Robert Ludlum's™ The Bourne Evolution (Jason Bourne Book 12) Read online

  ROBERT LUDLUM’STM THE

  BOURNE

  EVOLUTION

  THE BOURNE SERIES

  Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Initiative (by Eric Van Lustbader)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Enigma (by Eric Van Lustbader)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Ascendancy (by Eric Van Lustbader)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Retribution (by Eric Van Lustbader)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Imperative (by Eric Van Lustbader)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Dominion (by Eric Van Lustbader)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Objective (by Eric Van Lustbader)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Deception (by Eric Van Lustbader)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Sanction (by Eric Van Lustbader)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Betrayal (by Eric Van Lustbader)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Bourne Legacy (by Eric Van Lustbader)

  The Bourne Ultimatum

  The Bourne Supremacy

  The Bourne Identity

  THE COVERT-ONE SERIES

  Robert Ludlum’s The Patriot Attack (by Kyle Mills)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Geneva Strategy (by Jamie Freveletti)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Utopia Experiment (by Kyle Mills)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Janus Reprisal (by Jamie Freveletti)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Ares Decision (by Kyle Mills)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Arctic Event (by James H. Cobb)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Moscow Vector (with Patrick Larkin)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Lazarus Vendetta (with Patrick Larkin)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Altman Code (with Gayle Lynds)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Paris Option (with Gayle Lynds)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Cassandra Compact (with Phillip Shelby)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Hades Factor (with Gayle Lynds)

  THE TREADSTONE SERIES

  Robert Ludlum’s The Treadstone Resurrection (by Joshua Hood)

  THE JANSON SERIES

  Robert Ludlum’s The Janson Equation (by Douglas Corleone)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Janson Option (by Paul Garrison)

  Robert Ludlum’s The Janson Command (by Paul Garrison)

  The Janson Directive

  ALSO BY ROBERT LUDLUM

  The Bancroft Strategy

  The Ambler Warning

  The Tristan Betrayal

  The Sigma Protocol

  The Prometheus Deception

  The Matarese Countdown

  The Apocalypse Watch

  The Scorpio Illusion

  The Road to Omaha

  The Icarus Agenda

  The Aquitaine Progression

  The Parsifal Mosaic

  The Matarese Circle

  The Holcroft Covenant

  The Chancellor Manuscript

  The Gemini Contenders

  The Road to Gandolfo

  The Rhinemann Exchange

  The Cry of the Halidon

  Trevayne

  The Matlock Paper

  The Osterman Weekend

  The Scarlatti Inheritance

  A NEW JASON BOURNE NOVEL BY BRIAN FREEMAN

  ROBERT LUDLUM’STM THE

  BOURNE

  EVOLUTION

  www.headofzeus.com

  First published in the US in 2020 by G.P. Putnam’s Sons, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

  First published in the UK in 2020 by Head of Zeus Ltd

  Copyright © 2020 by Myn Pyn LLC

  The moral right of Brian Freeman to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this novel are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN (HB): 9781789546491

  ISBN (XTPB): 9781789546514

  ISBN (E): 9781789546521

  Head of Zeus Ltd

  5–8 Hardwick Street

  London EC1R 4RG

  WWW.HEADOFZEUS.COM

  Contents

  The Bourne Series

  The Janson Series

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Mystery Hangs Over Las Vegas Shooting

  PART ONE

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  PART TWO

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-one

  Twenty-two

  Twenty-three

  Twenty-four

  Twenty-five

  PART THREE

  Twenty-six

  Twenty-seven

  Twenty-eight

  Twenty-nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-one

  Thirty-two

  Thirty-three

  Thirty-four

  Thirty-five

  Thirty-six

  Thirty-seven

  PART FOUR

  Thirty-eight

  Thirty-nine

  Forty

  Forty-one

  Forty-two

  Forty-three

  Forty-four

  Forty-five

  Disappearance of Carillon Ceo Exposes a Wide-Ranging Conspiracy

  Forty-six

  Forty-seven

  About the Author

  An Invitation from the Publisher

  ROBERT LUDLUM’STM THE

  BOURNE

  EVOLUTION

  MYSTERY HANGS OVER LAS VEGAS SHOOTING

  October 9, 2019

  WASHINGTON (AP)

  Nearly one year after sixty-six people were killed in the nation’s worst mass shooting incident, the FBI announced last week that it had concluded its investigation into the tragedy. However, the agency’s report, which offers no clues about the motive of the killer, seems to leave the public with more questions than answers.

  On November 3, 2018, Charles Hackman opened fire from a room on the nineteenth floor of the Lucky Nickel hotel in downtown Las Vegas. Targeting a crowd of more than five thousand men, women, and children gathered for an antique car show, Hackman killed or wounded dozens of people during an eighteen-minute shooting spree before being shot and killed by police.

