Chapters (54)
- Title Page
- Table of Contents
- Prologue
- PART ONE
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- PART TWO
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- PART THREE
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-one
- Chapter Twenty-two
- Chapter Twenty-three
- Chapter Twenty-four
- Chapter Twenty-five
- Chapter Twenty-six
- Chapter Twenty-seven
- Chapter Twenty-eight
- Chapter Twenty-nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-one
- PART FOUR
- Chapter Thirty-two
- Chapter Thirty-three
- Chapter Thirty-four
- Chapter Thirty-five
- Chapter Thirty-six
- Chapter Thirty-seven
- Chapter Thirty-eight
- Chapter Thirty-nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter Forty-one
- Chapter Forty-two
- Chapter Forty-three
- Epilogue
- ALSO BY ROBERT LUDLUM
- Critical Praise for Robert Ludlum
- Copyright Page
“Because it wasn’t news to those who designed the mission,” he said coldly. “The planners had another game in mind. Two objectives, both fulfilled. One, to send a message to any other member of the diplomatic forces that entanglement with the enemy could carry a steep price. I was just ringing up the sale.”
“Two objectives, you said. The other?”
“The young Swede had already given dossiers to the KGB. By killing him, we conveyed the message that the information leak was taken seriously—that valuable information had been transferred. In fact, it was planted. Carefully designed disinformation. But it became validated by the man’s blood, and KGB analysts bought it.”
“So that was a win, too.”
“Yes, within narrowly defined parameters. Kuzmin actually got a promotion out of the whole thing. Pull the camera back, though, and you ask another question: Did it matter? The KGB was misled in this particular, but with what ultimate consequences, if any? And was it worth the man’s life? He had a wife. Had he lived, they would have had children, probably grandchildren. Decades of Christmases and glögg and skiing vacations and—” Janson broke off. “Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to make heavy weather of this. None of it will make much sense to you, not at your age. But there are instances when your instructions amount to a web of lies. And in some cases, the person giving you the instructions is perfectly unaware of that fact. I expect that’s the case here.”
“Jesus,” she said softly. “No, I do understand. I do. You’re telling me they had you take this guy out—without ever letting you in on the real reasons for the job.”
“They had me kill Kuzmin’s contact as part of a manipulation. And one of the people being manipulated was me. What a directive specifies and what a directive signifies are two different things.”
“Jesus, this is making my head swim worse than any goddamn sucker punch.”
“I don’t mean to confuse you. Just to make you think.”
“Comes to the same thing,” she said. “But why? Why would they target you?”
“You think I haven’t been asking myself that?”
“You were a legend in Consular Operations, especially among the younger people. You’ve got no idea, Janson. No idea how demoralizing it was when they told us you’d turned traitor. They’d never do that on a whim.”