rl.thebourneidentity-第21部分

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th　sound；　only　with　reaching　his　destination。　Bourne　had　no　doubt　what　it　was；　he　was　right。
　The　door　crashed　open；　he　smashed　it　back；　then　threw　his　full　weight　into　the　wood；　pinning　the　intruder　against　the　doorframe；　pummelling　the　man's　stomach；　chest　and　arm　into　the　recessed　edge　of　the　wall。　He　pulled　the　door　back　and　lashed　the　toe　of　his　right　foot　into　the　throat　below　him；　reaching　down　with　his　left　hand；　grabbing　blond　hair　and　yanking　the　figure　inside。　The　man's　hand　went　limp；　the　gun　in　it　fell　to　the　floor；　a　long…barrelled　revolver　with　a　silencer　attached。
　Jason　closed　the　door　and　listened　for　sounds　on　the　staircase。　There　were　none。　He　looked　down　at　the　unconscious　man。　Thief？　Killer？　What　was　he？
　Police？　Had　the　Vermieter　of　the　boarding　house　decided　to　overlook　the　Code　of　the　Steppdeckstrasse　in　search　of　a　reward？　Bourne　rolled　the　intruder　over　and　took　out　a　wallet。　Second　nature　made　him　remove　the　money；　knowing　it　was　ludicrous　to　do　so；　he　had　a　small　fortune　on　him。　He　looked　at　the　various　credit　cards　and　driver's　licence；　he　smiled；　but　then　his　smile　disappeared。　There　was　nothing　funny；　the　names　on　the　cards　were　different　names；　the　name　on　the　licence　matching　none。　The　unconscious　man　was　no　police　officer。
　He　was　a　professional；　e　to　kill　a　wounded　man　in　the　Steppdeckstrasse。　Someone　had　hired　him。　Who？　Who　could　possibly　know　he　was　there！
　The　woman？　Had　he　mentioned　the　Steppdeckstrasse　when　he　had　seen　the　row　of　neat　houses；　looking　for　Number　37？。。。　No；　it　was　not　she；　he　may　have　said　something；　but　she　would　not　have　understood。　And　if　she　had；　there'd　be　no　professional　killer　in　his　room；　instead；　the　rundown　boarding　house　would　be　surrounded　by　police。
　The　image　of　a　large　fat　man　perspiring　above　a　table　came　to　Bourne。　That　same　man　had　wiped　the　sweat　from　his　protruding　lips　and　had　spoken　of　the　courage　of　an　insignificant　goat　…　who　had　survived。　Was　this　an　example　of　his　survival　technique？　Had　he　known　about　the　Steppdeckstrasse？　Was　he　aware　of　the　habits　of　the　patron　whose　sight　terrified　him？　Had　he　been　to　the　filthy　rooming　house？　Delivered　an　envelope　there？
　Jason　pressed　his　hand　to　his　forehead　and　shut　his　eyes。　Why　can't　I　remember？　When　will　the　mists　clear？　Will　they　ever　clear？
　Don't　crucify　yourself。。。
　Bourne　opened　his　eyes；　fixing　them　on　the　blond　man。　For　the　briefest　of　moments　he　nearly　burst　out　laughing；　he　had　been　presented　with　his　exit　visa　from　Zurich；　and　instead　of　recognizing　it；　he　was　wasting　time　tormenting　himself。　He　put　the　wallet　in　his　pocket；　wedging　it　behind　the　Marquis　de　Chambord's；　picked　up　the　gun　and　shoved　it　into　his　belt；　then　dragged　the　unconscious　figure　over　to　the　bed。
　A　minute　later　the　man　was　strapped　to　the　sagging　mattress；　gagged　by　a　torn　sheet　wrapped　around　his　face。　He　would　remain　where　he　was　for　hours；　and　in　hours　Jason　would　be　out　of　Zurich；　pliments　of　a　perspiring　fat　man。
　He　had　slept　in　his　clothes。　There　was　nothing　to　gather　up　or　carry；　except　his　overcoat。　He　put　it　on；　and　tested　his　leg。　somewhat　after　the　fact；　he　reflected。　In　the　heat　of　the　past　few　minutes　he　had　been　unaware　of　the　pain；　it　was　there；　as　the　limp　was　there；　but　neither　immobilized　him。　The　shoulder　was　not　in　as　good　shape。　A　slow　paralysis　was　spreading；　he　had　to　get　to　a　doctor。　His　head。。。　he　did　not　want　to　think　about　his　head。
