rl.thebourneidentity-第60部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


　They　were　enough。
　'Later；'　said　Bourne；　throwing　their　suitcases　on　the　bed。　'We've　got　to　get　out　of　here。'
　Marie　sat　in　the　armchair。　She　had　read　the　newspaper　article　again；　selecting　phrases；　repeating　them。　Her　concentration　was　absolute；　she　was　consumed；　more　and　more　confident　of　her　analysis。
　〃I'm　right；　Jason。　Someone　is　sending　us　a　message！'
　'We'll　talk　about　it　later；　we've　stayed　here　too　long　as　it　is。　That　newspaper'll　be　all　over　this　hotel　in　an　hour　and　the　morning　papers　may　be　worse。　It's　no　time　for　modesty；　you　stand　out　in　a　hotel　lobby；　and　you've　been　seen　in　this　one　by　too　many　people。　Get　your　things。'
　Marie　stood　up；　but　made　no　other　move。　Instead；　she　held　her　place　and　forced　him　to　look　at　her。　'We'll　talk　about　several　things　later；'　she　said　firmly。　'You　were　leaving　me；　Jason；　and　I　want　to　know　why。'
　'I　told　you　I'd　tell　you；'　he　answered；　without　evasion；　'because　you　have　to　know　and　I　mean　that。　But　right　now　I　want　to　get　out　of　here。　Get　your　things；　goddamn　it！'
　She　blinked；　his　sudden　anger　having　its　effect。　'Yes；　of　course；'　she　whispered。
　They　took　the　lift　down　to　the　lobby。　As　the　worn　marble　floor　came　into　view；　Bourne　had　the　feeling　they　were　in　a　cage；　exposed　and　vulnerable；　if　the　machine　stopped；　they　would　be　taken。　Then　he　understood　why　the　feeling　was　so　strong。　Below　on　the　left　was　the　front　desk；　the　concierge　sitting　behind　it；　a　pile　of　newspapers　on　the　counter　to　his　right。　They　were　copies　of　the　same　tabloid　Jason　had　put　in　the　attach　case　Marie　was　now　carrying。　The　concierge　had　taken　one；　he　was　reading　it　avidly；　poking　a　toothpick　between　his　teeth；　oblivious　to　everything　but　the　nouvelles　scandaleuses。
　'Walk　straight　through；'　said　Jason。　'Don't　stop；　just　go　right　to　the　door。　I'll　meet　you　outside。'
　'Oh；　my　God！。。。'　she　whispered；　seeing　the　concierge。
　'I'll　pay　him　as　quickly　as　I　can。'
　The　sound　of　Marie's　heels　on　the　marble　floor　was　a　distraction　Bourne　did　not　want。　The　concierge　looked　up　as　Jason　moved　in　front　of　him；　blocking　his　view。
　'It's　been　very　pleasant；'　he　said　in　French；　'but　I'm　in　a　great　hurry。　I　have　to　drive　to　Lyons　tonight。　Just　round　out　the　figure　to　the　nearest　five　hundred　francs。　I　haven't　had　time　to　leave　gratuities。'
　The　financial　distraction　acplished　its　purpose。　The　concierge　reached　his　totals　quickly；　he　presented　the　bill。　Jason　paid　it　and　bent　down　for　the　suitcases；　glancing　up　at　the　sound　of　surprise　that　exploded　from　the　concierge's　gaping　mouth。　The　man　was　staring　at　the　pile　of　newspapers　on　his　right；　his　eyes　on　the　photograph　of　Marie　St　Jacques。　He　looked　over　at　the　glass　doors　of　the　entrance；　Marie　stood　on　the　pavement。　The　concierge　shifted　his　astonished　gaze　to　Bourne；　the　connection　was　made；　the　man　inhibited　by　sudden　fear。
　Jason　walked　rapidly　towards　the　glass　doors；　angling　his　shoulder　to　push　them　open；　glancing　back　at　the　front　desk。　The　concierge　was　reaching　for　a　telephone。
　'Let's　go！'　he　cried　to　Marie。　'Look　for　a　cab！'
　They　found　one　on　rue　Lecourbe；　five　blocks　from　the　hotel。　Bourne　feigned　the　role　of　an　inexperienced　American　tourist；　employing　the　inadequate　French　that　had　served　him　so　well　at　the　Valois　Bank。　He　explained　to　the　driver　that　he　and　his　belle　amie　wanted　to　get　out　of　central　Paris　for　a　day　or　so；　somewhere　they　could　be　alone。　Perhaps　the　driver　could　suggest　several　places　and　they　would　choose　one。
