rl.thebourneidentity-第43部分

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　Too。
　Che…sah。
　Tarn　Quan。
　Another　world；　and　she　knew　nothing　of　it。　But　she　knew　Jason　Bourne；　or　the　man　called　Jason　Bourne；　and　she　held　on　to　the　decency　she　knew　was　there。　Oh；　God；　how　she　loved　him　so！
　Ilyich　Ramirez　Sanchez。　Carlos。　What　was　he　to　Jason　Bourne？
　Stop　it；　she　had　screamed　at　herself　while　in　that　room　alone。
　And　then　she　had　done　what　she　had　seen　Jason　do　so　many　times：　she　had　lunged　up　from　the　chair；　as　if　the　physical　movement　would　clear　the　mists　away　…　or　allow　her　to　break　through　them。
　Canada。　She　had　to　reach　Ottawa　and　find　out　why　Peter's　death　…　his　murder　…　was　being　handled　so　secretly；　so　obscenely　I　It　did　not　make　sense；　she　objected　with　all　her　heart　For　Peter；　too；　was　a　decent　man；　and　he　had　been　killed　by　indecent　men。　She　would　be　told　why　or　she　would　expose　that　death　…　that　murder　…　herself。　She　would　scream　out　loud　to　the　world　she　knew　and　say　Do　Something！
　And　so　she　had　left　the　Meurice；　taken　a　cab　to　the　rue　de　Vaugirard；　and　placed　the　call　to　Ottawa。　She　waited　now　outside　the　booth；　her　anger　mounting；　an　unlit　cigarette　creased　between　her　fingers。　When　the　bell　rang；　she　could　not　take　the　time　to　crush　it　out
　It　rang。　She　opened　the　glass　door　and　went　inside。
　'Is　this　you；　Alan？'
　'Yes；'　was　the　curt　reply。
　'Alan；　what　the　hell　is　going　on？　Peter　was　murdered；　and　there　hasn't　been　a　single　word　in　any　newspaper；　or　on　any　broadcast！　I　don't　think　the　embassy　even　knows！　It's　as　though　no　one　cared）　What　are　you　people　doing？'
　'What　we're　told　to　do。　And　so　will　you。'
　'What？　That　was　Peter　I　He　was　your　friend！　Listen　to　me；　Alan。。。'
　'No！'　The　interruption　was　harsh。　'You　listen。　Get　out　of　Paris。　Now！　Take　the　next　direct　flight　back　here。　If　you　have　any　problems　the　embassy　will　clear　them；　but　you're　to　talk　only　to　the　ambassador；　is　that　understood？'
　'No！'　screamed　Marie　St　Jacques。　'I　don't　understand！　Peter　was　killed　and　nobody　cares！　All　you're　saying　is　bureaucratic　bullshit！　Don't　get　involved；　for　God's　sake；　don't　ever　get　involved！'
　'Stay　out　of　it；　Marie！'
　'Stay　out　of　what！　That's　what　you're　not　telling　me；　isn't　it？　Well；　you'd　better。。。'
　'I　can't！'　Alan　lowered　his　voice。　'I　don't　know。　I'm　only　telling　you　what　I　was　told　to　tell　you。'
　'By　whom？'
　'You　can't　ask　me　that'
　'I　am　asking！'
　'Listen　to　me；　Marie。　I　haven't　been　home　for　the　past　twenty…four　hours。　I've　been　waiting　here　for　the　last　twelve　for　you　to　call。　Try　to　understand　me；　I'm　not　suggesting　you　e　back。　Those　are　orders　from　your　government。'
　'Orders？　Without　explanations？'
　'That's　the　way　it　is。。。　I'll　say　this　much。　They　want　you　out　of　there；　they　want　him　isolated。。。　That's　the　way　it　is。'
　'Sorry；　Alan！　That's　not　the　way　it　is！　Good…bye！'　She　slammed　the　receiver　down；　then　instantly　gripping　her　hands　to　stop　the　trembling。　Oh；　my　God；　she　loved　him　so。。。　and　they　were　trying　to　kill　him。　Jason；　my　Jason；　they　all　want　you　killed。　Why？
　The　conservatively　dressed　man　at　the　switchboard　snapped　the　red　toggle　that　blocked　the　lines；　reducing　all　ining　calls　to　a　busy　signal。　He　did　so　once　or　twice　an　hour；　if　only　to　clear　his　mind　and　expunge　the　empty　inanities　he　had　been　required　to　mouth　during　the　past　minutes。　The　necessity　to　cut　off　all　conversation　usually　occurred　to　him　after　a　particularly　tedious　one；　he　had　just　had　it。　The　wife　of　a　Deputy　trying　to　conceal　the　outrageous　price　of　a　single　purchase　from　her　husband　by　breaking　it　up　into　several。　Enough！　He　needed　a　few　minutes　to　breathe。
