The Bourne Objective Read Online Free PDF

leapt off his chair as if he’d been electrocuted. As his eyes scanned the report, which was brief and lacking actionable detail, his face grew red with blood. His head fairly trembled.
    Then Valerie made the fatal mistake of trying to be solicitous. “Director, is there anything I can do?”
    “Do, do?” He looked up as if coming out of a stupor. “Sure, here’s what, tell me this is a joke, a sick, black joke on Rory Doll’s part. Because if not, I sure as hell am going to fire your ass.”
    “That will be all, Val,” Rory Doll said, appearing in the doorway behind her. “Go on back to the office.” Her expression of deliverance only partially assuaged his guilt at thrusting her into the line of fire.
    “Goddammit,” Danziger said. “I swear I
will
fire her.”
    Doll strolled into the office and stood in front of Danziger’s desk. “If you do, Stu Gold will be on you like flies on shit.”
    “Gold? Who the fuck is Stu Gold and why should I give a shit about him?”
    “He’s CI’s lawyer.”
    “I’ll fire his ass, too.”
    “Impossible, sir. His firm has an ironclad contract with CI, and he’s the only one with clearance all the way up—”
    The DCI’s hand cut across the air in a vicious gesture. “You think I can’t find just cause to can her?” He snapped his fingers. “What’s her name?”
    “Zapolsky. Valerie A. Zapolsky.”
    “Right, what is that, Russian? I want her re-vetted down to the brand of toenail polish she uses, understood?”
    Doll nodded diplomatically. He was slender and fair-haired, which only caused his electric-blue eyes to blaze like flares. “Absolutely, sir.”
    “And God help you if there’s a spot, however small, or even a question, on that report.”
    Ever since Peter Marks’s recent defection the DCI had been in a foul mood. Another director of ops had not yet been named. Marks had been Doll’s boss and Doll knew that if he could prove his loyalty to Danziger, he’d have a good shot at Marks’s position. Grinding his teeth in silent fury, he changed the subject. “We need to talk about this new bit of intel.”
    “This isn’t a file photo, is it? This isn’t a joke?”
    “I wish it were.” Doll shook his head. “But, no, sir. Jason Bourne was photographed applying for a temporary visa at Denpasar Airport in Bali, Indonesia—”
    “I know where the hell Bali is, Doll.”
    “Just being complete, sir, as per your instructions to us on first-day orientation.”
    The DCI , though still fuming, said nothing. He held the report, and its attendant grainy black-and-white photo of Bourne, in his fist—his mailed fist, as he liked to call it.
    “Continuing, as you can see by the electronic legend in the lower right-hand corner, the photo was taken three days ago, at two twenty-nine PM local time. It took our signals department this long to ensure there was no transmission error or interception.”
    Danziger took a breath. “He was dead, Bourne was supposed to be dead. I was sure we’d shut him down forever.” He crushed the photo, threw it in the hopper attached to the paper shredder. “He’s still there, I assume you know that much.”
    “Yes, sir.” Doll nodded. “At this moment he’s on Bali.”
    “You have him under surveillance?”
    “Twenty-four hours a day. He can’t make a move without us knowing about it.”
    Danziger considered for a moment, then said, “Who’s our wet-work man in Indonesia?”
    Doll was ready for this question. “Coven. But, sir, if I may point out, in her last written report filed from Cairo, Soraya Moore claimed that Bourne had a major hand in preventing the disaster in northern Iran that brought down Black River.”
    “Almost as dangerous as his rogue status is Bourne’s ability to—how shall I put it?—influence women unduly. Moore is certainly one of them, which is why she was fired.” The DCI nodded. “Activate Coven, Mr. Doll.”
    “Can do, sir, but it will take him some time to—”
    “Who’s