ROBERT LUDLUM'S

THE BOURNE OBJECTIVE

One:

Identity

PRIOR TO THE FORMATION of the Office Of Strategic Services, US intelligence had no control, and was run on an ad-hoc basis by the Navy, Treasury, and war. The OSS was started by a military order from Franklin Roosevelt on the thirteenth of July in 1942. The main objective was to collect information from the enemy.
However, President Truman demanded the OSS after the Second World War. It was separated into two different departments. That was the transformation to the CIA.
Volker had learned her history while reading a WEB Griffin on the five o'clock flight to Washington, DC.
She had flown in first class, along side with her assistant, Sam Weston.
Weston, a 'sensitive' man who consisted of only one thing: his job. When he was growing up as a kid, he'd read the Bourne novels, and recently watched the films. Now he wants to be Jason Bourne. It was a childish thought, but he knew. He had been working for Volker for a few years now since she'd been promoted.
Volker set down her book and set her head back. She sighed, that made Sam look back at her.
"You OK?" he asked in his peculiar voice.
Their eyes met, "I'm fine, just tired, that's all."
"Why don't you get some rest. I take care of the last of the paper work."
In her head, she yelled in laughter: HOMO! She smiled.
"Its alright. I'll do it, you watch your movie."
"You sure you don't want to watch MAMMA MIA?"
Volker chuckled.
"No…Sam," she picked her book back up, "I'm sure."

WASHINGTON DC
OVAL OFFICE, WEST WING
O2:00 HOURS

President David Shore looked up at the replacement Deputy Director of CI.
"Can I help you?"
"Nah. You can't…"
Suddenly the POTUS lent onto his desk. John Mel borne smiled grimly and walked out of the room.
A few minutes later, Secretary of State, Emerson Gates walked into the Oval office while glancing at a stack of papers she was holding.
Gates finally looked at Shore, "David? David," she cried.
"HELP! HELP!"
The President's assistant dialled the number for his doctor.

JAMES HARDING STOOD in pure fear. Blood and guts, it would appear so.
Where was he? The man attempted to think of his name, but nothing came.

He had to get to a doctor. Maybe there was a radio in the helicopter. No, it wasn't worth entering flaming debris. The amnesic man rubbed his scalp and felt liquid on his hand. Blood.

Now he really needed to get to a medical professional. He had to look for a sign that would tell him where he was. He glanced back at the helicopter. On the left side, it read in bold letters:
BAGHDAD MILITARY BASE, US MARINES CORP.

The nameless man cursed loudly into the dark skies of the near border. He couldn't have been in Baghdad right now. Impossible, military forces could have rescued him by now.
He had to have landed in Karbala. A copter couldn't have traveled that for before stopping for oil.

CIA HEADQUARTERS
LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

The covert operative was lead by the assistant director of CI.
Jason Levy entered the operations' room, seeing CTU director, Jack Benson, John Mel Borne, and Vice President Charles Penn.
"Evening, Jason. Heard you were found by a couple of Navy men," Borne thought out loud. The notion of a covert op being found by a couple of drunken Navy men on leave. It was clearly unacceptable behavior coming from one of the highest agents in CTU.
"I apologize, sir. But I' am…"
Penn cut in, "we don't ****ing care, agent Levy. Look, the POTUS had been shot, and killed."
"By who?"
"We don't know yet. But we think it's connected to CIA Agent James Harding. He was recently being transferred in a Black Hawk helicopter when the copter was shot down. When we found the copter, he wasn't there. But it seemed he'd survived. There was a long trail of blood from his cranium, or so the medical examiner said. A severe brain injury has been declared, although he believes that Harding may have amnesia.

"WHO AM I?"
James Harding walked alone in the never-ending desert. The amnesiac man stopped in his tracks and inhaled a lung full of dirt and dust.
Harding had searched for anything in his clothes that give him an idea of who he was. Or whom he worked for. The Navy? Marines? Air Force?
"****," Harding thought out loud. Then he screamed it again. It was no use talking to himself in the world's largest desert. Or what he thought it was.

NORTHERN FRONT,
IRAQ

The Smokeheart moved quick and swiftly across the dry plains.
Robert Scandium sat in the passenger's seat of the Humvee. Surrounded by six USMC soldiers gripping M16s. Scandium felt overwhelmed, being fed to the fiery sun. The vast desert was irritated to his skin. The chief of the Marines had given Captain Russ Graser orders. The Humvee was headed towards the military base in Baghdad.
Scandium casually lit a cigarette after receiving a nod from the Captain. Robert took a long drag on his smoke. He needed a cigarette badly. He had waited several hours, at the airport, the taxi ride to the military border.

THE MORNING SKY above him had transformed from its twilight aura of beige and purple, to a clear, cloudless sapphire. Benson walked about the streets of New York City. The air was precisely 38 degrees Fahrenheit. The cars and countless bicycles were overwhelming. The director of the counter-terrorism unit didn't usually walk to the Central Intelligence's New York Headquarters, however, he did need the exercise.

EDGAR HOOVER FBI BUILDING
WASHINGTON, DC

MAX HIX WALKED through the lobby of the Edgar Hoover Building, he quickly signed in and took the elevator to floor six: CTU section.
Jane Delran glanced back as the director of the FBI entered the counter-terrorism section.
"Miss Delran?"
Jane was reluctant to answer.
"Yes."
The director walked over to her cubical as she turned around.
"Jane, I need to ask you a favor. I need you to get me any info on the helicopter attack on the border of Iraq."
"Yes, sir."

KOREA
50 MILES SOUTH OF DMZ

JACK MANNING walked down the rotted pier, eyeing the filth and stench of the waters.
Jack glanced at his watch.
03:00:47.
The Diamond would arrive soon. Jack took this time to get rid of any photos or information that the foreign government could use for leverage in case he was captured. He reached his back pocket and found his wallet. He slowly opened it. There was a photo was him and his family, he looked away and used his lighter to burn the picture. When he would get back, he'd get some new copies.
The Diamond slid through the dark and green waters, the small stealth boat was black, gleamed, blending it in with the sea. The Captain of the boat, Chang, was an Asian Central Intelligence agent. Recruited in Hong Kong. With a Corona in his right hand, he signaled Manning to come aboard with his left.

CTU HEADQUARTERS,
LOS ANGELES
CALIFORNIA

BENSON TOOK ONE LAST drag on his cigar before putting it out.
The covert-op stood in front of the director of counter-terrorism. However, most CTU agents would have been scared shitless compared to former NCIS agents. Or even Army men. It didn't matter, Levy thought.
Benson handed Levy a file folder containing need-to-know counter Intel. Jason opened the folder and found a blacked-out document. It was like watching a movie with plenty of swear words on TV.
What the hell, Jason thought.
"I realize that every five or six words it is blacked-out, but I've managed to get some important photos from Operation Scandium.
Scandium? Levy asked out loud.
"Indeed, Jason. Last week, an agent as you are aware, went missing," Benson aimed his index finger at him, "and it's your job to find him."
As Benson set his hand down to light another cigar, Levy made his response quick and swift.
"I would need a partner, sir."
"For what?"
"A sense of security, sir. As I recall, the black hawk was shot down by terrorists."
"You're right, I'll assign Matlock for the job."
Levy nodded and left Benson's office as the cigar smoke hit his nostrils.

JOSS KHARDI watched director Benson as he passed him on the way to his office.

Khardi slowly stood up, stretched his arms out signalling the man across from him to proceed. Ali Horn and Khardi both went to the elevator and pressed for floor 1.

AHMED SAMIR sat outside in his unmarked van approximately two blocks away from the Edgar Hoover building.