rl.thebourneidentity-第40部分

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n　every　day。　There　was　no　darkness；　the　afternoon　sun　was　bright；　as　blinding　as　his　race　through　the　labyrinth。
　'Everything's　here；〃　said　Marie。　She　had　collated　the　certificates　by　denominations；　the　stacks　and　the　franc　notes　on　the　desk。　'I　told　you　it　would　be。'
　'It　almost　wasn't。'
　'What？'
　The　man　they　called　Johann；　the　one　from　Zurich。　He's　dead。　I　killed　him。'
　'Jason；　what　happened？'
　He　told　her。　They　counted　on　the　Pont　Neuf；'　he　said。　'My　guess　is　that　the　back…up　car　got　caught　in　traffic；　broke　into　the　courier's　radio　frequency；　and　told　them　to　delay。　I'm　sure　of　it。'
　'Oh　God；　they're　everywhere！'
　'But　they　don't　know　where　I　am。！　said　Bourne；　looking　into　the　mirror　above　the　bureau；　studying　his　blond　hair　while　putting　on　the　tortoiseshell　glasses。　'And　the　last　place　they'd　expect　to　find　me　at　this　moment　…　if　they　conceivably　thought　I　knew　about　it　…　would　be　a　fashion　house　on　Saint…Honoree。'
　'Les　Classiques？'　asked　Marie；　astonished。
　That's　right。　Did　you　call　it？'
　'Yes；　but　that's　insane！！
　'Why？'　Jason　turned　from　the　mirror。　Think　about。it。　Twenty　minutes　ago　their　trap　fell　apart；　there's　got　to　be　confusion；　recriminations；　accusations　of　inpetency；　or　worse。　Right　now；　at　this　moment；　they're　more　concerned　with　each　other　than　with　me；　nobody　wants　a　bullet　in　his　throat。　It　won't　last　long；　they'll　regroup　quickly；　Carlos　will　make　sure　of　that。　But　during　the　next　hour　or　so　while　they're　trying　to　piece　together　what　happened；　the　one　place　they　won't　look　for　me　is　a　relay…drop　they　haven't　the　vaguest　idea　I'm　aware　of。'
　'Someone　will　recognize　you！'
　'Who？　They　brought　in　a　man　from　Zurich　to　do　that　and　he's　dead。　They're　not　sure　what　I　look　like。'
　The　courier。　They'll　take　him；　he　saw　you。'
　'For　the　next　few　hours　he'll　be　busy　with　the　police。
　'D'Amacourt。　The　lawyer！'
　'I　suspect　they're　halfway　to　Normandy　or　Marseilles　or；　if　they're　lucky；　out　of　the　country。'
　；　'Suppose　they're　stopped；　caught？'
　'Suppose　they　are？　Do　you　think　Carlos　would　expose　a　drop　where　he　gets　messages？　Not　on　your　life。　Or　his。'
　'Jason；　I'm　frightened。'
　'So　am　I。　But　not　of　being　recognized。'　Bourne　returned　to　the　mirror。　'I　could　give　a　long　dissertation　about　facial　classifications　and　softened　features；　but　I　won't。'
　'You're　talking　about　the　evidences　of　surgery。　Port　Noir。
　'You　told　me。'
　'Not　all　of　it'　Bourne　leaned　against　the　bureau；　staring　at　his　face。　'What　colour　are　my　eyes？'
　'What？'
　'No；　don't　look　at　me。　Now；　tell　me；　what　colour　are　my　eyes？　Yours　are　brown　with　speckles　of　green；　what　about　mine？'
　'Blue。。。　bluish。　Or　a　kind　of　grey；　really。。。'　Marie　stopped。　'I'm　not　really　sure。　I　suppose　that's　dreadful　of　me。'
　'It's　perfectly　natural。　Basically　they're　hazel；　but　not　all　the　time。　Even　I've　noticed　it　When　I　wear　a　blue　shirt　or　tie；　they　bee　bluer；　a　brown　coat　or　jacket；　they're　grey。　When　I'm　naked；　they're　strangely　nondescript'
　That's　not　so　strange。　I'm　sure　millions　of　people　are　the　same。'　〃I'm　sure　they　are。　But　how　many　of　them　wear　contact　lenses　when　their　eyesight　is　normal？'
　'Contact。。。？'
　〃That's　what　I　said；'　interrupted　Jason。　'Certain　types　of　contact　lenses　are　worn　to　change　the　colour　of　the　eyes。　They're　most　effective　when　the　eyes　are　hazel。。。　When　Washburn　first　examined　me　there　was　evidence　of　prolonged　usage。　It's　one　of　the　clues；　isn't　it？'
