rl.thebourneidentity-第10部分

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ck　to　the　receptionist；　who　studied　it；　rose　from　the　chair　and　gestured　to　a　row　of　narrow　doors　with　frosted　glass　panels。　'If　you'll　wait　in　the　fourth　room；　sir；　someone　will　be　with　you　shortly。〃　〃The　fourth　room？'
　'The　fourth　door　from　the　left。　It　will　lock　automatically。'　'Is　that　necessary？'
　The　receptionist　glanced　at　him；　startled。　'It　is　in　line　with　your　own　request；　sir；〃　he　said　politely；　an　undertone　of　surprise　beneath　his　courtesy。　'This　is　a　three…zero　account。　It's　customary　at　the　Gemeinschaft　for　holders　of　such　accounts　to　telephone　in　advance　so　that　a　private　entrance　can　be　made　available。'
　'I　know　that；'　lied　Washburn's　patient　with　a　casualness　he　did　not　feel。　'It's　just　that　I'm　in　a　hurry。'　'I'll　convey　that　to　Verifications；　sir。'
　'Verifications？'　Mr。　J。　Bourne　of　New　York　City；　U。S。A。　could　not　help　himself；　the　word　had　the　sound　of　an　alarm。
　'Signature　Verifications；　sir。'　The　man　adjusted　his　glasses；　the　movement　covered　his　taking　a　step　nearer　his　desk；　his　lower　hand　inches　from　a　console。　'I　suggest　you　wait　in　Room　Four；　sir。'　The　suggestion　was　not　a　request；　it　was　an　order；　the　mand　in　the　praetorian's　eyes。
　'Why　not？　Just　tell　them　to　hurry；　will　you？'　The　patient　crossed　to　the　fourth　door；　opened　it　and　walked　inside。　The　door　closed　automatically；　he　could　hear　the　click　of　the　lock。　J。　Bourne　looked　at　the　frosted　panel；　it　was　no　simple　pane　of　glass；　for　there　was　a　network　of　thin　wires　webbed　beneath　the　surface。　Undoubtedly　if　cracked；　an　alarm　would　be　triggered；　he　was　in　a　cell；　waiting　to　be　summoned。
　The　rest　of　the　small　room　was　panelled　and　furnished　tastefully；　two　leather　armchairs　next　to　each　other　opposite　a　miniature　couch　flanked　by　antique　tables。　At　the　far　end　was　a　second　door；　startling　in　its　contrast；　it　was　made　of　grey　steel。　Up…to…date　magazines　and　newspapers　in　three　languages　were　on　the　tables。　The　patient　sat　down　and　picked　up　the　Paris　edition　of　the　Herald…Tribune。　He　read　the　printed　words　but　absorbed　nothing。　The　summons　would　e　any　moment　now；　his　mind　was　consumed　by　thoughts　of　manoeuvre。　Manoeuvre　without　memory；　only　by　instinct。
　Finally；　the　steel　door　opened；　revealing　a　tall　slender　man　with　aquiline　features　and　meticulously　groomed　grey　hair。　His　face　was　patrician；　eager　to　serve　an　equal　who　needed　his　expertise。　He　extended　his　hand；　his　English　refined；　mellifluous　under　his　Swiss　intonation。
　'So　very　pleased　to　meet　you。　Forgive　the　delay；　it　was　rather　humorous；　in　fact'
　'In　what　way？'
　'I'm　afraid　you　rather　startled　Heir　Koenig。　It's　not　often　a　three…zero　account　arrives　without　prior　notice。　He's　quite　set　in　his　ways；　you　know；　the　unusual　ruins　his　day。　On　the　other　hand；　it　generally　makes　mine　more　pleasant　I'm　Walther　Apfel。　Please；　e　in。'
　The　bank　officer　released　the　patient's　hand　and　gestured　towards　the　steel　door。　The　room　beyond　was　a　V…shaped　extension　of　the　cell。　Dark　panelling；　heavy　fortable　furniture　and　a　wide　desk；　that　stood　in　front　of　a　wider　window　overlooking　the　Bahnhofstrasse。
　'I'm　sorry　I　upset　him；'　said　J。　Bourne。　'It's　just　that　I　have　very　little　time。'
