The Bourne Deception by Eric Van Lustbader

Description : The Bourne Deception
Munich, Germany/Bali, Indonesia

I SPEAK RUSSIAN well enough,' Secretary of Defense Bud Halliday said, 'but I prefer to speak English.'

'That suits me,' the Russian colonel said with a heavy accent. 'I'm always happy to speak foreign languages.'

Halliday gave the Russian a sour smile in response to his jibe. It was well told that Americans overseas only wanted to speak English.

'Good. We'll get this done faster.' But instead of beginning, he stared at a wall full of very bad portraits of jazz greats like Miles Davis and John Coltrane, copied, he had no doubt, from press photos.

After seeing the colonel in the flesh he had begun to have second thoughts about this meeting. For one thing, he was younger than Halliday had imagined. His blond hair was thick, without the slightest wave, and cut short in the style of the Russian military. For another, he looked like a man of action. Halliday could see, beneath his suit, the play of muscles as now and again they bulged against the cheap material. He possessed a peculiar stillness that unsettled Halliday. But it was his eyes'pale, deep-set, unblinking'that truly unnerved the secretary. It was as if he were looking at a photograph of eyes rather than the real thing. The bulbous, veiny nose only served to intensify their implacable peculiarity: It was as if there was no one home, as if the soul of the man did not exist, leaving nothing but a monolithic will, like something ancient and evil Halliday had read about in an H. P. Lovecraft story when he was a teenager.

He trampled the impulse to get up, walk out, and never look back. He hade all this way for a reason, he reminded himself.

The smog that choked Munich'the same precise shade of filthy gray as Karpov's eyes'perfectly mirrored Secretary...
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