  Hackman, a fifty-four-year-old actuary from Summerlin, Nevada, had no prior criminal record and no history of mental illness or substance abuse. Despite what the FBI called an exhaustive investigation of Hackman’s personal background and behavior, the agency was unable to identify any political, ethnic, or religious motive behind the shooting. The agency said it found no evidence that Hackman had been a member of any extremist organization and concluded that he acted alone.

  But with no explanation for what caused a seemingly unremarkable man to commit the nation’s worst act of mass murder, the FBI’s report has prompted a flood of online conspiracy theories and accusations that the agency is covering up what really happened.
Despite attempts by social media platforms to limit the spread of “fake news,” millions of people have now read and shared articles suggesting without evidence that Hackman was either a jihadist recruit or the victim of a government frame-up.

  Even the number of victims in the tragedy has become a subject of controversy. While the official death toll was set at sixty-six in the days following the incident, the hashtag #66or67 has begun trending this week, reflecting allegations from anonymous sources in the government that a missing victim was not counted in the final total and may have been the first person targeted in the shooting….

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 4:12pm

  Live-tweeting: Ready for Congresswoman Sofia Ortiz to speak on tech privacy abuse in New York’s Washington Square Park. Huge crowd, lots of chanting, lots of signs. Intersections blocked, traffic at a standstill.

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 4:28pm

  Still waiting. No sign of her yet.

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 4:29pm

  Want more on Ortiz? Check out my full profile of the first-term New York congresswoman in the online magazine The Fort. tinyurl.com/yxl8mpdo

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 4:39pm

  Here she is. Cheers are deafening. Ortiz wasting no time working up the crowd. “We’re here to tell Big Tech that WE own our personal data, not them, and we’re taking it back!”

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 4:43pm

  Ortiz confirming what my source told me last week. She’s accusing tech companies of covering up a massive data hack. Source unknown, could be foreign. “Affecting nearly every American.”

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 4:46pm

  Ortiz now calling for expansive new federal regulations and oversight. “Biggest change to privacy laws in a generation.” Says tech giants have proven they can’t be trusted.

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 4:47pm

  Crowd really getting riled up. People spilling into the street, some confrontations with cops. Ortiz is asking for peaceful protest—WAIT—OMG!!!!!!!

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 4:48pm

  ORTIZ SHOT!!!!!! CONGRESSWOMAN ORTIZ HAS BEEN SHOT!!!!!

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 4:50pm

  Ortiz is down twenty feet away from me. Blood everywhere. It’s pandemonium. Crowd charging the stage. MORE GUNFIRE! GUNFIRE IN THE CROWD!

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 4:52pm

  Have to move. Not safe here.

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 5:21pm

  Riot!! Guns, bottles, knives being used as weapons. I can see two bodies in the street and eight cars on fire. Looting, too, numerous store windows broken.

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 5:32pm

  STAY AWAY from the Washington Square area.

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 5:41pm

  Anarchists leading the violence, masks over their faces. Not sure where they came from. Police nowhere close to getting this under control. Have to move again.

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/9/20 5:56pm

  Police rounding up everyone on the street. Mass arrests, including yours truly. Anyone got bail?

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/10/20 7:05am

  Okay, I’m out. Got my phone back. Update: Five confirmed dead from last night’s riot, area still locked down. Congresswoman Sofia Ortiz killed from a shot to the throat by a sniper. FBI calling it an assassination.

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/10/20 8:35am

  My source telling me there is a suspect in the Ortiz assassination. NOT in custody, location unknown, armed and dangerous.

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/10/20 8:37am

  Suspect is ex-government operative gone rogue, believed to be part of a radical anarchist group. No identity yet, just the code name Cain.

  @abbeylaurent_ 4/10/20 8:38am

  Who is Cain?

  PART ONE

  ONE

  THE man in black lifted his binoculars and studied the rain-swept boardwalk. The benches that stretched along Dufferin Terrace, on the cliffside looming over the lower town and the St. Lawrence River, were empty. His contact hadn’t arrived yet, but that was to be expected. It was only nine-fifteen, and he’d told her to be on the boardwalk at ten o’clock. He wanted the extra time to survey the meeting ground and see if he was walking into a trap.

  He’d left a car behind near the port and then taken the funicular to the Haute-Ville. Now he stood like an invisible man in the darkness, behind a stone wall on the hill of the Citadel. Cold rain sheeted from the sky, blurring the nighttime lights of Quebec City. A fierce wind rattled the winter skeletons of the trees, drowning out the other sounds with its moan. In front of him, the Château Frontenac hotel rose like a medieval castle. At the base of the cliff, the lower town’s ribbon of lights glittered beside the great dark stain of the river. Along the boardwalk, a row of antique cannons aimed their muzzles out over the water, as if anticipating the return of American invaders.

