The Bourne Objective Read Online Free PDF Page A

didn’t treat it as such. “But why? And what was his connection to Holly Marie Moreau?”
    “Whatever the truth of it,” Suparwita said, “it seems likely they met in London.”
    “And what of the odd lettering that runs around the inside of the ring?”
    “You showed it to me once, hoping I could help. I have no idea what it means.”
    “It isn’t any modern language,” Bourne said, still racking his damaged memory for details.
    Suparwita took a step toward him and lowered his voice until it was just above a whisper. Nevertheless, it penetrated into Bourne’s mind like the sting of a wasp.
    “As I said, you were born in December, Siwa’s month.” He pronounced the god Shiva’s name as all Balinese did. “Further, you were born on Siwa’s day: the last day of the month, which is both the ending and the beginning. Do you understand? You are destined to die and be born again.”
    “I already did that eight months ago when Arkadin shot me.”
    Suparwita nodded gravely. “Had I not given you a draft of the resurrection lily beforehand, it’s very likely you would have died from that wound.”
    “You saved me,” Bourne said. “Why?”
    Suparwita gave him another of his thousand-watt grins. “We are linked, you and I.” He shrugged. “Who can say how or why?”
    Bourne, needing to turn to practical matters, said, “There are two of them outside, I checked before I came in.”
    “And yet you led them here.”
    Now it was Bourne’s turn to grin. He lowered his voice even further. “All part of the plan, my friend.”
    Suparwita raised a hand. “Before you carry out your plan, there is something you must know and something I must teach you.”
    He paused long enough for Bourne to wonder what was on his mind. He knew the shaman well enough to understand when something grave was about to be discussed. He’d seen that expression just before Suparwita had fed him the resurrection lily concoction in this very room some months ago.
    “Listen to me.” There was no smile on the shaman’s face now. “Within the year you will die, you will need to die in order to save those around you, everyone you love or care about.”
    Despite all his training, all his mental discipline, Bourne felt a wave of coldness sweep through him. It was one thing to put yourself in harm’s way, to cheat death over and over, often by a hairbreadth, but it was quite another to be told in unequivocal terms that you had less than a year to live. On the other hand, he had the choice to laugh it off—he was a Westerner, after all, and there were so many belief systems in the world that it was easy enough to dismiss 99 percent of them. And yet, looking into Suparwita’s eyes, he could see the truth. As before, the shaman’s extraordinary powers had allowed him to see the future, or at least Bourne’s future.
“We are linked, you and I.”
He had saved Bourne’s life before, it would be foolish to doubt him now.
    “Do you know how, or when?”
    Suparwita shook his head. “It doesn’t work like that. My flashes of the future are like waking dreams, filled with color and portent, but there are no images, no details, no clarity.”
    “You once told me that Siwa would look after me.”
    “Indeed.” The smile returned to Suparwita’s face as he led Bourne into another room, filled with shadows and the scent of frangipani incense. “And the next several hours will be an example of his help.”

    V alerie Zapolsky, Rory Doll’s personal assistant, brought the message to DCI M. Errol Danziger herself, because, as she said, her boss did not want to entrust the news to the computer system, even one as hackproof as CI’s.
    “Why didn’t Doll bring this himself?” Danziger frowned without looking up.
    “The director of operations is otherwise engaged,” Valerie said. “Temporarily.”
    She was a small dark woman with hooded eyes. Danziger didn’t like that Doll had sent her.
    “Jason Bourne is alive? What the fuck—!” He