　The　irony　struck　him。　It　was　not　that　many　years　ago　when　others　sat　in　front　of　the　switchboards　for　him。　At　his　panies　in　Saigon　and　in　the　munications　room　of　his　vast　plantation　in　the　Mekong　Delta。　And　here　he　was　now　in　front　of　someone　else's　switchboard　in　the　perfumed　surroundings　of　Saint…Honoree。　The　English　poet　said　it　best：　there　were　more　preposterous　vicissitudes　in　life　than　a　single　philosophy　could　conjure。
　He　heard　laughter　on　the　staircase　and　looked　up。　Jacqueline　was　leaving　early；　no　doubt　with　one　of　her　celebrated　and　fully　bank…rolled　acquaintances。　There　was　no　question　about　it；　Jacqueline　had　a　talent　for　removing　gold　from　a　well…guarded　mine；　even　diamonds　from　De　Beers。　He　could　not　see　the　man　with　her；　he　was　on　the　other　side　of　Jacqueline；　his　head　oddly　turned　away。
　Then　for　an　instant　he　did　see　him；　their　eyes　made　contact；　it　was　brief　and　explosive。　The　grey…haired　switchboard　operator　suddenly　could　not　breathe；　he　was　suspended　hi　a　moment　of　disbelief；　staring　at　a　face；　a　head；　he　had　not　seen　in　years！　And　then　almost　always　in　darkness；　for　they　had　worked　at　night。。。　died　at　night。
　Oh；　my　God；　it　was　him！　From　the　living　…　dying　…　nightmares　thousands　of　miles　away。　It　was　him！
　The　grey…haired　man　rose　from　the　switchboard　as　if　in　a　trance。　He　pulled　the　mouthpiece…earphone　off　and　let　it　drop　to　the　floor。　It　clattered　as　the　board　lit　up　with　ining　calls　that　made　no　connections；　answered　only　by　discordant　hums。　The　middle…aged　man　stepped　off　the　platform；　and　sidestepped　his　way　quickly　towards　the　aisle　to　get　a　better　look　at　Jacqueline　Lavier　and　the　ghost　that　was　her　escort。　The　ghost　who　was　a　killer　…　above　all　men　he　had　ever　known；　a　killer。　They　said　it　might　happen；　but　he　had　never　believed　them；　he　believed　them　now！　It　was　the　man。
　He　saw　them　both　clearly。　Saw　him。　They　were　walking　down　the　centre　aisle　towards　the　entrance。　He　had　to　stop　them。　Stop　her　But　to　rush　out　and　yell　would　mean　death。　A　bullet　in　the　head；　instantaneous。
　They　reached　the　doors；　he　pulled　them　open；　ushering　her　out　to　the　pavement。　The　grey…haired　man　raced　out　from　his　hiding　place；　across　the　intersecting　aisle　and　down　to　the　front　window。　Out　in　the　street　he　had　flagged　a　taxi。　He　was　opening　the　door；　motioning　Jacqueline　to　get　inside。　Oh；　God　I　She　was　going！
　The　middle…aged　man　turned　and　ran　as　fast　as　he　could　towards　the　staircase。　He　collided　with　two　startled　customers　and　a　salesgirl；　pushing　all　three　violently　out　of　his　way。　He　raced　up　the　steps；　across　the　balcony　and　down　the　corridor；　to　the　open　studio　door。
　'Rend！　Rend！'　he　shouted；　bursting　inside。
　Bergeron　looked　up　from　his　sketch　board；　astonished。　'What　is　it？'
　That　man　with　Jacqueline！　Who　is　he？　How　long　has　he　been　here？'
　'Oh？　Probably　the　American；'　said　the　designer。　'His　name's　Briggs。　A　fatted　calf；　he's　done　very　well　by　our　grosses　today。'
　'Where　did　they　go？'
　'I　didn't　know　they　went　anywhere。'
　'She　left　with　him！'
　'Why？'
　'He　knows　I　He'll　kill　her！'
　〃What？
　'It's　him！　I'd　swear　to　it！　That　man　is　Cain！'
