rl.thebourneidentity-第27部分

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er　she　felt　it　being　too　pronounced。　Of　course　she　was　good　at　what　she　did；　he　suspected　she　never　did　anything　with　less　than　her　fullest　application。　'I'm　sure　you　are　…　good；　I　mean　…　but　it　doesn't　leave　much　time　for　other　things；　does　it？'
　'What　other　things？'
　'Oh；　the　usual。　Husband；　family；　house　with　a　white　picket　fence。'
　'They　may　e　one　day；　I　don't　rule　them　out。'
　'But　they　haven't。'
　'No。　There　were　a　couple　of　close　calls；　but　no　brass　ring。　Or　diamond；　either。'
　'Who's　Peter？'
　The　smile　faded。　'I'd　forgotten。　You　read　the　cable。'
　I'm　sorry。'
　'Don't　be。　We've　covered　that。。　Peter？　I　adore　Peter。　We　lived　together　for　nearly　two　years；　but　it　didn't　work　out'
　'Apparently　he　doesn't　hold　any　grudges。'
　'He'd　better　not！'　She　laughed　again。　'He's　director　of　the　section；　hopes　for　a　cabinet　appointment　soon。　It　he　doesn't　behave　himself。　I'll　tell　the　department　of　Treasury　what　he　doesn't　know　and　he'll　be　back　as　an　SX…Two。'
　'He　said　he　was　going　to　pick　you　up　at　the　airport　on　the　twenty…sixth　You'd　better　cable　him。'
　'Yes；　I　know。'
　Her　leaving　was　what　they　had　not　talked　about；　they　had　avoided　the　subject　as　though　it　were　a　distant　eventuality。　It　was　not　related　to　what…had…happened；　it　was　something　that　was　going　to　be。　Marie　had　said　she　wanted　to　help　him。　he　had　accepted；　assuming　she　was　given　by　false　gratitude　into　staying　with　him　for　a　day　or　so　…　and　he　was　grateful　for　that。　But　anything　else　was　unthinkable。
　Which　was　why　they　did　not　talk　about　it。　Words　and　looks　had　passed　between　them；　quiet　laughter　evoked；　fort　established。　At　odd　moments　there　were　tentative　rushes　of　warmth　and　they　both　understood　and　backed　away。　Anything　else　was　unthinkable。
　So　they　kept　returning　to　the　abnormality；　to　what…had…happened。　To　him　more　than　to　them；　for　he　was　the　irrational　reason　for　their　being　together。。。　together　in　a　room　at　a　small　village　inn　in　Switzerland。　Abnormality。　It　was　not　part　of　the　reasonable；　ordered　world　of　Marie　St　Jacques；　and　because　it　was　not；　her　orderly；　analytical　mind　was　provoked。　Unreasonable　things　were　to　be　examined；　unravelled；　explained。　She　became　relentless　in　her　probing；　as　insistent　as　Geoffrey　Washburn　had　been　on　the　lie　de　Port　Noir；　but　without　the　doctor's　patience。　For　she　did　not　have　the　time：　she　knew　it　and　it　drove　her　to　the　edges　of　stridency。
　'When　you　read　the　newspapers；　what　strikes　you？'
　The　mess。　Seems　it's　universal。'
　'Be　serious。　What's　familiar　to　you？'
　'Almost　everything；　but　I　can't　tell　you　why。'
　'Give　me　an　example。'
　'This　morning。　There　was　a　story　about　an　American　arms　shipment　to　Greece　and　the　subsequent　debate　in　the　United　Nations；　the　Russians　protested。　I　understand　the　significance；　the　Mediterranean　power　struggle；　the　Middle　East　spillover。'
　'Give　me　another。'
　'There　was　an　article　about　East　German　interference　with　the　Bonn　government's　liaison　office　in　Warsaw。　Eastern　bloc；　western　bloc；　again　I　understood。'
　'You　see　the　relationship；　don't　you？　You're　politically　…　receptive。'
　'Or　I　have　a　perfectly　normal　working　knowledge　of　current　events。　I　don't　think　I　was　ever　a　diplomat。　The　money　at　the　Gememschaft　would　rule　out　any　kind　of　government　employment。〃
　'I　agree；　still　you're　politically　aware。　What　about　maps？　You　asked　me　to　buy　you　maps。　What　es　to　mind　when　you　look　at　them？'
