rl.thebourneidentity-第18部分

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He'd　never　say　anything。'
　'Where's　Chernak　now？'
　'Where　he　always　is。　In　his　flat　on　the　Swenstrasse。'
　'I've　never　been　there。　What's　the　number？'
　'You've　never　been？。。。'　The　fat　man　paused；　his　lips　pressed　together；　alarm　in　his　eyes。　'Are　you　testing　me？！
　'Answer　the　question。'
　'Number　37；　You　know　it　as　well　as　I　do。！
　Then　I'm　testing　you。　Who　gave　the　envelope　to　Chernak？'
　The　man　stood　motionless；　his　dubious　integrity　challenged。！　I　have　no　way　of　knowing。　Nor　would　I　ever　inquire。'
　'You　weren't　even　curious？'
　'Of　course　not。　A　goat　does　not　willingly　enter　the　wolfs　cave。！
　'Goats　are　sure…footed；　they've　got　an　accurate　sense　of　smell。'
　'And　they　are　cautious；　mein　Herr。　Because　the　wolf　is　faster；　infinitely　more　aggressive。　There　would　be　only　one　chase。　The　goat's　last。'
　'What　was　in　the　envelope？'
　'I　told　you；　I　did　not　open　it。'
　'But　you　know　what　was　in　it！
　'Money；　I　presume。'
　'You　presume！'
　'Very　well。　Money。　A　great　deal　of　money。　If　there　was　any　discrepancy；　it　had　nothing　to　do　with　me。　Now　please；　I　beg　you。　Get　out　of　here　I'
　'One　last　question。'
　'Anything。　Just　leave！'
　'What　was　the　money　for？'
　The　obese　man　stared　down　at　Bourne；　his　breathing　audible；　sweat　glistening　on　his　chin。　'You　put　me　on　the　rack；　mein　Herr；　but　I　will　not　turn　away　from　you。　Call　it　the　courage　of　an　insignificant　goat　who　has　survived。　Every　day　I　read　the　newspapers。　In　three　languages。　Six　months　ago　a　man　was　killed。　His　death　was　reported　on　the　front　page　of　each　of　those　papers。'
　They　circled　the　block；　emerging　on　the　Falkenstrasse；　then　turned　right　towards　the　Limmat　Quai　and　the　Grossmunster。　The　Lowenstrasse　was　across　the　river；　on　the　west　side　of　the　city。　The　quickest　way　to　reach　it　was　to　take　the　Mtinster　Bridge　to　the　Nuschelerstrasse；　the　avenues　intersected；　according　to　a　couple　who　had　been　about　to　enter　the　Drei　Alpen…hauser。
　Marie　St　Jacques　was　silent；　holding　onto　the　wheel　as　she　had　gripped　the　straps　of　her　handbag　during　the　madness　at　the　Carillon；　somehow　her　connection　with　sanity。　Bourne　glanced　at　her　and　understood。。。。　a　man　was　killed；　his　death　reported　on　the　front　pages　of　each　of　those　papers。
　Jason　Bourne　had　been　paid　to　kill；　and　the　police　in　several　countries　had　sent　funds　through　Interpol　to　convert　reluctant　informers；　to　broaden　the　base　of　his　capture。　Which　meant　that　other　men　had　been　killed。。。
　How　many　are　there　that　look　for　you；　mein　Herr？　And　what　are　they　that　do？。。。　They　stop　at　nothing　…　the　death　of　a　wife　or　a　child　is　nothing！
　Not　the　police。　Others。
　The　twin　bell　towers　of　the　Grossmunster　rose　in　the　night　sky；　floodlights　creating　eerie　shadows。　Jason　stared　at　the　ancient　structure；　as　so　much　else　he　knew　it　but　did　not　know　it。　He　had　seen　it　before；　yet　he　was　seeing　it　now　for　the　first　time。
　I　know　only　Chernak。。。　The　envelope　was　passed　through　him　to　me。。。　Lowenstrasse。　Number　37。　You　know　it　as　well　as　I　do。
　Did　he？　Would　he？
　They　drove　over　the　bridge　into　the　traffic　of　the　newer　city。　The　streets　were　crowded；　cars　and　pedestrians　vying　for　supremacy　at　every　intersection；　the　red　and　green　signals　erratic　and　interminable。　Bourne　tried　to　concentrate　on　nothing。。。　and　everything。　The　outlines　of　the　truth　were　being　presented　to　him；　shape　by　enigmatic　shape；　each　more　startling　than　the　last。　He　was　not　at　all　sure　he　was　capable　…　mentally　capable　…　of　absorbing　a　great　deal　more。