　He　walked　out　into　the　dimly　lit　hallway；　pulled　the　door　closed　and　stood　motionless；　listening。　There　was　a　burst　of　laughter　from　above；　he　pressed　his　back　against　the　wall；　gun　poised。　The　laughter　trailed　off；　it　was　a　drunk's　laughter　…　incoherent；　pointless。
　He　limped　to　the　staircase；　held　onto　the　railing；　and　started　down。　He　was　on　the　top　floor　of　the　four…storey　building；　having　insisted　on　the　highest　room　when　the　phrase　high　ground　had　e　to　him　instinctively。　Why　had　it　e　to　him？　What　did　it　mean　in　terms　of　renting　a　filthy　room　for　a　single　night？　Sanctuary？
　Stop　it！
　He　reached　the　first…floor　landing；　creaks　in　the　wooden　staircase　acpanying　each　step。　If　the　Vermieter　came　out　of　his　flat　below　to　satisfy　his　curiosity；　it　would　be　the　last　thing　he　satisfied　for　several　hours。
　A　noise。　A　scratch。　Soft　fabric　moving　briefly　across　an　abrasive　surface。　Cloth　against　wood。　Someone　was　concealed　in　the　short　stretch　of　hallway　between　the　end　of　one　staircase　and　the　beginning　of　another。　Without　breaking　the　rhythm　of　his　walk；　he　peered　into　the　shadows；　there　were　three　recessed　doorways　in　the　right　wall；　identical　to　the　floor　above。　In　one　of　them。。。
　He　took　a　step　closer。　Not　the　first；　it　was　empty。　And　it　would　not　be　the　last；　the　bordering　wall　forming　a　cul　de　sac；　no　room　to　move。　It　had　to　be　the　second；　yes；　the　second　doorway。　From　it　a　man　could　rush　forward；　to　his　left　or　right；　or　throwing　a　shoulder　into　an　unsuspecting　victim；　sending　his　target　over　the　railing；　plunging　down　the　staircase。
　Bourne　angled　to　his　right；　shifting　the　gun　to　his　left　hand　and　reaching　into　his　belt　for　the　weapon　with　a　silencer。　Two　feet　from　the　recessed　door；　he　heaved　the　automatic　in　his　left　hand　into　the　shadows　as　he　pivoted　against　the　wall。
　'Was？。。。'　An　arm　appeared；　Jason　fired　once；　blowing　the　hand　apart　'Ahh！'　The　figure　lurched　out　in　shock；　incapable　of　aiming　his　weapon。　Bourne　fired　again；　hitting　the　man　in　the　thigh；　he　collapsed　on　the　floor；　writhing；　cringing。　Jason　took　a　step　forward　and　knelt；　his　knee　pressing　into　the　man's　chest；　his　gun　at　the　man's　head。　He　spoke　in　a　whisper。
　'Is　there　anyone　else　down　there？！
　'Nein！'　said　the　man　wincing　in　pain。　'Zwei。。。　two　of　us　only。　We　were　paid。'
　'By　whom？'
　'You　know。〃
　'A　man　named　Carlos？'
　'I　will　not　answer　that　Kill　me　first'
　'How　did　you　know　I　was　here？'
　'Chernak。'
　'He's　dead。'
　'Now。　Not　yesterday。　Word　reached　Zurich：　you　were　alive。　We　checked　everyone。。。　everywhere。　Chernak　knew。'
　Bourne　gambled。　'You're　lying！'　He　pushed　the　gun　into　the　man's　throat　'I　never　told　Chernak　about　the　Steppdeckstrasse。'
　The　man　winced　again；　his　neck　arched。　'Perhaps　you　did　not　have　to。　The　Nazi　pig　had　informers　everywhere。　Why　should　the　Steppdeckstrasse　be　any　different？　He　could　describe　you。　Who　else　could？'
　'A　man　at　the　Drei　Alpenhauser。'
　'We　never　heard　of　any　such　man。'
　'Who's　〃we〃？'
　The　man　swallowed；　his　lips　stretched　in　pain。　'Businessmen。。。　only　businessmen。'
　'And　your　service　is　killing。'
　'You're　a　strange　one　to　talk。　But；　nein。　You　were　to　be　taken；　not　killed。'
　'Where？'
　'We　would　be　told　by　radio。　Car　frequency。！　'Terrific；'　said　Jason　flatly。　'You're　not　only　second…rate；　you're　acmodating。　Where's　your　car？'　'Outside。'　'Give　me　the　keys。'　The　radio　would　identify　it。