　'It's　whatever　you　want　to　make　of　it；'　said　Marie。　'If　it's　true。〃
　'Why　wouldn't　it　be？'
　'Because　the　doctor　was　more　often　drunk　than　sober。　You've　told　me　that。　He　piled　conjecture　on　top　of　conjecture；　heaven　knows　how　often　warped　by　alcohol　He　was　never　specific。　He　couldn't　be。'
　'He　was　about　one　thing。　I'm　a　chameleon；　designed　to　fit　a　flexible　mould。　I　want　to　find　out　whose；　maybe　I　can　now。　Thanks　to　you　I've　got　an　address。　Someone　there　may　know　the　truth。　Just　one　man；　that's　all　I　need。　One　person　I　can　confront；　break　if　I　have　to。。。〃
　'I　can't　stop　you；　but　for　God's　sake　be　careful。　If　they　do　recognize　you；　they'll　kill　you。'
　'Not　there　they　won't；　it'd　be　rotten　for　business。　This　is　Paris。'
　'I　don't　think　that's　funny；　Jason。'
　'Neither　do　I。　I'm　counting　on　it　very　seriously。'
　'What　are　you　going　to　do？　I　mean；　how？'
　I'll　know　better　when　I　get　there。　See　if　anyone's　running　around　looking　nervous　or　anxious　or　waiting　for　a　phone　call　as　if　his　life　depended　on　it'
　Then　what？'
　I'll　do　the　same　as　I　did　with　d'Amacourt。　Wait　outside　and　follow　whoever　it　is。　I'm　this　close；　I　won't　miss。　And　I'll　be　careful。'
　'Will　you　call　me？'
　I'll　try。'
　'I　may　go　crazy　waiting。　Not　knowing。'
　'Don't　wait　Can　you　deposit　the　bonds　somewhere？'
　The　banks　are　closed。'
　'Use　a　large　hotel；　hotels　have　vaults。'
　'You　have　to　have　a　room。'
　'Take　one。　At　the　Meurice；　or　the　Georges　Cinq。　Leave　the　case　at　the　desk；　but　e　back　here。'
　Marie　nodded。　'It　would　give　me　something　to　do。'
　Then　call　Ottawa。　Find　out　what　happened。〃
　'I　will'
　Bourne　crossed　to　the　bedside　table　and　picked　up　a　number
　of　five…thousand　franc　notes。　'A　bribe　would　be　easier；'　he　said。　'I　don't　think　it'll　happen；　but　it　could。'
　'It　could；'　agreed　Marie；　and　then　in　the　same　breath　continued；　'Did　you　hear　yourself？　You　just　rattled　off　the　names　of　two　hotels。〃
　'I　heard。'　He　turned　and　faced　her。　'I've　been　here　before。　Many　times。　I　lived　here；　but　not　in　those　hotels。　In　out…of…the…way　streets；　I　think。　Not　very　easily　found。'
　The　moment　passed　in　silence；　the　fear　electric。
　'I　love　you；　Jason。'
　'I　love　you；　too；'　said　Bourne。
　'e　back　to　me。　No　matter　what　happens；　e　back　to　me。'
　The　lighting　was　soft　and　dramatic；　pinpoint　spotlights　shining　down　from　the　dark　brown　ceiling；　bathing　mannequins　and　expensively　dressed　in　pools　of　flattering　yellows。　The　jewelry　and　accessories　counters　were　lined　with　black　velvet；　silks　of　bright　red　and　green　tastefully　flowing　above　the　midnight　sheen；　glistening　eruptions　of　gold　and　silver　caught　in　the　recessed　frame　lights。　The　aisles　curved　graciously　in　semicircles；　giving　an　illusion　of　space　that　was　not　there；　for　Les　Classiques；　though　hardly　small；　was　not　a　large　emporium。　It　was；　however；　a　beautifully　appointed　shop　on　one　of　the　most　costly　strips　of　real　estate　in　Paris。　Fitting　rooms　with　doors　of　tinted　glass　were　at　the　rear；　beneath　a　balcony　where　the　offices　of　management　were　located。　A　carpeted　staircase　rose　on　the　right　beside　an　elevated　switchboard　in　front　of　which　sat　an　oddly　out…of…place　middle…aged　man　dressed　in　a　conservative　business　suit；　operating　the　console；　speaking　into　a　mouthpiece　that　was　an　extension　of　his　single　earphone。