　'Sie！　Frdulein。　Ihre　Scheinwerfer！　Und　Sie　signalisieren。　Unrechter　Weg！'
　Jason　looked　up；　a　hollow　pain　knotting　his　stomach。　A　patrol　car　was　beside　them；　a　policeman　shouting　through　his　open　window。　Everything　was　suddenly　clear。。。　clear　and　infuriating。　The　St　Jacques　woman　had　seen　the　police　car　in　the　side　view　mirror；　she　had　extinguished　the　headlights　and　slipped　her　hand　down　to　the　indicator；　flipping　it　for　a　left　turn。　A　left　turn　into　a　one…way　street　whose　arrows　at　the　intersection　clearly　defined　the　traffic　heading　right！　And　turning　left　by　bolting　in　front　of　the　police　car　would　result　in　several　violations：　the　absence　of　headlights；　perhaps　even　a　premeditated　collision；　they　would　be　stopped；　the　woman　free　to　scream。
　Bourne　snapped　the　headlights　on；　then　leaned　across　the　girl；　one　hand　disengaging　the　directional　signal；　the　other　gripping　her　arm　where　he　had　gripped　it　before。
　I'll　kill　you；　Doctor；'　he　said　quietly；　then　shouted　through　the　window　at　the　police　officer。　'Sorry！　We're　a　little　confused！　Tourists！　We　want　the　next　block！'
　The　policeman　was　barely　two　feet　away　from　Marie　St　Jacques；　his　eyes　on　her　face；　evidently　puzzled　by　her　lack　of　reaction。
　The　light　changed。　'Ease　forward。　Don't　do　anything　stupid；'　said　Jason。　He　waved　at　the　police　officer　through　the　glass。　'Sorry　again！'　he　yelled。　The　policeman　shrugged；　turning　to　his　partner　to　resume　a　previous　conversation。
　'I　was　confused；'　said　the　girl；　her　soft　voice　trembling。　There's　so　much　traffic。。。　Oh；　God；　you've　broken　my　arm！。。。
　You　bastard。'
　Bourne　released　her；　disturbed　by　her　anger；　he　preferred　fear。　'You　don't　expect　me　to　believe　you；　do　you？'
　'My　arm？'
　'Your　confusion。'
　'You　said　we　were　going　to　turn　left　soon；　that's　all　I　was　thinking　about。'
　'Next　time　look　at　the　traffic。'　He　moved　away　from　…her　but　did　not　take　his　eyes　off　her　face。
　'You　are　an　animal；'　she　whispered；　briefly　closing　her　eyes；　opening　them　in　fear；　it　had　e　back。
　They　reached　the　Lowenstrasse；　a　wide　avenue　where　low　buildings　of　brick　and　heavy　wood　stood　sandwiched　between　modem　examples　of　smooth　concrete　and　glass。　The　character　of　nineteenth…century　flats　peted　against　the　utilitarianism　of　contemporary　neuterness。　They　did　not　lose。　Jason　watched　the　numbers；　they　were　descending　from　the　middle　eighties；　with　each　block　the　old　houses　more　in　evidence　than　the　high…rise　apartments；　until　the　street　had　returned　in　time　to　that　other　era。　There　was　a　row　of　neat　three…storey　flats；　roofs　and　windows　framed　in　wood；　stone　steps　and　railings　leading　up　to　recessed　doorways　washed　in　the　light　of　carriage　lamps。　Bourne　recognized　the　unremembered；　the　fact　that　he　did　so　was　not　startling；　but　something　else　was。　The　row　of　houses　evoked　another　image；　a　very　strong　image　of　another　row　of　flats；　similar　in　outline　but　oddly　different。　Weathered；　older；　nowhere　near　as　neat　or　scrubbed。。　cracked　windows；　broken　steps；　inplete　railings　…　jagged　ends　of　rusted　iron。　Farther　away；　in　another　part　of。。。　Zurich；　yes　they　were　in　Zurich。　In　a　small　district　rarely　if　ever　visited　by　those　who　did　not　live　there；　a　part　of　the　city　that　was　left　behind；　but　not　gracefully。