　The　driver　could　and　did。　'There's　a　small　inn　outside　Les　Moulineux　Billancourt；　called　Maison　Quadrillage；'　he　said。
　'Another　in　Ivry…sur…Seine；　you　might　like。　It's　very　private；　Monsieur；　Or　perhaps　the　Auberge　du　Coin　in　Montrouge；　it's　between　the　two　and　very　discreet。'
　'Let's　take　the　first；'　said　Jason。　'It's　the　first　that　came　to　your　mind。　How　long　will　it　take？'
　'No　more　than　fifteen；　twenty　minutes；　Monsieur。'
　'Good。'　Bourne　turned　to　Marie　and　spoke　softly。　'Change　your　hair。〃
　'What？'
　'Change　your　hair。　Pull　it　up　or　push　it　back；　I　don't　care；　but　change　it。　Move　out　of　sight　of　his　mirror。　Hurry　up！'
　Several　moments　later　Marie's　long　auburn　hair　was　pulled　severely　back；　away　from　her　face　and　neck；　fastened　with　the　aid　of　a　mirror　and　hairpins　into　a　tight　chignon。　Jason　looked　at　her　in　the　dim　light。
　'Wipe　off　your　lipstick。　All　of　it。'
　She　took　out　a　tissue　and　did　so。　'All　right？'
　'Yes。　Have　you　got　an　eyebrow　pencil？'
　'Of　course。〃
　'Thicken　your　eyebrows；　just　a　little　bit。　Extend　them　about　a　quarter　of　an　inch；　curve　the　ends　down　just　a　touch。〃
　Again　she　followed　his　instructions。　'Now？'　she　asked。
　'That's　better；〃　he　replied；　studying　her。　The　changes　were　minor　but　the　effect　major。　She　had　been　subtly　transformed　from　a　softly　elegant；　striking　woman　into　a　harsher　image。　At　the　least；　she　was　not　on　first　sight　the　woman　in　the　newspaper　photograph　and　that　was　all　that　mattered。
　'When　we　reach　Billancourt；'　he　whispered；　'get　out　quickly；　and　turn　your　back。　Don't　let　the　driver　see　you。'
　'It's　a　little　late　for　that；　isn't　it？'
　'Just　do　as　I　say。〃
　Listen　to　me。　I　am　a　chameleon　called　Cain　and　I　can　teach　you　many　things　I　do　not　care　to　teach　you；　but　at　the　moment　I　must。　I　can　change　my　colour　to　acmodate　any　backdrop　in　the　forest；　I　can　shift　with　the　wind　by　smelling　it。　I　can　find　my　way　through　the　natural　and　man…made　jungles。　Alpha；　Bravo；　Charlie；　Delta。。。　Delta　is　for　Charlie　and　Charlie　is　for　Cain。　I　am　Cain。　I　am　death。　And　I　must　tell　you　who　I　am　and　lose　you。
　'My　darling；　what　is　it？〃
　'What？'
　'You're　looking　at　me；　you're　not　breathing。　Are　you　all　right？'
　'Sorry；'　he　said；　glancing　away；　breathing　again。　'I'm　working　out　our　moves。　I'll　know　better　what　to　do　when　we　get　there。'
　They　arrived　at　the　inn。　There　was　a　parking　area　bordered　by　a　post…and…rail　fence　on　the　right；　several　late　diners　came　out　of　the　lattice…framed　entrance　in　front。　Bourne　leaned　forward　in　the　seat。
　'Let　us　off　inside　the　parking　area；　if　you　don't　mind；'　he　ordered；　offering　no　explanation　for　the　odd　request。
　'Certainly；　Monsieur；'　said　the　driver；　nodding　his　head；　then　shrugging；　his　movements　conveying　the　fact　that　his　passengers　were；　indeed；　a　cautious　couple。
　The　rain　had　subsided；　returning　to　a　mistlike　drizzle。　The　taxi　drove　off。　Bourne　and　Marie　remained　in　the　shadows　of　the　foliage　at　the　side　of　the　Inn　until　it　disappeared。　Jason　put　the　suitcases　down　on　the　wet　ground。　'Wait　here；'　he　said。
　'Where　are　you　going？'
　To　phone　for　a　taxi。'
　The　second　taxi　took　them　west　into　the　Montrouge　district。　This　driver　was　singularly　unimpressed　by　the　stern…faced　couple　who　were　obviously　from　the　provinces；　and　probably　seeking　cheaper　lodgings。　When　and　if　he　picked　up　a　newspaper　and　saw　a　photograph　of　a　French…Canadian　involved　with　murder　and　theft　in　Zurich；　the　woman　in　his　back　seat　now　would　not　e　to　mind。
