rl.thebourneidentity-第22部分

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　'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　his　eyes。　As　vision　slowly　came　back　to　him；　the　first　thing　he　saw　was　the　outline　of　two　circles。　Gold　circles；　the　spectacles　of　the　killer　who　had　hunted　him　throughout　the　night　The　man　spoke。
　They　say　in　the　laws　of　physics　that　every　action　has　an　equal　and　opposite　reaction。　The　behaviour　of　certain　men　under　certain　conditions　is　similarly　predictable。　For　a　man　like　you　one　sets　up　a　gauntlet；　each　batant　told　what　to　say　if　he　falls。　If　he　does　not　fall；　you　are　taken。　If　he　does；　you　are　misled；　lulled　into　a　false　sense　of　progress。'
　'It's　a　high　degree　of　risk；'　said　Jason。　'For　those　in　the　gauntlet。'
　'They're　paid　well。　And　there's　something　else　…　no　guarantee；　of　course；　but　it's　there。　The　enigmatic　Bourne　does　not　kill　Indiscriminately。　Not　out　of　passion；　naturally；　but　for　a　far　more　practical　reason。　Men　remember　when　they've　been　spared；　he　infiltrates　the　armies　of　others。　Refined　guerrilla　tactics　applied　to　a　sophisticated　battleground。　I　mend　you。'
　'You're　a　horse's　ass。'　It　was　all　Jason　could　think　to　say。　'But　both　your　men　are　alive；　if　that's　what　you　want　to　know。'
　Another　figure　came　into　view；　led　from　the　shadows　of　the　building　by　a　short；　stocky　man。　It　was　the　woman；　it　was　Marie　St　Jacques。
　'That's　him；'　she　said　softly；　her　look　unwavering。
　'Oh；　my　God。。。'　Bourne　shook　his　head　in　disbelief。　'How　was　it　done；　Doctor？'　he　asked　her；　raising　his　voice。　'Was　someone　watching　my　room　at　the　Carillon？　Was　the　lift　timed；　the　others　shut　down？　You're　very　convincing。　And　I　thought　you　were　going　to　crash　into　a　police　car。'
　'As　it　turned　out；'　she　replied；　'it　wasn't　necessary。　These　are　the　police。'
　Jason　looked　at　the　killer　in　front　of　him；　the　man　was　adjusting　his　gold　spectacles。　'I　mend　you；'　he　said。
　'A　minor　talent。！　answered　the　killer。　'The　conditions　were　right。　You　provided　them。'
　'What　happens　now？　The　man　inside　said　I　was　to　be　taken；　not　killed。'
　'You　forget。　He　was　told　what　to　say。'　The　Swiss　paused。　'So　this　is　what　you　look　like。　Many　of　us　have　wondered　during　the　past　two　or　three　years。　How　much　speculation　there's　been！　How　many　contradictions。。。　He's　tall；　you　know；　no；　he's　of　medium　height。　He's　blond；　no；　he　has　dark　black　hair。　Very　light　blue　eyes；　of　course；　no；　quite　clearly；　they　are　brown。　His　features　are　sharp；　no；　they're　really　quite　ordinary；　can't　pick　him　out　in　a　crowd。　But　nothing　was　ordinary。　It　was　all　extraordinary。〃
　Your　features　have　been　softened；　the　character　submerged。　Change　your　hair；　you　change　your　face。。。　Certain　types　of　contact　lenses　are　designed　to　alter　the　colour　of　the　eyes。。。　Wear　glasses；　you're　a　different　man。　Visas；　passports。。。　switched　at　will。
　The　design　was　there。　Everything　fitted。　Not　all　the　answers；　but　more　of　the　truth　than　he　wanted　to　hear。
　'I'd　like　to　get　this　over　with；'　said　Marie　St　Jacques　stepping　forward。　I'll　sign　whatever　I　have　to　sign　…　at　your　office；　I　imagine。　But　then　I　really　must　get　back　to　the　hotel。　I　don't　have　to　tell　you　what　I've　been　through　tonight。'
　The　Swiss　glanced　at　her　through　his　gold…rimmed　glasses。　The　stocky　man　who　had　led　her　out　of　the　shadows　took　her　arm。　She　stared　at　both　men；　then　down　at　the　hand　that　held　her。
