The Bourne Identity

Chapter One

Jason adjusted the ear bud as he leaned against the brick wall across the street from the husky blonde man. He'd seen him several times over the last month. Whoever he was, Medusa was getting sloppy. His covert op. technique sucked royally. He'd spotted the blonde the very first time the operative had tracked him down in LA. Actually, the whole operation was strange. The men who he kept disabling were ridiculously easy to subdue once he'd maneuvered them into position, despite how out of shape he felt.

"Tell me you have him, Lieutenant."

Jason noted the hard edge in the woman's voice, and imagined she was a ruthless bitch to work for.

"No, ma'am. He's managed to elude us again," answered the blonde solider.

Jason almost felt sorry for the guy. He'd been giving him the run around all month, toying with him. He'd needed to get back into shape, and testing himself against this man's squad had seemed like a good idea. They'd presented no real challenge to him.

"Damn," muttered the woman. "I really wanted to get my hands on him."

"I'm certain with a little more time--"

The woman cut him off. "There's no more time Finn. N.I.D has gotten into the act. They want him. They'll be in L.A. in a matter of days. And we've been effectively ordered off."

N.I.D, thought Jason. What new trouble was Medusa about to spring on him?

Finn sighed. "Could we be of assistance? I know we're limited to Sunnydale and its outlying cities but maybe..."

"No, Finn. Return home. Let the N.I.D handle him. Hopefully, there'll be something left when their done," said the woman before hanging up.

Finn hung up his phone, and began dismantling the temporary base.

Jason straightened, turning his back on the cheap motel and walked away. Who was N.I.D? What did they have to do with Medusa? His memories were still disturbingly fragmented. All he really knew was his name and that people were after him. He couldn't even remember that much about Medusa. Only enough to know they were dangerous to him. A threat.

It was time to move on. If this group was limited to the L.A. area, it'd be prudent to remove himself from California. L.A. was getting to hot anyway. His attempt to contact someone at Treadstone had gone badly. All of his passwords, his liaison were wrong. The person he'd reached had be very concerned about the encryption he'd used. But had been unable to answer any of his questions. He'd terminated the call, and cleared out the area as soon as possible; unsure whether Treadstone had been compromised.

Jason slid behind the wheel of the non-descript sedan. Yes, it was definitely time to move on. The Harris identity was compromised, and the agents being sent after him were growing more skilled. It was possible the Bourne identity was fine, besides he really did have an urge to get to N.Y.C. The Bourne identity still felt more real. Maybe his apartment there would hold the answer. Either way he was leaving town.


~~~*~~~


"Jack," said Walter slowly, tapping his fingers against the desk. "Jack. What are you guys up to over there?"

"What?" asked Jack with a puzzled sigh. These last few months had been very confusing. First, the contact by an unknown agent a little over three months ago. Unexplained movement in the N.I.D, and he really hated that. They had too free a rein in his opinion anyway.

"Your boys doing clean up jobs across the States," said Walter.

"My boys," he repeated. "My boys haven't been up to anything on home soil."

"Don't try that on me Jack," said Walter, glancing through the folder on his desk. It almost read like an X-File. "I've had reports from F.B.I offices across the States. Professional cleaners. Explosions that never made national news. Men in black. It reads like an agency job in house."

Jack frowned; he didn't like not knowing things. Especially important things. And this sounded like something he needed to know. He'd known Skinner a long time, if it seemed like a C.I.A job to Skinner it probably was. But it wasn't one he'd authorized. That, he didn't like. "Tell me what's going on."

"A man, a boy really. That's how it always starts. Reports of a dark-haired kid, probably no older than seventeen, any mention of him anywhere seems to draw agents like flies," explained Walter.

"A kid, why would you think it's a kid," asked Jack, growing more concerned.

"The aliases," said Walter, unable to help the grin. "They’re something a kid would use. I mean really, James Bond. Remy LeBeau. Martin Riggs. C'mon its a kid. I think his real name might be Alexander Harris, he's used it once. And it's the only id not from a movie or TV show. Possibly, Jason Bourne. If his parents were especially cruel."

Jack sat up straighter as a thought popped into his head. No way, this couldn't be the same guy who'd sent his techs into a panic months ago. But it was too much of a coincidence. Treadstone, and Jason Bourne. What the hell was going on? "What's the situation, Walter? Those aren't my men out there," said Jack, quietly.

Walter stiffened, he knew that tone. Something he'd said had made this serious for Ryan. "F.B.I offices in Nevada. Utah. Colorado. Nebraska. Indiana. New York. There haven't been any reports since then. That was about a week ago."

"What are they reporting," asked Jack, scribbling onto a notepad.

"Well, the explosions; professionally done. No civilian casualties. Minimal damage. Professional cleaning jobs of cars, crime scenes, motels. Everywhere this kid's been spotted."

"Any pictures?" he hit the intercom, shoving the note at Maddy, his assistant, the moment she came in. Maddy gave a quick nod, hurrying off to take care of it. He knew he'd have any files actually available immediately.

"Kid or not Harris is good," answered Walter, staring down at the two pictures he had. "They were picked off a motel's surveillance camera, but he kept his profile to the camera the whole time."

"I need to investigate this," muttered Jack. "If the agency is operating without my permission, I need to do some cleaning of my own. Thanks for the heads up, Walter. I owe you."

"And don't think I won't cash it in," said Walter. "Later."

Jack hung up without another word. This had the N.I.D written all over it. He'd talked to the President before about that group. One day they were going to go to far.

tbc...