　'Steppdeckstrasse；'　he　said　to　himself；　concentrating　on　the　image　in　his　mind。　He　could　see　a　doorway；　the　paint　a　faded　red；　as　dark　as　the　red　silk　dress　worn　by　the　woman　beside　him。　'A　boarding　house。。。　in　the　Steppdeckstrasse。'
　'What？　Mane　St　Jacques　was　startled。　The　words　he　uttered　alarmed　her；　she　had　obviously　related　them　to　herself　and　was　terrified。
　'Nothing。'　He　took　his　eyes　off　the　dress　and　looked　out　of　the　window。　'There's　Number　37；'　he　said；　pointing　to　the　fifth　house　in　the　row。　'Stop　the　car。'
　He　got　out　first；　ordering　her　to　slide　across　the　seat　and　follow。　He　tested　his　legs　and　took　the　keys　from　her。
　'You　can　walk；'　she　said。　'If　you　can　walk；　you　can　drive'　！　I　probably　can。'
　'Then　let　me　go！　I've　done　everything　you've　wanted。'
　'And　then　some；'　he　added。
　'I　won't　say　anything；　can't　you　understand　that？　You're　the　last　person　on　earth　I　ever　want　to　see　again。。。　or　have　anything　to　do　with。　I　don't　want　to　be　a　witness；　or　get　involved　with　the　police；　or　make　statements；　or　anything！　I　don't　Want　to　be　a　pan　of　what　you're　a　part　of！　I'm　frightened　to　death。。。　that's　your　protection；　don't　you　see！　Let　me　go；　please。'
　'I　can't。'
　'You　don't　believe　me。'
　'That's　not　relevant。　I　need　you。'
　'For　what？
　'For　something　very　stupid。　I　don't　have　a　driver's　licence。　You　can't　hire　a　car　without　a　driver's　licence　and　I've　got　to　hire　a　car。〃
　'You've　got　this　car。'
　'It's　good　for　maybe　another　hour。　Someone's　going　to　walk　out　of　the　Carillon　du　Lac　and　want　it。　The　description　will　be　radioed　to　every　police　car　in　Zurich。'
　She　looked　at　him；　dead　fear　in　the　glass　of　her　eyes。　'I　don't　want　to　go　up　there　with　you。　I　heard　what　that　man　said　in　the　restaurant。　If　I　bear　any　more　you'll　kill　me。'
　'What　you　heard　makes　no　more　sense　to　me　than　it　does　to　you。　Perhaps　less。　e　on。'　He　took　her　by　the　arm；　and　put　his　free　hand　on　the　railing　so　he　could　climb　the　steps　with　a　minimum　of　pain。
　She　stared　at　him；　bewilderment　and　fear　converged　in　her　look。
　The　name　M。　Chernak　was　under　the　second　letter　box。　with　a　bell　beneath。　He　did　not　ring　it；　but　pressed　the　adjacent　four　buttons。　Within　seconds　a　cacophony　of　voices　sprang　out　of　the　small；　dotted　speakers　asking　in　Schweitzerdeutsch　who　was　there。　But　someone　did　not　answer；　he　merely　pressed　a　buzzer　which　released　the　lock。　Jason　opened　the　door；　pushing　Marie　St　Jacques　in　front　of　him。
　He　moved　her　against　the　wall　and　waited。　From　above　came　the　sounds　of　doors　opening；　footsteps　walking　towards　the　staircase。
　'Weristda'r
　'Johann？'
　'Wie　bitts？'
　Silence。　Followed　by　words　of　irritation。　Footsteps　were　heard　again；　doors　closed。
　M。　Chernak　was　on　the　second　floor；　Flat　2C。　Bourne　took　the　girl's　arm；　limped　with　her　to　the　staircase　and　started　the　climb。　She　was　right；　of　course。　It　would　be　far　better　if　he　were　alone；　but　there　was　nothing　he　could　do　about　that；　he　did　need　her。
　He　had　studied　road　maps　during　the　weeks　in　Port　Noir。…Lucerne　was　no　more　than　an　hour　away；　Bern　two　and　a　half　or　three。　He　could　head　for　either　one；　dropping　her　off　in　some　deserted　spot　along　the　way；　and　then　disappear。　It　was　simply　a　matter　of　timing；　he　had　the　resources　to　buy　a　hundred　connections。　He　needed　only　a　conduit　out　of　Zurich　and　she　was　it。
　But　before　he　left　Zurich　he　had　to　know；　he　had　to　talk　to　a　man　named。。。
　M。　Chernak。　The　name　was　to　the　right　of　the　doorbell。　He　sidestepped　away　from　the　door；　pulling　the　woman　with