FIC: The Good Samaritan - Part 3
Title: The Good Samaritan
Author: Trisha
Beta: kazlynh
Rating: NC17 in places
Artwork: Myself and the late, incredibly talented _tayler
Summary: Follow on from 'The Bourne Supremacy'
Feedback:Yes please
Chapter 3
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
Pamela Landy sat outside CIA Director Martin Marshall’s office and fought the urge to fidget like a schoolgirl. It had been a long time since she had last been summoned to these offices, and the last occasion had been far from pleasant. She had suffered a blistering dressing down from the director in front of her fellow task force chiefs. Since then, although she’d retained her position; her pay scale; and even her level five security clearance, she’d virtually been discarded; relegated to the ranks of glorified paper pusher.
She knew the reasoning behind such treatment of course, it was the firm’s way of suggesting she resign, but she refused to give them the satisfaction, she had done nothing wrong, had simply done her job.
What galled her most was that no one had a bad word to say about Ward Abbott. The man had been lining his pockets for years, had ordered the execution of Alexander Conklin and had personally murdered Danny Zorn, before blowing his own brains across a Berlin hotel room. Yet they talked about the man like he was a hero, and looked at her as though it had been her finger, not his, on the trigger that night. Admittedly the exact details of what had taken place on the mission remained classified, but that didn’t stop the old boy network from circling the wagons, didn’t make the looks and the finger pointing any easier to bear, even if they did refer to her as the ice-queen.
“Ms Landy,” the secretary’s voice cut into her thoughts, “you can go in now.”
“Pam, come on in, take a seat,” she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this warm, friendly greeting from the Director. “Sorry to keep you waiting out there, I had to take a couple of phone calls.”
She sat down at the other side of Marshall’s intimidatingly large desk and gave a nod to the young man already seated in the chair beside hers.
“Have you met Teddy Lawrence, Pam?” Marshall asked her.
“We’ve never been officially introduced, no.”
Young, fast-tracked, golden boys seldom moved in the same circles as desk bound paper pushers, as they were all well aware, but she kept up the pretence and flashed what she hoped was a fairly warm smile.
Lawrence beamed at her and thrust out his hand. “A long awaited pleasure.”
He was an all-American blue eyed boy, a Harvard graduate with just a hint of Iowa farm boy beneath the expensive manicure. A few more years, a little less hair, and he’d be running for office.
“We have something of a situation here Pam, Teddy is going to bring us up to speed on the details and I’d appreciate your input.”
Marty sounded sincere and it threw her a little. “Of course.” Unable to hide her curiosity she turned her attention onto Teddy Lawrence.
He handed her a photograph before drawing her attention to the interactive white board behind them, where the same image was displayed.
“This is a rare photograph of one Kirill Trediakovsky, a very well trained, extremely effective operative of the Russian FSB. He was also in the pay of Russian Pecos Oil billionaire Yuri Gretkov, who as you know is currently in prison in Moscow, awaiting trial on various charges, including murder, fraud, and corruption. Trediakovsky was undoubtedly Gretkov’s assassin. He was trained by Nikolai Uspensky, a close personal friend of Gretkov’s since their days in the KGB.
“Trediakovsky’s last contract for Gretkov was to take out Jason Bourne. He made two attempts; the first took place in Goa, India, and resulted in the death of Marie Helena Kreutz, Bourne’s lover. The second attempt left Trediakovsky himself seriously injured after a car chase through the streets of Moscow. Jason Bourne escaped the encounter and has slipped off the radar once more.”
Pamela stared hard at the picture of the Russian before turning to put a question to Martin Marshall. “Reading between the lines, am I to assume that this Kirill Trediakovsky is the man who took out both my operative and the seller in Berlin when we were attempting to recover the Neski files?”
“Almost certainly,” Marshall confirmed. “I think it safe to assume that the plan was Ward Abbott’s, and that Gretkov supplied the expertise; someone eminently capable of both doing the job and putting Bourne in the frame.”
She raised an eyebrow, “I see.”
“Trediakovsky wasn’t immediately linked to Gretkov,” Lawrence continued. “After the car crash he underwent emergency surgery. During recovery an attempt was made on his life, presumably by Gretkov’s people in an attempt to prevent him from testifying. Despite debilitating injuries, if the hospital staff are to be believed, Trediakovsky managed to escape, and we suspect he called in enough favours to get him out of the country within twenty four hours, then he disappeared.”
“I take it he’s been traced?”
Lawrence looked slightly less sure of himself. “We believe he’s currently in the US, New York to be precise, wherein lies the problem. The Russian police want him back as a key witness in the Gretkov trial…”
“And Gretkov needs to go down.” Pamela turned her searching gaze on Martin Marshall, “We are in agreement on that, aren’t we?”
