rl.thebourneidentity-第73部分

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　'Let's　take　a　walk；'　said　Jason；　gently　propelling　her。　'You've　got　the　wrong　man；　Janine。　I've　never　heard　of　the　House　of　Azur　and　haven't　the　slightest　interest　in　stolen　designs　…　except　where　the　knowledge　can　be　useful。'
　'Oh；　my　God！。。。'
　'Keep　walking。'　Bourne　gripped　her　arm。　'I　said　I　wanted　to　talk　to　you。'
　'About　what？　What　do　you　want　from　me？　How　did　you　get　my　name？'　The　words　came　rapidly　now；　the　phrases　overlapping。　'I　took　an　early　lunch　hour　and　must　return　at　once；　we're　very　busy　today。　Please；　you're　hurting　my　arm。'
　'Sorry。'
　'What　I　said；　it　was　foolishness。　A　lie。　On　the　floor；　we've　heard　rumours；　I　was　testing　you。　That's　what　I　was　doing；　I　was　testing　you！'
　'You're　very　convincing。　I'll　accept　that。'
　'I'm　loyal　to　Les　Classiques。　I've　always　been　loyal。'
　'It's　a　fine　quality；　Janine。　I　admire　loyalty。　I　was　saying　that　the　other　day　to。。。　what's　his　name？。。。　that　nice　fellow　on　the　switchboard。　What　is　his　name？　I　forget。'
　'Philippe；'　said　the　salesgirl；　frightened；　obsequious。　'Philippe　d'Anjou。'
　〃That's　it。　Thank　you。'　They　reached　a　narrow；　cobblestone　alleyway　between　two　buildings。　Jason　guided　her　into　it。　'Let's　step　in　here　for　a　moment；　just　so　we're　off　the　street。　Don't　worry；　you　won't　be　late。　I'll　only　take　a　few　minutes　of　your　time。'　They　walked　ten　paces　into　the　narrow　enclosure。　Bourne　stopped；　Janine　Dolbert　pressed　her　back　against　the　brick　wall。　'Cigarette？'　he　asked；　taking　a　packet　from　his　pocket。
　〃Thank　you；　yes。'
　He　lighted　it　for　her；　noting　that　her　hand　trembled。　'Relaxed　now？'
　'Yes。。。　No；　not　really。　What　do　you　want；　Monsieur　Briggs？'
　To　begin　with；　the　name's　not　Briggs　but　I　think　you　know　that。'
　'I　don't。　Why　should　I？'　'I　was　sure　Lavier's　number　one　girl　would　have　told　you。'
　'Monique？'
　'Use　last　names；　please。　Accuracy's　important'
　'Brielle；　then；'　said　Janine　frowning　curiously。　'Does　she　know　you？〃
　'Why　not　ask　her？〃
　'As　you　wish。　What　is　it。　Monsieur？'
　Jason　shook　his　head。　'You　really　don't　know；　do　you？　Three…quarters　of　the　employees　at　Les　Classiques　are　working　with　us　and　one　of　the　brightest　wasn't　even　contacted。　Of　course　it's　possible　someone　thought　you　were　a　risk；　it　happens。'
　〃What　happens？　What　risk？　Who　are　you？'
　There　isn't　time　now。　The　others　can　fill　you　in。　I'm　here　because　we've　never　received　a　report　from　you；　and　yet　you　speak　to　prime　customers　all　day　long。'
　'You　must　be　clearer；　Monsieur。〃
　'Let's　say　I'm　the　spokesman　for　a　group　of　people　…　American；　French；　English；　Dutch　…　closing　in　on　a　killer　who's　murdered　political　and　military　leaders　in　each　of　our　countries。'
　'Murdered？　Military；　political。。。'　Janine's　mouth　gaped；　the　ash　of　her　cigarette　breaking　off；　spilling　over　her　rigid　hand。　'What　is　this？　What　are　you　talking　about？　I've　heard　none　of　this！'
　'I　can　only　apologize；'　said　Bourne　softly；　sincerely。　'You　should　have　been　contacted　several　weeks　ago。　It　was　an　error　on　the　part　of　the　man　before　me。　I'm　sorry；　it　must　be　a　shock　to　you。'
　'It　is　a　shock；　Monsieur；'　whispered　the　salesgirl；　her　concave　body　tensed；　a　bent；　lacquered　reed　against　the　brick。　'You　speak　of　things　beyond　my　understanding。'
　'But　now　/　understand；'　interrupted　Jason。　'Not　a　word　from　you　about　anyone。　Now　it's　clear。'
　'It's　not　to　me。'
