rl.thebourneidentity-第95部分

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　'Good　God；　why？'
　'Because　they　can't　trust　him。　They　don't　know　what　he's　done　or　where　he's　been　for　a　long　period　of　time　and　he　can't　tell　them。'　Marie　paused；　closing　her　eyes　briefly。　'He　doesn't　know　who　he　is。　He　doesn't　know　who　they　are；　and　the　man　from　Washington　hired　other　men　to　kill　him　last　night　That　man　wouldn't　listen；　they　think　he's　betrayed　them；　stolen　millions　from　them；　killed　men　he's　never　heard　of。　He　hasn't　but　he　doesn't　have　any　clear　answers　either。　He's　a　man　with　only　fragments　of　a　memory；　each　fragment　condemning　him。　He's　a　near　total　amnesiac。'
　Villiers's　lined　face　was　locked　in　astonishment；　his　eyes　pained　in　recollection。　'　〃For　all　the　wrong　reasons。。。〃　He　said　that　to　me。　〃They　have　men　everywhere。。。　the　orders　are　to　execute　me　on　sight　I'm　hunted　by　men　I　don't　know　and　can't　see。　For　all　the　wrong　reasons。〃'
　'For　all　the　wrong　reasons；'　emphasized　Marie；　reaching　across　the　narrow　table　and　touching　the　old　man's　arm。　'And　they　do　have　men　everywhere；　men　ordered　to　kill　him　on　sight。　Wherever　he　goes；　they'll　be　waiting。〃
　'How　will　they　know　where　he's　gone？〃
　'He'll　tell　them。　It's　part　of　his　strategy。　And　when　he　does；　they'll　kill　him。　He's　walking　into　his　own　trap。'
　For　several　moments　Villiers　was　silent；　his　guilt　overwhelming。　Finally　he　spoke　in　a　whisper。　'Almighty　God；　what　have　I　done？'
　'What　you　thought　was　right。　What　he　persuaded　you　was　right。　You　can't　blame　yourself。　Or　him；　really。'
　'He　said　he　was　going　to　write　out　everything　that　had　happened　to　him；　everything　that　he　remembered。。。　How　painful　that　statement　must　have　been　for　him。　I　can't　wait　for　that　letter；　Mademoiselle。　We　can't　wait。　I　must　know　everything　you　can　tell　me。　Now。'
　'What　can　you　do？'
　'Go　to　the　American　Embassy。　To　the　ambassador。　Now。　Everything。'
　Marie　St　Jacques　withdrew　her　hand　slowly　as　she　leaned　back　in　the　booth；　her　dark　red　hair　against　the　banquette。　Her　eyes　were　far　away；　clouded　with　the　mist　of　tears。　'He　told　me　his　life　began　for　him　on　a　small　island　in　the　Mediterranean　called　lie　de　Port　Noir。。。'
　The　Secretary　of　State　walked　angrily　into　the　office　of　the　director　of　Consular　Operations；　the　department's　section　dealing　with　clandestine　activities。　He　strode　across　the　room　to　the　desk　of　the　astonished　director；　who　rose　at　the　sight　of　this　powerful　man；　his　expression　a　mixture　of　shock　and　bewilderment。
　'Mr。。　Secretary？。。。　I　didn't　receive　any　message　from　your　office；　sir。　I　would　have　e　upstairs　right　away。'
　The　Secretary　of　State　slapped　a　yellow　legal　pad　down　on　the　director's　desk。　On　the　top　page　was　a　column　of　six　names　written　with　the　broad　strokes　of　a　felt…tipped　pen。
　Bourne
　Delta
　Medusa
　Cain
　Carlos
　Treadstone
　'What　is　this？'　asked　the　Secretary。　'What　the　hell　is　this？'　The　director　of　Cons…Op　leaned　over　the　desk。　'I　don't　know；　sir。　They're　names；　of　course。　A　code　for　the　alphabet　…　the　letter　D　…　and　a　reference　to　Medusa；　that's　still　classified；　but　I've　heard　of　it。　And　I　suppose　the　〃Carlos〃　refers　to　the　assassin；　I　wish　we　knew　more　about　him。　But　I've　never　heard　of　〃Bourne〃　or　〃Cain〃　or　〃Treadstone〃。'
　'Then　e　up　to　my　office　and　listen　to　a　tape　of　a　telephone　conversation　that　I've　just　had　with　Paris　and　you'll　learn　all　about　them！'　exploded　the　Secretary　of　State。　'There　are　extraordinary　things　on　that　tape；　including　killings　in
