rl.thebourneultimatum-第140节

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　〃I　understand　that。〃
　〃Are　you　prepared　for　it？〃
　〃Yes；　I　am。〃
　〃What　about　your　wife？　Don't　you　think　you　should　reach　her　first；　before　the　civilized　world　learns　that　Jason　Bourne　is　dead？〃
　〃No。　I　don't　even　want　the　slightest　risk　of　a　leak。〃
　〃Jesus！〃　exploded　Alex；　coughing。　〃That's　Marie　you're　talking　about。　She'll　fall　apart！〃
　〃It's　a　risk　I'll　accept；〃　said　Delta　coldly。
　〃You　son　of　a　bitch！〃
　〃So　be　it；〃　agreed　the　Chameleon。
　John　St。　Jacques；　tears　welling　in　his　eyes；　walked　into　the　bright；　sunlit　room　at　the　sterile　house　in　the　Maryland　countryside；　in　his　hand　was　a　page　of　puter　printout。　His　sister　was　on　the　floor　in　front　of　the　couch　playing　with　an　exuberant　Jamie；　she　having　put　the　infant　Alison　back　into　the　crib　upstairs。　She　looked　worn　and　haggard；　her　face　pale　with　dark　circles　under　her　eyes；　she　was　exhausted　from　the　tension　and　the　jet　lag　of　the　long；　idiotically　routed　flights　from　Paris　to　Washington。　In　spite　of　arriving　late　last　night；　she　had　gotten　up　early　to　be　with　the　children…no　amount　of　friendly　persuasion　on　the　part　of　the　motherly　Mrs。　Cooper　could　dissuade　her　from　doing　so。　The　brother　would　have　given　years　of　his　life　not　to　do　what　had　to　be　done　during　the　next　few　minutes；　but　he　could　not　risk　the　alternatives。　He　had　to　be　with　her　when　she　found　out。
　〃Jamie；〃　said　St。　Jacques　gently。　〃Go　find　Mrs。　Cooper；　will　you　please？　I　think　she's　in　the　kitchen。〃
　〃Why；　Uncle　John？〃
　〃I　want　to　talk　to　your　mother　for　a　few　minutes。〃
　〃Johnny；　please；〃　objected　Marie。
　〃I　have　to；　Sis。〃
　〃What　。。。　？〃
　The　child　left；　and　as　children　often　do；　he　obviously　sensed　something　serious　that　was　beyond　his　understanding；　he　stared　at　his　uncle　before　heading　to　the　door。　Marie　got　to　her　feet　and　looked　hard　at　her　brother；　at　the　tears　that　began　to　roll　down　his　cheeks。　The　terrible　message　was　conveyed。　〃No　。。。　！〃　she　whispered；　her　pallid　face　growing　paler。　〃Dear　God；　no；　she　cried；　her　hands　and　then　her　shoulders　starting　to　tremble。　〃No　。。。　no！〃　she　roared。
　〃He's　gone；　Sis。　I　wanted　you　to　hear　it　from　me；　not　over　a　radio　or　a　TV　set。　I　want　to　be　with　you。〃
　〃You're　wrong；　wrong！〃　screamed　Marie；　rushing　toward　him；　grabbing　his　shirt　and　clenching　the　fabric　in　her　fists。　〃He's　protected！　。。。　He　promised　me　he　was　protected！〃
　〃This　just　came　from　Langley；〃　said　the　younger　brother；　holding　up　the　page　of　puter　printout。　〃Holland　called　me　a　few　minutes　ago　and　said　it　was　on　its　way　over。　He　knew　you　had　to　see　it。　It　was　picked　up　from　Radio　Moscow　during　the　night　and　will　be　on　all　the　broadcasts　and　in　the　morning　papers。〃
　〃Give　it　to　me！〃　she　shouted　defiantly。　He　did　so　and　gently　held　her　shoulders；　prepared　to　take　her　in　his　arms　and　give　what　fort　he　could。　She　read　the　copy　rapidly；　then　shook　off　his　hands；　frowning；　and　walked　back　to　the　couch　and　sat　down。　Her　concentration　was　absolute；　she　placed　the　paper　on　the　coffee　table　and　studied　it　as　though　it　were　an　archaeological　find；　a　scroll　perhaps。
