Thrillers & Suspense
![Brian Freeman - [object Object] author](https://res.cloudinary.com/readsomnia/image/upload/authors/a_B001IGJVRI.jpg)
Robert Ludlum's The Bourne Sacrifice (Jason Bourne)
Jason Bourne tackles a global media conspiracy in the latest electrifying entry in Robert Ludlum's #1 New York Times bestselling series.
Jason Bourne has faced many killers before, but none as dangerous or as cruelly inventive as the assassin who calls himself Lennon. Bourne thought he had Lennon cornered in Iceland, only to have the killer escape in a fiery explosion. Now Lennon's trail leads Bourne to New York and then to Washington – and the body count rises with each deadly encounter.
But who is Lennon working for? Bourne believes the assassin has a shadowy new employer called the Pyramid. The only clue to the group's agenda is a young German woman murdered in Washington on her way to a covert meeting. But the woman's entire identity turns out to be a lie, and news reports of her death have been strangely twisted and suppressed.
Finding the truth about this woman may be Bourne's only chance to catch Lennon – and uncover the conspiracy behind the Pyramid. But the chase comes with high stakes. Bourne's former
lover, journalist Abbey Laurent, is digging into the mystery too, and Jason's perilous battle against Lennon and the Pyramid will soon put Abbey in the assassin's crosshairs.
Bourne will need to use every bit of his tradecraft and his genius for mayhem to expose this web of lies and murder before Lennon kills the woman he loves.
Jason Bourne has faced many killers before, but none as dangerous or as cruelly inventive as the assassin who calls himself Lennon. Bourne thought he had Lennon cornered in Iceland, only to have the killer escape in a fiery explosion. Now Lennon's trail leads Bourne to New York and then to Washington – and the body count rises with each deadly encounter.
But who is Lennon working for? Bourne believes the assassin has a shadowy new employer called the Pyramid. The only clue to the group's agenda is a young German woman murdered in Washington on her way to a covert meeting. But the woman's entire identity turns out to be a lie, and news reports of her death have been strangely twisted and suppressed.
Finding the truth about this woman may be Bourne's only chance to catch Lennon – and uncover the conspiracy behind the Pyramid. But the chase comes with high stakes. Bourne's former
lover, journalist Abbey Laurent, is digging into the mystery too, and Jason's perilous battle against Lennon and the Pyramid will soon put Abbey in the assassin's crosshairs.
Bourne will need to use every bit of his tradecraft and his genius for mayhem to expose this web of lies and murder before Lennon kills the woman he loves.
Editorial Reviews
"Colorful characters and solid plotting continue to make this series a pleasure."-Kirkus Reviews
"Exciting action scenes, the untangling of the Pyramid mystery, Bourne's fighting skills, and the enduring conundrum of his lost past keep the pages turning. Freeman is a worthy successor to Robert Ludlum."-Publishers Weekly
"Exciting action scenes, the untangling of the Pyramid mystery, Bourne's fighting skills, and the enduring conundrum of his lost past keep the pages turning. Freeman is a worthy successor to Robert Ludlum."-Publishers Weekly
Readers Top Reviews
Kevin D.Shelley H.JL
Brian Freeman does a good job in this novel. His character novel was good, and his storyline was exciting. I liked this book better than his first novel in the Bourne series. The book is a little predictable in some areas. However, it’s a fun read. His descriptive writing is very good in some parts. I felt like it was a good continuation that correlated well to the other novels.
Mitchmsp
Couldn’t put it down ! If you love Jason Bourne you’ll love this one - real teaser at the end!
Prof ChuckDAD
Sad story that perhaps is too true to not forget. A new challenge for Jason, but with an untimely ending.
Doug Smith
I have not read a Bourne book in years. I’m glad I read this one. Great characters and action, a bit of social commentary and some tech intrigue make this a true winner. I would expect nothing less from Brian Freeman.
Short Excerpt Teaser
1
Bœir, Iceland
One Week Later
Jason Bourne crouched behind the stone wall that ringed the little black church. A bitter wind blew across the lava fields, and slate gray clouds clung to the dark tips of the mountains. With his Swarovski binoculars, he zoomed in on the twin white buildings of the oceanfront hotel below him. There were no other structures around for miles, just the simple black church and the elegant hotel amid the landscape of strangely sculpted volcanic stone. The only sounds were the fierce whistle of the wind and the thunder of waves crashing from the Atlantic onto the shell beach.
He'd watched the men of the protection detail arriving separately over the past hour. They'd staked out different locations around the hotel, blending like locals into the remote Icelandic countryside. They were obviously waiting for someone. If Bourne was right, that meant that the assassin known as Lennon would be arriving soon.
There were five killers serving as Lennon's advance team. One was a man in overalls who'd parked his truck off the shoulder of the single lonely road that led to the coast. He'd opened the hood and was pretending to tinker with the engine. Two others shared pints of beer at a picnic table behind the hotel and joked with each other in loud voices. Another was just a speck of camouflage in the distance, but Bourne had spotted him stretched out in the wavy grass of the lava field, with the scope of a long gun trained on the hotel.
The fifth man lay on the ground at the base of the wall next to Bourne, his skull crushed by a slab of volcanic stone, his VP40 pistol and two extra magazines now in Bourne's pocket. Jason listened in on the man's radio receiver, but so far, there had been no communications among the team.
The next hour passed slowly. The dark afternoon bled into early evening, and the brooding mountains on the horizon grew shrouded by mist. The air got colder, wind roared in ripples through the tough scrub brush, and drizzle spat across Bourne's face. He remained motionless, his binoculars propped on the wall, his black wool cap pulled low on his forehead. His hands were covered with black nylon gloves. The naked eye could perceive the tiniest movement or color even from long distances, so he took care to avoid both. Then again, if one of the advance team spotted someone hiding near the church, they would assume it was the man who was dead at Bourne's feet.
