rl.thebourneidentity-第33部分

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'There　he　is！　The　one　in　the　overcoat　with　the　black　velvet　collar；　d'Amacourt。'
　'Pulling　at　his　sleeves？'
　'Yes。'
　'I've　got　him。　I'll　see　you　back　at　the　hotel。'
　'Be　careful。　Be　very　careful。'
　'Pay　for　the　scarves；　they're　at　the　counter　at　the　back。'
　Jason　left　the　store；　wincing　in　the　sunlight　beyond　the　canopy；　looking　for　a　break　in　the　traffic　so　he　could　cross　the　street；　there　was　none。　D'Amacourt　had　turned　right　and　was　strolling　casually；　he　was　not　a　man　in　a　rush　to　meet　anyone。　Instead；　there　was　the　air　of　a　slightly　squashed　peacock　about　him。
　Bourne　reached　the　corner　and　crossed　with　the　light；　falling　behind　the　banker。　D'Amacourt　stopped　at　a　news…stand　to　buy　an　evening　paper。　Jason　held　his　place　in　front　of　a　sporting　goods　shop；　then　followed　as　the　banker　continued　down　the　block。
　Ahead　was　a　cafe；　windows　dark；　entrance　heavy　wood；　thick　hardware　on　the　door。　It　took　no　imagination　to　picture　the　inside；　it　was　a　drinking　place　for　men；　and　for　women　brought　with　men　other　men　would　not　discuss。　It　was　as　good　a　spot　as　any　for　a　quiet　discussion　with　Antoine　d'Amacourt。　Jason　walked　faster；　falling　in　stride　beside　the　banker。　He　spoke　in　the　awkward；　anglicised　French　he　had　used　on　the　phone。
　'Bonjour；　monsieur。　Je。。。　pense　que　vous。。。　etes　Monsieur　d'Amacourt。　I'd　say　I　was　right；　wouldn't　you？'
　The　banker　stopped。　His　cold　eyes　were　frightened；　remembering。　The　peacock　shrivelled　further　into　his　tailored　overcoat。　'Bourne？'　he　whispered。
　'Your　friends　must　be　very　confused　by　now。　I　expect　they're　racing　all　over　Orly　Airport；　wondering；　perhaps；　if　you　gave　them　the　wrong　information。　Perhaps　on　purpose。！
　'What？'　The　frightened　eyes　bulged。
　'Let's　go　inside　here；'　said　Jason；　taking　d'Amacourt's　arm；　his　grip　firm。　'I　think　we　should　have　a　talk。'
　'I　know　absolutely　nothing！　I　merely　followed　the　demands　of　the　account。　I　am　not　involved！'
　'Sorry。　When　I　first　talked　to　you；　you　said　you　wouldn't　confirm　the　sort　of　bank　account　I　was　talking　about　on　the　phone；　you　wouldn't　discuss　business　with　someone　you　didn't　know。　But　twenty　minutes　later　you　said　you　had　everything　ready　for　me。　That's　confirmation；　isn't　it？　Let's　go　inside。'
　The　cafe　was　in　some　ways　a　miniature　version　of　Zurich's　Drei　Alpenhauser。　The　booths　were　deep；　the　partitions　between　them　high　and　the　light　dim。　From　there；　however；　the　appearances　veered；　the　cafe　on　rue　Madeleine　was　totally　French；　carafes　of　wine　replacing　steins　of　beer。　Bourne　asked　for　a　booth　in　the　corner；　the　waiter　acmodated。　'Have　a　drink；'　said　Jason。　'You're　going　to　need　it。'
　'You　presume；'　replied　the　banker　coldly。　I'll　have　a　whisky。〃
　The　drinks　came　quickly；　the　brief　interim　taken　up　with　d'Amacourt　nervously　extracting　a　packet　of　cigarettes　from　under　his　form…fitting　overcoat。　Bourne　struck　a　match；　holding　it　close　to　the　banker's　face。　Very　close。
　'Merci。'　D'Amacourt　inhaled；　removed　his　cigarette；　and　swallowed　half　the　small　glass　of　whisky。　'I'm　not　the　man　you　should　talk　with；'　he　said。
　'Who　is？'
　'An　owner　of　the　bank；　perhaps。　I　don't　know；　but　certainly　not　me。'
　'Explain　that。！
　'Arrangements　were　made。　A　privately　held　bank　has　more　flexibility　than　a　publicly　owned　institution　with　stockholders。！
　'How？'
