The Bourne Retribution by Eric Van Lustbader Read Free Book Online Page B

exited the car while it was still moving. It was imperative now that Bourne not only see him but follow him. He had set himself as the bait in a trap that was about to close on his nemesis.
    And he thought, This time, I’ll have him .

7
    W hen Bourne saw Colonel Sun emerge from the still-moving car, he knew Sun had taken the bait.
    Once he had identified Sun, his first objective was to lure him out of the car. He felt this would be best accomplished by allowing Sun to catch a glimpse of him. Then he had melted back into a place of temporary concealment to determine if his ruse would work.
    It amused him to see Colonel Sun looking around like a tourist while he, Bourne, stood still amid the shadows, and watched. Months ago, before Rebeka was murdered, Bourne had been with her in Rome. She had been abducted—not an easy thing to do to a Mossad agent, especially Rebeka. She had been taken to the Roman crypts below the Appian Way, the ancient highway to the imperial city.
    Following her down, Bourne had almost been killed by Colonel Sun in the eternal dimness of the crypts. And then, after Rebeka and her handler, Ophir, had left, Sun had tried again, resulting in the deaths of two of his men.
    Now Colonel Sun looked at his watch. It was a furtive glance, and Bourne, on the lookout for even the smallest anomaly, began to sense what was happening. While he was going after Sun, the colonel was coming after him with his superior manpower. As Bourne watched him from the shadows, Sun’s men were no doubt drawing a cordon around the area.
    In any other country, simple escape would suffice, but not here in China. An extra dimension was called for. Humiliation was the name of the game: Colonel Sun needed to lose face in front of his men.
    Bourne turned, for the moment no longer interested in Sun’s movements. He moved through the crowded streets. Stopping at a men’s store, he bought a dress shirt and tie, donned them, then picked out a Chinese-style cap and slammed it on his head, pulling the front down over his forehead. When he exited the store it was with a pronounced limp.
    Thus disguised, he proceeded directly away from where he and Sun had seen each other, which he considered ground zero. Soon enough he came upon a police officer, one of several, he could see, advancing in what could only be a tightening cordon.
    Bourne brushed against the officer as they were passing each other. The officer stopped, grabbed Bourne by the arm.
    “What d’you think you’re doing?” he said gruffly.
    “Have I offended you by walking down the street?” Bourne replied in the exact same tone of voice.
    “I don’t like your attitude,” the cop said.
    Bourne jerked his arm free. “And I don’t like yours.”
    “We’ll see about that.” The cop pulled his gun and shoved Bourne into the shadows of a doorway.
    The instant they were out of sight of the other officers, Bourne slammed the heel of his hand into the cop’s nose, then punched him hard in the throat. As the officer collapsed, Bourne dragged him inside the building. The entryway was narrow, dim, and smelled of stale frying oil.
    Past the steep flight of stairs was a small space that led out to a rear door. Bourne went to work and, moments later, was dressed in the officer’s uniform, the cop’s ID safely tucked in his breast pocket. Nothing fit quite right, as the cop was somewhat shorter than Bourne, but it would have to do. As for the officer himself, Bourne stuffed him into the musty space behind the stairs where it was so dark no one was likely to notice him.
    Back out in the street, he hurried along to take up his officer’s place in the cordon. A block later, as he approached ground zero, he broke off, heading directly for Colonel Sun’s immaculate white Mercedes. Approaching on the driver’s side, he rapped his knuckles on the driver’s smoked window. As the window slid down, Bourne leaned in, delivering three short, sharp blows that rendered the driver