“Absolutely,” Martin told her, “however Kirill Trediakovsky presents us with a very unique set of problems. He was a key FSB operative, the Russian authorities are concerned that, should he be brought to trial he would use certain information to save his own ass, information that, should it be disclosed, would not only present serious problems for the Russians, but would not bode well for us either.”
“How serious?” she asked him.
“Bottom line here we’re talking grievous damage to our international reputation, and the certain demise of our current administration. Cards on the table Pam, this is a problem that needs to go away, very quickly and very quietly, for all our sakes. We have made certain assurances to our Russian counterparts that we will be the ones to deal with this. To that end, Teddy has come up with what I think is the right solution…”
“What about Gretkov,” she pushed. She didn’t want that bastard to get off scot-free.
“The Russians have made certain assurances to us, in return.”
She nodded her understanding; Gretkov would die without ever coming to trial.
“Teddy, do you want to continue?”
Lawrence nodded. “In theory tracking down Trediakovsky should be simple, if the intel’ we possess proves to be accurate. We don’t believe he’s ever fully recovered from the injuries inflicted on him during his encounter with Jason Bourne. We believe that either, because of his physical condition at the time, he was unable to access the funds available to him, or that the escape from Russia, and the amount of time he was forced to spend in hiding whilst recovering, may well have cost him every penny he had. Either scenario ties in with the rumours we’re hearing from New York.”
“He’s surviving in diminished circumstances?” Marshal asked the younger man.
“If the information we have is correct then he’s sleeping rough and has been for some time. It’s made him impossible to track down.”
Pamela shook her head. “Have you seen the weather reports from there over the last week, the temperatures are set to plummet to record levels over the next couple of days. If he’s sleeping rough in New York right now then it’s certainly not by design, and I would describe his circumstances as considerably more than diminished,” she pointed out. “Do we have any solid intelligence on this or is it speculation?”
“What we have is sketchy,” Lawrence admitted, “it’s coming from the Russians, but to be honest we’ve not even been able to confirm that Trediakovsky is in the US.”
Pamela let out a snort of disbelieving laughter, “So you’re nowhere with this?”
“Were in a bad situation here,” Marty told her. “It may well be that the New York lead is a wild goose chase, but the source is impressive. However, Teddy has made a proposal which I think has a great deal of merit.” He turned to the younger man who continued.
“This agency is still looking for Jason Bourne. He is by definition still a wanted man, though there is no ongoing operation to trace his whereabouts. Bourne has made it clear that all he wants is to be left alone, therefore I propose that we make him an offer: He deals with our Kirill problem and in return we forget all about him. The man has enough reasons of his own to want Trediakovsky dead so I’m thinking there are no negatives for Bourne in this deal.”
“So why didn’t he kill him?” Pamela asked.
Lawrence frowned, “I don’t understand.”
“Kirill Trediakovsky survived his last encounter with Jason Bourne. One thing I learned through my dealings with the man is that he doesn’t leave lose ends, so why didn’t he kill the Russian?”
Lawrence shook his head. “Perhaps he thought he did, the man was badly injured.”
“That’s not the kind of mistake he would make. If he’s alive it’s because Bourne left him that way.”
“I take your point Pam,” the Director told her, “but I doubt its relevance. The deal for Bourne is that he tracks down and kills the Russian, something he is eminently qualified to do, and in return we mark our files on him closed, end of story.”
Pam arched an eyebrow, sceptical to say the least. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Marshall looked over at Lawrence, “Could you give Pam and I a moment Teddy?”
“Certainly.” The younger man quickly got to his feet and made his way out to the secretary’s office, closing the door behind him.
Martin steepled his hands in front of pursed lips and stared at Pam before letting out a slow sigh. “I’m taking a chance here Pam and I can’t say I’m happy about it. Ward Abbott, Treadstone, Jason Bourne, those names leave a particularly nasty taste and I want it gone, not regurgitated over and over. The whole sorry mess was badly handled…”
“By me?”
“In my opinion, yes. If I had a choice you would have no involvement in this situation, but you are our only credible link to Bourne. I need you to be a team player this time around, no rash decisions, and no holding back information. Contact Bourne, give him our proposal and talk him into accepting it. Then, perhaps, we can see about getting your career back on track. Mess up and your remaining time with this agency will be spent in the mail room, do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal!” she nodded, fighting the urge to come back at him.
“You liaise with Bourne, you act as our mouthpiece, but your involvement begins and ends there, Lawrence is in charge of the task force on this one, understood?”
“Yes.”
“Work with him, get to Bourne, and do it quickly.” He picked up his pen and turned his attention to a sheath of papers on his desk, effectively dismissing her. “Ask Teddy to come back in as you leave would you?”
To be continued...