　Ottawa　and　Paris　and　some　very　strange　dealings　our　First　Secretary　in　the　Montaigne　had　with　a　C。I。A。　man。　There's　also　outright　lying　to　the　authorities　of　foreign　governments；　to　our　own　intelligence　units　and　to　the　European　newspapers　…　with　neither　the　knowledge　or　the　consent　of　the　Department　of　State！　There's　been　a　global　deception　that's　spread　misinformation　throughout　more　countries　than　I　want　to　think　about。　We're　flying　over　under　a　deep　diplomatic　a　Canadian　woman；　an　economist　for　the　government　in　Ottawa　who's　wanted　for　murder　in　Zurich。　We're　being　forced　to　grant　asylum　to　a　fugitive；　to　subvert　the　laws；　because　if　that　woman's　telling　the　truth　we've　got　our　ass　in　a　sling！　I　want　to　know　what's　been　going　on。　Cancel　everything　on　your　calendar；　and　I　mean　everything。　You're　spending　the　rest　of　the　day　and　all　night　if　you　have　to　digging　this　damn　thing　out　of　the　ground。　There's　a　man　walking　around　who　doesn't　know　who　he　is；　but　with　more　classified　information　in　his　head　than　ten　sterile　puters！'
　It　was　past　midnight　when　the　exhausted　director　of　Consular　Operations　made　the　connection；　he　had　nearly　missed　it　The　First　Secretary　at　the　embassy　in　Paris；　under　threat　of　instant　dismissal；　had　given　him　Alexander　Conklin's　name。　But　Conklin　was　nowhere　to　be　found。　He　had　returned　to　Washington　from　Brussels　on　a　military　jet　in　the　morning；　but　had　signed　out　of　Langley　at　1。22　in　the　afternoon；　leaving　no　telephone　number　…　not　even　an　emergency　number　…where　he　could　be　reached。　And　from　what　the　director　had　learned　about　Conklin；　that　omission　was　extraordinary。　The　C。I。A。　man　was　what　was　monly　referred　to　as　a　shark…killer；　he　directed　individual　strategies　throughout　the　world　where　defection　and　treason　were　suspected。　There　were　too　many　men　in　too　many　stations　who　might　need　his　approval　or　disapproval　at　any　given　moment。　It　was　not　logical　for　him　to　sever　that　cord　for　twelve　hours。　What　was　also　unusual　was　the　fact　that　his　telephone　logs　had　been　scratched；　there　were　none　for　the　past　two　days　and　the　Central　Intelligence　Agency　had　very　specific　regulations　concerning　those　logs。　Traceable　accountability　was　the　new　order　of　the　new　regime。　However；　the　director　of　Cons…Op　had　learned　one　fact：　Conklin　had　been　attached　to　Medusa。
　Using　the　threat　of　State　Department　retaliation；　the　director　had　requested　a　closed　circuit　readout　of　Conklin's　logs　for　the　past　five　weeks。　Reluctantly；　the　agency　beamed　them　over　and　the　director　sat　in　front　of　a　screen　for　two　hours；　instructing　the　operators　at　Langley　to　keep　the　tape　repeating　until　he　told　them　to　stop。
　Eighty…six　logicals　had　been　called；　the　word　Treadstone　mentioned；　none　had　responded。　Then　the　director　went　back　to　the　possible；　there　was　an　Army　man　he　had　not　considered　because　of　his　well…known　antipathy　to　the　C。I。A。　But　Conklin　had　telephoned　him　twice　during　the　space　of　twelve　minutes　a　week　ago。　The　director　called　his　sources　at　the　Pentagon　and　found　what　he　was　looking　for：　Medusa。
　Brigadier…General　Irwin　Arthur　Crawford；　current　ranking　officer　in　charge　of　Army　Intelligence　data　banks；　former　mander　Saigon；　attached　to　covert　operations　…　still　classified。　Medusa。