Finally, he spotted a car approaching on the single-lane road. It was a red dot on the curving gray highway. As the car got closer, he recognized it as a compact Citroen C3, which was not the kind of vehicle he expected Lennon to use. The Citroen parked at the rear of the hotel, and when the driver's door opened, he saw a woman get out. She was alone. Quickly, Bourne grabbed a camera from his leather jacket to magnify her face and snap multiple photos. She was in her late twenties, slim and attractive, with shoulder-length blond hair. She wore a navy blue Icelandic wool sweater over khakis and hiking boots, and she carried a leather pack slung over one shoulder. Rather than go into the hotel, she lit a cigarette and wandered away toward a shallow slope overlooking the beach.
The two killers drinking beer at the picnic table pretended to ignore her. She ignored them, too, but Bourne suspected that was because she didn't realize she was being watched. Instead, she stared out at the whitecaps on the ocean while the wind mussed her hair. When she finished her first cigarette, she lit another, with the jerky motions of someone who was trying to calm her nerves. Her demeanor told him she wasn't a pro.
Not long after, Bourne saw two more cars approaching at high speed. Both were gray Range Rovers with smoked windows. He tensed, his senses alert now as he watched the men of the protection detail stiffen with anticipation. The man in overalls slammed shut the hood of his truck. The two men on the bench put down their beers and slipped their hands into their pockets in order to ready weapons.
A single clipped sentence in Icelandic crackled through the radio receiver in Bourne's ear.
"Það er hann."
It's him.
The two SUVs braked hard and stopped behind the hotel. No one got out. The engines kept running. But the blond woman crushed out her cigarette and immediately headed for the Range Rovers.
Bourne held his breath.
It all came down to this.
One year. One year of hunting across Europe for the killer known as Lennon. A killer who'd eluded Treadstone and Inte...
Bœir, Iceland
One Week Later
Jason Bourne crouched behind the stone wall that ringed the little black church. A bitter wind blew across the lava fields, and slate gray clouds clung to the dark tips of the mountains. With his Swarovski binoculars, he zoomed in on the twin white buildings of the oceanfront hotel below him. There were no other structures around for miles, just the simple black church and the elegant hotel amid the landscape of strangely sculpted volcanic stone. The only sounds were the fierce whistle of the wind and the thunder of waves crashing from the Atlantic onto the shell beach.
He'd watched the men of the protection detail arriving separately over the past hour. They'd staked out different locations around the hotel, blending like locals into the remote Icelandic countryside. They were obviously waiting for someone. If Bourne was right, that meant that the assassin known as Lennon would be arriving soon.
There were five killers serving as Lennon's advance team. One was a man in overalls who'd parked his truck off the shoulder of the single lonely road that led to the coast. He'd opened the hood and was pretending to tinker with the engine. Two others shared pints of beer at a picnic table behind the hotel and joked with each other in loud voices. Another was just a speck of camouflage in the distance, but Bourne had spotted him stretched out in the wavy grass of the lava field, with the scope of a long gun trained on the hotel.
The fifth man lay on the ground at the base of the wall next to Bourne, his skull crushed by a slab of volcanic stone, his VP40 pistol and two extra magazines now in Bourne's pocket. Jason listened in on the man's radio receiver, but so far, there had been no communications among the team.
The next hour passed slowly. The dark afternoon bled into early evening, and the brooding mountains on the horizon grew shrouded by mist. The air got colder, wind roared in ripples through the tough scrub brush, and drizzle spat across Bourne's face. He remained motionless, his binoculars propped on the wall, his black wool cap pulled low on his forehead. His hands were covered with black nylon gloves. The naked eye could perceive the tiniest movement or color even from long distances, so he took care to avoid both. Then again, if one of the advance team spotted someone hiding near the church, they would assume it was the man who was dead at Bourne's feet.
Finally, he spotted a car approaching on the single-lane road. It was a red dot on the curving gray highway. As the car got closer, he recognized it as a compact Citroen C3, which was not the kind of vehicle he expected Lennon to use. The Citroen parked at the rear of the hotel, and when the driver's door opened, he saw a woman get out. She was alone. Quickly, Bourne grabbed a camera from his leather jacket to magnify her face and snap multiple photos. She was in her late twenties, slim and attractive, with shoulder-length blond hair. She wore a navy blue Icelandic wool sweater over khakis and hiking boots, and she carried a leather pack slung over one shoulder. Rather than go into the hotel, she lit a cigarette and wandered away toward a shallow slope overlooking the beach.
The two killers drinking beer at the picnic table pretended to ignore her. She ignored them, too, but Bourne suspected that was because she didn't realize she was being watched. Instead, she stared out at the whitecaps on the ocean while the wind mussed her hair. When she finished her first cigarette, she lit another, with the jerky motions of someone who was trying to calm her nerves. Her demeanor told him she wasn't a pro.
Not long after, Bourne saw two more cars approaching at high speed. Both were gray Range Rovers with smoked windows. He tensed, his senses alert now as he watched the men of the protection detail stiffen with anticipation. The man in overalls slammed shut the hood of his truck. The two men on the bench put down their beers and slipped their hands into their pockets in order to ready weapons.
A single clipped sentence in Icelandic crackled through the radio receiver in Bourne's ear.
"Það er hann."
It's him.
The two SUVs braked hard and stopped behind the hotel. No one got out. The engines kept running. But the blond woman crushed out her cigarette and immediately headed for the Range Rovers.
Bourne held his breath.
It all came down to this.
One year. One year of hunting across Europe for the killer known as Lennon. A killer who'd eluded Treadstone and Inte...