　'The　man　is　Cain；'　said　Colonel　Jack　Manning　bluntly；　as　if　he　expected　to　be　contradicted　by　at　least　three　of　the　four　civilians　at　the　Pentagon　conference　table。　Each　was　older　than　he；　and　each　considered　himself　more　experienced。　None　was　prepared　to　acknowledge　that　the　army　had　obtained　information　where　his　own　organization　had　failed。　There　was　a　fourth　civilian　but　his　opinion　did　not　count　He　was　a　member　of　the　Congressional　Oversight　mittee；　and　as　such　to　be　treated　with　deference；　but　not　seriously。　'If　we　don't　move　NOW；'　continued　Manning；　'even　at　the　risk　of　exposing　everything　we've　learned；　he　could　slip　through　the　nets　again。　As　of　eleven　days　ago；　he　was　in　Zurich。　We're　convinced　he's　still　there。　And；　gentlemen；　it　is　Cain。'
　'That's　quite　a　statement；'　said　the　balding；　bird…like　academic　from　the　National　Security　Council　as　he　read　the　summary　page　concerning　Zurich　given　to　each　delegate　at　the　table。　His　name　was　Alfred　Gillette；　an　expert　in　Personnel　Screening　and　Evaluation；　and　he　was　considered　by　the　Pentagon　to　be　bright；　vindictive；　and　with　friends　in　high　places。
　'I　find　it　extraordinary；'　added　Peter　Knowlton；　an　associate　director　of　the　Central　Intelligence　Agency；　a　man　in　his　middle　fifties　who　perpetuated　the　dress；　the　appearance；　and　the　attitude　of　an　Ivy　League　of　thirty　years　ago。　'Our　sources　have　Cain　in　Brussels；　not　Zurich；　at　the　same　time　…　eleven　days　ago。　Our　sources　are　rarely　in　error。'
　'That's　quite　a　statement；'　said　the　third　civilian；　the　only　one　at　that　table　Manning　really　respected。　He　was　the　oldest　there；　a　man　named　David　Abbott；　a　former　Olympic　swimmer　whose　intellect　had　matched　his　physical　prowess。　He　was　in　his　late　sixties　now；　but　his　bearing　was　still　erect；　his　mind　as　sharp　as　it　had　ever　been；　his　age；　however；　betrayed　by　a　face　lined　from　the　tensions　of　a　Lifetime　he　would　never　reveal。　He　knew　what　he　was　talking　about；　thought　the　colonel。　Although　he　was　currently　a　member　of　the　omnipotent　Forty　mittee；　he　had　been　with　the　C。I。A。　since　its　origin　in　the　OSS。　The　Silent　Monk　of　Covert　Operations　had　been　the　sobriquet　given　him　by　his　colleagues　in　the　intelligence　munity。　'In　my　days　at　the　agency；'　continued　Abbott；　chuckling；　'the　sources　were　as　often　in　conflict　as　in　agreement。'
　'We　have　different　methods　of　verification；'　pressed　the　associate　director。　'No　disrespect；　Mr。　Abbott；　but　our　transmissions　equipment　is　literally　instantaneous。'
　'That's　equipment；　not　verification。　But　I　won't　argue；　it　seems　we　have　a　disagreement　Brussels　or　Zurich。'
　'The　case　for　Brussels　is　airtight；'　insisted　Knowlton　firmly。
　'Let's　hear　it；'　said　the　balding　Gillette；　adjusting　his　glasses。　'We　can　return　to　the　Zurich　summary；　it's　right　in　front　of　us。　Also；　our　sources　have　some　input　to　offer；　although　it's　not　in　conflict　with　Brussels　or　Zurich。　It　happened　over　six　months　ago。'
　The　silver…haired　Abbott　glanced　over　at　Gillette。　'Six　months　ago？　I　don't　recall　N。S。C。　having　delivered　anything　about　Cain　six　months　ago。'
　'It　wasn't　totally　confirmed；'　replied　Gillette。　'We　try　not　to　burden　the　mittee　with　unsubstantiated　data。'
　〃That's　also　quite　a　statement；'　said　Abbott；　not　needing　to　clarify；
　'Congressman　Walters；'　interrupted　the　colonel；　looking　at　the　man　from　Oversight；　'do　you　have　any　questions　before　we　goon？'
　'Hell；　yes；'　drawled　the　congressional　watchdog　from　the　state　of　Tennessee；　his　intelligent　eyes　roaming　the　faces；　'but　since　I'm　new　at　this；　you　go　ahead　so　I'll　know