　The　director　picked　up　the　conference　room　phone；　it　bypassed　the　switchboard。　He　dialled　the　Brigadier's　home　in　Fairfax　and；　on　the　fourth　ring；　Crawford　answered。　The　State　Department　man　identified　himself　and　asked　if　the　General　cared　to　return　a　call　to　State　and　be　put　through　for　verification。
　'Why　would　I　want　to　do　that？'
　'It　concerns　a　matter　that　es　under　the　heading　of　Treadstone。'
　'I'll　call　you　back。'
　He　did　so　in　eighteen　seconds；　and　within　the　next　two　minutes　the　director　had　delivered　the　outlines　of　the　State's　information。
　〃There's　nothing　there　we　don't　know　about；'　said　the　Brigadier。　'There's　been　a　control　mittee　on　this　from　the　beginning；　the　Oval　office　were　given　a　preliminary　summation　within　a　week　of　the　inauguration。　Our　objective　warranted　the　procedures；　you　may　be　assured　of　that。'
　'I'm　willing　to　be　convinced；'　replied　the　man　from　State。　'Is　this　related；　to　that　business　in　New　York　a　week　ago？　Elliot　Stevens；　that　Major　Webb　and　David　Abbott？　Where　the　circumstances　were；　shall　we　say；　considerably　altered？'
　'You　were　aware　of　the　alterations？'
　'I'm　the　head　of　Cons…Op；　General。。。
　'Yes；　you　would　be。。。　Stevens　wasn't　married；　the　rest　understood。　Robbery　and　homicide　were　preferable。　The　answer　is　affirmative。'
　'I　see。。。　Your　man　Bourne　flew　into　New　York　yesterday　morning。'
　'I　know。　We　know　…　that　is　Conklin　and　myself。　We're　the　inheritors。'
　'You've　been　in　touch　with　Conklin？'
　'I　last　spoke　to　him　around　one　o'clock　in　the　afternoon。　Unlogged。　He　insisted　on　it；　frankly。'
　'He's　checked　out　of　Langley。　There's　no　number　where　he　can　be　reached。'
　'I　know　that；　too。　Don't　try。。。　With　all　due　respect；　tell　the　Secretary　to　back　away。　You　back　away。　Don't　get　involved。'
　'We　are　involved；　General。　We're　flying　over　the　Canadian　woman　by；　diplomatic。'
　'For　God's　sake；　why？'
　'We　were　forced　to；　she　forced　us　to。'
　〃Then　keep　her　in　isolation。　You've　got　to！　She's　our　resolve；　we'll　be　responsible。'
　'I　think　you'd　better　explain。'
　'We're　dealing　with　an　insane　man；　A　multiple　schizophrenic。　He's　a　walking　firing　squad；　he　could　kill　a　dozen　innocent　people　with　one　outburst；　one　explosion　in　his　own　head；　and　he　wouldn't　know　why。'
　'How　do　you　know？'
　'Because　he's　already　killed。　That　massacre　in　New　York　last　week　…　it　was　him。　He　killed　Stevens；　the　Monk；　Webb　…above　all；　Webb　…　and　two　others　you　never　heard　of。。。　We　understand　now。　He　wasn't　responsible；　but　that　can't　change　anything。　Leave　him　to　us。　To　Conklin。'
　'Last　week？　Bourne？'
　'Yes。　We　have　proof。　Prints。　They　were　confirmed　by　the　bureau。　It　was　him。'
　'Your　man　would　leave　prints？'
　'He　did。'
　'He　couldn't　have；'　said　the　man　from　State。
　'What？'
　Tell　me；　where　did　you　e　up　with　the　conclusion　of　insanity？　This　multiple　schizophrenia；　or　whatever　the　hell　you　call　it。'
　'Conklin　spoke　to　a　psychiatrist　…　one　of　the　best　…　an　authority　on　stress…breakdowns。　Alex　described　the　history　and　it　was　brutal。　The　doctor　confirmed　our　suspicions；　Conklin's　suspicions。'
　'He　confirmed　them？'　asked　the　director；　stunned。
　'Yes。'
　'Based　on　what　Conklin　said？　On　what　he　thought　he　knew？'
　'There's　no　other　explanation。　Leave　him　to　us。　He's　our　problem。'
　'You're　a　damn　fool；　General。　You　should　have　stuck　to　your　data　banks；　or　maybe　more　primitive　artillery。〃
　'I　resent　that。'
　'Resent　it　all　you　like。　If　you've　done　what　I　think　you've　done　you　may　not　have　anything　left　but　resentment。'
　'Explain　that；'　said　Crawford　harshly。
　'You're　not　dealing　with　a　madma