Robert Ludlum's The Bourne Treachery
(Sprache: Englisch)
The world's most ruthlessly efficient assasin, Jason Bourne, has carved a bloody swathe through all his opponents but now he's facing the one force he can't defeat--his own past--in the latest thrilling entry in Robert Ludlum's New York Times bestselling...
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The world's most ruthlessly efficient assasin, Jason Bourne, has carved a bloody swathe through all his opponents but now he's facing the one force he can't defeat--his own past--in the latest thrilling entry in Robert Ludlum's New York Times bestselling series.Three years ago, Jason Bourne embarked on a mission in Estonia with his partner and lover, a fiery Treadstone agent code-named Nova. Their job was to rescue a Russian double agent who d been smuggled out of St. Petersburg in the midst of an FSB manhunt.
They failed. The Russian died at the hands of a shadowy assassin known only by the nickname Lennon.
Now everything has changed for Bourne. Nova is gone, killed in a mass shooting in Las Vegas. Bourne is a lone operative, working in the shadows for Treadstone, when he s called in for a new mission in London to prevent another assassination masterminded by Lennon.
But nothing about this mission is what it seems. As Bourne engages in a cat-and-mouse game with Lennon across the British countryside, he discovers that everything he thought he knew about the past was a lie. And with the body count rising, he comes to an inevitable conclusion: Some secrets should stay buried.
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Tallinn, Estonia Three Years Ago
From the doorway of a shuttered antique shop in the alley, the man known as Jason Bourne observed the holiday market in Tallinn's Raekoja Plats. It was almost time to move. When the moment came, he would have only seconds to get the target safely away, but he already had the escape route visualized in his head. He and Nova had rehearsed it a dozen times in the past two hours. Separate the target, hustle him past the old town hall, and follow Kullasseppa out of the square. Then they'd cross the city's medieval wall to the rendezvous point near the Nevsky Cathedral.
That was the plan, but plans had a way of coming apart once the mission began. In the darkness, with people packed shoulder to shoulder, there were too many ways for an unseen assassin to kill.
His face felt the bite of the bitter-cold December night. An inch of powdery snow had already fallen, trampled into slippery slush by hundreds of footsteps. A church choir sang from the steps of the raekoda, their voices competing with the happy chatter of visitors in the rows of open-air shops. Strings of white lights dangled between the rooftops and swayed in the wind, and a fifty-foot, brightly lit Christmas tree dominated the center of the huge square. He smelled cinnamon wafting from vats of hot mulled wine.
On his radio, Bourne heard the honey-smooth British accent of his Treadstone partner. "Any sign of Kotov?" Nova asked.
Bourne eyed the stone archway ahead of him. A tunnel led to the restaurant where several of the Baltic defense ministers were having dinner. "Not yet. It should be any minute now."
"You have company," Nova warned.
"Long beard, fur collar, fleece hood?"
"That's him."
"How many others?" Bourne asked.
"At least four. Looks like Holly was right. The FSB wasted no time sending in a team to take out Kotov."
Bourne's eyes swept the town hall square again. He spotted Nova twenty yards away, browsing at a kiosk that
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sold German nutcrackers. She wore a beret over her long, lush black hair, and she was dressed in leggings and a zipped navy jacket. Her body was short and pencil thin. Her green eyes passed over him, too, without showing any sign of recognition. No one in the plaza would have guessed that they knew each other, that they'd worked half a dozen Treadstone missions together in the past year, or that they'd been naked in each other's arms at a Stockholm hotel only seven hours ago, before they got the emergency summons to Tallinn.
"It's go time," Bourne said. "They're coming out."
From under the stone arch, men in business suits and a few women in long winter coats flowed into the square in groups of twos and threes. Bourne knew all of their names and recognized each face, although he'd never met any of them in person. They hailed from the snowbound north, including countries such as Finland, Latvia, Lithuania, and Poland that bordered the spidery fingers of the Baltic Sea.
And Russia. The Russians were here, too.
"There he is," Bourne whispered.
Grigori Kotov emerged from the tunnel and lingered under the arch as he lit a cigarette. Casually, he blew smoke into the air and pretended to admire the Christmas lights, but his eyes examined the people in the plaza. He was in his fifties and long past his field days, but a spy was always a spy. Something made him nervous, and Bourne knew that the problem wasn't what he saw, but what he didn't see.
His official security was gone. No one was here to protect him. The man's face was as immobile as a mask, but behind that mask was fear. Where are they?
Kotov was average height with a meaty Russian build. He wore no hat, as if to prove his toughness in the cold, and his charcoal wool coat was unbuttoned. He had a round face with a salt-and-pepper beard, and his brown hair was trimmed very short, making a sharp V in the middle of his high forehead. His
"It's go time," Bourne said. "They're coming out."
From under the stone arch, men in business suits and a few women in long winter coats flowed into the square in groups of twos and threes. Bourne knew all of their names and recognized each face, although he'd never met any of them in person. They hailed from the snowbound north, including countries such as Finland, Latvia, Lithuania, and Poland that bordered the spidery fingers of the Baltic Sea.
And Russia. The Russians were here, too.
"There he is," Bourne whispered.
Grigori Kotov emerged from the tunnel and lingered under the arch as he lit a cigarette. Casually, he blew smoke into the air and pretended to admire the Christmas lights, but his eyes examined the people in the plaza. He was in his fifties and long past his field days, but a spy was always a spy. Something made him nervous, and Bourne knew that the problem wasn't what he saw, but what he didn't see.
His official security was gone. No one was here to protect him. The man's face was as immobile as a mask, but behind that mask was fear. Where are they?
Kotov was average height with a meaty Russian build. He wore no hat, as if to prove his toughness in the cold, and his charcoal wool coat was unbuttoned. He had a round face with a salt-and-pepper beard, and his brown hair was trimmed very short, making a sharp V in the middle of his high forehead. His
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Autoren-Porträt von Brian Freeman
Brian Freeman is the bestselling author of more than twenty novels, including the Jonathan Stride and Frost Easton series and the New York Times bestseller, The Deep, Deep Snow. His novel, Spilled Blood, won the award for Best Hardcover Novel in the International Thriller Writers Awards, and his novel, The Burying Place, was a finalist for the same award. His debut novel, Immoral, won the Macavity Award and was a finalist for the Dagger, Edgar, Anthony, and Barry Awards for Best First Novel. Freeman lives in Minnesota with his wife.Robert Ludlum was the author of twenty-seven novels, each one a New York Times bestseller. There are more than 225 million of his books in print, and they have been translated into thirty-two languages. He was the author of The Scarlatti Inheritance, The Chancellor Manuscript, and the Jason Bourne series--The Bourne Identity, The Bourne Supremacy, and The Bourne Ultimatum--among other novels. Ludlum passed away in March 2001.
Bibliographische Angaben
- Autor: Brian Freeman
- 2022, Internationale Ausgabe, 480 Seiten, Maße: 10,5 x 17,1 cm, Kartoniert (TB), Englisch
- Verlag: Penguin Random House
- ISBN-10: 0593419294
- ISBN-13: 9780593419298
- Erscheinungsdatum: 19.05.2022
Sprache:
Englisch
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