　The　Auberge　du　Coin　did　not　live　up　to　its　name。　It　was　not　a　quaint　village　inn　situated　in　a　secluded　nook　of　the　countryside。　Instead；　it　was　a　large；　flat；　two…storey　structure　a　quarter　of　a　mile　off　the　main　road。　If　anything；　it　was　reminiscent　of　motels　that　blight　the　outskirts　of　cities　the　world　over；　mercially　guaranteeing　the　anonymity　of　their　guests。　It　was　not　hard　to　imagine　weekly　appointments　by　the　score　that　were　best　attributed　to　erroneous　registrations。
　So　they　registered　erroneously　and　were　given　a　plastic　room　where　every　accessory　worth　over　twenty　francs　was　bolted　into　the　floor　or　attached　with　headless　screws　to　lacquered　Formica　laminate。　There　was；　however；　one　positive　feature　to　the　place；　an　ice　machine　down　the　hall。　They　knew　it　worked　because　they　could　hear　it。　With　the　door　closed。
　'All　right；　now。　Who　would　be　sending　us　a　message？'　asked　Bourne；　standing；　revolving　the　glass　of　whisky　in　his　hand。
　'If　I　knew；　I'd　get　in　touch　with　them；'　she　said；　sitting　at　the　small　desk；　chair　turned；　legs　crossed；　watching　him　closely。　'It　could　be　connected　with　why　you　were　running　away。'
　'If　it　was；　it　was　a　trap。'
　'It　was　no　trap。　A　man　like　Walther　Apfel　didn't　do　what　he　did　to　acmodate　a　trap。'
　'I　wouldn't　be　so　sure　of　that。'　Bourne　walked　to　the　single　plastic　armchair　and　sat　down。　'Koenig　did；　he　marked　me　right　there　in　the　waiting　room。'
　'He　was　a　bribed　foot…soldier；　not　an　officer　of　the　bank。　He　acted　alone。　Apfel　couldn't。'
　Jason　looked　up。　'What　do　you　mean？'
　'Apfel's　statement　had　to　be　cleared　by　his　superiors。　It　was　made　in　the　name　of　the　bank。'
　'If　you're　so　sure；　let's　call　Zurich。'
　'They　don't　want　that　Either　they　haven't　the　answer；　or　they　can't　give　it　Apfel's　last　words　were　that　they　〃would　have　no　further　ment　To　anyone。〃　That　too；　was　part　of　the　message。　We're　to　contact　someone　else。'
　Bourne　drank；　he　needed　the　alcohol　for　the　moment　was　ing　when　he　would　begin　the　story　of　a　killer　named　Cain。　Then　we're　back　to　whom？'　he　said。　'Back　to　the　trap。'
　'You　think　you　know　who　it　is；　don't　you？'　Marie　reached　for　her　cigarettes　on　the　desk。　'It's　why　you　were　running；　isn't　it？'
　〃The　answer　to　both　questions　is　yes。'　The　moment　had　e。　The　message　was　sent　by　Carlos！　I　am　Cain　and　you　must　leave　me！　I　must　lose　you。　But　first　there　is　Zurich　and　you　have　to　understand。　'That　article　was　planted　to　find　me。'
　'I　won't　argue　with　that；'　she　broke　in；　surprising　him　with　the　interruption。　'I've　had　time　to　think；　they　know　the　evidence　is　false　…　so　patently　false　it's　ridiculous。　The　Zurich　police　fully　expect　me　to　get　in　touch　with　the　Canadian　Embassy　now。。。'　Marie　stopped；　the　unlit　cigarette　in　her　hand。　'My　God；　Jason；　that's　what　they　want　us　to　do！'
　'Who　wants　us　to　do？'
　'Hoover's　sending　us　the　message。　They　know　I　have　no　choice　but　to　call　the　embassy；　get　the　protection　of　the　Canadian　government。　I　didn't　think　of　it　because　I've　already　spoken　to　the　embassy；　to　what's　his　name　…　Dennis　Corbelier；　and　he　had　absolutely　nothing　to　tell　me。　He　only　did　what　I　asked　him　to　do；　there　was　nothing　else。　But　that　was　yesterday。；。　Not　today；　not　tonight。〃　Marie　started　for　the　telephone　on　the　bedside　table。
　Bourne　rose　quickly　from　the　chair　and　intercepte