　Then　at　Bourne。　Her　breathing　stopped；　a　terrible　realization　being　clear。　Her　eyes　grew　wide。
　'Let　her　go；'　said　Jason。　'She's　on　her　way　back　to　Canada。　You'll　never　see　her　again。'
　'Be　practical。　Bourne。　She's　seen　us。　We　two　are　professionals；　there　are　rules。'　The　man　flicked　his　gun　up　under　Jason's　chin；　the　barrel　pressed　once　more　into　Bourne's　throat　He　ran　his　left　hand　about　his　victim's　clothes；　felt　the　weapon　in　Jason's　pocket　and　took　it　out。　'I　thought　as　much；'　he　said；　and　turned　to　the　stocky　man。　'Take　her　in　the　other　car。　The　Limmat。'
　Bourne　froze。　Marie　St　Jacques　was　to　be　killed；　her　body　thrown　into　the　Limmat　River。
　'Wait　a　minute！'　Jason　stepped　forward；　the　gun　was　jammed　into　his　neck；　forcing　him　back　into　the　bonnet　of　the　car。　'You're　being　stupid！　She　works　for　the　Canadian　government。　They'll　be　all　over　Zurich。'
　'Why　should　that　concern　you？　You　won't　be　here。！
　'Because　it's　a　waste！'　cried　Bourne。　'We're　professionals；　remember？'
　'You　bore　me。'　The　killer　turned　to　the　stocky　man。　'Machen　Sie　mal　los！　Der　Guisan　Quai。'
　'Scream　your　goddamn　head　oft！'　shouted　Jason。　'Start　yelling！　Don't　stop！'
　She　tried；　the　scream　cut　short　by　a　paralysing　blow　to　her　throat。　She　fell　to　the　pavement　as　her　would…be　executioner　dragged　her　towards　a　small　nondescript　black　car。
　'That　was　stupid；'　said　the　killer；　peering　through　his　gold…rimmed　spectacles　into　Bourne's　face。　'You　only　hasten　the　inevitable。　On　the　other　hand；　it　will　be　simpler　now。　I　can　free　a　man　to　tend　to　our　wounded。　Everything's　so　military；　isn't　it？　It　really　is　a　battlefield。'　He　turned　to　the　man　with　the　flashlight。　'Signal　Johann　to　go　inside。　We'll　e　back　for　them。'
　The　torch　was　switched　on　and　off　twice。　A　fourth　man；　who　had　opened　the　door　of　the　small　car　for　the　condemned　woman；　nodded。　Marie　St　Jacques　was　thrown　into　the　rear　seat；　the　door　slammed　shut。　The　man　named　Johann　started　for　the　concrete　steps；　nodding　now　at　the　executioner。
　Jason　felt　sick　as　the　engine　of　the　small　car　was　gunned　and　it　bolted　away　from　the　kerb　into　the　Steppdeckstrasse；　the　twisted　chrome　bumper　disappearing　into　the　shadows　of　the　street。　Inside　that　car　was　a　woman　he　had　never　seen　in　his　life。。。　before　three　hours　ago。　And　he　had　killed　her。　'You　don't　lack　for　soldiers；'　he　said。
　'If　there　were　a　hundred　men　I　could　trust；　I'd　pay　them　willingly。　As　they　say；　your　reputation　precedes　you。〃
　'Suppose　I　paid　you。　You　were　at　the　bank；　you　know　I've　got　funds。'
　'Probably　millions；　but　I　wouldn't　touch　a　franc　note。〃
　'Why？　Are　you　afraid？'
　'Most　assuredly。　Wealth　is　relative　to　the　amount　of　time　one　has　to　enjoy　it。　I　wouldn't　have　five　minutes。'　The　killer　turned　to　his　subordinate。　'Put　him　inside。　Strip　him。　I　want　photographs　taken　of　him　naked　…　before　and　after　he　leaves　us。　You'll　find　a　great　deal　of　money　on　him；　I　want　him　holding　it。　I'll　drive。'　He　looked　again　at　Bourne。　'Carlos　will　get　the　first　print。　And　I　have　no　doubt　that　I'll　be　able　to　sell　the　others　quite　profitably　on　the　open　market。　Magazines　pay　outrageous　prices。'
　'Why　should　〃Carlos〃　believe　you？　Why　should　anyone　believe　you？　You　said　it：　no　one　knows　what　I　look　like。'
　I'll　be　covered。！　said　the　Swiss。　'Sufficient　unto　the　day。　Two　Zurich　bankers　will　step　forward　identifying　you　as　one　Jason　Bourne。　The　same　Jason　Bourne　who　met　the　excessively　rigid　standards　set　by　Swiss　law　for　the　release　of　a　numbered　account。　It　will　be　enough。〃　He　spoke　to　the　gunman。　'Hurry！　I　have　cables　to　send。　Debts　to　collect。'