　〃He's　gone；　Marie。　I　don't　know　what　to　say…you　know　how　I　felt　about　him。〃
　〃Yes；　I　know；　Johnny。〃　Then　to　St。　Jacques's　astonishment；　his　sister　looked　up　at　him；　a　thin；　wan　smile　appearing　on　her　lips。　〃But　it's　a　little　early　for　our　tears；　Bro。　He's　alive。
　Jason　Bourne's　alive　and　up　to　his　tricks　and　that　means　David's　alive；　too。〃
　My　God；　she　can't　accept　it；　thought　the　brother；　walking　to　the　couch　and　kneeling　beside　the　coffee　table　in　front　of　Marie；　taking　her　hands　in　his。　〃Sis；　honey；　I　don't　think　you　understand。　I'll　do　everything　possible　to　help　you；　but　you've　got　to　understand。〃
　〃Bro；　you're　very　sweet　but　you　haven't　read　this　closely…really　closely。　The　impact　of　the　message　detracts　from　the　subtext。　In　economics　we　call　it　obfuscation　with　a　cloud　of　smoke　and　a　couple　of　mirrors。〃
　〃Huh？〃　St。　Jacques　released　her　hands　and　stood　up。　〃What　are　you　talking　about？〃
　Marie　picked　up　the　Langley　muniqué　and　scanned　it。　〃After　several　confused；　even　contradictory；　accounts　of　what　happened；〃　she　said；　〃described　by　people　on　the　scene　at　this　armory；　or　whatever　it　is；　the　following　is　buried　in　the　last　paragraph。　'Among　the　personal　effects　found　on　the　slain　assassin's　body　was　a　map　of　Brussels　and　the　surrounding　area　with　the　town　of　Anderlecht　circled　in　red。'　Then　it　goes　on　to　make　the　obvious　connection　with　Teagarten's　assassination。　It's　a　wash；　Johnny；　from　two　points　of　view。　。。。　First；　David　would　never　carry　such　a　map。　Second；　and　far　more　telling；　the　fact　that　the　Soviet　media　would　give　such　prominence　to　the　story　is　unbelievable　enough；　but　to　include　the　assassination　of　General　Teagarten　is　simply　too　much。〃
　〃What　do　you　mean？　Why？〃
　〃Because　the　presumed　assassin　was　in　Russia；　and　Moscow　wants　no　conceivable　linkage　to　the　killing　of　a　NATO　mander。　。。。　No；　Bro；　someone　bent　the　rules　and　persuaded　Tass　to　put　out　the　story；　and　I　suspect　heads　will　roll。　I　don't　know　where　Jason　Bourne　is；　but　I　know　he's　not　dead。　David　made　sure　I'd　know　that。〃
　Peter　Holland　picked　up　the　phone　and　touched　the　buttons　on　his　console　for　Charles　Casset's　private　line。
　〃Yes？〃
　〃Charlie；　it's　Peter。〃
　〃I'm　relieved　to　hear　that。〃
　〃Why？〃
　〃Because　all　I'm　getting　on　this　phone　is　trouble　and　confusion。　I　just　got　off　with　our　source　in　Dzerzhinsky　Square　and　he　told　me　the　KGB's　after　blood。〃
　〃The　Tass　release　on　Bourne？〃
　〃Right。　Tass　and　Radio　Moscow　assumed　the　story　was　officially　sanctioned　because　it　was　faxed　by　the　Ministry　of　Information　using　the　proper　immediate…release　codes。　When　the　shit　hit　the　fan；　no　one　owned　up；　and　whoever　programmed　the　codes　can't　be　traced。〃
　〃What　do　you　make　of　it？〃
　〃I'm　not　sure；　but　from　what　I've　learned　about　Dimitri　Krupkin；　it　could　be　his　style。　He's　now　working　with　Alex　and　if　this　isn't　something　out　of　the　Conklin　textbook；　I　don't　know　Saint　Alex。　And　I　do。〃
　〃That　dovetails　with　what　Marie　thinks。〃
　〃Marie？〃
　〃Bourne's　wife。　I　just　spoke　to　her　and　her　argument's　pretty　strong。　She　says　Moscow's　report　is　a　wash　for　all　the　right　reasons。　Her　husband's　alive。〃
