“There was an abduction and murder attempt,” Bourne said to his old friend. “We swam downriver.”
“‘We’?”
“I’m with a friend. Don Fernando Hererra.”
“Good Lord.”
“You know Don Fernando?”
Robbinet leaned forward, tapping his driver on the shoulder and telling him of the change in destination. “Indeed I do, Jason.” Robbinet told his driver to switch on the siren, bypass the traffic jam, use the sidewalk, if necessary, just step on it. “Stay right where you are. I’ll be with you in minutes.”
“Listen, Jacques, I need a jet.”
Robbinet laughed in a quick moment of disbelief. “Is that all?”
“I’ve got to get to Lebanon as quickly as possible.”
Robbinet well knew that tone of voice. “The situation is that serious?”
“Deadly. We were abducted to keep me from getting there.”
“All right. Let’s get you two out of the water and into dry clothes.” Robbinet’s mind was working at lightning speed. “By that time, I’ll have a jet ready and waiting.” He knew enough to take Bourne at his word. “A military jet. I want the plane armed, just to be on the safe side.”
“Thanks, Jacques.”
“You can thank me,” Robbinet said dryly, “by not getting yourself killed.”
28
THE WHOLE THING was a scam?”
“From beginning to end.” Bourne could hear the incredulity in Soraya’s voice. He couldn’t blame her. “Maceo Encarnación went to extraordinary lengths to ensnare me.”
Bourne shifted his satphone from one ear to the other; it was significantly heavier than his mobile. He was riding up in the cockpit.
The Mirage fighter jet Jacques Robbinet had procured for him wasn’t comfortable, but then it wasn’t meant to be. It had been built for war. “From the moment Constanza Camargo was pushed into the baggage claim area by airline personnel, I was their target.”
“But how the hell did she know you’d be there?”
“Maceo Encarnación.”
“And how did she manage to get through security to be at the security area in the first place?”
“Having been to Mexico City and survived,” Bourne said slowly, “I can appreciate fully the complete grip Maceo Encarnación has on the capital.”
Soraya paused for a moment. “And the story Constanza told you about her husband?”
“Well, the husband was real, I checked that,” Bourne said. “Also, the manner of his death.”
“Huh! The best liars sprinkle in as much truth as they can.”
“If I knew the real relationship between Constanza Camargo and Maceo Encarnación,” Bourne said, “I feel like I’d know everything.”
He stared through the cockpit glass. The Mirage hurtled through the aether like a weapon of revenge. Bourne had scores to settle, not only with Maceo Encarnación, but with Colonel Ben David as well.
“Everything is related, that’s what you’re telling me,” Soraya said. “Maceo Encarnación, Nicodemo, Core Energy, and the Mossad commander at the Israeli research station outside Dahr El Ahmar.”
“There’s another element involved,” Bourne said, “an element only hinted at because of its extreme importance.”
“Do you know who or what?”
“The Chinese. Specifically someone named Ouyang.”
“Hold on,” Soraya said. She was back in a flash. “According to my information, Ouyang Jidan is minister of the State Administration of
Grain.”
“CSP, more like it,” Bourne said.
“I don’t doubt it. What’s he doing nosing around Dahr El Ahmar?”
When Bourne told her about the Israeli SILEX project, she nearly exploded. “What are we going to do? With Ben David implicated, we can’t trust anyone in Mossad.”
“Leave it to me,” Bourne said. “I’ll be at Dahr within hours.”
“Have you considered that Dahr El Ahmar might be a trap?”
“Yes.”
Soraya waited for him to provide further explanation, but when nothing was forthcoming, she went on. “Any logistics we can provide—”
“Got it.”
“What still puzzles me,” she said, “is the thirty million in counterfeit dollars Peter found. I don’t know, maybe it’s just the Aztec trying to rip off his boss. People will do just about anything to get their hands on that much money.”
“True enough.”
“The thing is, the counterfeiting on the bills Peter found isn’t all that good. It’s nowhere near the level we’ve found in the bills created by the Chinese, which, sad to say, are virtual masterpieces of the counterfeiting art.” She paused a moment. “To be honest, that’s the reason I figured the money was unrelated. What if Maceo Encarnación suspected someone in his organization was skimming? It happens all the time. So he sets up this scenario so even if the perp manages to get away with it, he’s left with nothing.”
“It makes sense,” Bourne said. “Why don’t you follow up on that premise?”
“I already have. Seems as if the Aztec’s prime lieutenant got his head handed to him, literally.”
“That seals it then.”
She wanted to tell him about herself and about Peter’s condition, but she bit her tongue. He had more than enough on his mind. Time enough when this was over to let him know. Perhaps he’d even come back to Washington to see her. She’d like that.
She cleared her throat. “Okay, then. I guess that’s it for now. Keep in touch.”
She said this last with such intensity that Bourne might have queried her had she not already severed the connection. He settled back in his seat, closed his eyes, and thought about his last conversation with Don Fernando.
Robbinet had his driver take them to a small but very luxe boutique hotel in the thirteenth arrondissement, where, in a top-floor suite, an elegant woman looking no more than forty was waiting for them. This magnificent creature, whose name was Stephanie, was clad in a little black dress from Dior and was Robbinet’s current mistress. She already had clothes laid out for both Bourne and Don Fernando, as if she were a genie or a magician. When Robbinet had phoned her, Bourne couldn’t say, but he was immensely grateful nonetheless. While Don Fernando showered, Bourne filled Robbinet in on the scenario that had brought him and Don Fernando to Paris from Mexico City. “The identity of the body your divers will pull out of the Seine is Nicodemo,” he concluded. “His real name, however, is a matter of conjecture.”
“Dead is dead. I’ll take it,” Robbinet said, in his usual matterof-fact fashion. “I’m just grateful no harm has come to you or Don Fernando.” He grunted. “This has been quite a day, what with the abduction attempt and Don Fernando risen from the grave twice now, it seems. I was instrumental in doctoring the report of the crash of his private jet outside Paris.” He regarded Bourne attentively. “It seems the two of you are made for each other.”
Bourne turned to Stephanie. “Apologies for spoiling your evening.”
“With Jacques, I’m used to such interruptions.” Her smile was dazzling. When she stepped across the carpet to the minibar, her hips swayed ever so slightly. “It can’t be helped. Besides, Jacques and I have all night.”
Bourne and Robbinet conferred about the upcoming flight. Using Google Earth, Robbinet brought up the area around Dahr El Ahmar on his iPad. “I can’t see this Israeli encampment.”
“It’s all camouflaged,” Bourne said. “Plus, as you can see, the Lebanese have blocked out parts of the area so the Google cameras can’t see them in detail. Try looking at the White House and its grounds using the program—you can’t see a thing.”