Part 28 (1/2)
Book Three
Twenty-Eight.
IT TOOK ten minutes for Bourne to get a decent connection to Professor Specter, then another five for his people to rouse him out of bed. It was 5 AM AM in Was.h.i.+ngton. Maslov had gone downstairs to see to business, leaving Bourne alone in the greenhouse to make his calls. Bourne used the time to consider what Maslov had told him. If it was true that Pyotr was a member of the Black Legion, two possibilities arose: One was that Pyotr was running his own operation under the professor's nose. That was ominous enough. The second possibility was far worse, namely that the professor was, himself, a member. But then why had he been attacked by the Black Legion? Bourne himself had seen the tattoo on the arm of the gunman who had accosted Specter, beat him, and hustled him off the street. in Was.h.i.+ngton. Maslov had gone downstairs to see to business, leaving Bourne alone in the greenhouse to make his calls. Bourne used the time to consider what Maslov had told him. If it was true that Pyotr was a member of the Black Legion, two possibilities arose: One was that Pyotr was running his own operation under the professor's nose. That was ominous enough. The second possibility was far worse, namely that the professor was, himself, a member. But then why had he been attacked by the Black Legion? Bourne himself had seen the tattoo on the arm of the gunman who had accosted Specter, beat him, and hustled him off the street.
At that moment Bourne heard Specter's voice in his ear. ”Jason,” he said, clearly out of breath, ”what's happened?”
Bourne brought him up to date, ending with the information that Pyotr was a member of the Black Legion.
For a long moment, there was silence on the line.
”Professor, are you all right?”
Specter cleared his throat. ”I'm fine.”
But he didn't sound fine, and as the silence stretched on Bourne strained to catch a hint of his mentor's emotional state.
”Look, I'm sorry about your man Baronov. The killer wasn't Black Legion; he was an NSA agent sent to murder me.”
”I appreciate your candor,” Specter said. ”And while I grieve for Baronov, he knew the risks. Like you, he went into this war with his eyes open.”
There was another silence, more awkward than the last one.
Finally, Specter said, ”Jason, I'm afraid I've withheld some rather vital information from you. Pyotr Zilber was my son.”
”Your son? By why didn't you tell me that in the first place?”
”Fear,” the professor said. ”I've kept his real ident.i.ty a secret for so many years it's become habit. I needed to protect Pyotr from his enemies-my enemies-the enemies who were responsible for murdering my wife. I felt the best way to do that was to change his name. So in the summer of his sixth year, Aleksei Specter drowned tragically and Pyotr Zilber came into being. I left him with friends, left everything and came to America, to Was.h.i.+ngton, to begin my life anew without him. It was the most difficult thing I've ever had to do. But how can a father renounce his son when he can't forget him?”
Bourne knew precisely what he meant. He'd been about to tell the professor what he'd learned about Pyotr and his cast of misfits and f.u.c.kups, but this didn't seem the right time to bring up more bad news.
”So you helped him?” Bourne guessed. ”Secretly.”
”Ever so secretly,” Specter said. ”I couldn't afford to have anyone link us together, I couldn't allow anyone to know my son was still alive. It was the least I could do for him. Jason, I hadn't seen him since he was six years old.”
Hearing the naked anguish in Specter's voice, Bourne waited a moment. ”What happened?”
”He did a very stupid thing. He decided to take on the Black Legion himself. He spent years infiltrating the organization. He discovered that the Black Legion was planning a major attack inside America, then he spent months worming his way closer to the project. And finally, he had the key to bringing them down: He stole the plans to their target. Since we had to be careful about direct communication, I suggested he use his network for the purpose of getting me information on the Black Legion's movements. This is how he meant to send me the plans.”
”Why didn't he simply photograph them and send them to you digitally?”
”He tried that, but it didn't work. The paper the plans are printed on is coated with a substance that makes whatever's printed on it impossible to copy by any means. He had to get me the plans themselves.”
”Surely he told you the nature of the plans,” Bourne said.
”He was going to,” the professor said. ”But before he could he was caught, taken to Icoupov's villa, where Arkadin tortured and killed him.”
Bourne considered the implications in light of the new information the professor had given him. ”Do you think he told them he was your son?”
”I've been concerned about that ever since the kidnapping attempt. I'm afraid Icoupov might know our blood connection.”
”You'd better take precautions, Professor.”
”I plan to do just that, Jason. I'll be leaving the DC area in just over an hour. Meanwhile, my people have been hard at work. I've gotten word that Icoupov sent Arkadin to fetch the plans from Pyotr's network. He's leaving a trail of bodies in his wake.”
”Where is he now?” Bourne said.
”Istanbul, but that won't do you any good,” Specter said, ”because by the time you get there he'll surely have gone. It's now more imperative than ever that you find him, though, because we have confirmed that he's taken the plans from the courier he murdered in Istanbul, and time is running out before the attack.”
”This courier came from where?”
”Munich,” the professor said. ”He was the last link in the chain before the plans were to be delivered to me.”
”From what you tell me, it's clear that Arkadin's mission is twofold,” Bourne said. ”First, to get the plans; second, to permanently shut down Pyotr's network by killing its members one by one. Dieter Heinrich, the courier in Munich, is the only one remaining alive.”
”Who was Heinrich supposed to deliver the plans to in Munich?”
”Egon Kirsch. Kirsch is my man,” Specter said. ”I've already alerted him to the danger.”
Bourne thought a moment. ”Does Arkadin know what Kirsch looks like?”
”No, and neither does the young woman with him. Her name is Devra. She was one of Pyotr's people, but now she's helping Arkadin kill her former colleagues.”
”Why would she do that?” Bourne asked.
”I haven't the faintest idea,” the professor said. ”She was something of a cipher in Sevastopol, where she fell in with Arkadin-no friends, no family, an orphan of the state. So far my people haven't turned up anything useful. In any event, I'm going to pull Kirsch out of Munich.”
Bourne's mind was working overtime. ”Don't do that. Get him out of his apartment to a safe place somewhere in the city. I'll take the first flight out to Munich. Before I leave here I want all the information on Kirsch's life you can get me-where he was born, raised, his friends, family, schooling, every detail he can give you. I'll study it on the flight over, then meet with him.”
”Jason, I don't like the way this conversation is headed,” Specter said. ”I suspect I know what you're planning. If I'm right, you're going to take Kirsch's place. I forbid it. I won't let you set yourself up as a target for Arkadin. It's far too dangerous.”
”It's a little late for second thoughts, Professor,” Bourne said. ”It's vital I get these plans, you said so yourself. You do your part and I'll do mine.”
”Fair enough,” Specter said after a moment's hesitation. ”But my part includes activating a friend of mine who operates out of Munich.”
Bourne didn't like the sound of that. ”What do you mean?”
”You've already made it clear that you work alone, Jason, but this man Jens is someone you want at your back. He's intimately familiar with wet work.”
A professional killer for hire, Bourne thought. ”Thank you, Professor, but no.”
”This isn't a request, Jason.” Specter's voice held a stern warning not to cross him. ”Jens is my condition for you taking Kirsch's place. I won't allow you to walk into this bear trap on your own. My decision is final.”
Dimitri Maslov and Boris Karpov embraced like old friends while Bourne stood on, silent. When it came to Russian politics nothing should surprise him, but it was nevertheless astonis.h.i.+ng to see a high-ranking colonel in the Federal Anti-Narcotics Agency cordially greeting the kingpin of the Kazanskaya, one of the two most notorious narcotics grupperovka grupperovka.