　〃I　agree。　Is　that　what　you　called　to　tell　me？〃
　〃No；〃　answered　the　director；　taking　a　deep　breath。　〃I'm　adding　to　your　trouble　and　confusion。〃
　〃I'm　not　relieved　to　hear　that。　What　is　it？〃
　〃The　Paris　telephone　number；　the　link　to　the　Jackal　we　got　from　Henry　Sykes　in　Montserrat　that　reached　a　café　on　the　Marais　waterfront　in　Paris。〃
　〃Where　someone　would　answer　a　call　for　a　blackbird。　I　remember。〃
　〃Someone　did　and　we　followed　him。　You're　not　going　to　like　this。〃
　〃Alex　Conklin　is　about　to　earn　the　prick…of…the…year　award。　He　put　us　on　to　Sykes；　didn't　he？〃
　〃Yes。〃
　〃Do　tell。〃
　〃The　message　was　delivered　to　the　home　of　the　director　of　the　Deuxième　Bureau。〃
　〃My　God！　We'd　better　turn　that　over　to　the　SED　branch　of　French　intelligence　with　a　restricted　chronology。〃
　〃I'm　not　turning　anything　over　to　anybody　until　we　hear　from　Conklin。　We　owe　him　that　much…I　think。〃
　〃What　the　hell　are　they　doing？〃　shouted　a　frustrated　Casset　over　the　phone。　〃Putting　out　false　death　notices…from　Moscow；　no　less！　What　for？〃
　〃Jason　Bourne's　gone　hunting；〃　said　Peter　Holland。　〃And　when　the　hunt　is　over…if　it's　over　and　if　the　kill　is　made…he's　going　to　have　to　get　out　of　the　woods　before　anyone　turns　on　him。　。。。　I　want　every　station　and　listening　post　on　the　borders　of　the　Soviet　Union　on　full　alert。　Code　name：　Assassin。　Get　him　back。〃
　
　40
　Novgorod。　To　say　it　was　incredible　was　to　obliquely　recognize　the　existence　of　credibility　and　that　was　nearly　impossible。　It　was　the　ultimate　fantasy；　its　optical　illusions　seemingly　more　real　than　reality；　the　phantasmagoria　there　to　be　touched；　felt；　used；　entered　into　and　departed　from；　it　was　a　collective　masterpiece　of　invention　cut　out　of　the　immense　forests　along　the　Volkhov　River。　From　the　moment　Bourne　emerged　from　the　deep　underground　tunnel　below　the　water　with　its　guards；　gates　and　myriad　cameras；　he　was　as　close　to　being　in　a　state　of　shock　while　still　being　able　to　keep　walking；　observing；　absorbing；　thinking。
　The　American　pound；　presumably　like　those　of　the　different　countries；　was　broken　up　into　sections；　built　on　areas　anywhere　from　two　to　five　acres；　each　distinctly　separate　from　the　others。　One　area；　erected　on　the　banks　of　the　river；　might　be　the　heart　of　a　Maine　waterfront　village；　another；　farther　inland；　a　small　Southern　town；　yet　another；　a　busy　metropolitan　city　street。　Each　was　pletely　〃authentic〃　with　the　appropriate　vehicular　traffic；　police；　dress　codes；　shops；　grocery　and　drug　stores；　gas　stations　and　mock　structures　of　buildings…many　of　which　rose　two　stories　high　and　were　so　real　they　had　American　hardware　on　the　doors　and　windows。　Obviously；　as　vital　as　the　physical　appearances　was　language…not　merely　the　fluent　use　of　English　but　the　mastery　of　linguistic　idiosyncrasies；　the　dialects　that　were　characteristic　of　specific　locations。　As　Jason　wandered　from　one　section　to　another　he　heard　all　around　him　the　distinctive　sounds。　From　New　England　Down　East　with　its　〃eeahh〃　to　Texas's　drawl　and　its　familiar　〃you…alls〃；　from　the　gentle　nasality　of　t