　The　man　tried　to　resist；　he　pushed　Bourne's　knee　away　and　started　to　roll　into　the　wall。　'Nein！'
　'You　haven't　got　a　choice。'　Jason　brought　the　handle　of　the　pistol　down　on　the　man's　skull。　The　Swiss　collapsed。
　Bourne　found　the　keys　…　there　were　three　in　a　leather　case　…took　the　man's　gun；　and　put　it　into　his　pocket。　It　was　a　smaller　weapon　than　the　one　he　held　in　his　hand　and　had　no　silencer；　lending　a　degree　of　credence　to　the　claim　that　he　was　to　be　taken；　not　killed。　The　blond　man　upstairs　had　been　acting　as　the　point；　and　therefore　needed　the　protection　of　a　silenced　gunshot　should　wounding　be　required。　But　an　unmuffled　report　could　lead　to　plications；　the　Swiss　on　the　first　floor　was　a　back…up；　his　weapon　to　be　used　as　a　visible　threat。
　Then　why　was　he　on　the　first　floor？　Why　hadn't　he　followed　his　colleague？　On　the　staircase？　Something　was　odd；　but　there　was　no　accounting　for　tactics；　nor　the　time　to　consider　them。　There　was　a　car　outside　on　the　street　and　be　had　the　keys　for　it
　Nothing　could　be　disregarded。　The　third　gun。
　He　got　up　painfully；　and　found　the　automatic　he　had　taken　from　the　Frenchman　in　the　lift　at　the　Gemeinschaft　Bank。　He　pulled　up　his　left　trouser　leg　and　inserted　the　gun　under　the　elasticised　fabric　of　his　sock。　It　was　secure。
　He　paused　to　get　his　breath　and　his　balance；　then　crossed　to　the　staircase；　aware　that　the　pain　in　his　left　shoulder　was　suddenly　more　acute；　the　paralysis　spreading　more　rapidly。　Messages　from　brain　to　limb　were　less　clear。　He　hoped　to　God　he　could　drive。
　He　reached　the　fifth　step　and　abruptly　stopped；　listening　as　he　had　listened　barely　a　minute　ago　for　sounds　of　concealment　For　a　scratch　of　cloth　or　a　quiet　intake　of　breath。　There　was　nothing；　the　wounded　man　may　have　been　tactically　deficient；　but　he　had　told　the　truth。　Jason　hurried　down　the　staircase　He　would　drive　out　of　Zurich　…　somehow　…　and　find　a　doctor　…somewhere。
　He　spotted　the　car　easily。　It　was　different　from　the　other　shabby　automobiles　on　the　street。　Outsized；　well…kept；　and　he　could　see　the　bulge　of　an　antenna　base　riveted　into　the　boot　He　walked　to　the　driver's　side　and　ran　his　hand　around　the　panel　and　left　front　mudguard；　there　was　no　alarm　device。
　He　unlocked　the　door；　then　opened　it；　holding　his　breath　in　case　he　was　wrong　about　the　alarm；　he　was　not　He　climbed　in　behind　the　wheel；　adjusting　his　position　until　he　was　as　fortable　as　he　could　be；　grateful　that　the　car　had　automatic　gears。　The　large　weapon　in　his　belt　inhibited　him。　He　placed　it　on　the　seat　beside　him；　then　reached　for　the　ignition；　assuming　the　key　that　had　unlocked　the　door　was　the　proper　one。
　It　was　not。　He　tried　the　one　next　to　it；　but　it；　too；　would　not　fit。　For　the　boot；　he　assumed。　It　was　the　third　key。
　Or　was　it？　He　kept　stabbing　at　the　opening。　The　key　would　not　enter；　he　tried　the　second　again；　it　was　blocked。　Then　the　first。　None　of　the　keys　would　fit　into　the　ignition！　Or　were　the　messages　from　brain　to　limb　to　fingers　too　garbled；　his　coordination　too　inadequate？　Goddamn　it！　Try　again！
　A　powerful　light　came　from　his　left；　burning　his　eyes；　blinding　him。　He　grabbed　for　the　gun；　but　a　second　beam　shot　out　from　the　right；　the　door　was　yanked　open　and　a　heavy　torch　crashed　down　on　his　hand；　another　hand　taking　the　weapon　from　the　seat。
　'Get　out　I'　The　order　came　from　his　left；　the　barrel　of　a　gun　pressed　into　his　neck。
　He　climbed　out；　a　thousand　coruscating　circles　of　white　in