rl.thebourneultimatum-第109节

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　Jason　stared　at　the　Russian；　unable　to　speak；　the　harsh　winds　of　anger　and　confusion　clouding　his　thoughts。　He　started　to　utter　a　protest　but　could　not　do　so；　the　words　would　not　e。　Then　it　was　too　late　for　words。　A　dark　brown　van　shot　up　the　road　from　the　highway　to　Paris　and　Bourne　found　his　voice。
　〃It's　the　one　from　the　boulevard　Lefebvre；　the　one　that　got　away！〃
　〃The　one　from　where？〃　asked　Conklin。
　〃There　was　trouble　on　Lefebvre　several　days　ago；〃　said　Krupkin。　〃An　automobile　or　a　truck　was　blown　up。　Do　you　refer　to　that？〃
　〃It　was　a　trap。　For　me。　A　van；　then　a　limo；　and　a　double　for　Carlos…a　trap。　That's　the　second　one；　it　raced　out　of　a　dark　side　street；　I　think；　and　tried　to　cut　us　down　with　firepower。〃
　〃Us？〃　Alex　watched　Jason；　he　saw　the　undisguised　fury　in　the　Chameleon's　eyes；　the　tight；　rigid　set　of　his　mouth；　the　slow　spreading　and　contraction　of　his　strong　fingers。
　〃Bernardine　and　me；〃　whispered　Bourne　in　reply；　suddenly　raising　his　voice。　〃I　want　a　weapon；〃　he　cried。　〃The　gun　in　my　pocket　isn't　a　goddamned　weapon！〃
　The　driver　was　Krupkin's　powerfully　built　Soviet　aide　Sergei；　he　reached　across　his　seat　and　pulled　up　a　Russian　AK…47。　He　held　it　over　his　shoulder　as　Jason　grabbed　it。
　A　dark　brown　limousine；　its　tires　skidding　on　the　backcountry　road；　screamed　to　a　stop　in　front　of　the　faded；　worn　canopy；　and　like　trained　mandos；　two　men　leaped　out　of　the　side　door；　their　faces　encased　in　stocking　masks；　their　hands　holding　automatic　weapons。　They　raced　to　the　entrance；　each　spinning　his　body　to　either　side　of　the　double　doors。　A　third　man　emerged　from　the　squared　vehicle；　a　balding　man　in　a　priest's　black　clothing。　With　a　gesture　of　his　weapon；　the　two　assault　troops　spun　back　toward　the　doors；　their　hands　on　the　thick　brass　knobs。　The　driver　of　the　van　gunned　his　engine　in　place。
　〃Go！〃　yelled　Bourne。　〃It's　him！　It's　Carlos！〃
　〃No！〃　roared　Krupkin。　〃Wait。　It's　our　trap　now；　and　he　must　be　trapped…inside。〃
　〃For　Christ's　sake；　there　are　people　in　there！〃　countered　Jason。
　〃All　wars　have　casualties；　Mr。　Bourne；　and　in　case　you　don't　realize　it；　this　is　war。　Yours　and　mine。　Yours　is　far　more　personal　than　mine；　incidentally。〃
　Suddenly；　there　was　an　earsplitting　scream　of　vengeance　from　the　Jackal　as　the　double　doors　were　crashed　back　and　the　terrorists　rushed　inside；　their　weapons　on　automatic　fire。
　〃Now！〃　cried　Sergei；　the　ignition　started；　the　accelerator　on　the　floor。　The　Citro？n　swung　out　on　the　road；　rushing　toward　the　van；　but　in　a　split　half　second　its　progress　was　derailed。　A　massive　explosion　took　place　on　the　right。　The　old　man　and　the　nondescript　gray　car　in　which　he　sat　was　blown　apart；　sending　the　Citro？n　swerving　to　the　left　into　the　ancient　post…and…rail　fence　that　bordered　the　sunken　parking　lot　on　the　side　of　the　inn。　The　instant　it　happened　the　Jackal's　dark　brown　van；　instead　of　racing　forward；　lurched　backward；　jerking　to　a　halt　as　the　driver　jumped　out　of　the　cab；　concealing　himself　behind　it；　he　had　spotted　the　Soviet　backup。　As　the　two　Russians　ran　toward　the　restaurant　the　Jackal's　driver　killed　one　with　a　burst　from　his　weapon。　The　other　threw　himself　into　the　bordering；　sloping　grass；　watching　helplessly　as　Carlos's　driver　shot　out　the　tires　and　the　windows　of　the　Soviet　vehicle。
