Bourne 4 - The Bourne Legacy (60 page)

Bourne and Khan were still scrutinizing the schematics of the various Osk-juhlid Hotel subsystems when the pilot announced that they were landing at Keflavik Field. Bourne, who had been pacing back and forth while Khan sat with the laptop, reluctantly took his seat. His body ached horribly, which the aircraft's cramped seating had only exacerbated. He'd tried to put on hold the feelings that had come up in connection with finding his son. Their conversations were awkward enough as it was, and he had the distinct impression that Khan would instinctively shy away from any strong emotion he might show. The process of working toward a reconciliation was immensely difficult for both of them. Still, he suspected, it was worse for Khan. What a son needed from his father was far more complex than what a father needed from his son in order to love him unconditionally.

Bourne had to admit that he was afraid of Khan, not only of what had been done to him, of what he had become, but of his prowess, his cleverness and ingenuity. How he had escaped from the bolted room was a marvel in and of itself.

And there was something else as well, a stumbling block to their accepting each other and perhaps eventually reconciling, which dwarfed all the other obstacles. In order to accept Bourne, Khan had to give up everything his life had been. In this Bourne was correct. Ever since Bourne had sat down next to him on the park bench in Old Town Alexandria, Khan had been a man at war with himself. He still was, the only difference being that now the war was in the open. As if staring into a rear-view mirror, Khan could see all the opportunities he'd had to kill Bourne, but it was only now that he understood that his decision not to take them had been deliberate. He couldn't harm Bourne, but he couldn't open his heart to him either. He remembered the desperate urge he'd felt to launch himself at Spalko's men at the rear of the clinic in Budapest. The only thing that had stopped him was Bourne's warning. At the time he'd put his feelings down to his desire for revenge against Spalko. But now he knew that it stemmed from another emotion entirely: the devotion one family member has for another. And yet, to his shame, he realized that he was afraid of Bourne. He was a fearsome man in strength, endurance and intellect. Being near him, Khan felt somehow diminished, as if whatever he'd managed to accomplish in his life was as dust. With a roll, a bump and a brief squeal of rubber, they were down and taxiing off the active runway toward the far end of the airport, where all private aircraft were directed. Khan was up and heading down the aisle to the door before they had come to a halt.

"Let's go," he said. "Spalko already has at least a three-hour start on us." But Bourne had also risen and was standing in the aisle to oppose him.

"There's no telling what's waiting for us out there. I'll go out first." Immediately, Khan's anger, so near the surface, flared. "I told you once—don't tell me what to do! I have my own mind; I make my own decisions. I always have and I always will."

"You're right. I'm not trying to take anything away from you," Bourne said with his heart in his mouth. This stranger was his son. Everything he said or did around him would have exaggerated consequences for some time to come. "But consider, up until now you've been alone."

"And whose fault d'you think that is?"

It was difficult not to take offense, but Bourne did his best to defuse the accusation.

"There's no point in talking of blame," he said equally. "Now we're working together."

"So I should just concede control to you?" Khan answered hotly. "Why? D'you for a minute think you've earned it?"

They were almost to the terminal. He could see just how fragile their detente was.

"It would be foolish to believe that I've earned anything with you." He glanced out the window at the bright lights of the terminal. "I was thinking that if there's a problem—if we're walking into some kind of trap—I'd rather it be me than you who—"

"Have you not listened to anything I've told you?" Khan said as he shouldered past Bourne. "Have you discounted everything I've done?"

By this time the pilot had appeared. "Open the door," Khan ordered him brusquely.

"And stay onboard."

The pilot dutifully opened the door and dropped the stairs down to the tarmac. Bourne took one step down the aisle. "Khan—"

But the glare from his son stopped him in his tracks. He watched from the Perspex window as Khan went down the stairs and was met by an Immigration official. He saw Khan show him a passport, then point to the aircraft. The immigration official stamped Khan's passport and nodded.

Khan turned and trotted up the steps. When he came down the aisle, he withdrew a pair of handcuffs from under his jacket, slapped them on Bourne and then on himself.

"My name is Khan LeMarc and I'm a deputy inspector for Interpol." Khan took the laptop under his arm and began to lead Bourne back down the aisle. "You're my prisoner."

