rl.thebourneidentity-第99部分

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　'What　is　it？'
　'A　fishing　rod。　Not　an　expensive　one；　but　with　an　old　fashioned　casting　reel；　the　kind　that　doesn't　get　tangled　every　five　minutes。'
　'Yeah；　I　know　what　you　mean。　I　fish　out　of　Sheepshead　Bay。　They　don't　make　them　reels　like　they　used　to。　I　think　it's　the　alloys。'
　'I　think　you're　right；　Mr。　Schumach。　I　know　exactly　in　which　closet　he　kept　it'
　'Oh；　what　the　hell；　a　fishing　rod。　Go　up　and　see　a　guy　named　Dugan；　he's　the　supervisor　on　the　job。　Tell　him　I　said　you　could　have　it；　but　you'll　have　to　sign　for　it　If　he　gives　you　static；　tell　him　to　go　outside　and　call　me；　the　phone's　disconnected　down　there。'
　'A　Mr。　Dugan。　Thank　you　very　much；　Mr。　Schumach。'
　'Christ；　that　place　is　a　ball…breaker　today。'
　'I　beg　your　pardon？'
　'Nothing。　Some　whacko　called　telling　us　to　get　out　of　there。　And　the　job's　firm；　cash　guaranteed。　Can　you　believe　it？'
　Carlos。　Jason　could　believe　it。
　'It's　difficult；　Mr。　Schumach。'
　'Good　fishing；'　said　the　Belkins　man。
　Bourne　walked　west　on　Seventieth　Street　to　Lexington　Avenue。　Three　blocks　south　he　found　what　he　was　looking　for：　an　army…navy　surplus　store。　He　went　inside。
　Eight　minutes　later　he　came　out　carrying　four　brown　padded　blankets　and　six　wide　canvas　straps　with　metal　buckles。　In　the　pockets　of　his　field　jacket　were　two　ordinary　road　flares。　They　had　been　there　on　the　counter　looking　like　something　they　were　not；　triggering　images　beyond　memory；　back　to　a　moment　when　there　had　been　meaning　and　purpose。　And　anger。　He　slung　the　equipment　over　his　left　shoulder　and　trudged　up　towards　Seventy…first。　The　chameleon　was　heading　into　the　jungle；　a　jungle　as　dense　as　the　unremembered　Tarn　Quan。
　It　was　10：48　when　he　reached　the　corner　of　the　tree…lined　block　that　held　the　secrets　of　Treadstone　Seventy…one。　He　was　going　back　to　the　beginning　…　his　beginning　…　and　the　fear　that　he　felt　was　not　the　fear　of　physical　harm。　He　was　prepared　for　that；　every　sinew　taut；　every　muscle　ready；　his　knees　and　feet；　hands　and　elbows；　weapons；　his　eyes　trip…wire　alarms　that　would　send　instant　signals　to　those　weapons。　His　fear　was　far　more　profound。　He　was　about　to　enter　the　place　of　his　birth　and　he　was　terrified　at　what　he　might　find　there　…　remember　there。
　Stop　it！　The　trap　is　everything。　Cain　is　for　Charlie　and　Delta　is　for　Cain！
　The　traffic　had　diminished　considerably；　the　rush　hour　over；　the　street　in　the　doldrums　of　mid…morning　quiescence。　Pedestrians　strolled　now；　they　did　not　hasten；　cars　swung　leisurely　around　the　removal　van；　angry　horns　replaced　by　brief　grimaces　of　irritation。　Jason　crossed　with　the　light　to　the　Treadstone　side；　the　tall；　narrow　structure　of　brown；　jagged　stone　and　thick　blue　glass　was　fifty　yards　down　the　block。　Blankets　and　straps　in　place；　an　already　weary；　slow…witted　labourer　walked　behind　a　well…dressed　couple　towards　it。
　He　reached　the　concrete　steps　as　two　muscular　men；　one　black　one　white；　were　carrying　a　covered　harp　out　of　the　door。　Bourne　stopped　and　called　out；　his　words　halting；　his　dialect　coarse。
　'Hey！　Where's　Doogan？'
　'Where　the　hell　d'you　think？'　replied　the　white；　angling　his　head　around。　'Sittin'　in　a　fuckin'　chair。'
　'He　ain't　gonna　lift　nothin'　heavier　than　that　clipboard；　man；'　added　the　black。　'He's　an　executive；　ain't　that　right；　Joey？'
　'He's　a　crumb　ball；　is　what　he　is。　Watcha　got　there？'
