The Bourne Objective by Robert Ludlum, Eric Van Lustbader Read Free Book Online Page A

junior, one senior, a high-powered lobbyist, and, her eyes opened wide, was that—?
    “Peter?” she said incredulously.
    Peter Marks looked up from counting his chips. “Good God. Soraya.” At once he stood up, said, “Deal me out,” and came around the green baize table to embrace her. “Delia, how about taking my place?”
    “With pleasure.” She turned to her friend. “Peter’s a regular here and I called him from the office. I thought you could use seeing an old compatriot.”
    Soraya grinned and kissed Delia on the cheek. “Thanks.”
    Delia nodded and left them, sitting down at the table. She took her usual stacks of chips from the bank, signing an IOU for the amount.
    “How are you?” Marks said, holding Soraya at arm’s length.
    Soraya surveyed him critically. “How do you think I am?”
    “I heard through my pals in CI what Danziger did to you.” He shook his head. “I can’t say that I’m surprised.”
    “What d’you mean?”
    Marks led her across the hall to a quiet corner in the deserted sitting room, where they were ensured complete privacy. French windows looked out on a shadowy alley of greenery. The room was wallpapered a warm persimmon color, the walls covered with photos of Reese Williams in Africa amid crowds of tribesmen. In some of them she was also with an older man, possibly her father. Plush sofas and several deep-cushioned armchairs of striped fabric were arrayed before a fireplace with a marble mantelpiece. A low polished wooden table and a sideboard with two trays of liquor bottles and cut-crystal glasses completed the picture. No amount of municipal salary or rake-offs could account for this magnificent house. Soraya thought Reese must come from enormous wealth.
    They sat side by side on a deep-cushioned sofa, turned partly toward each other.
    “Danziger’s just looking for excuses to get rid of CI’s top management,” Marks said. “He wants his people—and by that I mean Secretary Halliday’s people—in positions of power, but he knows he has to tread carefully to avoid it looking like a wholesale slaughter of the old guard, even though that’s been the plan all along. It’s why I bailed when I knew he was coming in.”
    “I’ve been in Cairo, I didn’t know you’d left CI. Where did you land?”
    “Private sector.” Marks paused for a moment. “Listen, Soraya, I know you can keep a secret, so I’m willing to go out on a limb here and tell you.” He paused, his eyes flicking toward the door, which he’d carefully closed behind them.
    “So?”
    Marks leaned in farther, so their faces were close together. “I’ve joined Treadstone.”
    For a moment, there was nothing but shocked silence and the
tick-tock
of the brass ship’s clock on the marble mantel. Then Soraya tried a laugh. “Come on, Treadstone is dead and buried.”
    “The old Treadstone, yes,” he said. “But there’s a new Treadstone, resurrected by Frederick Willard.”
    Willard’s name wiped the smile from Soraya’s face. She knew of Willard’s reputation as the Old Man’s Treadstone sleeper agent inside the NSA , who had been instrumental in exposing the former director’s criminal interrogation techniques. But since then he’d seemed to vanish off everyone’s radar. So Peter’s information was all too credible.
    She shook her head, her expression troubled. “I don’t understand. Treadstone was an illicit operation, even by CI’s covert standards. It was shut down for very good reasons. Why on earth would you sign up for it now?”
    “Simple. Willard hates Halliday as much as I do—as much as you do. He’s promised me that he’s going to use Treadstone’s resources to destroy Halliday’s credibility and his power base. That’s why I want you to join us.”
    She was taken aback. “What? Join Treadstone?” As he nodded, her eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Wait a minute. You knew I was going to get canned the minute I walked through the doors to HQ.”
    “Everyone knew,