Robert Ludlum - The Bourne Ultimatum (Bourne Trilogy, Book 3)

ROBERT

LUDLUM

THE UNSURPASSED MASTER

OF THE SUPERTHRILLER

AND ON SALE

IN BANTAM HARDCOVER

IN MAY 1993

THE SCORPIO

ILLUSION

THE TRANSFORMATION

The station wagon raced south down a backcountry road through the hills of New Hampshire toward the Massachusetts border, the driver a long-framed man, his sharp-featured face intense, his clear light-blue eyes furious.

We knew it would happen, said Marie St. Jacques Webb. It was merely a question of time.

Its crazy! David whispered so as not to wake the children. Everythings buried, maximum archive security and all the rest of that crap! How did anyone find Alex and Mo?

We dont know, but Alex will start looking. Theres no one better than Alex, you said that yourself

Hes marked nowhes a dead man, interrupted Webb grimly. Theyll kill him and come after me ... after us, which is why you and the kids are heading south. The Caribbean.

Ill send them, darling. Not me.

Theres nothing to discuss. Webb breathed deeply, steadily, imposing a strange control. Ive been there before, he said quietly.

Marie looked at her husband, his suddenly passive face outlined in the dim wash of the dashboard lights. What she saw frightened her far more than the specter of the Jackal. She was not looking at David Webb the soft-spoken scholar. She was staring at a man they both thought had disappeared from their lives forever.

Jason Bourne.

Bantam Books by Robert Ludlum

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THE AQUITAINE PROGRESSION

THE BOURNE IDENTITY

THE BOURNE SUPREMACY

THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM

THE CHANCELLOR MANUSCRIPT

THE GEMINI CONTENDERS

THE HOLCRAFT COVENANT

THE ICARUS AGENDA

THE MATARESE CIRCLE

THE MATLOCK PAPER

THE OSTERMAN WEEKEND

THE PARSIFAL MOSAIC

THE RHINEMANN EXCHANGE

THE ROAD TO GANDOLFO

THE ROAD TO OMAHA

THE SCARLATTI INHERITANCE

TREVAYNE

THE BOURNE

ULTIMATUM

Robert Ludlum

BANTAM BOOKS

NEW YORK TORONTO LONDON SYDNEY AUCKLAND

This edition contains the complete text of the original hardcover edition.

NOT ONE WORD HAS BEEN OMITTED.

THE BOURNE ULTIMATUM

A Bantam Book / published by arrangement with the author

PUBLISHING HISTORY

Random House edition published March 1990

Bantam Export edition / August 1990

Bantam rack edition / March 1991

All rights reserved.

Copyright 1990 Robert Ludlum.

Cover art copyright 1990 by Paul Bacon.

Library of Congress Catalog Card Number: 89-43201.

No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher. For information address: Bantam Books.

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this stripped book.

ISBN 0-553-28773-7

Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada

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PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA

OPM 15 14 13 12 11 10 9 8 7

For Bobbi and Leonard Raichert,

two lovely people who have enriched

our livesOur Thanks

THE BOURNE

ULTIMATUM

Darkness had descended on Manassas, Virginia, the countryside alive with nocturnal undercurrents, as Bourne crept through the woods bordering the estate of General Norman Swayne. Startled birds fluttered out of their black recesses; crows awoke in the trees and cawed their alarms, and then, as if calmed by a foraging co-conspirator, kept silent.

Manassas! The key was here! The key that would unlock the subterranean door that led to Carlos the Jackal, the assassin who wanted only to destroy David Webb and his family.... Webb! Get away from me, David! screamed Jason Bourne in the silence of his mind. Let me be the killer you cannot be!

With each scissoring cut into the thick, high wire fence, he understood the inevitable, confirmed by his heavy breathing and the sweat that fell from his hairline. No matter how hard he tried to keep his body in reasonable shape, he was fifty years of age; he could not do with ease what he did thirteen years ago in Paris when, under orders, he had stalked the Jackal. It was something to think about, not dwell upon. There were Marie and his children nowDavids wife, Davids childrenand there was nothing he could not do as long as he willed it! David Webb was disappearing from his psyche, only the predator Jason Bourne would remain.

He was through! He crawled inside and stood up, instinctively, rapidly checking his equipment with the fingers of both hands. Weapons: an automatic, as well as a CO2 dart pistol; Zeiss Ikon binoculars; a scabbarded hunting knife. They were all the predator needed, for he was now behind the lines in enemy territory, the enemy that would lead him to Carlos.

Medusa. The bastard battalion from Vietnam, the unlogged, unsanctioned, unacknowledged collection of killers and misfits who roamed the jungles of Southeast Asia directed by Command Saigon, the original death squads who brought Saigon more intelligence input than all the search-and-destroys put together. Jason Bourne had come out of Medusa with David Webb only a memorya scholar who had another wife, other children, all slaughtered.

General Norman Swayne had been an elite member of Command Saigon, the sole supplier of the old Medusa. And now there was a new Medusa: different, massive, evil incarnate cloaked in contemporary respectability, searching out and destroying whole segments of global economies, all for the benefit of the few, all financed by the profits from a long-ago bastard battalion, unlogged, unacknowledgednon-history. This modern Medusa was the bridge to Carlos the Jackal. The assassin would find the principals irresistible as clients, and both camps would demand the death of Jason Bourne. That had to happen! And for it to happen, Bourne had to learn the secrets concealed within the grounds belonging to General Swayne, head of all procurements for the Pentagon, a panicked man with a small tattoo on his inner forearm. A Medusan.

Without sound or warning, a black Doberman crashed through the dense foliage, its frenzy in full force. Jason whipped the CO2 pistol from its nylon holster as the salivating attack dog lunged for his stomach, its teeth bared. He fired into its head; the dart took effect in seconds. He cradled the animals unconscious body to the ground.

Cut its throat! roared Jason Bourne in silence.

No, countered his other self, David Webb. Blame the trainer, not the animal.

Get away from me, David!

The cacophony spun out of control as the crowds swelled through the amusement park in the countryside on the outskirts of Baltimore. The summer night was hot, and nearly everywhere faces and necks were drenched with sweat, except for those screaming as they plunged over the crests of a roller coaster, or shrieking as they plummeted down the narrow, twisting gullies of racing water in torpedo sleds. The garishly colored, manically blinking lights along the midway were joined by the grating sounds of emphatic music metallically erupting out of an excess of loudspeakerscalliopes