　'Yes；　he　relayed　that。'　Apfel　walked　around　the　desk；　nodding　at　the　leather　armchair　in　front。　'Do　sit　down。　One　or　two　formalities　and　we　can　discuss　the　business　at　hand。'　Both　men　sat；　the　instant　they　did　so　the　bank　officer　picked　up　a　white　clipboard　and　leaned　across　his　desk；　handing　it　to　the　Gemeinschaft　client。　Secured　in　place　was　another　sheet　of　stationery；　but　instead　of　two　blank　lines　there　were　ten；　starting　below　the　letterhead　and　extending　to　within　an　inch　of　the　bottom　border。　'Your　signature；　please。　A　minimum　of　five　will　be　sufficient！
　'I　don't　understand。　I　just　did　this。'
　'And　very　successfully。　Verification　confirmed　it'
　Then　why　again？'
　'A　signature　can　be　practised　to　the　point　where　a　single　rendition　is　acceptable。　However；　successive　repetitions　will　result　in　flaws　if　it's　not　authentic。　A　graphological　scanner　will　pick　them　up　instantly；　but　then　I'm　sure　that's　no　concern　of　yours。'　Apfel　smiled　as　he　placed　a　pen　at　the　edge　of　the　desk。　'Nor　of　mine；　frankly；　but　Koenig　insists。'
　'He's　a　cautious　man；'　said　the　patient；　taking　the　pen　and　starting　to　write。　He　had　begun　the　fourth　set　when　the　banker　stopped　him。
　That　will　do；　the　rest　really　is　a　waste　of　time。'　Apfel　held　out　his　hand　for　the　clipboard。　'Verifications　said　you　weren't　even　a　borderline　case。　Upon　receipt　of　this；　the　account　will　be　delivered。'　He　inserted　the　sheet　of　paper　into　the　slot　of　a　metal　case　on　the　right　side　of　his　desk　and　pressed　a　button；　a　shaft　of　bright　light　flared　and　then　went　out　This　transmits　the　signatures　directly　to　the　scanner；'　continued　the　banker。　'Which；　of　course；　is　programmed。　Again；　frankly；　it's　all　a　bit　foolish。　No　one　forewarned　of　our　precautions　would　consent　to　the　additional　signatures　if　he　were　an　impostor。'　'Why　not？　As　long　as　he'd　gone　this　far；　why　not　chance　it？'　'There　is　only　one　entrance　to　this　office；　conversely　one　exit　I'm　sure　you　heard　the　lock　snap　shut　in　the　waiting　room。'　'And　saw　the　wire　mesh　in　the　glass；'　added　the　patient　Then　you　understand。　A　certified　impostor　would　be　trapped。'
　'Suppose　he　had　a　gun？'　'You　don't'　'No　one　searched　me。'
　The　lift　did。　From　four　different　angles。　If　you　had　been　armed；　the　machinery　would　have　stopped　between　the　first　and　second　floors。'　'You're　all　cautious。'
　'We　try　to　be　of　service。！　The　telephone　rang。　Apfel　answered。　'Yes？。。。　e　in。'　The　banker　glanced　at　his　client　'Your　account　file's　here。'　That　was　quick。'
　'Heir　Koenig　signed　for　it　several　minutes　ago；　he　was　merely　waiting　for　the　scanner　release。'　Apfel　opened　a　drawer　and　took　out　a　ring　of　keys。　'I'm　sure　he's　disappointed。　He　was　quite　certain　something　was　amiss。'
　The　steel　door　opened　and　the　receptionist　entered　carrying　a　black　metal　container；　which　he　placed　on　the　desk　next　to　a　tray　that　held　a　bottle　of　Pettier　and　two　glasses。
　'Are　you　enjoying　your　stay　in　Zurich？'　asked　the　banker；　obviously　to　fill　in　the　silence。
　'Very　much　so。　My　room　overlooks　the　lake。　It's　a　nice　view；　very　peaceful；　quiet。'
　'Splendid；'　said　Apfel；　pouring　a　glass　of　Perrier　for　his　client　Herr　Koenig　left；　the　door　was　closed　and　the　banker　returned　to　business
　'Your　account；　sir；'　he　said；　selecting　a　key　from　the　ring。　'May　I　unlock　the　case；　or　would　you　prefer　to　do　so　yourself？'
　'Go　ahead。　Open　it！
　The　banker　looked　up。　'I　said　unlock；　not　open。　That's　not　my　privilege；　nor　would　I　care　for　the　responsibility。'
　'Why　not？'
　'In　the　event　your　identity　is　listed；　it's　not　my　position　to　be　aware　of　it'　'Suppose　I　wanted　business　transacted？　Money　transferred；　sent　to　someone　else？'　'It　could　be　acplished　with　your　numerical　signature　on　a　withdrawal…form。'