　'We're　closing　in　on　Carlos。　The　assassin　known　as　Carlos。'
　'Carlos？'　The　cigarette　fell　from　Dolbert's　hand；　the　shock　plete。
　'He's　one　of　your　most　frequent　customers；　all　the　evidence　points　to　it。　We've　narrowed　the　probabilities　down　to　eight　men。　The　trap　is　set　for　some　time　in　the　next　several　days；　and　we're　taking　every　precaution。
　'Precaution。。。？'
　〃There's　always　the　danger　of　hostages；　we　all　know　that。　We　anticipate　gunfire；　but　it　will　be　kept　to　a　minimum。　The　basic　problem　will　be　Carlos　himself。　He's　sworn　never　to　be　taken　alive；　he　walks　the　streets　wired　up　to　explosives　calculated　to　be　in　excess　of　a　thousand…pound　bomb。　But　we　can　handle　that。　Our　marksmen　will　be　on　the　scene；　one　clean　shot　to　the　head　and　it'll　be　all　over。'
　'Un　coup　de　feu。。　'
　Suddenly　Bourne　looked　at　his　watch。　'I've　taken　up　enough　of　your　time。　You've　got　to　get　back　to　the　shop　and　I　have　to　get　back　to　my　post。　Remember；　if　you　see　me　outside；　you　don't　know　me。　If　I　e　into　Les　Classiques；　treat　me　as　you　would　any　rich　client。　Except　if　you've　spotted　a　customer　you　think　may　be　our　man；　then　don't　waste　time　telling　me。。。　Again；　I'm　sorry　about　all　this。　It　was　a　breakdown　in　munications；　that's　all。　It　happens。'
　'Une　rupture。。。？'
　Jason　nodded；　turned　in　place；　and　began　walking　rapidly　out　of　the　alleyway　towards　the　street。　He　stopped　and　glanced　back　at　Janine　Dolbert。　She　was　atose　against　the　wall；　for　her　the　elegant　world　of　haute　couture　was　spinning　wildly　out　of　orbit
　Philippe　d'Anjou。　The　name　meant　nothing　to　him；　but　Bourne　could　not　help　himself。　He　kept　repeating　it　silently；　trying　to　raise　an　image。。。　as　the　face　of　the　grey…haired　switchboard　operator　gave　rise　to　such　violent　images　of　darkness　and　flashes　of　light。　Philippe　d'Anjou。　Nothing。　Nothing　at　all。　Yet　there　had　been　something；　something　that　caused　Jason's　stomach　to　knot；　the　muscles　taut　and　inflexible；　a　flat　panel　of　hard　flesh　constricted。。。　by　the　darkness。
　He　sat　by　the　front　window　and　the　door　of　a　coffee　shop　on　the　rue　Racine；　prepared　to　get　up　and　leave　the　moment　he　saw　the　figure　of　Claude　Oreale　arrive　at　the　doorway　of　the　ancient　building　across　the　street。　His　room　was　on　the　fourth　floor；　in　a　flat　he　shared　with　two　other　young　men；　reached　only　by　climbing　a　worn；　angular　staircase。　When　he　did　arrive；　Bourne　was　sure　he　would　not　be　walking。
　For　Claude　Oreale；　who　had　been　so　effusive　with　Jacqueline
　Lavier　on　another　staircase　in　Saint…Honoree；　had　been　told　by　a　toothless　landlady　over　the　phone　to　get　his　worthless　self　quickly　back　to　rue　Racine　and　put　a　stop　to　the　screaming　and　smashing　of　furniture　that　was　taking　place　in　his　flat。　Either　he　would　stop　it；　or　the　gendarmes　would　be　called；　he　had　ten　minutes　to　show　up。
　He　did　so　in　eight。　His　slight　frame；　encased　in　a　Pierre　Cardin　suit　…　rear　flap　fluttering　in　the　head　wind　…　could　be　seen　racing　up　the　pavement　from　the　Metro　exit　two　blocks　south。　He　avoided　collisions　with　the　agility　of　an　out…of…shape　broken　field　runner　trained　by　the　Ballet　Russe。　His　thin　neck　was　thrust　forward　several　inches　in　front　of　his　waistcoated　chest；　his　long　dark　hair　a　flowing　mane　parallel　to　the　pavement。　He　reached　the　entrance　and　gripped　the　railing；　leaping　up　the　steps　and　plunging　into　the　shadows　of　the　foyer。