　'Schumach　sent　me；'　said　Jason。　'He　wanted　another　man　down　here　and　figured　you　needed　this　stuff。　Told　me　to　bring　it。'
　'Murray　the　menace！'　laughed　the　black。　'You　new；　man？　I　ain't　seen　you　before。　You　e　from　shape…up？〃
　'Yeah。'
　'Take　that　shit　up　to　the　executive；'　grunted　Joey；　starting　down　the　steps。　'He　can　allocate　it；　how　about　that；　Pete？　Allocate；　you　like　it？'
　'I　love　it；　Joey。　You　a　regular　dictionary。'
　Bourne　walked　up　the　reddish　brown　steps　past　the　descending　movers　to　the　door。　He　stepped　inside　and　saw　the　winding　staircase　on　the　right；　and　the　long　narrow　corridor　in　front　of　him　that　led　to　another　door　thirty　feet　away。　He　had　climbed　those　steps　a　thousand　times；　walked　up　and　down　that　corridor　thousands　more。　He　had　e　back；　and　an　overpowering　sense　of　dread　swept　through　him。　He　started　down　the　dark　narrow　corridor；　he　could　see　shafts　of　sunlight　bursting　through　a　pair　of　French　windows　in　the　distance。　He　was　approaching　the　room　where　Cain　was　born。　That　room。　He　gripped　the　straps　on　his　shoulder　and　tried　to　stop　the　trembling。
　Marie　leaned　forward　in　the　back　seat　of　the　armour…plated　government　car；　the　binoculars　in　place。　Something　had　happened；　she　was　not　sure　what　it　was　but　she　could　guess。　A　short　stocky　man　had　passed　by　the　steps　of　the　brownstone　house　a　few　minutes　ago；　slowing　his　pace　as　he　approached　the　general；　obviously　saying　something　to　him。　〃The　man　had　then　continued　down　the　block　and　seconds　later　Crawford　had　followed　him。
　Conklin　had　been　found。
　It　was　a　small　step　if　what　the　general　said　was　true。　Hired　gunmen；　unknown　to　their　employer；　he　unknown　to　them。　Hired　to　kill　a　man。。。　for　all　the　wrong　reasons！　Oh；　God；　she　loathed　them　all！　Mindless；　stupid　men！　Playing　with　the　lives　of　other　men；　knowing　so　little；　thinking　they　knew　so　much。
　They　had　not　listened！　They　never　listened　until　it　was　too　late；　and　then　only　with　stern　forbearance　and　strong　reminders　of　what　might　have　been　…　had　things　been　as　they　were　perceived　to　be。　which　they　were　not。　The　corruption　came　from　blindness；　the　lies　from　obstinacy　and　embarrassment　Do　not　embarrass　the　powerful；　the　napalm　said　it　all。
　Marie　focused　the　binoculars。　A　Belkins　man　was　approaching　the　steps；　blankets　and　straps　over　his　shoulder；　walking　behind　an　elderly　couple；　obviously　residents　of　the　block　out　for　a　stroll。　The　man　in　the　field　jacket　and　the　black　knit　hat　stopped：　he　began　talking　to　two　other　movers　carrying　a　triangular…shaped　object　out　of　the　door。
　What　was　it？　There　was　something。。。　something　odd。　She　could　not　see　the　man's　face；　it　was　hidden　from　view；　but　there　was　something　about　the　neck；　the　angle　of　the　head。。。　what　was　it？　The　man　started　up　the　steps；　a　blunt　man；　weary　of　his　day　before　it　had　begun。。。　a　slovenly　man。　Marie　removed　the　binoculars；　she　was　too　anxious；　too　ready　to　see　things　that　were　not　there。
　Oh；　God；　my　love；　my　Jason。　Where　are　you？　e　to　me。
　Let　me　find　you。　Do　not　leave　me　for　these　blind；　mindless　men。　Do　not　let　them　take　you　from　me。
　Where　was　Crawford？　He　had　promised　to　keep　her　informed　of　every　move；　everything。　She　had　been　blunt。　She　did　not　trust　him；　any　of　them；　she　did　not　trust　their　intelligence；　that　word　spelled　with　a　lower　case　i。　He　had　promised。。。　where　was　he？
　She　spoke　to　the　driver。　'Will　you　put　down　the　window；　please。　It's　stifling　in　here；'