　'Or　sent　to　another　bank　…　outside　Switzerland？　For　me。'　Then　a　name　would　be　required。　Under　those　circumstances　an　identity　would　be　both　my　responsibility　and　my　privilege。'
　'Open　it！
　The　officer　did　so。　Dr　Washburn's　patient　held　his　breath；　a　sharp　pain　forming　in　the　pit　of　his　stomach。　Apfel　took　out　a　sheaf　of　statements　held　together　by　an　outsized　paper　clip。　His　banker's　eyes　strayed　to　the　right…hand　column　of　the　top　pages；　his　banker's　expression　unchanged；　but　not　totally。　His　lower　lip　stretched　ever　so　slightly；　creasing　the　corner　of　his　mouth；　he　leaned　forward　and　handed　the　pages　to　their　owner。
　Beneath　the　Gemeinschaft　letterhead　the　typewritten　words　were　in　English；　the　obvious　language　of　the　client：
　Account：　Zero…Seven…Seventeen…Twelve…Zero…Fourteen…Twenty…six…Zero　Name：　Restricted　to　Legal　Instructions　and　Owner
　Access：　Sealed　Under　Separate　Cover。　Current　Funds　on　Deposit。。。　II？50；000　Francs
　The　patient　exhaled　slowly；　staring　at　the　figure。　Whatever　he　thought　he　was　prepared　for；　nothing　prepared　him　for　this。　It　was　as　frightening　as　anything　he　had　experienced　during　the　past　five　months。　Roughly　calculated　the　amount　was　over　four　million　American　dollars。
　4；000；000。00！
　How？　Why？
　Controlling　the　start　of　a　tremble　in　his　hand；　he　leafed　through　the　statements　of　entry。　They　were　numerous；　the　sums　extraordinary；　none　less　than　300；000　francs；　the　deposits　spaced　every　five　to　eight　weeks　apart；　going　back　twenty…three　months。　He　reached　the　bottom　statement；　the　first　It　was　a　transfer　from　a　bank　in　Singapore　and　the　largest　single　entry。　Two　million；　seven　hundred　thousand　Malaysian　dollars　converted　into　5；175；000　Swiss　francs。
　Beneath　the　statement　he　could　feel　the　outline　of　a　separate　envelope；　far　shorter　than　the　page　itself。　He　lifted　up　the　paper；　the　envelope　was　rimmed　with　a　black　border；　typewritten　words　on　the　front。
　Identity：
　Legal　Restrictions：
　Owner　Access
　Access　…　Registered　Officer；
　Treadstone　Seventy…one　Corporation；
　Bearer　Will　Produce　Written
　Instructions　From　Owner。　Subject　To
　Verifications。
　'I'd　like　to　check　this；'　said　the　client。
　'It's　your　property；'　replied　Apfel。　'I　can　assure　you　it　has　remained　intact。'
　The　patient　removed　the　envelope　and　turned　it　over。　A　Gemeinschaft　seal　was　pressed　over　the　borders　of　the　flap；　none　of　the　raised　letters　had　been　disturbed。　He　tore　the　flap　open；　took　out　the　card；　and　read：
　Owner：
　Address：
　Citizenship：
　Jason　Charles　Bourne
　Unlisted
　U。S。A。
　Jason　Charles　Bourne。
　Jason。
　The　J　was　for　Jason！　His　name　was　Jason　Bourne。　The　Bourne　had　meant　nothing；　the　I。　Bourne　still　meaningless；　but　in　the　bination　Jason　and　Bourne；　obscure　tumblers　locked　into　place。　He　could　accept　it；　he　did　accept　it。　He　was　Jason　Charles　Bourne；　American。　Yet　he　could　feel　his　chest　pounding；　the　vibration　in　his　ears　was　deafening；　the　pain　in　his　stomach　more　acute。　What　was　it？　Why　did　he　have　the　feeling　that　he　was　plunging　into　the　darkness　again；　into　the　black　waters　again？
　'Is　something　wrong？'　asked　Walther　Apfel。
　Is　something　wrong；　Herr　Bourne？
　'No。　Everything's　fine。　My　name's　Bourne。　Jason　Bourne。'
　Was　he　shouting？　Whispering？　He　could　not　tell。
　'My　privilege　to　know　you；　Mr。　Bourne。　Your　identity　will　remain　confidential。　You　have　the　word　of　an