30 HOURS TO DEADLINE…
"For a spy there's nothing worse than knowing you're being played. Someone is pulling strings. The who? Not some intelligence agency bureaucrat sat in a cubicle. This is someone with more - style. Not CIA either, they're not this creative and they usually don't do surveillance on their own guys. This is someone who knows what he's doing; someone who wants to send a message: Welcome to Miami Bourne, However when dealing with an Agent like Jason Bourne it is always best too keep your distance, especially when he has been sent to kill you, but when he's on your side… the real fun begins!"
Bourne walked threw the centre of Miami with one target in mind, finding his daughter and dealing with whom ever it was following him. His new ally Westen was what he appeared a man burned for crime he didn't commit, with a slight smile creeping over his face he thought it sounded like a line of an old 80's TV show or a Robert Ludlum novel but he needed his help, this man after him was a bodyguard of Wombosi the man who started him off on his journey threw life with a huge hole in his mind. As he turned the next corner he quickly moved backward as he saw the men who had shot him not so long ago.
"Damn it!"
Slowly he peered around the corner to check out the area, the men had gone and the street was now empty, adrenalin surged threw his body as he casually walked around the corner and across the empty street almost as quickly he turned the next corner a hand grabbed him and pulled him into an open doorway, turning quickly on his heels he threw rapid punches each blocked by the person facing him and quickly dropped his guard.
"You got some balls body, those guys are covering every angle!"
"I can handle my self here old man!"
"Maybe, but from what I saw you were about too get your head ventilated!"
"Look, stay outta my way"
"Remember buddy, you came too us… now give me a moment to clear the scene then get back too the loft"
"Get outta my way Sam"
"Try me Bourne, please try me"
Punches where thrown and kicks sent as the two briefly brawled until Bourne hit the floor hard, with satisfaction Sam looked down at him and smiled.
"Your good Bourne, but you forgot one thing, I've been slitting throats for this country before you bagged you first babe and making a damned good living by it boy… now GET BACK TOO THE LOFT don't make me do this the hard way"
"Nice old man, let me guess Marine?"
"Try Navy Seal idiot and you pull that crap on me buddy, you and I are gonna dance! I know all about you, Medusa and Delta One… Alexander Conklin, your reputation as a bad ass is well deserved, so is mine"
Smiling slightly he stood and stepped almost nose to nose with Sam as he spoke.
"I went easy on you old man, next time I'll take your head off. My daughter is all that matters too me, help me then we have some unfinished business"
"I'll be waiting son…"
Holding his breath for a moment he sighed deeply as Sam left him, gun shots rippled threw streets with screaming and the sound of running, tensing his fists he ran out of the doorway and looked around to see a body fall into the streets 'Not bad' he thought as he looked around and Sam walked back towards him with a very smug grin on his face and blood on his forehead.
"Now get back to the loft, I'll clean up here, lots of questions will be coming my way"
"Are you sure?"
"Get outta here kid"
Leaving slowly he looked back at Sam as a Police car pulled up beside him, raising his gun in the air he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a small black leather wallet as the officers opened their doors and aimed weapons at him, only the faintest sound of the conversation could be heard as he waited near a corner.
"Weapons down, Detective Charles Finley Miami Metro… I noticed these guys checking out the bank over the road, next thing I knew guns are pointed at me and…"
Smiling too himself he made his way slowly back to the loft, in some deep dark recess of what was left of his mind he liked Sam, he thought he had a certain charm about him almost like a old drunken version of himself.
"The image threw a high power sniper's scope is pretty good, but if you wanna scare someone, use a laser pointer people instantly think it's a gun is trained on them however I always go for a shot warning"
Michael dialled his phone with one hand as he looked threw the scope with a slight smile on his face, the earpiece began to ring until an African voice answered, quickly Michael jumped in before he could finish his sentence in his favourite Irish accent.
"You've been a bad boy mister.."
"Who is diss?"
"I'm the guy looking at you threw a high power sniper scope there is no point looking for me… I'm a mile away mister, and too prove it, you see that cup on the table?"
Almost instantly the window shattered and the cup exploded with hot coffee flying in all directions.
"Who are you?"
"I want you out of Miami, today, or the next bullet will be in your head… don't mess with me"
Before he could reply the phone line went dead as Michael quickly disassembled the rifle and placed it in the metallic case and piece fully left his firing position. On his way down from the hotel roof he looked back at the receptionist, switching back to the Austrian accent he signed the register and reported back to her.
"I've set da traps in da right rooms, you shouldn't have any problems… just in case call me…"
Placing his dark glasses on he turned to leave, with a slight smile he looked back at her and nodded.
"I'll be back"
Almost kicking himself for the bad movie reference he left with a slight smile on his face Fiona passed him to sign in as planned.
Back at the loft Bourne was waiting rather impatiently as Michael walked in and threw his hat on a chair nearby, with a slight nod to his latest client he slumped in the green chair and smiled.
"You look like that mouse that got the cat…"
"I paid a brief visit to you friends Bourne"
"Which ones?"
"Wombosi's men"
"And?"
"I think they got the message, but I doubt they'll leave right away"
"What did you do Westen?"
He leaned forward and explained what had happened, obviously the men had split into groups to find him but Miami was a large and busy city with plenty of places to hide. Cradling his side Bourne threw Westen a file almost wincing at the pain flowing threw him as he sat back.
"That's all I can find on the guys that burned you. It's some guy called management"
"We've met"
"I know, but I think you may like this file. From what I can tell he's got his nose in every ass from here to DC. Powerful friends Mikey"
The loft door flew open almost forcing Bourne to jump too his feet until he saw Sam stood in the doorway with pure anger in his face.
"WHAT THE HELL WHERE YOU THINKING MORON?"
"Sam calm down"
"Not now Mikey. We all agreed, first we take care of Wombosi's men, then we go after the guys that took Alison"
"I'm not gonna sit on ass while you guys play hero"
"That was the deal…"
Quickly Sam walked threw the loft to the fridge and grabbed a beer, twisting the cap off with all the anger in his system he almost sliced his hand open on the bottle cap before he threw it at Bourne.
"You know how long it took to clean up that mess of yours? It's rhetorical moron… two hours. But I got a lead on the guys that took Alison, they're staying in some beaten up shit shack nearby. A Buddy of mine at the FBI, real straight shooter a desk jockey though said they've been on the watch list for about ten years, however it's the first time they've come into the good ol' U.S of A"
Slowly he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a fax of a surveillance photo of a girl and handed it to Bourne, his eyes widened as he recognised the photograph.
"That's her"
"Cute kid. Now the problem is they've more plastic then American Express and Hugh Hefner's playmates. But the case is out of FBI hands, once your name came up the Agency took over… apparently they're sending in some hit squad California some guy named Carmichael"
26 HOURS TO DEADLINE…