　'Sorry；　Miss；'　replied　the　civilian…clothed　army　man。　'I'll　turn　on　the　air…conditioning　for　you；　though。'
　The　windows　and　doors　were　controlled　by　buttons　only　the　driver　could　reach。　She　was　in　a　glass　and　metal　tomb　in　a　sundrenched；　tree…lined　street
　'I　don't　believe　a　word　of　it！'　said　Conklin；　limping　angrily　across　the　room　back　to　the　window。　He　leaned　against　the　sill　looking　out；　his　left　hand　pulled　up　to　his　face；　his　teeth　against　the　knuckle　of　his　index　finger。　'Not　a　goddamned　word！'
　'You　don't　want　to　believe　it　Alex；'　countered　Crawford。　〃The　solution　is　so　much　easier。　It's　in　place；　and　so　much　simpler。'
　'You　didn't　hear　that　tape。　You　didn't　hear　Villiers！
　I've　heard　the　woman；　she's　all　I　have　to　hear。　She　said　we　didn't　listen。。。　you　didn't　listen。'
　Then　she's　lying！'　Awkwardly　Conklin　spun　around。　'Christ；　of　course　she's　lying！　Why　wouldn't　she？　She's　his　woman。　She'll　do　anything　to　get　him　off　the　meathook！'
　'You're　wrong　and　you　know　it；　the　fact　that　he's　here　proves　you're　wrong；　proves　I　was　wrong　to　accept　what　you。。。'
　Conklin　was　breathing　heavily；　his　right　hand　trembling　as　he　gripped　his　cane。　'Maybe。。。　maybe　we；　maybe。。。'He　did　not　finish；　instead　he　looked　at　Crawford　helplessly。
　'。。。　ought　to　let　the　solution　stand？'　asked　the　officer　quietly。　'You're　tired；　Alex。　You　haven't　slept　for　several　days；　you're　exhausted。　I　don't　think　I　heard　that'
　'No。'　The　C。I。A。　man　shook　his　head；　his　eyes　closed；　his　face　reflecting　his　disgust　'No；　you　didn't　hear　it　and　I　didn't　say　it　I　just　wish　I　knew　where　the　hell　to　begin。'
　I　do；'　said　Crawford　going　to　the　door　and　opening　it　'e　in；　please。'
　The　stocky　man　walked　in；　his　eyes　darting　to　the　rifle　leaning　against　the　wall。　He　looked　at　the　two　men；　appraisal　in　his　expression。　'What　is　it？'
　The　exercise　has　been　called　off；'　Crawford　said。　'I　think　you　must　have　gathered　that。
　'What　exercise？　I　was　hired　to　protect　him。'　The　gunman　looked　at　Alex。　'You　mean　you　don't　need　protection　any　more；　sir？'
　'You　know　exactly　what　we　mean；'　broke　in　Conklin。　'All　signals　are　off；　all　stipulations。'
　'What　stipulations？　I　don't　know　about　any　stipulations。　The　terms　of　my　employment　are　very　clear。　I'm　protecting　you；　sir。'
　'Good；　fine；'　said　Crawford。　'Now　what　we　have　to　know　is　who　else　out　there　is　protecting　him。'
　'Who　else　where？'
　'Outside　this　room；　this　apartment。　In　other　rooms；　on　the　street；　in　cars；　perhaps。　We　have　to　know。'
　The　stocky　man　walked　over　to　the　rifle　and　picked　it　up。　'I'm　afraid　you　gentlemen　have　misunderstood。　I　was　hired　on　an　individual　basis。　If　others　were　employed；　I'm　not　aware　of　them。'
　'You　do　know　them　I'　shouted　Conklin。　'Who　are　they？　Where　are　they？'
　'I　haven't　any　idea。。。　sir。'　The　courteous　gunman　held　the　rifle　in　his　right　arm；　the　barrel　angled　down　towards　the　floor。　He　raised　it　perhaps　two　inches；　no　more　than　six；　the　movement　barely　perceptible。　'If　my　services　are　no　longer　required；　I'll　be　leaving；'
　'Can　you　reach　them？〃　interrupted　the　brigadier。　'We'll　pay　generously。〃
　'I've　already　been　paid　generously；　sir。　It　would　be　wrong　to　accept　money　for　a　service　I　can't　perform。　And　pointless　for　this　to　continue。'
　'A　man's　life　is　at　stake　out　there！'　shouted　Conklin。
　'So's　mine；'　said　the　gunman；　walking　to　the　door；　the　weapon　raised　higher。　'Good…bye；　gentlemen。'　He　let　himself　out。
　'Jesus！'　roared。　Alex；　swinging　back　to　the　window；　his　cane