The Bourne Supremacy: Jason Bourne Book #2
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Reenter the shadowy world of Jason Bourne, an expert assassin still plagued by the splintered nightmares of his former life. This time the stakes are higher than ever. For someone else has taken on the Bourne identity—a ruthless killer who must be stopped or the world will pay a devastating price. To succeed, the real Jason Bourne must maneuver through the dangerous labyrinth of international espionage—an exotic world filled with CIA plots, turncoat agents, and ever-shifting alliances—all the while hoping to find the truth behind his haunted memories and the answers to his own fragmented past. This time there are two Bournes—and one must die.
say, please. ' McAllister once again extended his thin fingers and nervously massaged his forehead. 'From what we've learned -what London confirmed five hours ago - it's possible that your husband is a target. A man wants him killed. ' 'But not Carlos, not the Jackal,' said Webb, sitting forward. 'No. At least we can't see a connection.' i 'What do you see?' asked Marie, sitting on the arm of David's chair. 'What have you learned?' The MI6 officer in Kowloon had a great many sensitive papers in
were friendly. Down in Virginia you told me to call you Sam. ' 'Okay, okay, David, you're right. I told you to call me Sam that's what I am to my friends, Sam...' Teasdale was bewildered, upset, searching for words. 'But that was almost a year ago, Davey, and you know the rules. You're given a person to talk to, either on the scene or over at State. That's the one you should reach that's the person who's up to date on everything. ' 'Aren't you up to date, Sam?" 'Not about you, no. I remember the
not a handprint. There was the outline of a hand - the impression, the palm and the extended fingers - but no breaks in the bloody form, no creases or indentations that a bleeding hand pressed against hard wood would reveal, no identifying marks, no isolated parts of the flesh held in place so as to stamp its own particular characteristics. It was like a flat, coloured shadow from a piece of stained glass, no planes other than the single impression. A glove? A rubber glove? David drew his eyes
stunned general. 'He spoke to his wife,' said Conklin in a sudden monotone. 'So?' 'She was taken from their home by two men who sedated her and put her on a private jet. She was flown to the West Coast. ' 'You mean she was kidnapped? 'You've got it. And what should make you swallow hard is that she overheard the two of them talking to the pilot, and gathered that the whole dirty business had something to do with the State Department - for reasons unknown - but the name McAllister was mentioned.
with more money than Marx or Confucius ever had. Jason studied each white male. The many that were over six feet in height were too young or too old or too portly or too slender or too obvious in their lime-green and lemon-yellow trousers to be the man from Macao. Wai! Over there! An older man in a tan gabardine suit who appeared to be a medium-sized tourist with a limp was suddenly taller - and the limp was gone! He walked rapidly down the steps through the middle of the crowd and ran into the