“Where the hell have you been?” the secretary said grumpily.
When Peter told him that he had infiltrated Core Energy, that its CEO had verbally implicated himself, that Dick Richards was secretly working for Tom Brick, and that he had followed leads to the thirty million aboard the Recursive, Hendricks sounded mollified. But only for a moment.
“I hate it when both my directors are out of circulation.” Instantly, Peter was on the alert. “What are you talking about?”
“Soraya’s in the hospital,” the secretary said. “She collapsed and had to have an emergency procedure.”
In his extreme agitation, Peter nearly tore out his IV. “How is she?”
“Stable, from the last update I got. Delia’s with her. She’s barely left Soraya’s side.”
“Where is she?”
“Same hospital you’re in, but you don’t sound as if you’re in any shape—”
“I’m fine,” Peter snapped, a bit too aggressively. Even he realized that, albeit belatedly. “Sorry, sir, this whole business at the marina has got me on edge.”
“Right. Keep me wired into that. The moment you ID the man who attacked you, I want to know, got it?”
“Yessir.”
There was another pause. “As for Richards, do you want to pick him up or let him run?”
Peter considered this question, among thoughts of Soraya. “Give me a day or two to see what he’s up to. Now that I’ve flown Brick’s coop, I want to see what’s going to happen.”
“I wish we knew who he was bringing back for you to kill.” “Me, too, boss. But it might have been no one. Brick is into playing games with your head. I had had enough of that, and there was this key lead to run down.”
“I hear you. But as of this moment we have to treat Richards as a threat.”
“Absolutely, boss. But if we can use him to gain solid evidence of what Brick is really up to, I don’t want to miss the chance.”
“Fine.” Hendricks sounded reluctant. “But any backup you need—”
“I’ll call ASAP.”
“Do that. And, for the time being, I’m ordering you up protection.”
“That’s precisely what you won’t do, sir. With all due respect, I can’t do my job with a shadow. I’m not a desk jockey. I can handle myself.”
Silence on the other end of the line.
“Sir?”
“Peter, for God’s sake, take better care of yourself,” Hendricks said before he disconnected.
You have two choices,” the mortician said, “sleep on the floor or in one of these coffins.”
“Nice silk,” Rebeka said, sliding her hand along the rim of a coffin.
The mortician grinned. “Soft as a cloud, too.” He was a pale, thin man with a sunken chest, a pencil mustache, and the bee-stung, ruddy lips of a woman. His hands looked as delicate as porcelain. He had lacquered nails. He told them his name was Diego de la Rivera.
“Your choice,” he said. “Either way, I’ll notify you when it’s time.”
“You’re sure Maceo Encarnación’s people will call you,” Bourne said.
“More than that,” de la Rivera said, “I’m sure Maceo Encarnación himself will call me.”
“How’s that?”
De la Rivera’s lips twitched. “I’m married to his sister.” This made Bourne uneasy. “Isn’t blood thicker than water here?”
De la Rivera’s lips curled fully into a sneer. “Maceo Encarnación is not my blood. The man is made of money, but still he treats his sister like shit.” He spat onto the floor. “And me? He likes giving me business; he thinks it demeans me. ‘All you’re interested in is my money,’ he tells me, when what I want is for him to treat us like people. But, what? He doesn’t even invite us to his home. So there’s no blood here, not for me, not for my wife. He can go fuck himself for all I care.” He waved his hand. “So whatever chaos you cause when you’re inside, I’ll fucking applaud.”
He went out then without another word, cutting the overhead lights as he left. The lamp on his desk was left burning as, it seemed, it always was, even when he wasn’t there. All that remained was the deep, steady humming of the massive refrigeration units in the basement, rising through the concrete floor in spectral sound.
“Do you want to lie down?” Rebeka looked from Bourne, whose expression made her laugh, to the open coffin. “Neither do I.”
Bourne opened the detailed map of the city el Enterrador had given him, and, by the dim lamplight, began to study it. “Are we clear on what we need to do,” he said, “once we get in?”
“Rowland first, then Maceo Encarnación.”
Bourne shook his head. “Rowland first, then we get out.”
“What about Encarnación?”
Bourne glanced up. He could see the lamp reflected in her eyes, a corona of light surrounding her pupils. “Listen, I’ve been thinking,” he said softly. “I’m beginning to suspect that Jihad bis saif—”
“It’s hiding in plain sight.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “It’s part of Encarnación’s empire. It must be.”
He returned to studying the map of the labyrinthine city. “Why do you say that?”
“We arrived here, drove through...I listened to what Constanza Camargo said, and I knew.”
“You’re wrong,” Bourne said. “Jihad bis saif is a ghost. It doesn’t exist.”
“But what about what I overheard in Dahr El Ahmar?”
“Dahr El Ahmar. That’s the key, isn’t it?” Bourne looked up again. “It was Colonel Ben David you overheard. You say he thought you were still unconscious, right?”
She nodded.
“What if he knew you were listening?”
She stared at him.
“Think this through, Rebeka. Ben David knew you brought me into Dahr El Ahmar, a top secret Mossad camp in a foreign country, harboring even more top secret research on a procedure parallel to SILEX, the separation of isotopes by laser excitation, in order to quickly and efficiently enrich nuclear material to weapons grade.
“Now, all of a sudden, he doesn’t know whether to trust you. So he sets a trap. He discusses Jihad bis saif within your hearing. Come on, why would he do that when you’re within earshot? Would he really take the chance that you were unconscious? The hell he would. No, he talked about Jihad bis saif to see what you would do. And what did you do?You cut and ran. No wonder he sent the Babylonian after you.”
Rebeka shook her head. “No. It can’t be.”
“But you know it is,” Bourne pressed her. “We know Ben David better than most people. I think we’ve both seen him at his worst.”
“Then what about Rowland?”
“He was sent by Maceo Encarnación,” Bourne said. “Encarnación is the one who wants me dead. You saw how his copter came after me in Stockholm.”
He could see her taking deep breaths, gathering herself. When she turned back to him, her eyes were glistening and a tiny tremor went through her like an arrow. “I thought I was so smart.”
“Forget it. We all make mistakes.”
“There was no one inside Mossad I could trust, and in the end Ben David betrayed me.”
“I imagine he sees the betrayal from a different perspective.”
She took another slow breath. “What really happened between you and him? Before, I mean.”
Bourne regarded her for a long time. She became acutely aware of the open coffins, pale silk linings spectral islets in the semi-darkness. They didn’t look soft and comforting at all.
“In the twilight of Mubarak’s reign in Egypt, his government lost control over the Sinai,” Bourne said. “But I’m sure you already know this.”
She nodded.
“That’s where Ben David and I first met. A contingent of IDF was in there policing the local bedouin caravans, which were smuggling drugs, arms, and human slaves from Eritrea into Israel. Ben David was there with five of his Mossad agents, investigating a rumor that Mubarak or someone highly placed inside his government was behind the shipments, greasing the wheels with the bedouin chieftains. I was in the midst of my own investigation that peripherally involved the IDF. Suffice it to say that our goals clashed.”