　'There's　greater　latitude；　shall　we　say；　with　regard　to　the　demands　of　certain　clients　and　sister　banks。　Less　scrutiny　than　might　be　applied　to　a　pany　listed　on　the　Bourse。　The　Gemeinschaft　in　Zurich　is　also　a　private　institution。！
　'The　demands　were　made　by　the　Gemeinschaft？'
　'Requests。。。　demands。。。　yes。'
　'Who　owns　the　Valois？'
　'Who？　Many；　a　consortium。　Ten　or　twelve　men　and　their　families。'
　Then　I　have　to　talk　to　you；　don't　I？　I　mean　it'd　be　a　little　foolish　my　running　all　over　Paris　tracking　them　down。'　'I'm　only　an　executive。　An　employee。'　D'Amacourt　swallowed　the　rest　of　his　drink；　crushed　out　his　cigarette　and　reached　for　another。　And　the　matches。
　'What　are　the　arrangements？'
　'I　could　lose　my　position；　Monsieur！'
　'You　could　lose　your　life；'　said　Jason；　disturbed　that　the　words　came　so　easily　to　him。
　I'm　not　as　privileged　as　you　think。'
　'Nor　as　ignorant　as　you'd　like　me　to　believe；'　said　Bourne；　his　eyes　wandering　over　the　banker　across　the　table。　'Your　type　is　everywhere；　d'Amacourt。　It's　in　your　clothes；　the　way　you　wear　your　hair；　even　your　walk；　you　strut　too　much。　A　man　like　you　doesn't　get　to　be　the　vice…president　of　the　Valois　bank　without　asking　questions；　you　cover　yourself。　You　don't　make　a　smelly　move　unless　you　can　save　your　own　ass。　Now；　tell　me　what　those　arrangements　were。　You're　not　important　to　me；　am　I　being　clear？〃
　D'Amacourt　struck　a　match　and　held　it　beneath　his　cigarette　while　staring　at　Jason。　'You　don't　have　to　threaten　me；　Monsieur。　You're　a　very　rich　man。　Why　not　pay　me？'　The　banker　smiled　nervously。　'You're　quite　right　incidentally。　I　did　ask　a　question　or　two。　Paris　is　not　Zurich。　A　man　of　my　station　must　have　words　if　not　answers。〃
　Bourne　leaned　back；　revolving　his　glass；　the　clicking　of　the　ice　cubes　obviously　annoying　d'Amacourt。　'Name　a　reasonable　price；'　he　said　finally；　'and　we'll　discuss　it。'
　〃I'm　a　reasonable　man。　Let　the　decision　be　based　on　value；　and　let　it　be　yours。　Bankers　the　world　over　are　pensated　by　grateful　clients　they　have　advised。　I　would　like　to　think　of　you　as　a　client。〃
　I'm　sure　you　would。'　Bourne　smiled；　shaking　his　head　at　the　man's　sheer　nerve。　'So　we　slide　from　bribe　to　gratuity。　pensation　for　personal　advice　and　service。〃
　D'Amacourt　shrugged。　'I　accept　the　definition　and；　if　ever　asked；　would　repeat　your　words。〃
　'The　arrangements？〃
　'Acpanying　the　transfer　of　our　funds　from　Zurich　was　une　fiche　plus　confidentielle。'
　'Une　fiche？'　broke　in　Jason；　recalling　the　moment　in　Apfel's　office　at　the　Gemeinschaft　when　Koenig　came　in　saying　the　words。　'I　heard　it　once　before。　What　is　it？'
　'A　dated　term；　actually。　It　es　from　the　middle　nineteenth　century　when　it　was　a　mon　practice　for　the　great　banking　houses　…　primarily　the　Rothschilds　…　to　keep　track　of　the　international　flow　of　money。'
　Thank　you。　Now　what　is　it　specifically？〃
　'Separate　sealed　instructions　to　be　opened　and　followed　when　the　account　in　question　is　called　up。'
　'〃Called　up〃？'
　'Funds　removed　or　deposited。〃
　'Suppose　I'd　just　gone　to　a　teller；　presented　a　bank　book；　and　asked　for　money？〃
　'A　double　asterisk　would　have　appeared　on　the　transaction　puter。　You　would　have　been　sent　to　me。'
　'I　was　sent　to　you　anyway。　The　operator　gave　me　your　office。〃
　'Irrelevant　chance。　There　are　two　other　officers　in　the　Foreign　Services　Department。　Had　you　been　connected　to　either　one；　the　fiche　would　have　dictated　that　you　still　be　sent　to　me。　I　am　the　senior　executive。
