Robert Ludlum's (TM) The Bourne Ascendancy Read Online Free PDF

bravest man I know.”
    “Sara.”
    “Now Aaron is dead, his wife and child are missing.”
    Eli made a course correction while he considered a moment. “We’ve got a most vexing mystery on our hands.”
    Sara squared her shoulders. Her feet were braced at shoulder width. She was clearly gathering herself. “Abba, I need to find out what happened. I want to go to Doha.”
    Without a word of protest, Eli turned the wheel over, headed the sloop back to Tel Aviv. He did not care for the idea of sending her to Qatar, but when she used that tone of voice he knew from bitter experience not to cross her.
    *  *  *
    “Sonya.”
    Silence.
    “Sonya!”
    The darkness exploded into light and Sonya, sobbing, ran into her arms. “Darling, I’m here.” Soraya gathered her daughter up, cradling her, rocking her back and forth. “Sonya, I’m here. It’s all right. It’s all right,” she crooned.
    *  *  *
    They had been allowed out of the room in order to use the bathroom. A jihadist had remained with them as Soraya washed them both down with the soap and washcloth provided, used the toilet, before they were escorted back to their cell.
    Now she tried not to think about Aaron, about how his corpse, cut loose, had lain between her and her daughter, a terrible reminder—if any more were needed—of their captors’ ultimate power. Now he was gone. God alone knew how they had desecrated his poor body. It was impossible not to think of Aaron. God in heaven, he was dead, his life winked out in the space of a heartbeat. The reality of it was almost too much to bear, and, strong of mind and body as she was, so well trained by Treadstone’s most accomplished masters, she felt certain she would have broken down were it not for Sonya. She had to remain strong for her daughter. Her primary duty now was to keep Sonya calm, to reassure her that everything was going to be all right. Mourning for Aaron must wait until they were both far away from here—wherever here was—and safe. So, like the best agents, she placed her grief into the farthest corner of her mind, reverently sealing it off for the time being.
    “Darling,” she said in her steadiest voice, “I’m here. You’re safe.”
    “Mommy!”
    That little voice, as familiar to her as her own, now full of anguish and terror, almost broke her heart.
    “I couldn’t see you, Mommy.”
    “I was right here, sweetheart. Right here all the time.”
    “I couldn’t see you!” the child repeated, as children do.
    God, keep me strong, Soraya prayed. Let me protect my child and I will love you forever and ever. “If the lights go out again, here’s what you do, muffin. Listen to my voice. Follow it in your mind and you’ll find me.”
    “I won’t be able to!”
    “Yes you will, muffin. Remember Scheherazade? Remember the stories she told the old king, the stories I sing to you in Farsi as you go to sleep every night?”
    “I remember them all, Mommy.”
    “Of course you do, muffin. Your memory is like a long, gorgeous river. Now think back to the song of Dinazade in the Cave of the Djinn. Do you remember how dark it was in the cave?”
    “ Very dark.”
    “So dark that Dinazade could not see a thing.”
    “And she had no lamp to light. And outside it was nighttime, a night with no moon or stars.”
    Soraya smiled to herself. Sonya was such a remarkable child. “Yes. But Dinazade had to find her way. What did she do?”
    “She heard the wind blowing through the cave. She followed the sound of the wind.”
    “And what happened?”
    “She found the many-roomed house of the djinn.”
    “How?”
    “Their voices sounded like the wind when they spoke to her.”
    Soraya began to sing in Farsi: “ I will come for you when the moon is full to melon-bursting / When the trees shiver and bend to my will / When darkness lulls you to sleep / I will come / I will gather you in my arms and sail with you to shores unknown .” Her voice almost cracked. “Now, sweetheart, does my