　〃Get　out！〃　yelled　Sergei；　pulling　Bourne　from　the　seat　onto　the　dirt　by　the　fence；　as　his　stunned　superior　and　Alex　Conklin　crawled　out　behind　him。
　〃Let's　go！〃　cried　Jason；　gripping　the　AK…47　and　getting　to　his　feet。　〃That　son　of　a　bitch　blew　up　the　car　by　remote。〃
　〃I'll　go　first！〃　said　the　Soviet。
　〃Why？〃
　〃Frankly；　I'm　younger　and　stronger…〃
　〃Shut　up！〃　Bourne　raced　ahead；　zigzagging　to　draw　fire；　then　plummeting　to　the　ground　when　it　came　from　the　driver　of　Carlos's　van。　He　raised　his　weapon　in　the　grass；　knowing　that　the　Jackal's　man　believed　his　fusillade　had　been　accurate；　the　head　appeared　and　then　was　no　more　as　Jason　squeezed　the　trigger。
　The　second　Russian　backup；　hearing　the　death　cry　from　behind　the　van；　rose　from　the　sloping　grass　and　continued　toward　the　restaurant's　entrance。　From　inside　came　the　sound　of　erratic　gunfire；　sudden　bursts　acpanied　by　screams　of　panic；　followed　by　additional　bursts。　A　living　nightmare　of　terror　and　blood　was　taking　place　within　the　confines　of　a　once　bucolic　country　inn。　Bourne　got　to　his　feet；　Sergei　at　his　side；　running；　they　joined　the　other　surviving　Soviet　aide。　At　Jason's　nod；　the　Russians　pulled　back　the　doors　and　as　one　they　burst　inside。
　The　next　sixty　seconds　were　as　terrifying　as　the　shrieking　hell　depicted　by　Munch。　A　waiter　and　two　of　the　men　who　were　among　the　three　couples　were　dead；　the　waiter　and　one　man　sprawled　on　the　floor；　their　skulls　shattered；　what　was　left　of　their　faces　lying　in　blood；　the　third　man　was　splayed　back　in　the　banquette；　his　eyes　wide　and　glass…dead；　his　clothes　riddled　with　bullets；　rivulets　of　blood　rolling　down　the　fabric。　The　women　were　in　total　shock；　alternately　moaning　and　screaming　as　they　kept　trying　to　crawl　over　the　pine　walls　of　the　booth。　The　well…dressed　man　and　wife　from　the　Italian　embassy　were　nowhere　in　sight。
　Sergei　suddenly　rushed　forward；　his　weapon　on　auto　fire；　in　a　rear　corner　of　the　room　he　had　spotted　a　figure　whom　Bourne　had　not　seen。　The　stocking…faced　killer　sprang　out　of　the　shadows；　his　machine　swinging　into　position；　but　before　he　could　exercise　his　advantage；　the　Soviet　cut　him　down。　。。。　Another！　A　body　lurching　behind　the　short　counter　that　served　as　a　bar。　Was　it　the　Jackal？　Jason　pivoted　into　the　diagonal　wall；　crouching；　his　eyes　darting　into　every　recess　in　the　vicinity　of　the　wine　racks。　He　lunged　to　the　base　of　the　bar　as　the　second　Russian　backup；　assessing　the　situation；　ran　to　the　hysterical　women；　spinning　around；　his　gun　swinging　back　and　forth　protecting　them。　The　stocking…faced　head　shot　up　from　behind　the　counter；　his　weapon　surging　out　over　the　wood。　Bourne　sprang　to　his　feet；　gripping　the　hot　barrel　with　his　left　hand；　his　right　manding　the　AK…47；　he　fired　point…blank　into　the　terrorist's　contorted　face　beyond　the　silk。　It　was　not　Carlos。　Where　was　the　Jackal？