Author: Trisha
Beta: kazlynh
Rating: NC17 in places
Artwork: Myself and the late, incredibly talented _tayler
Summary: Follow on from 'The Bourne Supremacy'
Feedback:Yes please
Chapter 3
CIA Headquarters, Langley, Virginia
Pamela Landy sat outside CIA Director Martin Marshall’s office and fought the urge to fidget like a schoolgirl. It had been a long time since she had last been summoned to these offices, and the last occasion had been far from pleasant. She had suffered a blistering dressing down from the director in front of her fellow task force chiefs. Since then, although she’d retained her position; her pay scale; and even her level five security clearance, she’d virtually been discarded; relegated to the ranks of glorified paper pusher.
She knew the reasoning behind such treatment of course, it was the firm’s way of suggesting she resign, but she refused to give them the satisfaction, she had done nothing wrong, had simply done her job.
What galled her most was that no one had a bad word to say about Ward Abbott. The man had been lining his pockets for years, had ordered the execution of Alexander Conklin and had personally murdered Danny Zorn, before blowing his own brains across a Berlin hotel room. Yet they talked about the man like he was a hero, and looked at her as though it had been her finger, not his, on the trigger that night. Admittedly the exact details of what had taken place on the mission remained classified, but that didn’t stop the old boy network from circling the wagons, didn’t make the looks and the finger pointing any easier to bear, even if they did refer to her as the ice-queen.
“Ms Landy,” the secretary’s voice cut into her thoughts, “you can go in now.”
“Pam, come on in, take a seat,” she wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting, but it wasn’t this warm, friendly greeting from the Director. “Sorry to keep you waiting out there, I had to take a couple of phone calls.”
She sat down at the other side of Marshall’s intimidatingly large desk and gave a nod to the young man already seated in the chair beside hers.
“Have you met Teddy Lawrence, Pam?” Marshall asked her.
“We’ve never been officially introduced, no.”
Young, fast-tracked, golden boys seldom moved in the same circles as desk bound paper pushers, as they were all well aware, but she kept up the pretence and flashed what she hoped was a fairly warm smile.
Lawrence beamed at her and thrust out his hand. “A long awaited pleasure.”
He was an all-American blue eyed boy, a Harvard graduate with just a hint of Iowa farm boy beneath the expensive manicure. A few more years, a little less hair, and he’d be running for office.
“We have something of a situation here Pam, Teddy is going to bring us up to speed on the details and I’d appreciate your input.”
Marty sounded sincere and it threw her a little. “Of course.” Unable to hide her curiosity she turned her attention onto Teddy Lawrence.
He handed her a photograph before drawing her attention to the interactive white board behind them, where the same image was displayed.
“This is a rare photograph of one Kirill Trediakovsky, a very well trained, extremely effective operative of the Russian FSB. He was also in the pay of Russian Pecos Oil billionaire Yuri Gretkov, who as you know is currently in prison in Moscow, awaiting trial on various charges, including murder, fraud, and corruption. Trediakovsky was undoubtedly Gretkov’s assassin. He was trained by Nikolai Uspensky, a close personal friend of Gretkov’s since their days in the KGB.
“Trediakovsky’s last contract for Gretkov was to take out Jason Bourne. He made two attempts; the first took place in Goa, India, and resulted in the death of Marie Helena Kreutz, Bourne’s lover. The second attempt left Trediakovsky himself seriously injured after a car chase through the streets of Moscow. Jason Bourne escaped the encounter and has slipped off the radar once more.”
Pamela stared hard at the picture of the Russian before turning to put a question to Martin Marshall. “Reading between the lines, am I to assume that this Kirill Trediakovsky is the man who took out both my operative and the seller in Berlin when we were attempting to recover the Neski files?”
“Almost certainly,” Marshall confirmed. “I think it safe to assume that the plan was Ward Abbott’s, and that Gretkov supplied the expertise; someone eminently capable of both doing the job and putting Bourne in the frame.”
She raised an eyebrow, “I see.”
“Trediakovsky wasn’t immediately linked to Gretkov,” Lawrence continued. “After the car crash he underwent emergency surgery. During recovery an attempt was made on his life, presumably by Gretkov’s people in an attempt to prevent him from testifying. Despite debilitating injuries, if the hospital staff are to be believed, Trediakovsky managed to escape, and we suspect he called in enough favours to get him out of the country within twenty four hours, then he disappeared.”
“I take it he’s been traced?”
Lawrence looked slightly less sure of himself. “We believe he’s currently in the US, New York to be precise, wherein lies the problem. The Russian police want him back as a key witness in the Gretkov trial…”
“And Gretkov needs to go down.” Pamela turned her searching gaze on Martin Marshall, “We are in agreement on that, aren’t we?”