　The　staff　were　mostly　women；　tall；　slender；　gaunt　of　face　and　body；　living　postmortems　of　former　fashion　models　whose　tastes　and　intelligence　carried　them　beyond　their　sisters　in　the　trade；　other　practices　no　longer　feasible。　The　few　men　in　evidence　were　also　slender；　reedlike　figures　emphasized　by　form…fitting　clothes；　gestures　rapid；　stances　balletically　defiant。
　Light　romantic　music　floated　out　of　the　dark　ceiling；　quiet　crescendos　abstractly　punctuated　by　the　beams　of　the　miniature　spotlights。　Jason　wandered　through　the　aisles；　studying　mannequins；　touching　the　fabric；　making　his　own　appraisals。　They　covered　his　essential　bewilderment　Where　was　the　confusion；　the　anxiety　he　expected　…to　find　at　the　core　of　Carlos's　message　centre？　He　glanced　up　at　the　open　office　doors　and　the　single　corridor　that　bisected　the　small　plex。　Men　and　women　walked　casually　about　as　they　did　on　the　main　floor；　every　now　and　then　stopping　one　another；　exchanging　pleasantries　or　scraps　of　relevantly　irrelevant　information。　Gossip。　Nowhere　was　there　the　slightest　sense　of　urgency；　no　sign　at　all　that　a　vital　trap　had　exploded　in　their　faces；　an　imported　killer　…　the　only　man　in　Paris　who　worked　for　Carlos　and　could　identify　the　target　…　shot　in　the　head；　dead　in　the　back　of　an　armoured　van　on　the　Quai　de　la　Rapee。
　It　was　incredible；　if　only　because　the　whole　atmosphere　was　the　opposite　of　what　he　had　anticipated。　Not　that　he　expected　to　find　chaos；　far　from　it；　the　soldiers　of　Carlos　were　too　controlled　for　that。　Still　he　had　expected　something。　And　here　there　were　no　strained　faces；　or　darting　eyes；　no　abrupt　movements　that　signified　alarm。　Nothing　whatsoever　was　unusual；　the　elegant　world　of　haute　couture　continued　to　spin　in　its　elegant　orbit；　unmindful　of　events　that　should　have　thrown　its　axis　off　balance。
　Still；　there　was　a　private　telephone　somewhere　and　someone　who　not　only　spoke　for　Carlos　but　was　also　empowered　to　set　in　motion　three　killers　on　the　hunt。　A　woman。。。
　He　saw　her；　it　had　to　be　her。　Halfway　down　the　carpeted　staircase；　a　tall　imperious　woman　with　a　face　that　age　and　cosmetics　had　rendered　into　a　cold　mask　of　itself。　She　was　stopped　by　a　reedlike　male　clerk　who　held　out　a　salesbook　for　the　woman's　approval；　she　looked　at　it；　then　glanced　down　at　the　floor；　at　a　nervous；　middle…aged　man　by　a　nearby　jewelry　counter。　The　glance　was　brief；　but　pointed；　the　message　clear。　All　right；　mon　ami；　pick　up　your　bauble　but　pay　your　bill　soon。　Otherwise　you　could　be　embarrassed　next　time。　Or　worse。　I　might　call　your　wife。　In　milliseconds；　the　rebuke　was　over；　a　smile　as　false　as　it　was　broad　cracked　the　mask；　and　with　a　nod　and　a　flourish　the　woman　took　a　pencil　from　the　clerk　and　initialled　the　sales　slip。　She　continued　down　the　staircase；　the　clerk　following；　leaning　forward　in　further　conversation。　It　was　obvious　he　was　flattering　her；　she　turned　on　the　bottom　step；　touching　her　crown　of　streaked　dark　hair　and　tapped　his　wrist　in　a　gesture　of　thanks。
　There　was　little　placidity　in　the　woman's　eyes。　They　were　as　aware　as　any　pair　of　eyes　Bourne　had　ever　seen；　except　perhaps　behind　gold…rimmed　glasses　in；　Zurich。
　Instinct。　She　was　his　objective；　it　remained　how　to　reach　her。　The　first　moves　of　the　pavane　had　to　be　subtle；　neither　too　much　nor　too　little　but　warranting　attention。　She　had　to　e　to　him。
　The　next　few　minutes　astonished　Jason；　which　was　to　say　he　astonished　himself。　The　term　was　'role…playing'；　he　understood　that；　but　what　shocked　him　was　the　ease　with　which　he　sl