Bourne 4 - The Bourne Legacy (61 page)

"Security has undoubtedly come to the same conclusion," Khan said, "which means that we'll be all right until we get near the substation's hub, then they're going to want to know what we're doing in that area."

"I've been thinking about that," Bourne said. "It's time we used my condition to our advantage."

They went through the main section of the hotel without incident and passed through a decorative inner courtyard of geometric gravel paths, sheared evergreen shrubs, and futuristic-looking stone benches. On the other side was the forum section. Inside, they went down three flights of stairs. Khan activated the laptop and they checked the schematics, reassuring themselves that they were on the right level.

"This way," Khan said, closing the computer as they moved off. But they'd gotten only a hundred feet from the stairwell when a harsh voice said, "Take another step and you're both dead men."

At the bottom of the vertical air shaft, the Chechen rebels waited, crouched, anxious, their nerves strained to the breaking point. They had been awaiting this moment for months. They were primed, aching to move forward. They shivered as much from the unbearable anticipation as from the chill air, which had grown colder the deeper they went below the hotel. They had only to crawl along a short horizontal shaft to get to the HVAC relays, but they were separated from their objective by the security personnel in the corridor outside by the grillwork. Until the guards moved off on their rounds, they were at bay.

Ahkmed checked his watch and saw that they had fourteen minutes to complete their mission and return to the van. Beads of sweat stood out on his forehead and, gathering in his armpits, ran down his side, prickling his skin. His mouth was dry and his breathing shallow. It was always this way on the cusp of a mission. His heart beat fast and his entire body vibrated.

He was still seething from Arsenov's rebuke, which had come in front of the others and so was doubly offensive. As he listened, his ears straining, he stared at Arsenov, contempt in his heart. After that night in Nairobi, he'd lost all respect for Arsenov, not only because he was being cuckolded but because he had no idea. Akhmed's thick lips curled into a smile. It felt good to have this power over Arsenov. At last he heard the voices receding. He sprang forward, eager now to meet his destiny, but Arsenov's powerful arm checked him painfully.

"Not yet." Arsenov's eyes glowered.

"They've moved off," Akhmed said. "We're wasting time."

"We go when I give the orders."

This further affront was too much for Akhmed. He spat, his contempt on his face.

"Why should I follow your orders? Why should any of us? You cannot even keep your woman in her place."

Arsenov lunged at Akhmed and for a moment they grappled indecisively. The others stood by, terrified to interfere.

"I'll tolerate no more of your insolence," Arsenov said. "You'll follow my orders or I'll see you dead."

"Kill me then," Akhmed said. "But know this: In Nairobi on the night before the demonstration, Zina entered the Shaykh's room while you were asleep."

"Liar!" Arsenov said, thinking of the pledge he and Zina had made to each other at the cove. "Zina would never betray me."

"Think of where my room was, Arsenov. You made the assignments. I saw her with my own eyes."

Arsenov's eyes glowed with enmity, but he let Akhmed go. "I would kill you now except that we all have vital roles to play in the mission." He gestured to the others. "Let's get on with it."

Karim, the electronics expert, went first, then the female and Akhmed, while Arsenov brought up the rear. Soon enough Karim lifted a hand, bringing them to a halt. Arsenov heard his soft voice float back to them. "Motion sensor." He saw Karim crouching down, preparing his equipment. He was grateful for the presence of this man. How many bombs had Karim constructed for them over the years?

All had worked flawlessly; he never made a mistake.

As before, Karim drew out a length of wire with the alligator clips at either end. With his pliers in one hand, he searched out the proper electrical wires, isolating them, cutting into one and applying an alligator clip to the bare copper end. Then, as before, he stripped away the insulation from the second wire and attached the other alligator clip, creating the bypass loop.

"All clear," Karim said, and they moved forward into range of the motion sensor. The alarm went off, shrilling through the corridor, bringing the security guards running, their machine pistols at the ready.

"Karim!" Arsenov cried.

"It's a trap!" Karim wailed. "Someone crossed the wires!"

