rl.thebourneultimatum-第12节

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　〃Shit！〃　yelled　the　chairman；　opening　the　glass　door　and　walking　naked　to　the　phone　on　the　wall。　〃This　is　Armbruster。　What　is　it？〃
　〃There's　a　crisis　that　requires　your　immediate　attention。〃
　〃Is　this　1600？〃
　〃No；　and　we　hope　it　never　goes　up　there。〃
　〃Then　who　the　hell　are　you？〃
　〃Someone　as　concerned　as　you're　going　to　be。　After　all　these　years…oh；　Christ！〃
　〃Concerned　about　what？　What　are　you　talking　about？〃
　〃Snake　Lady；　Mr。　Chairman。〃
　〃Oh；　my　God！〃　Armbruster's　hushed　voice　was　a　sudden　involuntary　cry　of　panic。　Instantly；　he　controlled　himself　but　it　was　too　late。　Mark　One。　〃I　have　no　idea　what　you're　talking　about。　。。。　What's　a　snake　whatever…it…is？　Never　heard　of　it。〃
　〃Well；　hear　it　now；　Mr。　Medusa。　Somebody's　got　it　all；　everything。　Dates；　diversions　of　materiel；　banks　in　Geneva　and　Zurich…even　the　names　of　a　half…dozen　couriers　routed　out　of　Saigon…and　worse。　。。。　Jesus；　the　worst！　Other　names…MIAs　established　as　never　having　been　in　bat　。。。　eight　investigating　personnel　from　the　inspector　general's　office。　Everything。〃
　〃You're　not　making　sense！　You're　talking　gibberish！〃
　〃And　you're　on　the　list；　Mr。　Chairman。　That　man　must　have　spent　fifteen　years　putting　it　together；　and　now　he　wants　payment　for　all　those　years　of　work　or　he　blows　it　open…everything；　everyone。〃
　〃Who？　Who　is　he；　for　Christ's　sake？〃
　〃We're　centering　in。　All　we　know　is　that　he's　been　in　the　protection　program　for　over　a　decade；　and　no　one　gets　rich　in　those　circumstances。　He　must　have　been　cut　out　of　the　action　in　Saigon　and　now　he's　making　up　for　lost　time。　Stay　tight。　We'll　be　back　in　touch。〃　There　was　a　click　and　the　line　went　dead。
　Despite　the　steam　and　the　heat　of　the　bathroom；　the　naked　Albert　Armbruster；　chairman　of　the　Federal　Trade　mission；　shivered　as　the　sweat　rolled　down　his　face。　He　hung　up　the　phone；　his　eyes　straying　to　the　small；　ugly　tattoo　on　the　underside　of　his　forearm。
　Over　in　Vienna；　Virginia；　Alex　Conklin　looked　at　the　telephone。
　Mark　One。
　General　Norman　Swayne；　chief　of　Pentagon　procurements；　stepped　back　from　the　tee　satisfied　with　his　long　straight　drive　down　the　fairway。　The　ball　would　roll　to　an　optimum　position　for　a　decent　five…iron　approach　shot　to　the　seventeenth　green。　〃That　ought　to　do　it；〃　he　said；　turning　to　address　his　golfing　partner。
　〃Certainly　ought　to；　Norm；〃　replied　the　youngish　senior　vice　president　of　Calco　Technologies。　〃You're　taking　my　butt　for　a　ride　this　afternoon。　I'm　going　to　end　up　owing　you　close　to　three　hundred　clams。　At　twenty　a　hole；　I've　only　gotten　four　so　far。〃
　〃It's　your　hook；　young　fella。　You　ought　to　work　on　it。〃
　〃That's　certainly　the　truth；　Norm；〃　agreed　the　Calco　executive　in　charge　of　marketing　as　he　approached　the　tee。　Suddenly；　there　was　the　high　grating　sound　of　a　golf　cart's　horn　as　a　three…wheeled　vehicle　appeared　over　the　incline　from　the　sixteenth　fairway　going　as　fast　as　it　could　go。　〃That's　your　driver；　General；〃　said　the　armaments　marketer；　immediately　wishing　he　had　not　used　his　partner's　formal　title。