"What's my name?" Bourne said.

"You?" Khan pushed him out the door, following closely behind. "You're Jason Bourne, wanted for murder by the CIA, the Quai d'Orsay and Interpol. It's the only way he'd admit you to Iceland without a passport. Anyway, he, like every other official on the planet, has read the CIA circular."

The Immigration official stood back, giving them a wide berth as they walked past him. Khan unlocked the cuffs as soon as they were through the terminal. Out front, they got into the first taxi in the queue and gave the driver an address that was within a half-mile of the Oskjuhlid Hotel.

Spalko, the refrigerated box between his legs, sat in the passenger's seat of the Reykjavik Energy van as the Chechen rebel drove through the streets of City Centre toward the Oskjuhlid Hotel. His cell phone rang and he opened it. It wasn't good news.

"Sir, we were successful in closing off the interrogation room before the police or firemen entered the building," his head of security said from Budapest. "However, we've just completed an exhaustive sweep of the entire building without finding a sign of either Bourne or Khan."

"How is that possible?" Spalko said. "One was strapped down and the other was trapped in a room filled with gas."

"There was an explosion," his security chief said, and he went on to describe in detail what they'd found.

"Goddammit!" In a rare display of anger Spalko slammed his fist against the console of the van.

"We're expanding the search perimeter."

"Don't bother," Spalko said shortly. "I know where they are."

Bourne and Khan walked toward the hotel.

"How are you feeling?" Khan asked.

"I'm fine," Bourne replied a little too quickly.

Khan glanced at him. "Not even stiff and sore?"

"All right, I'm stiff and sore," Bourne conceded.

"The antibiotics Oszkar brought you are state of the art."

"Don't worry," Bourne said. "I'm taking them."

"What makes you think I'm worried?" Khan pointed. "Take a look at that." The perimeter of the hotel was cordoned off by the local police. Two checkpoints manned both by police and by security personnel of various nationalities were the only ways in and out. As they watched, a Reykjavik Energy van pulled up to the checkpoint at the rear of the hotel.

"That's the only way we're going to get in," Khan said.

"Well, it's one way," Bourne said. As the van went through the checkpoint, he saw a pair of hotel employees walking out from behind it.

Bourne glanced at Khan, who nodded. He'd seen them, too. "What d'you think?" Bourne said.

"Going off-duty, I'd say," Khan replied.

"That was my thought."

The hotel employees were talking animatedly to each other and paused only long enough to show their IDs as they went through the checkpoint. Normally, they would have driven into and out of the hotel, using the underground car park, but since the security services had arrived, all hotel personnel were obliged to park on the streets surrounding the hotel.

They shadowed the two men as they turned down a side street, out of sight of the police and guards. Waiting until they neared their cars, they took them down from behind, silently and swiftly. Using the keys, they opened the trunks, placed the unconscious bodies inside, taking the hotel IDs before slamming the trunks closed. Five minutes later they appeared at the other checkpoint in the front of the hotel so as not to come into contact with the policeman and security people who had checked the two hotel workers as they'd walked out.

They passed through the security ring without incident. At last they were inside the Oskjuhlid Hotel.

The time had come to sever Arsenov, Stepan Spalko thought. The moment had long been brewing, ever since he found that he could no longer bear Arsenov's weakness. Arsenov had once said to him, "I'm no terrorist. All I want is for my people to receive their due." Such a childish belief was a fatal flaw. Arsenov could delude himself all he wanted, but the truth was that whether he was asking for money, for prisoners returned, or for his land back, he was marked a terrorist by his methodology not by his aims. He killed people if he didn't get what he wanted. He targeted enemies and civilians—men, women, children—it made no difference to him. What he was sowing was terror; what he would reap was death.

Accordingly, Spalko ordered him to take Akhmed, Karim, and one of the females down to the substation of the HVAC system that supplied the air to the summit's forum. This was a slight change in plan. Magomet had been assigned to go with the three others. But Magomet was dead, and since it had been Arsenov who had killed him, he accepted it without question or complaint. In any event, they were now on a strict timetable.