　'In　some　cases　names　trigger　images；　just　as　they　did　in　Zurich。　Buildings；　hotels；　streets。。。　sometimes　faces。　But　never　names。　The　faces　don't　have　any。'
　'Still　you've　travelled　a　great　deal。'
　'I　believe　I；　have。〃
　'You　know　you　have。'
　'All　right；　I've　travelled。'
　'How　did　you　travel？'
　'What　do　you　mean；　how？'
　'Was　it　usually　by　plane；　or　by　car　…　not　taxis　but　driving　yourself？'
　'Both；　I　think。　Why？'
　'Planes　would　mean　greater　distances　more　frequently。　Did　people　meet　you？　Are　there　faces　at　airports；　hotels？'
　'Streets；'　he　replied　involuntarily。
　'Streets？　Why　streets？'
　'I　don't　know。　Faces　met　me　in　the　streets。。。　and　in　quiet　places。　Dark　places。'
　'Restaurants？　Gate's？'
　'Yes。　And　rooms。'
　'Hotel　rooms？'
　'Yes。'
　'Not　offices？　Business　offices？'
　'Sometimes。　Not　usually。'
　'All　right。　People　met　you。　Faces。　Men？　Women？　Both？'
　'Men　mostly。　Some　women；　but　mostly　men。'
　'What　did　they　talk　about？'
　'I　don't　know。'
　'Try　to　remember。'
　'I　can't。　There　aren't　any　voices；　there　aren't　any　words。'
　'Were　there　schedules？　You　met　people；　that　means　you　had　appointments。　They　expected　to　meet　you　and　you　expected　to　meet　them。　Who　scheduled　those　appointments？　Someone　had　to。'
　'Cables。　Telephone　calls。'
　'From　whom？　From　where？'
　'I　don't　know。　They　would　reach　me。'
　'At　hotels'''
　'Mostly；　I　imagine。'
　'You　told　me　the　assistant　manager　at　the　Carillon　said　you　did　receive　messages。'
　'Then　they　came　to　hotels。'
　'Something…or…other　Seventy…one？'
　Treadstone。'
　'Treadstone。　That's　your　pany；　isn't　it？'
　'It　doesn't　mean　anything。　I　couldn't　find　it！
　'Concentrate！'
　'I　am。　It　wasn't　listed。　I　called　New　York。！
　'You　seem　to　think　that's　so　unusual。　It's　not！
　'Why　not？
　'It　could　be　a　separate　in…house　division；　or　a　blind　subsidiary　…　a　corporation　set　up　to　make　purchases　for　a　parent　pany　whose　name　would　push　up　a　negotiating　price。　It's　done　every　day。'
　'Who　are　you　trying　to　convince？〃
　'You。　It's　entirely　possible　that　you're　a　roving　negotiator　for　American　financial　interests。　Everything　points　to　it：　funds　set　up　for　immediate　capital；　confidentiality　open　for　corporate　approval；　which　was　never　exercised。　These　facts；　plus　your　own　antenna　for　political　shifts；　point　to　a　trusted　purchasing　agent；　and　quite　probably　a　large　shareholder　or　part　owner　of　the　parent　pany。'
　'You　talk　awfully　fast。'
　'I've　said　nothing　that　isn't　logical。'
　There's　a　hole　or　two。'
　'Where？'
　That　account　didn't　show　any　withdrawals。　Only　deposits。　I　wasn't　buying；　I　was　selling。'
　'You　don't　know　that；　you　can't　remember。　Payments　can　be　made　with　shortfall　deposits。'
　'I　don't　even　know　what　that　means。〃
　'A　treasurer　aware　of　certain　tax　strategies　would。　What's　the　other　hole？'
　'Men　don't　try　to　kill　someone　for　buying　something　at　a　lower　price。　They　may　expose　him；　they　don't　kill　him。〃
　They　do　if　a　gargantuan　error　has　been　made。　Or　if　that　person　has　been　mistaken　for　someone　else。　What　I'm　trying　to　tell　you　is　that　you　can't　be　what　you're　not。　No　matter　what　anyone　says。'
　'You're　that　convinced。'
　'I'm　that　convinced。　I've　spent　three　days　with　you。　We've　talked；　I've　listened。　A　terrible　error　has　been　made。。。　Or　it's　some　kind　of　conspiracy。'
　'Involving　what？　Against　what？'
　That's　what　you　have　to　find　out
　Thanks。'
　Tell　me　something。　What　es　to　mind　when　you　think　of　money？'