　Jason　walked　rapidly　out　of　the　coffee　shop　and　raced　across　the　street。　Inside；　he　ran　to　the　ancient　staircase　then　started　up　the　cracked　steps。　From　the　third…floor　landing；　he　could　hear　the　pounding　on　the　door　above。
　'Ouvrez。　Ouvrez！　Vite；　nom　de　Dieu！
　Oreale　stopped；　the　silence　within　perhaps　more　frightening　than　anything　else。
　Bourne　climbed　the　remaining　steps　until　he　could　see　Oreale　between　the　bars　of　the　railing　and　the　floor。　The　clerk's　frail　body　was　pressed　into　the　door；　his　hands　on　either　side；　fingers　spread；　his　ear　against　the　wood；　his　face　flushed。　Jason　shouted　in　guttural；　bureaucratic　French　as　he　rushed　up　into　view。
　'Suretel！　Stay　exactly　where　you　are；　young　man。　Let's　not　have　any　unpleasantness。　We've　been　watching　you　and　your　friends。　We　know　about　the　darkroom。'
　'No！'　screamed　Oreale。　'It　has　nothing　to　do　with　me；　I　swear　it！。。。　Darkroom？'
　'　Bourne　raised　his　hand。　'Be　quiet。　Don't　shout　so！'　He　immediately　followed　his　mands　by　leaning　over　the　railing　and　looking　below。
　'You　can't　involve　me！'　continued　the　clerk　'I'm　not　involved！　I've　told　them　over　and　over　again　to　get　rid　of　it　all！　One　day　they'll　kill　themselves。　Drugs　are　for　idiots！。。。　My　God；　it's　quiet。　I　think　they're　dead！'
　Jason　stood　up　from　the　railing　and　approached　Oreale；　his　palms　raised。　'I　told　you　to　shut　up；'　he　whispered　harshly。　'Get　inside　there　and　be　quiet！　This　was　all　for　the　benefit　of　that　old　bitch　downstairs。'
　The　clerk　was　transfixed；　his　panic　suspended　in　silent　hysteria。　'What？'
　'You've　got　the　key；〃　said　Bourne。　'Open　up　and　get　inside。'
　'It's　bolted；'　replied　Oreale。　'It's　always　bolted　at　these　times。'
　'You　damn　fool；　we　had　to　reach　you！　We　had　to　get　you　here　without　anyone　knowing　why。　Open　that　door　Quickly！'
　Like　the　terrified　rabbit　he　was；　Claude　Oreale　fumbled　in　his　pocket　and　found　the　key。　He　unlocked　the　door　and　pushed　it　open　as　a　man　might　enter　a　storage　vault　filled　with　mutilated　corpses。　Bourne　propelled　him　through　the　doorframe；　stepped　inside　and　closed　the　door。
　What　could　be　seen　of　the　flat　belied　the　rest　of　the　building。　The　fair…sized　living　room　was　filled　with　sleek；　expensive　furniture；　dozens　of　red　and　yellow　velvet　pillows　scattered　about　on　couches；　chairs　and　the　floor。　It　was　almost　an　erotic　room；　a　luxurious　sanctuary　in　the　midst　of　debris。
　'I've　only　got　a　few　minutes；'　said　Jason。　'No　time　for　anything　but　business。'
　'Business？'　asked　Oreale；　his　expression　paralysed。　'This。。。　this　darkroom？　What　darkroom？'
　'Forget　it。　You　had　something　better　going。'
　'What　business！'
　'We　received　word　from　Zurich；　and　we　want　you　to　get　it　to　your　friend　Lavier'
　'Madame　Jacqueline？　My　friend？'
　'We　can't　trust　the　phones。'
　'What　phones？　The　word？　What　word？'
　'Carlos　is　right。'
　'Carlos？　Carlos　who？'
　The　assassin。'
　Claude　Oreale　screamed。　He　brought　his　hand　up　to　his　mouth；　bit　the　knuckle　of　his　index　finger；　and　screamed。　'What　are　you　saying？'
　'Why　are　you　saying　it　to　me！'
　'You're　number　five。　We're　counting　on　you。'
　'Five　what？　For　what？'
　To　help　Carlos　escape　the　net　they're　closing　in　tomorrow；　the　next　day；　perhaps　the　day　after　that。　He's　to　stay　away；　he's　got　to　stay　away。　They'll　surround　the　shop；　marksmen　every　ten　feet。　The　crossfire　will　be　murderous；　if　he's　in　there；　it　could　be　a　massacre。　Every　one　of　you。　Dead。'
　Oreale　screamed　again；　his　knuckle　red。　'Will　you　stop　this！　I　don't　know　what　you're　talking　about！　You're　a　maniac　and　I　won't　hear　another　wor