The Bourne Retribution Read Online Free PDF Page A

for him? His Treadstone training had made him uniquely qualified for only one thing.
    Reluctantly, with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, he looked down at the first sheet, began reading chapter and verse detailing Ouyang’s growing wealth from his periodic shipments of opium and chemicals that, taken together, could only be bound for the meth labs owned by Encarnación’s cartels.
    “Starting five years ago, Ouyang became Encarnación’s sole supplier,” the Director said. “And why not? As a senior Minister, Ouyang was one hundred percent reliable. As you can imagine, he was also a leakproof source. No wonder Encarnación not only bought exclusively from him, but kicked back twenty-five percent from the sales of the finished products.”
    By this time, Bourne had finished reading the pages. He now returned them to Yadin. He felt something old and dangerous stirring inside himself. “Have you been tracking Ouyang’s movements?”
    “For years,” Yadin said, nodding. “He’s currently in Shanghai.”
    “Has he ever traveled to Mexico?”
    “No.”
    “Anywhere close?”
    Yadin shook his head.
    Bourne gazed out at the somnolent sea, thinking about unfinished business. He couldn’t let Rebeka’s death go unavenged, and he had nowhere else to go. That thing inside himself sprang to life, and his mind began to shake off the blackness, to work again as it was meant to.
    “What doesn’t track,” he said, “is how the two men hooked up in the first place. They were on opposite sides of the world, they moved in entirely different spheres.”
    “Not entirely. Don’t forget, Encarnación was the CEO of SteelTrap, the world’s largest Internet security firm. It’s possible they met through the Chinese increasing involvement in cyber espionage.”
    Bourne shook his head. “I don’t buy it. I knew Encarnación. He was scrupulous in keeping his legitimate business separate from his criminal activities. For SteelTrap any hint of business with the Chinese would be pure poison. No, there has to be another connection we don’t know about, a connection it’s vital we find.”
    The Director carefully put away the papers. In their place, he handed Bourne a sealed packet. When Bourne opened it, he found ten thousand dollars, a first-class ticket from Tel Aviv to Shanghai, and a passport in the name of Lawrence Davidoff.
    “Welcome back,” Yadin said. “You leave tomorrow night.”
    He waited a moment, perhaps to see if Bourne would return the packet. When he didn’t, Yadin rose and, without another word, stepped out of the shadow of the stone arch, making his way toward his bodyguards, who waited patiently at the land end of the beach.

4
    A s soon as the plane taking him to Tel Aviv had reached cruising altitude, Bourne rose from his seat, went back up the aisle, and locked himself inside one of the two toilets. Taking out the passport Mossad had prepared for him, he slowly leafed through the pages, checking each one edge-on. He found nothing unusual, but when he looked at the back, he thought he spotted something.
    Holding the edge up to the light, he detected a tiny bud of glue. Using a fingernail, he picked off the bud, to discover, just beneath, a hairline slit. He looked around for something to use. Opening the trash bin, he saw that someone had stuffed in a plastic glass, cracking it in the process. He drew one half out, laid it on the metal counter, and smacked his fist against it.
    Plucking out a shard best suited to his purpose, he drew the tip against the edge of the back cover, over and over, until the slit opened. Slowly and carefully, he drew out what had been inserted between two layers of the board.
    He found himself staring at a tiny wafer-thin rectangle of silicon circuits.
      
    H aving been in Tel Aviv for some weeks, as Director Yadin’s guest, Bourne had absorbed the bulk of the Director’s schedule. For that reason, he was surprised to see Yadin exit Mossad headquarters at