  The cannons weren’t wrong.

  The Americans were here somewhere. Looking for him.

  Where are you hiding?

  He waited, patient and motionless, not reacting to the cold or the wetness of his clothes or the bite of the wind. He’d trained himself to be immune to such things. He used the binoculars to examine every window, every doorway, every shadow or corner where someone could hide. Even the best operatives usually made mistakes. The flicker of a match as a cigarette was lit. The swish of a curtain. A footprint in the mud. When he’d completed his survey, he repeated it two more times, and he still saw nothing to alarm him.

  He was starting to feel safe.

  Then someone screamed.

  He tensed, but this was a happy scream, mixed with laughter. A young couple, drenched by the downpour, ran hand in hand along the glistening boardwalk below him. They took shelter under one of the canopies next to the cliff, where they began kissing passionately. He zoomed in on their faces under the gazebo lights. Both were in their twenties, both attractive. The woman had pink-and-blond hair that was pasted over her face, and she had the lean, strong build of a runner, wearing skintight leggings. The man with her was several inches taller and had black hair and a long, deep scar on his cheek.

  He tried to decide who they were.

  Two harmless tourists.

  Or two killers.

  The truth was usually in the eyes. He watched carefully to see if either of them broke cover long enough to throw a surreptitious glance at their surroundings, but if this was a performance for his benefit, they stayed in character. When they’d kissed for a while, they walked back into the rain. Each looked at the other with a hungry grin, the way lovers would. They headed north toward the grand hotel.

  That was when he saw his contact arrive on the boardwalk. She was early. She walked down the steps from Governor’s Park, seemingly not bothered by the rain that pummeled her. A large leather satchel purse hung from her shoulder. She reached the walkway just as the young couple passed in front of her, and he worried that the timing was too perfect. He could picture it all happening. A pistol in the hand of the man with the scar. One shot, no chance to run, his contact collapsing with a bullet in her throat. He yanked his own gun into his hand and prepared to dive down the Citadel slope, even though he was too far away to stop what was about to happen.

  Except he was wrong.

  The young couple waved at the woman. She smiled back. They were simply three strangers enjoying the romance of the rain. There was no ambush, no gunfire. He watched the couple continue on their way to the Château Frontenac, and his contact crossed the boardwalk to the gazebo, where he’d told her to wait. She grabbed her phone from her purse and checked the time. Then she stared at the hillside in his direction with her hands on her hips. He knew she couldn’t see him, but she had the look of someone who could feel that she was being watched.

  He examined her closely through the binoculars.

  The journalist named Abbey Laurent was a couple of years past thirty, medium height and a little skinny. She wore a waist-length jean jacket over a white T-shirt, forest-green cargo pants, and black calf boots. Her hair was colored to a deep dark red, fallin
g in wet strands to her shoulders and across her forehead in spiky bangs. She wore lipstick that was as dark red as her hair, and her mouth was folded into a curious smirk, as if she were enjoying the excitement of what she was doing. Her eyes were dark, and they were smart eyes that didn’t miss a thing.

  She pushed some of the buttons on her phone. A second later, his own phone buzzed. She’d sent him a text.

  I’m here, mystery man.

  He allowed himself a tight smile. He liked this woman. But liking and trusting were two different things.

  He let her wait without replying to her message, and meanwhile, he did another thorough check of the area through the binoculars. They were alone. The young couple on the boardwalk had long since disappeared. He saw no sign that the woman was being watched, but even so, he let their meeting time come and go. Ten o’clock. Ten-fifteen. Ten-thirty. She sent more texts, which grew annoyed and impatient as time wore on.

  Hey, where are you?

  You’re late.

  I’m here getting soaked and you don’t show up?

  Seriously? I’m not going to wait forever.

  And she didn’t. At ten-forty, he watched her lips form a loud swear word. She stamped out of the gazebo into the rain, past the old cannons and into the wet grass of the park beside the Château Frontenac. When she disappeared from view, he sprang into action. He slipped his gun into his jacket pocket and hurried to the base of the Citadel hill, where Quebec City’s old stone buildings faced each other across narrow, hilly streets. He jogged down Rue des Grisons for one block and waited in the doorway of a small guest hotel, where he couldn’t be seen.

  At the end of the street, the redheaded journalist crossed the intersection. She walked with purpose, not looking back, not concerned with being followed. He ran to the next corner and saw her hike past the art conservatory into the cobblestoned paths of the Parc du Cavalier-du-Moulin. He accelerated, falling in behind her, closing the distance between them. She was half a block away, unaware of his presence.

  This was how he’d been trained. Always let the first meeting go by. Let anyone who is watching assume it’s a bust, and then intercept the contact afterward for the real meeting.