　〃In　there！〃　shouted　Sergei　as　if　he　had　heard　Jason's　furious　question。
　〃Where？〃
　〃Those　doors！〃
　It　was　the　country　restaurant's　kitchen。　Both　men　converged　on　the　swinging　doors。　Again　Bourne　nodded；　the　signal　for　them　to　crash　inside；　but　before　they　could　move；　both　were　partially　blown　back　by　an　explosion　from　within；　a　grenade　had　been　set　off；　with　fragments　of　metal　and　glass　embedded　in　the　doors。　The　smoke　billowed；　wafting　out　into　the　dining　room；　the　smell　was　acrid；　sickening。
　Silence。
　Jason　and　Sergei　once　more　approached　the　kitchen's　entrance；　and　once　again　they　were　stopped　by　a　second　sudden　explosion　followed　by　staccato　gunfire；　the　bullets　piercing　the　thin；　louvered　panels　of　the　swinging　doors。
　Silence。
　Standoff。
　Silence。
　It　was　too　much　for　the　furious；　impassioned　Chameleon。　He　cracked　the　bolt　of　his　AK…47；　pulled　the　selective　lever　and　then　the　trigger　for　auto　fire；　and　crashed　the　doors　open；　lunging　for　the　floor。
　Silence。
　Another　scene　from　another　hell。　A　section　of　the　outside　wall　had　been　blown　away；　the　obese　owner　and　his　chef；　still　wearing　his　toque；　were　dead；　corpses　pinned　against　the　lower　shelves　of　the　kitchen；　blood　streaming　across　and　down　the　wood。
　Bourne　slowly　rose　to　his　feet；　his　legs　in　agony；　every　nerve　in　his　body　frayed；　the　edge　of　hysteria　not　far　away。　As　if　in　a　trance；　he　looked　around　through　the　smoke　and　the　debris；　his　eyes　finally　settling　on　a　large；　ominous　fragment　of　brown　butcher's　paper　nailed　to　the　wall　with　a　heavy　cleaver。　He　approached　it　and；　yanking　out　the　cleaver；　read　the　words　printed　in　a　black　butcher's　pencil：
　The　trees　of　Tannenbaum　will　burn　and　children　will　be　the　kindling。　Sleep　well；　Jason　Bourne。
　The　mirrors　of　his　life　were　shattered　into　a　thousand　pieces　of　glass。　There　was　nothing　else　to　do　but　scream。
　
　31
　〃Stop　it；　David！〃
　〃My　God；　he's　insane；　Aleksei。　Sergei；　grab　him；　hold　him。　。。。　You；　help　Sergei！　Put　him　on　the　ground　so　I　can　talk　to　him。　We　must　leave　here　quickly！〃
　It　was　all　the　two　Russian　aides　could　do　to　wrestle　the　screaming　Bourne　to　the　grass。　He　had　raced　out　through　the　exploded　hole　in　the　wall；　running　into　the　high　grass　in　a　futile　attempt　to　find　the　Jackal；　firing　his　AK…47　into　the　field　beyond　until　his　magazine　was　empty。　Sergei　and　the　surviving　backup　had　rushed　in　after　him；　the　former　ripping　the　weapon　out　of　Jason's　hands；　together　leading　the　hysterical　man　back　to　the　rear　of　the　mutilated　country　inn；　where　Alex　and　Krupkin　were　waiting　for　them。　Forcibly；　their　charge　in　a　sweating；　erratically　breathing　trance；　the　five　men　walked　rapidly　to　the　front　of　the　restaurant；　there　the　uncontrollable　hysteria　again　seized　the　Chameleon。
　The　Jackal's　van　was　gone。　Carlos　had　reversed　his　line　of　flight　and　escaped　and　Jason　Bourne　had　gone　mad。
　〃Hold　him！〃　roared　Krupkin；　kneeling　beside　Jason　as　the　two　aides　pinned　Bourne　to　the　ground。　The　KGB　officer　reached　down　and　spread　his　hand　across　the　American's　face；　gouging　his　cheeks　with　thumb　and　forefinger；　forcing　Treadstone　S