Robert Ludlum's (TM) The Bourne Ascendancy by Eric Van Lustbader Read Free Book Online Page A

“No, I’m not one of them. I think El Ghadan is Persian, and this is why. Unlike other extremists who hate the Saudis as much as they do the Americans, his fury is directed solely at the United States and Israel. This, to my mind, marks him out as Persian.”
    The ensuing silence went on so long that Bourne felt obliged to say, “What else can you tell me?”
    “This is not enough?” Nebby cocked his head like a bird eyeing a choice bit of food. “No, I suppose for a man in your position it is not.” He raised a finger, as if testing the direction of the wind. “There is a story I’ve heard, though whether to credit it is strictly your choice. This story concerns El Ghadan’s son. Now, what makes this story interesting is that it is widely known in some circles that, though married, the man is an inveterate womanizer. Doubtless, these escapades have led to issue, both male and female. However, the story says that El Ghadan has one legitimate son. The boy, who might be in his early twenties by now, ran away when he was perhaps sixteen, give or take a year. Ever since then, El Ghadan has been desperately searching for him. To no avail.” A cackling laugh issued from Nebby’s lips. “Can you imagine? A child disappears and the great and powerful El Ghadan cannot find him.”
    “What is known of this son?” Bourne said.
    “Practically nothing,” Nebby admitted, “though several things can be intuited. I believe he is hiding in plain sight, which is why his father’s people cannot locate him. They’re looking in the wrong places.”
    “What does that mean, exactly?”
    Nebby finished his tea. “Well, if I were him I’d have joined a terrorist cell—under a different name, of course. One that’s as close as possible to his father’s cells.”
    “Such as?”
    Nebby shrugged. “It is believed that from time to time El Ghadan partners with people who can be of particular use to him. Currently, that would be Ivan Borz.”
    “The arms dealer?”
    Nebby nodded.
    “Do you know where Borz is now?”
    “Rumor has it Waziristan, working with one of El Ghadan’s cadres.”
    *  *  *
    “I’m hungry,” Zizzy said. “What about you?”
    Zizzy led him to an opulent restaurant whose owner Zizzy knew well. Even though at this hour the room was packed, Zizzy’s friend ushered them to the best table in the house, had a kettle of rare silver-tip white tea brought to their table, and spoke to them effusively for several moments before departing with a smile and a deferential incline of his head.
    “Sorry, Jason,” Abdul Aziz said. “Difficult to know whether our little visit to Nebby was of any use.”
    “Any bit of insight into El Ghadan I can glean is important,” Bourne said. “Especially the news that he has a wayward son he’s desperate to find.”
    “Leverage, yes?” Zizzy said.
    “If he exists,” Bourne said. “If I could find him.”
    They paused to order.
    “Of most concern now,” Bourne said when they were alone again, “is how El Ghadan knew I was impersonating Minister Qabbani.”
    “Do you think Qabbani himself is a conduit for El Ghadan?”
    “Possibly. Qabbani was instrumental in making the summit happen.”
    “Yet he didn’t want to go himself.”
    “That in itself means nothing. I was watching his face the entire time. I wouldn’t have taken the commission otherwise.”
    “If not Qabbani, who betrayed you?”
    “That’s what I have to find out. I need a back door into the Ministry of Interior.”
    Zizzy grinned. “You know, I’ve been wanting to revisit Damascus.”
    “The place is an out-and-out war zone, Zizzy.”
    Zizzy winked. “That’s what I mean.” He took out his mobile. “I’ll have my pilot set out a flight plan and warm up the engines.”
    *  *  *
    Shortly after their meal had been served, Bourne noted a young man enter the restaurant and scan the interior with professional acuity before settling himself into a corner table, after which he never