"We have precisely thirty minutes from the moment we arrived in the Reykjavik Energy van," he said. "After that, as we know from the last time, security will come to check up on us." He consulted his watch. "Which means we now have twenty-four minutes to accomplish our mission."

As Arsenov left with Akhmed and the other cadre members, Spalko pulled Zina aside.

"You understand that this will be the last time you see him alive." She nodded her blond head.

"You have no misgivings?" "On the contrary, it'll be a relief," she replied. Spalko nodded. "Come on." He hurried them down the corridor. "There's no time to waste."

Hasan Arsenov took immediate control of his little group. They had a vital function to perform, and he would make certain they performed it. They turned the corner and saw the security guard at his post near the large air discharge grille. Without breaking stride, they came toward him.

"Hold it right there," he said, bringing his machine pistol off his chest. They stopped in front of him. "We're from Reykjavik Energy," Arsenov said in Icelandic and then, in response to the guard's blank look, repeated it in English. The guard frowned. "There're no heat vents here."

"I know," Akhmed said, grabbing the machine pistol with one hand and slamming the guard's head against the wall with the other.

The guard started to go down and Akhmed hit him again, this time with the butt of his own machine pistol.

"Give me a hand here," Arsenov said, digging his fingers into the air discharge grille. Karim and the female pitched in, but Akhmed kept smashing the butt of his weapon into the guard, even after it was clear that he was unconscious and likely to stay that way for some time.

"Akhmed, give me the weapon!"

Akhmed tossed the machine pistol to Arsenov, then began kicking the fallen guard in the face. Blood was flowing and there was death in the air.

Arsenov forcibly dragged Akhmed away from the security guard. "When I give you an order, you'll obey it or, by Allah, I'll break your neck."

Akhmed, his chest heaving, glared at Arsenov.

"We're on a schedule," Arsenov said fiercely. "You don't have time to indulge yourself."

Akhmed bared his teeth and laughed. Shrugging off Arsenov's grip, he went to help Karim take off the grille. They shoved the guard into the air shaft, then, one by one, they crawled in after him. Akhmed, the last in, pulled the grille back in place. They were obliged to crawl over the guard. As Arsenov did so, he pressed his fingers to the carotid artery. "Dead," he said.

"So what?" Akhmed said belligerently. "Before the morning's over, they'll all be dead." On hands and knees, they crawled along the shaft until they came to the junction. Directly ahead of them was a vertical shaft. They deployed their rappeling gear. Placing the aluminum bar across the top of the vertical shaft, they belayed the rope and let it uncoil into the space below them. Taking the lead, Arsenov wrapped the rope around his left thigh and over his right. Moving hand under hand, he descended down the shaft at a steady pace. By the small shivering of the line, he became aware when each member of the cadre began to rappel down after him.

Just above the first junction box, Arsenov stopped. Flicking on a mini-flashlight, he played its concentrated beam over the wall of the shaft, illuminating the vertical lines of trunk cables and electric lines. In the middle of the tangle, something new gleamed.

"Heat sensor," he called up.

Karim, the electronics expert, was just above him. While Arsenov played his flashlight onto the wall, the man took out pliers and a length of wire with alligator clips on either end. Climbing carefully over Arsenov, he kept going until he hung just above the outer range of the detector. Kicking out with one foot, he swung toward the wall, grabbed a trunk cable and held on. His fingers picked through the nest of wires, cut one, to which he attached one alligator clip. Then he stripped the insulation off the middle of another wire and attached the other alligator clip to it.

"All clear," he said softly.

He moved down into the range of the sensor, but there was no alarm. He'd successfully bypassed the circuit. So far as the sensor knew, nothing was amiss. Karim made way for Arsenov, who led them down to the bottom of the shaft. They were in range of the heart of the summit forum's HVAC subsystem.

"Our objective is the summit forum's HVAC subsystem," Bourne said as he and Khan hurried through the lobby. Khan carried the laptop they'd gotten from Oszkar under his arm. "That's the logical place for them to activate the diffuser." At this hour of the night, the lobby, vast, high-ceilinged and cold, was deserted save for various security and hotel personnel. The dignitaries were in their suites, either sleeping or prepping for the start of the summit, which was only hours away.