　〃So　it　is。　That's　odd；　he　never　interrupts　my　golf　game。〃　Swayne　walked　toward　the　rapidly　approaching　cart；　meeting　it　thirty　feet　away　from　the　tee。　〃What　is　it？〃　he　asked　a　large；　middle…aged　beribboned　master　sergeant　who　had　been　his　driver　for　over　fifteen　years。
　〃My　guess　is　that　it's　rotten；〃　answered　the　nonmissioned　officer　gruffly　while　he　gripped　the　wheel。
　〃That's　pretty　blunt…〃
　〃So　was　the　son　of　a　bitch　who　called。　I　had　to　take　it　inside；　on　a　pay　phone。　I　told　him　I　wouldn't　break　into　your　game；　and　he　said　I　goddamned　well　better　if　I　knew　what　was　good　for　me。　Naturally；　I　asked　him　who　he　was　and　what　rank　and　all　the　rest　of　the　bullshit　but　he　cut　me　off；　more　scared　than　anything　else。　'Just　tell　the　general　I'm　calling　about　Saigon　and　some　reptiles　crawling　around　the　city　damn　near　twenty　years　ago。'　Those　were　his　exact　words…〃
　〃Jesus　Christ！〃　cried　Swayne；　interrupting。　〃Snake。。。？〃
　〃He　said　he'd　call　back　in　a　half　hour…that's　eighteen　minutes　now。　Get　in；　Norman。　I'm　part　of　this；　remember？〃
　Bewildered　and　frightened；　the　general　mumbled。　〃I　。。。　I　have　to　make　excuses。　I　can't　just　walk　away；　drive　away。〃
　〃Make　it　quick。　And；　Norman；　you've　got　on　a　short…sleeved　shirt；　you　goddamned　idiot！　Bend　your　arm。〃
　Swayne；　his　eyes　wide；　stared　at　the　small　tattoo　on　his　flesh；　instantly　crooking　his　arm　to　his　chest　in　British　brigadier　fashion　as　he　walked　unsteadily　back　to　the　tee；　summoning　a　casualness　he　could　not　feel。　〃Damn；　young　fella；　the　army　calls。〃
　〃Well；　damn　also；　Norm；　but　I've　got　to　pay　you。　I　insist！〃
　The　general；　half　in　a　daze；　accepted　the　debt　from　his　partner；　not　counting　the　bills；　not　realizing　that　it　was　several　hundred　dollars　more　than　he　was　owed。　Proffering　confused　thanks；　Swayne　walked　swiftly　back　to　the　golf　cart　and　climbed　in　beside　his　master　sergeant。
　〃So　much　for　my　hook；　soldier　boy；〃　said　the　armaments　executive　to　himself；　addressing　the　tee　and　swinging　his　club；　sending　the　little　pocked　white　ball　straight　down　the　fairway　far　beyond　the　general's　and　with　a　much　better　lie。　〃Four　hundred　million's　worth；　you　brass…plated　bastard。〃
　Mark　Two。
　〃What　in　heaven's　name　are　you　talking　about？〃　asked　the　senator；　laughing　as　he　spoke　into　the　phone。　〃Or　should　I　say；　what's　Al　Armbruster　trying　to　pull？　He　doesn't　need　my　sup　port　on　the　new　bill　and　he　wouldn't　get　it　if　he　did。　He　was　a　jackass　in　Saigon　and　he's　a　jackass　now；　but　he's　got　the　majority　vote。〃
　〃We're　not　talking　about　votes；　Senator。　We're　talking　about　Snake　Lady！〃
　〃The　only　snakes　I　knew　in　Saigon　were　jerks　like　Alby　who　crawled　around　the　city　pretending　to　know　all　the　answers　when　there　weren't　any。　。。。　Who　the　hell　are　you　anyway？〃　In　Vienna；　Virginia；　Alex　Conklin　replaced　the　telephone。
　Misfire　Three。