　'I　see。'　But　Bourne　was　not　sure　that　he　did　see。　There　was　a　gap　in　the　sequence；　a　space　needed　filling。　'Wait　a　minute。　You　didn't　know　anything　about　a　fiche　when　you　had　the　account　brought　to　your　office。〃
　'Why　did　I　ask　for　it？'　interrupted　d'Amacourt；　anticipating　the　question。　'Be　reasonable；　monsieur。　Put　yourself　in　my　place。　A　man　calls　and　identifies　himself；　then　says　he　is　〃talking　about　millions　of　francs〃。　Millions。　Would　you　not　be　anxious　to　be　of　service？　Bend　a　rule　here　and　there？'
　Looking　at　the　seedily　elegant　banker；　Jason　realized　it　was　the　most　unstartling　thing　he　had　said。　'The　instructions。　What　were　they？'
　'To　begin　with　a　telephone　number；　unlisted；　of　course。　It　was　to　be　called；　all　information　relayed。'
　'Do　you　remember　the　number？〃
　'I　make　it　a　point　to　mit　such　things　to　memory。〃
　I'll　bet　you　do。　What　is　it？'
　'I　must　protect　myself。　Monsieur。　How　else　could　you　have　got　it？　I　pose　the　question。。。　how　do　you　say　it？。。。　rhetorically。'
　'Which　means　you　have　the　answer。　How　did　I　get　it？　If　it　ever　es　up。'
　〃In　Zurich。　You　paid　a　very　high　price　for　someone　to
　break　not　only　the　strictest　regulation　on　the　Bahnhofstrasse；　but　also　the　laws　of　Switzerland。'
　'I've　got　just　the　man；'　said　Bourne；　the　face　of　Koenig　ing　into　focus。　'He's　already　mitted　the　crime。'
　'At　the　Gemeinschaft？　Are　you　joking？
　'Not　one　bit　His　name　is　Koenig；　his　desk　is　on　the　first　floor。'
　I'll　remember　that'
　I'm　sure　you　will。　The　number？'　D'Amacourt　gave　it　to　him。　Jason　wrote　it　on　a　paper　napkin。　'How　do　I　know　this　is　accurate？'
　'You　have　a　reasonable　guarantee。　I　have　not　been　paid。'
　'Good　enough。'
　'And　as　long　as　value　is　intrinsic　to　our　discussion；　I　should　tell　you　that　it　is　the　second　telephone　number；　the　first　was　cancelled。'
　'Explain　that'
　D'Amacourt　leaned　forward。　'A　Photostat　of　the　original　fiche　arrived　with　the　accounts…courier。　It　was　sealed　in　a　black　case；　accepted　and　signed　for　by　the　senior　keeper…of…records。　The　card　inside　was　validated　by　a　partner　of　the　Gemeinschaft；　countersigned　by　the　usual　Swiss　notary；　the　instructions　were　simple；　quite　clear。　In　all　matters　pertaining　to　the　account　of　Jason　C。　Bourne；　a　transatlantic　call　to　the　United　States　was　to　be　placed　immediately；　the　details　relayed。。。　Here　the　card　was　altered；　the　number　in　New　York　deleted；　one　in　Paris　inserted　and　initialled。'
　'New　York？'　interrupted　Bourne。　'How　do　you　know　it　was　New　York？'
　'The　telephone　area　code　was　parenthetically　included；　spaced　in　front　of　the　number　itself；　it　remained　intact　It　was　two…one…two。　As　first　vice…president；　Foreign　Services；　I　place　such　calls　daily。'
　The　alteration　was　pretty　sloppy。'
　'Possibly。　It　could　have　been　made　in　haste；　or　not　thoroughly　understood。　On　the　other　hand；　there　was　no　way　to　delete　the　body　of　the　instructions　without　renotarization。　A　minor　risk　considering　the　number　of　telephones　in　New　York。　At　any　rate；　the　substitution　gave　me　the　latitude　to　ask　a　question　or　two。　Change　is　a　banker's　anathema。！　D'Amacourt　fingered　his　glass。
　'Care　for　another？〃　asked　Jason。
　'No；　thank　you。　It　would　prolong　our　discussion。'
　'You're　the　one　who　stopped。〃
　I'm　thinking；　Monsieur。　Perhaps　you　should　have　in　mind　a　vague　figure　before　I　proceed。〃
　Bourne　studied　the　man。　'It　could　be　five；'　he　said。
　'Five　what？〃
　'Five　figures。'
　'I　shall　proceed。　I　spoke　to　a　woman。。。〃
　'A　woman？　Ho