　A　powerful　arm　shot　over　Bourne's　shoulder；　vicing　his　throat　in　a　hammer…lock。　The　barrel　of　a　gun　was　jolted　into　his　spine；　pain　spreading　throughout　his　chest　as　he　was　dragged　inside　the　car。　The　man　holding　him　was　a　professional；　even　without　his　wounds　it　would　have　been　impossible　to　break　the　grip。　The　gunman's　expertise；　however；　did　not　satisfy　the　bespectacled　leader　of　the　hunt。　He　climbed　behind　the　wheel　and　issued　another　mand。
　'Break　his　fingers；'　he　said。
　The　arm　lock　briefly　choked　off〃　Jason's　air　as　the　barrel　of　the　gun　crashed　down　repeatedly　on　his　hand　…　hands。　Instinctively；　Bourne　had　swung　his　left　hand　over　his　right；　protecting　it　As　the　blood　burst　from　the　back　of　his　left；　he
　twisted　his　fingers；　letting　it　flow　between　them　until　both　hands　were　covered。　He　choked　his　screams；　the　grip　lessened；　he　I　shouted。
　'My　hands！　They're　broken！'
　'Gut。'
　But　they　were　not　broken；　the　left　was　damaged　to　the　point　where　it　was　useless；　not　the　right。　He　moved　his　fingers　in　the　shadows；　his　hand　was　intact。
　The　car　sped　down　the　Steppdeckstrasse　and　swung　into　a　side　street；　heading　south。　Jason　collapsed　back　in　the　seat；　gasping。　The　gunman　tore　at　his　clothes；　ripping　his　shirt；　yanking　at　his　belt。　In　seconds　his　upper　body　would　be　naked；　passport；　papers；　cards；　money　no　longer　his；　all　the　items　intrinsic　to　his　escape　from　Zurich　taken　from　him。。　It　was　now　or　it　was　not　to　be。　He　screamed。
　'My　leg'。　My　goddamned　leg！'　He　lurched　forward；　his　right　hand　working　furiously　in　the　dark；　fumbling　under　the　cloth　of　his　trouser　leg。　He　felt　it。　The　handle　of　the　automatic。
　'Nein！　roared　the　professional　in　the　front。　〃Watch　him！'　He　knew；　it　was　instinctive　knowledge。
　It　was　also　too　late。　Bourne　held　the　gun　in　the　darkness　of　the　floor；　the　powerful　soldier　pushed　him　back。　He　fell　with　the　blow；　the　automatic　now　at　his　waist；　pointed　directly　at　his　attacker's　chest。
　He　fired　twice；　the　man　arched　backwards。　Jason　fired　again；　his　aim　sure；　the　heart　punctured；　the　man　fell　over　into　the　recessed　jump　seat。
　'Put　it　down'〃　yelled　Bourne；　swinging　the　automatic　over　the　rounded　edge　of　the　front　seat；　pressing　the　barrel　into　the　base　of　the　driver's　skull。　'Drop　it！'
　His　breathing　erratic；　the　killer　let　the　gun　fall。　'We　will　talk；'　he　said；　gripping　the　wheel。　'We　are　professionals。　We　will　talk'　The　large　automobile　lurched　forward；　gathering　speed；　the　driver　increasing　pressure　on　the　accelerator。
　'Slow　down！
　'What　is　your　answer？'　The　car　went　faster。　Ahead　were　the　headlights　of　traffic；　they　were　leaving　the　Steppdeckstrasse　district；　entering　the　busier　city　streets。　'You　want　to　get　out　of　Zurich；　I　can　get　you　out。　Without　me。　you　can't。　All　I　have　to　do　is　spin　the　wheel；　crash　into　the　pavement。　I　have　nothing　whatsoever　to　lose；　Herr　Bourne。　There　are　police　everywhere　up　ahead。　I　don't　think　you　want　the　police。'
　'We'll　talk；'　lied　Jason。　Everything　was　timing；　split…second　timing。　There　were　now　two　killers　in　a　speeding　enclosure　that　was　in　itself　a　trap。　Neither　killer　was　to　be　trusted；　both　knew　it。　One　had　to　make　use　of　that　extra　half…second　the　other　would　not　take。　Professionals。　'Put　on　the　brakes；'　said　Bourne。
　'Drop　your　gun　on　the