　Phillip　Atkinson；　ambassador　to　the　Court　of　St。　James's；　picked　up　his　phone　in　London；　assuming　that　the　unnamed　caller；　code　〃courier　D。C。〃　was　bearing　an　exceptionally　confidential　instruction　from　the　State　Department　and　automatically；　as　was　the　order；　Atkinson　snapped　the　switch　on　his　rarely　used　scrambler。　It　would　create　an　eruption　of　static　on　British　intelligence's　intercepts　and　later　he　would　smile　benignly　at　good　friends　in　the　Connaught　bar　who　asked　him　if　there　was　anything　new　out　of　Washington；　knowing　that　this　one　or　that　one　had　〃relatives〃　in　MI…Five。
　〃Yes；　Courier　District？〃
　〃Mr。　Ambassador；　I　assume　we　can't　be　picked　up；〃　said　the　low；　strained　voice　from　Washington。
　〃Your　assumption's　correct　unless　they've　e　up　with　a　new　type　of　Enigma；　which　is　unlikely。〃
　〃Good。　。。。　I　want　to　take　you　back　to　Saigon；　to　a　certain　operation　no　one　talks　about…〃
　〃Who　is　this？〃　broke　in　Atkinson；　bolting　forward　in　his　chair。
　〃The　men　in　that　outfit　never　used　names；　Mr。　Ambassador；　and　we　didn't　exactly　advertise　our　mitments；　did　we？〃
　〃Goddamn　you；　who　are　you？　I　know　you？〃
　〃No　way；　Phil；　although　I'm　surprised　you　don't　recognize　my　voice。〃
　Atkinson's　eyes　widened　as　they　roamed　rapidly　about　his　office；　seeing　nothing；　only　trying　to　remember；　trying　desperately　to　put　a　voice　with　a　face。　〃Is　that　you；　Jack…believe　me；　we're　on　a　scrambler！〃
　〃Close；　Phil…〃
　〃The　Sixth　Fleet；　Jack。　A　simple　reverse　Morse。　Then　bigger　things；　much　bigger。　It's　you；　isn't　it？〃
　〃Let's　say　it's　a　possible；　but　it's　also　irrelevant。　The　point　is　we're　in　heavy　weather；　very　heavy…〃
　〃It　is　you！〃
　〃Shut　up。　Just　listen。　A　bastard　frigate　got　loose　from　its　moorings　and　is　crashing　around；　hitting　too　many　shoals。〃
　〃Jack；　I　was　ground；　not　sea。　I　can't　understand　you。〃
　〃Some　swab　jockey　must　have　been　cut　out　of　the　action　back　in　Saigon；　and　from　what　I've　learned　he　was　put　in　protection　for　something　or　other　and　now　he's　got　it　all　put　together。　He's　got　it　all；　Phil。　Everything。〃
　〃Holy　Christ！〃
　〃He's　ready　to　launch…〃
　〃Stop　him！〃
　〃That's　the　problem。　We're　not　sure　who　he　is。　The　whole　thing's　being　kept　very　close　over　in　Langley。〃
　〃Good　God；　man；　in　your　position　you　can　give　them　the　order　to　back　off！　Say　it's　a　DOD　dead　file　that　was　never　pleted…that　it　was　designed　to　spread　disinformation！　It's　all　false！〃
　〃That　could　be　walking　into　a　salvo…〃
　〃Have　you　called　Jimmy　T　over　in　Brussels？〃　interrupted　the　ambassador。　〃He's　tight　with　the　top　max　at　Langley。〃
　〃At　the　moment　I　don't　want　anything　to　go　any　further。　Not　until　I　do　some　missionary　work。〃
　〃Whatever　you　say；　Jack。　You're　running　the　show。〃
　〃Keep　your　halyards　taut；　Phil。〃
　〃If　that　means　keep　my　mouth　shut；　don't　you　worry　about　it！〃　said　Atkinson；　crooking　his　elbow；　wondering　who　in　London　could　remove　an　ugly　tattoo　on　his　forearm。
　Across　the　Atlantic　in　Vienna；　Virginia；　Alex　Conklin　hung　up　the　telephone　and　leaned　back　in　his　chair　a　frightened　man。　He　had　been　following　his　instincts　as　he　had　done　in　the　field　for　over　twenty　years；　words　leading　to　other　words；　phrases　to　phrases；　innuendos　snatched　out　of　the　air　to　support　suppositions；　even　conclusions。　It　was　a　chess　game　of　instant　invention　and　he　knew　he　was　a　skilled　professional…sometimes　too　skilled。　There　were　things　that　should　remai