　Stop　it！　Don't　do　this！　Can't　you　understand？　You're　wrong。　When　I　think　of　money　I　think　of　killing。
　'I　don't　know。！　he　said。　Tin　tired。　I　want　to　sleep。　Send　your　cable　in　the　morning。'
　It　was　well　past　midnight；　the　beginning　of　the　fourth　day；　and　still　sleep　would　not　e。　Bourne　stared　at　the　ceiling；　at　the　dark　wood　that　reflected　the　light　of　the　table　lamp　across　the　room。　The　light　remained　on　during　the　nights；　Marie　simply　left　it　on；　no　explanation　sought；　none　offered。
　In　the　morning　she　would　be　gone　and　his　own　plans　had　to　crystallize。　He　would　stay　at　the　inn　for　a　few　more　days；　call　the　doctor　in　Wohlen　and　arrange　to　have　the　stitches　removed。　After　that；　Paris。　The　money　was　in　Paris；　and　so　was　something　else；　he　knew　it；　he　felt　it。　A　final　answer；　it　was　in　Paris。
　You　are　not　helpless。　You　will　find　your　way。
　What　would　he　find？　A　man　named　Carlos？　Who　was　Carlos　and　what　was　he　to　Jason　Bourne？
　He　heard　the　rustle　of　cloth　from　the　couch　against　the　wall。　He　glanced　over；　startled　to　see　that　Marie　was　not　asleep。　Instead；　she　was　looking　at　him；　staring　at　him　really。
　'You're　wrong；　you　know；'　she　said。
　'About　what？'
　'What　you're　thinking。'
　'You　don't　know　what　I'm　thinking。'
　'Yes；　I　do。　I've　seen　that　look　in　your　eyes；　seeing　things　you're　not　sure　are　there；　afraid　that　they　may　be。'
　They　have　been；'　he　replied。　'Explain　the　Steppdeckstrasse。　Explain　a　fat　man　at　the　Drei　Alpenhauser。'
　'I　can't；　but　neither　can　you。'
　They　were　there。　I　saw　them　and　they　were　there。！
　'Find　out　why。　You　can't　be　what　you're　not；　Jason。　Find　out。'
　'Paris；'　he　said。
　'Yes；　Paris。'　Marie　got　up　from　the　couch。　She　was　in　a　soft　yellow　nightgown；　nearly　white；　pearl　buttons　at　the　neck；　it　flowed　as　she　walked　towards　the　bed　in　her　bare　feet。　She　stood　beside　him；　looking　down；　then　raised　both　her　hands　and　began　unbuttoning　the　top　of　the　gown。　She　let　it　fall　away　as　she　sat　on　the　bed；　her　breasts　above　him。　She　leaned　towards　him；　reaching　for　his　face；　cupping　it；　holding　him　gently；　her　eyes　as　so　often　during　the　past　few　days　unwavering；　fixed　on　his。　Thank　you　for　my　life；'　she　whispered。
　Thank　you　for　mine；'　he　answered　feeling　the　longing　he　knew　she　felt；　wondering　if　an　ache　acpanied　hers；　as　it　did　his。　He　had　no　memory　of　a　woman　and；　perhaps　because　he　had　none　she　was　everything　he　could　imagine；　everything　and　much。。。　much　more。　She　repelled　the　darkness　for　him。　She　stopped　the　pain。
　He　had　been　afraid　to　tell　her。　And　she　was　telling　him　now　it　was　all　right；　if　only　for　a　while　for　an　hour　or　so。　For　the　remainder　of　that　night；　she　was　giving　him　a　memory　because　she　too　longed　for　release　from　the　coiled　springs　of　violence。　Tension　was　suspended；　fort　theirs　for　an　hour　or　so。　It　was　all　he　asked　for；　but　God　in　heaven；　how　he　needed　her。
　He　reached　for　her　breast　and　pulled　her　lips　to　his　lips；　her　moisture　arousing　him；　sweeping　away　the　doubts。
　She　lifted　the　covers　and　came　to　him。
　She　lay　in　his　arms；　her　head　on　his　chest；　careful　to　avoid　the　wound　in　his　shoulder。　She　slid　back　gently；　raising　herself　on　her　elbows。　He　looked　at　her；　their　eyes　locked；　and　both　smiled。　She　lifted　her　hand；　pressing　her　index　finger　over　his　lips；　and　spoke　softly。
　'I　have　something　to　say　and　I　don't　want　you　to　interrupt　I'm　not　fending　the　cable　to　Peter。　Not　yet〃