“Absolutely,” Martin told her, “however Kirill Trediakovsky presents us with a very unique set of problems. He was a key FSB operative, the Russian authorities are concerned that, should he be brought to trial he would use certain information to save his own ass, information that, should it be disclosed, would not only present serious problems for the Russians, but would not bode well for us either.”
“How serious?” she asked him.
“Bottom line here we’re talking grievous damage to our international reputation, and the certain demise of our current administration. Cards on the table Pam, this is a problem that needs to go away, very quickly and very quietly, for all our sakes. We have made certain assurances to our Russian counterparts that we will be the ones to deal with this. To that end, Teddy has come up with what I think is the right solution…”
“What about Gretkov,” she pushed. She didn’t want that bastard to get off scot-free.
“The Russians have made certain assurances to us, in return.”
She nodded her understanding; Gretkov would die without ever coming to trial.
“Teddy, do you want to continue?”
Lawrence nodded. “In theory tracking down Trediakovsky should be simple, if the intel’ we possess proves to be accurate. We don’t believe he’s ever fully recovered from the injuries inflicted on him during his encounter with Jason Bourne. We believe that either, because of his physical condition at the time, he was unable to access the funds available to him, or that the escape from Russia, and the amount of time he was forced to spend in hiding whilst recovering, may well have cost him every penny he had. Either scenario ties in with the rumours we’re hearing from New York.”
“He’s surviving in diminished circumstances?” Marshal asked the younger man.
“If the information we have is correct then he’s sleeping rough and has been for some time. It’s made him impossible to track down.”
Pamela shook her head. “Have you seen the weather reports from there over the last week, the temperatures are set to plummet to record levels over the next couple of days. If he’s sleeping rough in New York right now then it’s certainly not by design, and I would describe his circumstances as considerably more than diminished,” she pointed out. “Do we have any solid intelligence on this or is it speculation?”
“What we have is sketchy,” Lawrence admitted, “it’s coming from the Russians, but to be honest we’ve not even been able to confirm that Trediakovsky is in the US.”
Pamela let out a snort of disbelieving laughter, “So you’re nowhere with this?”
“Were in a bad situation here,” Marty told her. “It may well be that the New York lead is a wild goose chase, but the source is impressive. However, Teddy has made a proposal which I think has a great deal of merit.” He turned to the younger man who continued.
“This agency is still looking for Jason Bourne. He is by definition still a wanted man, though there is no ongoing operation to trace his whereabouts. Bourne has made it clear that all he wants is to be left alone, therefore I propose that we make him an offer: He deals with our Kirill problem and in return we forget all about him. The man has enough reasons of his own to want Trediakovsky dead so I’m thinking there are no negatives for Bourne in this deal.”
“So why didn’t he kill him?” Pamela asked.
Lawrence frowned, “I don’t understand.”
“Kirill Trediakovsky survived his last encounter with Jason Bourne. One thing I learned through my dealings with the man is that he doesn’t leave lose ends, so why didn’t he kill the Russian?”
Lawrence shook his head. “Perhaps he thought he did, the man was badly injured.”
“That’s not the kind of mistake he would make. If he’s alive it’s because Bourne left him that way.”
“I take your point Pam,” the Director told her, “but I doubt its relevance. The deal for Bourne is that he tracks down and kills the Russian, something he is eminently qualified to do, and in return we mark our files on him closed, end of story.”
Pam arched an eyebrow, sceptical to say the least. “Just like that?”
“Just like that.” Marshall looked over at Lawrence, “Could you give Pam and I a moment Teddy?”
“Certainly.” The younger man quickly got to his feet and made his way out to the secretary’s office, closing the door behind him.
Martin steepled his hands in front of pursed lips and stared at Pam before letting out a slow sigh. “I’m taking a chance here Pam and I can’t say I’m happy about it. Ward Abbott, Treadstone, Jason Bourne, those names leave a particularly nasty taste and I want it gone, not regurgitated over and over. The whole sorry mess was badly handled…”
“By me?”
“In my opinion, yes. If I had a choice you would have no involvement in this situation, but you are our only credible link to Bourne. I need you to be a team player this time around, no rash decisions, and no holding back information. Contact Bourne, give him our proposal and talk him into accepting it. Then, perhaps, we can see about getting your career back on track. Mess up and your remaining time with this agency will be spent in the mail room, do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal!” she nodded, fighting the urge to come back at him.
“You liaise with Bourne, you act as our mouthpiece, but your involvement begins and ends there, Lawrence is in charge of the task force on this one, understood?”
“Yes.”
“Work with him, get to Bourne, and do it quickly.” He picked up his pen and turned his attention to a sheath of papers on his desk, effectively dismissing her. “Ask Teddy to come back in as you leave would you?”
To be continued...