Moments before, Bourne and Khan turned slowly to confront the American security guard. He was dressed in army fatigues and riot gear. He came a step closer, peering at their ID tags. He relaxed somewhat, putting the machine pistol up, but the deep frown didn't leave his face.

"What are you guys doing down here?"

"Maintenance checks," Bourne said. He remembered the Reykjavik Energy truck he'd seen entering the hotel as well as something in the material Oszkar had downloaded to the laptop. "The thermal heating system's gone offline. We're supposed to be helping the people the energy company sent over.

"You're in the wrong section," the guard said, pointing. "You need to go back the way you came, make a left, then left again."

"Thanks," Khan said. "I guess we got turned around. We're not normally in this section."

As they turned to leave, Bourne's legs went out from under him. He gave a deep groan and fell.

"What the hell!" the guard said.

Khan knelt beside Bourne, opened his shirt.

"Jesus Christ," the guard said, leaning over to stare at Bourne's wounded torso, "what the hell happened to him?"

Khan reached up, jerked down hard on the front of the guard's uniform, slamming the side of his head into the concrete floor. As Bourne rose, Khan stripped the clothes off the guard.

"He's more your size than mine," Khan said, handing Bourne the fatigues. Bourne climbed into the guard's uniform while Khan dragged the unconscious form into the shadows.

At that moment the motion sensor alarm screamed and they took off toward the substation at a run.

The security guards were well trained, and, commendably, the Americans and Arabs who were on duty this shift worked together flawlessly. Each kind of sensor had a different-sounding alarm, so they knew immediately that the motion sensor had been tripped and precisely where it was. They were on hair-trigger alert and, this close to the summit, were under orders to shoot first and ask questions later. As they ran, they opened fire, raking the grillwork with automatic fire. Half of them emptied their magazines into the suspect area. The other half stood back in reserve while the others used crowbars to pry off the ruined grilles. They found three bodies, two men and a woman. One of the Americans notified Hull and one of the Arabs contacted Feyd al-Saoud.

By this time, more security personnel from other sectors on the floor had converged on the site to offer added support.

Two of the personnel held in reserve climbed into the air shaft, and when it was determined that no other hostiles were in evidence, they secured the area. Others dragged the three chewed-up corpses out of the air shaft, along with Karim's paraphernalia for bypassing sensors and what at first glance looked like a time bomb.

Jamie Hull and Feyd al-Saoud arrived almost at the same time. Hull took one look at the situation and called his chief of staff via the wireless network.

"As of this moment, we're on red alert. There's been a breach of security. We have three hostiles down, repeat, three hostiles down. Put the entire hotel on absolute lockdown, no one in or out of the premises." He continued to bark orders, moving his men into the planned position for a red alert. Then he contacted the Secret Service, who were with the president and his staff in the dignitary wing.

Feyd al-Saoud had squatted down and was studying the corpses. The bodies were pretty well shot up, but their faces, though blood-streaked, were intact. He took out a pen flash, shone it on one of the faces. Then he reached out, put his forefinger against the eye of one of the males. His fingertip came away blue; the corpse's iris was dark brown. One of the FSB men must have contacted Karpov because the Alpha Unit commander appeared at an ungainly lope. He was out of breath and Feyd al-Saoud guessed that he'd run all the way.

He and Hull briefed the Russian on what had happened. He held up his fingertip.

"They're wearing colored contacts—and look here, they've dyed their hair to pass for Icelanders."

Karpov's face was grim. "I know this one," he said, kicking one of the male corpses.

"His name's Akhmed. He's one of Hasan Arsenov's top lieutenants."

"The Chechen terrorist leader?" Hull said. "You'd better inform your president, Boris." Karpov stood up, fists on hips. "What I want to know is where's Arsenov?"

"I would say that we're too late," Khan said from behind a metal column, as he watched the arrival of the two security chiefs, "except that I don't see Spalko."

"It's possible that he wouldn't put himself at risk by coming to the hotel," Bourne said. Khan shook his head. "I know him. He's both an egotist and a perfectionist. No, he's here somewhere."

