she felt drained, feeble. It was all she could do to get herself into the bathroom and crawl back into bed.

"How do you feel?" David asked.

David was across the room, sorting through some paperwork. Wasn't looking at her. Hadn't looked at her since she'd woken up. Maybe I'm being too sensitive. Nicky shifted against the pillow, trying to find a more comfortable position. She ached so much. Her head felt like it was an invisible vise. I won't let him think I'm weak. Sitting up, she licked dry lips and said, "I'm okay. Do we need to leave right away?"

He gave her one of those assessing looks. "Tomorrow. Early."

Well, that was one thing that hadn't changed about him. David had never been a talker. Had barely spoken on that trip from Madrid to Tangiers. Or on the night she'd left him there. At least he'd given her a reprieve. She had another night to rest.

A baby's cry made Nicky start. "That sounds as if it's in here."

Jason picked up a bundle from the couch. He flipped it over, twisted something and the crying stopped.

"What is that?" Nicky thought she sounded remarkably calm.

"Robot baby."

Nicky inhaled coffee as a laugh surprised her. As she sputtered, gasping, Jason grabbed her coffee cup. He hovered over her, waiting to see if she could regain her breath. She coughed twice more, then was able to say, "I'm okay."

He returned to the other side of the room. As if he needed to have some distance between them. She kept the thought to herself. "So the cover is a couple traveling with a baby?"

"A sick mom with a sick baby," Jason amplified. "To keep the maids out."

"Good idea."

A flick of those blue eyes in her direction, as if her were surprised at the compliment, as mild as it had been. He brought over a passport and a sheet of notes and put them on the side table near her. "Your new identity."

Before she could speak, he added, "I'll be back in three hours." He handed her a phone. "I've programmed in my phone's number." Then he handed her a palm-sized monitor. "You can toggle between views of the hallway and parking lot."

He hesitated before he had the door all the way open. "Do you need anything?"

"No, thanks," Nicky said. Her internal voice added. Yes. I need you to look at me the way you used to. I need you to remember me. Love me.

The door shut, leaving her alone with her pain.

Two hours later, Nicky was sorting through Jason's stash. She recognized most of the drugs from Treadstone's pharmaceutical menu, all selected to improve brain or body function. Ritalin. Amphetamine Adderall. Dangerous drugs that caused health problems and addiction, but no one at Treadstone had seemed to care about the long term side effects. Maybe because most Treadstone operatives hadn't lived very long.

Rummaging through more pockets, she found caffeine pills as well as a wide selection of opiates and other painkillers.She was squinting to read the fine print on one of the bottles when David spoke behind her.

"You want something in particular?"

Nicky couldn't help the way she reacted. Her whole body jerked as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. She hadn't even heard him come in. She made herself relax. "Something stronger than aspirin for my headache."

"How bad?"

Her hands clenched. "Bad."

His hesitation was palpable. Nicky asked, "What is it?"

"Too many drugs over too few days. Not good."

Nicky considered telling him that she'd been thinking of pounding her head into the concrete block wall to stop the pain if she hadn't found anything in his bag. Then she felt guilty, remembering the atrocious headaches the Treadstone operatives had reported. "Please."

She dropped her eyes as his unsettling gaze fastened on her face. He was giving off weird vibes. Not dangerous. Not crazy. Just odd. She was hurting too much to try to figure out why.

He plucked a blue vial out of the bag. He tapped a pill out. "Here. Percodan."

"Thanks."

The pain melted under the medication.

He'd brought them food. Hot ham and cheese sandwiches that were as common in Europe as hamburgers were in the United States. She ate half of it without tasting it, then put it down. Even now, he was sitting across the room. Nicky had a suspicion that he was pretending to read the Herald as an excuse not to talk to her. "David."

A flick of his eyes in her direction.

"Please tell me what's going on. I don't even know what happened back in Brussels."

Another of those assessing looks. Nicky met his gaze without flinching.

He folded the newspaper. "All right. I'll tell you what I know. The rest of it is just guess work."

Back on the bed, Nicky tucked a pillow under her knees and wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. She had a feeling this was going to be a long explanation.