“Where are the alarm systems?” Bourne asked.

“Too many animals down here,” Idir said.

Arkadin glanced around at the bare poured-concrete floor, which smelled of dust and dried droppings. “What kind of animals?”

Idir pushed forward. In the flickering torchlight the lower level seemed immense. There was nothing to see but flames crackling in the darkness. The smoke thickened the airless atmosphere. All at once they found themselves in a narrow passage. Within forty paces it began to curve, and they followed it around to the right. Once again the walls were doorless, completely blank. The passage kept curving. It seemed to Bourne that they were in a spiral, moving in ever-narrowing concentric circles, and he guessed they were approaching the heart of the building. An unseen weight seemed to press down on them, making breathing difficult, as if they had plunged under a deep subterranean lake.

At last, the corridor ended, opening out into a room roughly in the shape of a pentangle, inasmuch as it had five sides. There was a deep pulsing, like the thrum of a gigantic heart. It filled the room, the vibration stirring the thick air.

“There it is.” Idir nodded toward what seemed like a chunky plinth in the center of the room. On it stood a black basalt statue of the ancient god Baal.

Arkadin whirled on Idir. “What kind of crap is this?”

Idir took a step toward Bourne. “The generator is under the statue.”

Arkadin sneered. “All this idiotic mumbo-jumbo-”

“The missing set of instructions is hidden inside the statue.”

“Ah, that’s more like it.” As Arkadin picked his way toward the statue, Idir moved closer to Bourne.

“It’s clear enough you hate each other,” he whispered. “He moves the statue and a fail-safe packet of C-Four affixed to the side of the generator is activated on a three-minute delay. Even I can’t stop it, but I can lead you out of here in plenty of time. Kill this animal so he won’t harm my son.”

Arkadin was reaching out for the statue. Bourne could sense Idir holding his breath; he was ready to run. Bourne saw this moment clearly: It was the point in time that both Suparwita and Tanirt had somehow foreseen. It was the moment when his rage to revenge Tracy’s death could be sated. The moment when his two warring personalities would finally tear him apart from the inside out, the moment of his own death. Did he believe them? Was there no clear-cut moment in his life? Was everything infused with the unknown of the life he could not remember? He could turn away from the dangers to him, or he could master them. The choice he made now would stay with him, would change him forever. Would he betray Arkadin or Idir? And then he realized that there was no choice at all, his path lay clearly before him as if illuminated by the light of the full moon.

Idir’s plea was clever, but it was irrelevant.

“Leonid, stop!” Bourne called out. “Moving the statue will set off an explosion.”

Arkadin’s outstretched arm froze, his fingertips inches from the statue. He turned his head. “That’s what this sonovabitch told you behind my back?”

“Why did you do that?” Idir’s voice was full of despair.

“Because you didn’t tell me how to turn off the generator.”

Arkadin’s gaze shifted to Bourne. “Why is that so fucking important?”

“Because,” Bourne said, “the generator controls a series of security measures that will stop us from ever leaving here.”

Arkadin stalked over to Idir and backhanded the barrel of his Magpul across the Berber’s face. Idir spat out a tooth along with a thick gout of blood.

“I’m done with you,” he said. “I’m now going to take you apart piece by piece. You’ll tell us what we want to know whether or not you want to. You aren’t afraid of death, but you have already shown me your fear. When I get out of here I’m going to throw Badis off that roof myself.”

“No, no!” Idir cried, scuttling around to the side of the generator housing. “Here, here,” he muttered to himself. At the base of the plinth he depressed a stone, which slid out of the way. He threw a switch, and the throb of the generator ceased. “See? It’s off.” He stood up. “I’ve done what you asked. My life is nothing, but I beg you to spare my son’s life.”

Arkadin, grinning, set the case on top of the plinth, unlocked it, and took out the laptop. “Now,” he said, as he fired up the computer, “the ring.”

Idir crept closer to the plinth. He managed to tap his fingernail along the top of the computer before Arkadin delivered a heavy backhand blow that swatted him back on his heels.

As Bourne was taking out the ring, Idir said, “It won’t do any good.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Arkadin snapped.

“Let him speak,” Bourne said. “Idir, what do you mean?”

“That isn’t the right laptop.”

“He’s a liar,” Arkadin said. “Look here-” He took the ring from Bourne and inserted it. “-it has the slot for the ring.”

Idir’s laughter was tinged with hysteria, or with madness.

As Arkadin slid the ring through the slot again and again, he tried in vain to bring up the ghost file on the partitioned hard drive.

“You fools!” Idir could not stop laughing. “Someone has been fucking with you. I’m telling you it’s the wrong laptop.”

With an inarticulate cry, Arkadin swung around.

“Leonid, no!”

Bourne leapt at him, too late to keep him from firing, but he ran full-tilt into Arkadin’s right shoulder. The spray of bullets went wide, but two bullets struck Idir’s chest and shoulder.

Both torches were on the floor, crackling as they burned down. They were more than half finished. Bourne and Arkadin attacked each other with hands, feet, and knees. Arkadin, the Magpul in his right hand, hammered at Bourne, who was forced to raise his hands in front of his face in order to deflect the blows. Deep contusions, then ragged cuts broke out on his wrists from the force of the Magpul’s heavy barrel pounding him. He brought his knee up into Arkadin’s stomach, but it seemed to have little or no effect. At the next blow Bourne grabbed the barrel, but it raked down his palm, slicing it open. Arkadin turned the muzzle on Bourne, and Bourne slammed the heel of his bleeding hand into Arkadin’s nose. Blood flew as Arkadin’s head snapped back, the back of it banging off the floor. He squeezed off a short burst, the noise deafening in the space. Bourne struck him again, slamming his head to the right, where a blur of movement shot toward him.

A large rat, terrified by the noise, leapt blindly at Arkadin’s face. Arkadin swung at it and missed. He rolled away, grabbed one of the torches, and thrust it out wildly. The rat leapt away, scrambling across Idir’s slumped body. The flames caught its tail, the rat screamed, and so did Idir, whose robes were now alight and burning with an acrid stench. Staggering to his feet, he slapped wildly at the flames with his good arm, but staggered, off balance, and fell against the plinth. His head struck the statue of Baal, knocking it off the generator housing. It shattered against the floor.

Rising, Bourne ran toward Idir, but the greedy flames had already engulfed him, making it impossible to get close. The sickening stench of roasting meat, the bright burst of flames, and then an ominous ticking counting down the three minutes of life they had left.

Arkadin swung his arm around and fired, but Bourne had moved behind Idir, and the burst of gunfire went wide. The flaming torch was fast guttering. Scooping up one of the torches, Bourne ran back into the doorway to the corridor. Under cover, he drew the Beretta. He was about to fire back when he glimpsed Arkadin on his hands and knees, scrabbling about in the rubble of the shattered statue. He picked out an SDS memory card, brushed it off, and, rising, stuck it into the appropriate slot of the laptop.

“Leonid, leave it,” Bourne shouted. “The laptop is a fake.”