The Bourne Deception Read Online Free PDF Page A

does not exist—”

    “What do you mean?” Bourne said sharply.

    “—therefore, you were not born on the fifteenth of January.”

    “That’s what my birth certificate says.” Marie had researched it herself.

    “You speak to me of a certificate of birth.” Suparwita spoke slowly and carefully, as if each word were precious. “Which is a piece of paper only.”
    He smiled, and his beautiful white teeth seemed to light up the dimness. “I know what I know.”

    Suparwita was a large man for a Balinese, with skin dark as mahogany, perfect, unblemished and unlined, making it impossible to guess his age. His hair was thick, black, and naturally wavy. It was pushed back from his forehead by what seemed to Bourne to be the same crown-like band the pig spirit wore. He had powerful-looking arms and shoulders without the usual Western over-muscled definition. His hairless body looked smooth as glass. He was naked from the waist up; below he wore a traditional Balinese sarong of white, brown, and black. His brown feet were bare.

    After breakfast, Moira and Bourne had mounted a rental motorbike and headed into the lush, green countryside, to a thatched-roof house at the end of a narrow dirt path in the jungle, the home of the Balinese holy man named Suparwita who, she claimed, could find out something of Bourne’s lost past.

    Suparwita had greeted them warmly and without surprise as they approached, as if he had been expecting them. Gesturing for them to come inside, he had served them small cups of Balinese coffee and freshly made fried banana fritters, both sweetened with palm sugar syrup. “If my birth certificate is wrong,” Bourne said now, “can you tell me when I was born?”

    Suparwita’s expressive brown eyes had not stopped their mysterious calculations. “December thirty-one,” the holy man said without hesitation.
    “You know our universe is overseen by three gods: Brahma, the creator, Vishnu, the preserver, Shiva, the destroyer.” He pronounced Shiva as all Balinese did, so that it sounded like
Siwa
. He hesitated a moment, as if unsure whether to proceed. “After you leave here you will find yourself at Tenganan.”

    “Tenganan?” Moira said. “Why would we go there?”

    Suparwita smiled at her indulgently. “The village is known for double
ikat
weaving. Double
ikat
is sacred, it provides protection from the demons of our universe. It is woven in three colors only, the colors of our gods. Blue for Brahma, red for Vishnu, yellow for Shiva.” He handed Moira a card.
    “You will buy a double
ikat
here, at the best weaver.” He gave her a hard look. “Please do not forget.”

    “Why would I forget?” Moira asked.

    As if her question did not merit an answer, he returned his attention to Bourne. “So you understand completely, the month of December—your birth month—is ruled by Shiva, the god of destruction.” Suparwita paused here, as if out of breath. “But please remember that Shiva is also the god of transformation.”

    The holy man now turned to a low wooden table on which was set a series of small wooden bowls, which were variously filled with powders and what looked like nuts or perhaps dried seedpods. He chose one of these pods, ground it in another bowl with a stone pestle. Then he added a pinch of yellow powder and dumped the mixture into a small iron kettle, which he set over a small wood fire. A cloud of fragrant steam perfumed the room.

    Seven minutes of brewing passed before Suparwita took the kettle off the fire and poured the liquid into a coconut shell cup inlaid with mother-ofpearl. Without a word, he handed the cup to Bourne. When Bourne hesitated, he said, “Drink. Please.” His smile lit up the room again. “It is an elixir made of green coconut juice, cardamom, and
kencur
. Mainly, it is
kencur
. You know
kencur
? It is also called resurrection lily.” He gestured. “Please.”

    Bourne drank the mixture, which tasted of camphor.

    “What can you tell me