The Bourne Legacy by Eric Van Lustbader

Author:Eric Van Lustbader [Lustbader, Eric Van]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Fiction, Spy
ISBN: 9780312999520
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2005-02-24T06:00:00+00:00

Zina had reacted to the shots coming through the bathroom door by ordering one of Spalko's men out the back door. She ordered another of Spalko's team to break down the door. This he did quickly and efficiently. No gunfire greeted them as they burst into the bathroom. Instead, they saw the window out which the mercenary had crawled. Zina had anticipated this possibility, hence her sending a man out the back.

A moment later she heard the telltale thwok! of the bolt being loosed, followed by a heavy grunt.

Upstairs, Spalko went from room to room in a crouch. The first bedroom was empty and he moved to the second. As he passed the bed, he caught a movement in the wall mirror above the dresser to his left. Something moved under the bed. At once, he dropped to his knees, shot the bolt. It passed through the dust ruffle and the bed was lifted off its feet. A body thrashed and groaned.

On his knees, Spalko fitted another bolt in his crossbow, began to aim it when he was bowled over. Something hard hit his head, a bullet ricocheted and he felt a weight on him.

At once he let go of the crossbow, drew out a hunting knife and stabbed upward into his attacker. When it was buried to the hilt, he turned it, gritting his teeth with the effort, and was rewarded with a heavy gout of blood.

With a grunt, he threw the mercenary off him, retrieved his knife, wiped the blade down on the dust ruffle. Then he shot the second bolt down through the bed. Mattress stuffing flew through the air and the thrashing came to an abrupt halt.

He came back downstairs, after having checked the remaining second-floor rooms, into a living room reeking of cordite. One of his men was entering the open back door with the last remaining mercenary, whom he had seriously wounded. The entire assault had lasted less than three minutes, which suited Spalko's design; the less attention they brought to the house, the better.

There was no trace of Dr. Felix Schiffer. And yet Spalko knew that Las-z!6 Molnar hadn't lied to him. These men were part of the mercenary contingent Molnar had hired when he and Conklin had engineered Schiffer's escape.

"What's the final disposition?" he asked his men.

"Marco is wounded. Nothing major, the bullet went in and out the flesh of his left arm," one of them said. "Two opposition dead, one seriously wounded."

Spalko nodded. "And two dead upstairs."

Flicking the snout of his machine pistol at the last remaining mercenary, the man added, "This one won't last long unless he gets treatment."

Spalko looked at Zina, nodded. She approached the wounded man and, kneeling, turned him over on his back. He groaned and blood leaked out of him.

"What's your name?" she said in Hungarian.

He looked at her, with eyes darkened by pain and knowledge of his own impending death.

She took out a small box of wooden matches. "What's your name?" she repeated, this time in Greek.

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