"But not here, obviously," Bourne said thoughtfully. He was watching the Russian jogging up to Jamie Hull and the Arab security chief. There was something vaguely familiar about that flat, brutal face, the beetling brow and caterpillar eyebrows. When he heard the other's voice, he said, "I know that man. The Russian."

"No surprise there. I recognize him, too," Khan said. "Boris Illyich Karpov, head of the FSB's elite Alpha Unit."

"No, I mean I
know
him."

"How? Where?"

"I don't know," Bourne said. "Is he friend or foe?" He beat his fists against his forehead.

"If only I could remember."

Khan turned to him and clearly saw the anguish that racked him. He felt a dangerous urge to grasp Bourne's shoulder and reassure him. Dangerous because he didn't know where the gesture would lead or even what it would mean. He felt the further disintegration of his life that had begun the moment Bourne sat down beside him and spoke to him.
"Who are you?"
he had said. At the time, Khan had known the answer to that question; now he wasn't sure. Could it be that everything he'd believed, or thought he'd believed, was a lie?

Khan took refuge from these deeply disturbing thoughts by cleaving to what he and Bourne knew best. "I'm bothered by that object," he said. "It's a time bomb. You said that Spalko was planning to use Dr. Schiffer's bio-diffuser."

Bourne nodded. "I'd say that this was a classic diversion, except for the fact that it's now just past midnight. The summit isn't scheduled to begin for another eight hours."

"That's why they've used a time bomb."

"Yes, but why set it now, so far in advance?" Bourne said.

"Less security," Khan pointed out.

"True, but there's also more chance of its being discovered during one of security's periodic sweeps." Bourne shook his head. "No, we're missing something, I know it. Spalko has something else in mind. But what?"

Spalko, Zina and the remainder of the cadre had reached their objective. Here, far from the section of the hotel housing the summit's forum, security, though tight, had gaps in it that Spalko was able to exploit. Though there were many security people, they couldn't be everywhere at once, and so by taking out two guards, Spalko and his team were soon in position.

They were three levels below the street in a huge concrete windowless space, completely enclosed save for a single open doorway. Masses of huge black pipes ran through the concrete wall on the far side of the space, each labeled with the section of the hotel it served.

The cadre now broke out their HAZMAT suits and put them on, carefully sealing them. Two of the Chechen females went into the passage to stand guard just outside the doorway, and a male rebel backed them up inside.

Spalko opened the larger of the two metal containers he carried. Inside was the NX 20. He carefully fitted the two halves together, checking that all the fittings were securely fastened. He handed it to Zina while he unlocked the refrigerated container Peter Sido had provided. The glass vial it contained was small, almost minuscule. Even after they had seen its effect in Nairobi, it was difficult to believe that such a small amount of the virus could be lethal to so many people.

As he'd done in Nairobi, he opened the loading chamber on the diffuser and placed the vial into it. He closed and locked the chamber, took the NX 20 from Zina's arms and curled his finger around the smaller of the two triggers. Once he squeezed it, the virus, still sealed in its special vial, would be injected into the firing chamber. After that, all that was required was for him to press the button on the left side of the stock, which would lock the firing chamber, and, when it was aimed correctly, pull the main trigger. He cradled the bio-diffuser in his arms as Zina had done. This weapon needed to be given the proper respect, even from him.

He looked into Zina's eyes, which were shining with her love for him and her patriot's zeal. "Now we wait," he said, "for the sensor alarm." They heard it then, the sound faint but its vibrations unmistakable, magnified by the bare concrete corridors. The Shaykh and Zina smiled into each other's faces. He could feel the tension come into the room, fueled by righteous anger and an expectation of redemption long denied.

"Our moment is at hand," he said, and they all heard him, all reacted. He could almost hear their ululation of victory begin.

With the unstoppable force of destiny propelling him forward, the Shaykh pulled the small trigger, and with an ominous whisper, the payload clicked home into the firing chamber, where it rested, waiting for the moment of its release.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

"They're all Chechens, isn't that right, Boris?" Hull said. Karpov nodded. "All, according to the records, members of Hasan Ar-senov terrorist group."

"This is a coup for the good guys," Hull exulted.