rl.thebourneultimatum-第59节

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press　a　listener；　and　he　had　heard　about　a　recalcitrant；　unmanageable　patient；　an　amnesiac　they　called　〃Davey〃　and　sometimes　just　a　short；　sharp；　hostile　〃Webb；〃　formerly　a　member　of　Saigon's　infamous　Medusa；　and　a　man　they　suspected　of　feigning　his　loss　of　memory。　。。。　Loss　of　memory？　Alex　Conklin　had　told　them　that　the　Medusan　they　had　trained　to　go　out　in　deep　cover　for　Carlos　the　Jackal；　an　agent　provocateur　they　called　Jason　Bourne；　had　lost　his　memory。　Lost　his　memory　and　nearly　lost　his　life　because　his　controls　disbelieved　the　story　of　amnesia！　That　was　the　man　they　called　〃Davey〃　。。。　David。　David　Webb　was　Conklin's　Jason　Bourne！　How　could　it　be　otherwise？
　David　Webb！　And　he　had　been　at　Norman　Swayne's　house　the　night　the　Agency　was　told　that　poor　cuckolded　Swayne　had　taken　his　own　life；　a　suicide　that　had　not　been　reported　in　the　papers　for　reasons　DeSole　could　not　possibly　understand！　David　Webb。　The　old　Medusa。　Jason　Bourne。　Conklin。　Why？
　The　headlights　of　an　approaching　limousine　shot　through　the　darkness　at　the　far　end　of　the　parking　lot；　swerving　in　a　semicircle　toward　the　CIA　analyst；　causing　him　to　shut　his　eyes…the　refracted　light　through　his　thick　lenses　was　painful。　He　had　to　make　the　sequence　of　his　revelations　clear　to　these　men。　They　were　his　means　to　a　life　he　and　his　wife　had　dreamed　of…money。　Not　bureaucratic　less…than…money；　but　real　money。　Education　at　the　best　universities　for　their　grandchildren；　not　the　state　colleges　and　the　begged…for　scholarships　that　came　with　the　government　salary　of　a　bureaucrat…a　bureaucrat　so　much　better　than　those　around　him　it　was　pitiful。　DeSole　the　Mute　Mole；　they　called　him；　but　would　not　pay　him　for　his　expertise；　the　very　expertise　that　prohibited　him　from　going　into　the　private　sector；　surrounding　him　with　so　many　legal　restrictions　that　it　was　pointless　to　apply。　Someday　Washington　would　learn；　that　day　would　not　e　in　his　lifetime；　so　six　grandchildren　had　made　the　decision　for　him。　The　empathetic　new　Medusa　had　beckoned　with　generosity；　and　in　his　bitterness　he　had　e　running。
　He　rationalized　that　it　was　no　more　an　unethical　decision　on　his　part　than　those　made　every　year　by　scores　of　Pentagon　personnel　who　walked　out　of　Arlington　and　into　the　corporate　arms　of　their　old　friends　the　defense　contractors。　As　an　army　colonel　once　said　to　him；　〃It's　work　now　and　get　paid　later；〃　and　God　knew　that　one　Steven　DeSole　worked　like　hell　for　his　country；　but　his　country　hardly　reciprocated　in　kind。　He　hated　the　name　Medusa；　though；　and　rarely　if　ever　used　it　because　it　was　a　symbol　from　another　time；　ominous　and　misleading。　The　great　oil　panies　and　railroads　sprang　from　the　chicanery　and　the　venality　of　the　robber　barons；　but　they　were　not　now　what　they　were　then。　Medusa　may　have　been　born　in　the　corruption　of　a　war…ravaged　Saigon；　its　early　funding　may　have　been　a　result　of　it；　but　that　Medusa　no　longer　existed；　it　had　been　replaced　by　a　dozen　different　names　and　panies。
　〃We're　not　pure；　Mr。　DeSole；　no　American…controlled　international　conglomerate　is；〃　said　his　recruiter；　〃and　it's　true　that　we　seek　what　some　might　call　unfair　economic　advantage　based　on　privileged　information。　Secrets；　if　you　like。　You　see；　we　have　to　because　our　petitors　throughout　Europe　and　the　Far　East　consistently　have　it。　The　difference　between　them　and　us　is　that　their　governments　support　their　efforts…ours　doesn't。　。。。　Trade；　Mr。　DeSole；　trade　and　profits。　They're　the　healthiest　pursuits　on　earth。　Chrysler　may　not　like　Toyota；　but　the　astute　Mr。　Iacocca　does　not　call　for　an　air　strike　against　Tokyo。　At　least　not　yet。　He　finds　ways　to　join　forces　with　the　Japanese。〃
　Yes；　mused　DeSole　as　the　limousine　came　to　a　stop　ten　feet　away　from　him。　What　he　did　for　the　〃corporation；〃　which　he　preferred　to　call　it；　as　opposed　to　what　he　did　for　the　pany；　might　even　be　considered　benevolent。　Profits；　after　all；　were　more　desirable　than　bombs　。。。　and　his　grandchildren　would　go　to　the　finest　schools　and　universities　in　the　country。　Two　men　got　out　of　the　limousine　and　approached　him。
　〃What's　this　Webb　look　like？〃　asked　Albert　Armbruster；　chairman　of　the　Federal　Trade　mission；　as　they　walked　along　the　edge　of　the　parking　lot。
　〃I　only　have　a　description　from　the　gardener；　who　was　hiding　behind　a　fence　thirty　feet　away。〃
　〃What　did　he　tell　you？〃　The　unidentified　associate　of　the　chairman；　a　short　stocky　man　with　penetrating　dark　eyes　and　dark　eyebrows　beneath　dark　hair；　looked　at　DeSole。　〃Be　precise；〃　he　added。
　〃Now；　just　a　minute；〃　protested　the　analyst　defensively　but　firmly。　〃I'm　precise　in　everything　I　say；　and；　frankly；　whoever　you　are；　I　don't　like　the　tone　of　your　voice　one　bit。〃
　〃He's　upset；〃　said　Armbruster；　as　if　his　associate　was　dismissible。　〃He's　a　spaghetti　head　from　New　York　and　doesn't　trust　anybody。〃
　〃Who's　to　trust　in　New　York？〃　asked　the　short；　dark　man；　laughing　and　poking　his　elbow　into　the　wide　girth　of　Albert　Armbruster。　〃You　WASPs　are　the　worst；　you　got　the　banks；　amico！〃
　〃Let's　keep　it　that　way　and　out　of　the　courts。　。。。　The　description；　please？〃　The　chairman　looked　at　DeSole。
　〃It's　inplete；　but　there　is　a　long…ago　tie…in　with　Medusa　that　I'll　describe…precisely。〃
　〃Go　ahead；　pal；〃　said　the　man　from　New　York。
　〃He's　rather　large…tall；　that　is…and　in　his　late　forties　or　early　fifties　and…〃
　〃Has　he　got　some　gray　around　his　temples？〃　asked　Armbruster；　interrupting。
　〃Well；　yes；　I　think　the　gardener　said　something　to　that　effect…graying；　or　gray　in　his　hair；　or　something　like　that。　It's　obviously　why　he　judged　him　to　be　in　his　forties　or　fifties。〃
　〃It's　Simon；〃　said　Armbruster；　looking　at　the　New　Yorker。
　〃Who？〃　DeSole　stopped；　as　the　other　two　stopped　and　looked　at　him。
　〃He　called　himself　Simon；　and　he　knew　all　about　you；　Mr。　CIA；〃　said　the　chairman。　〃About　you　and　Brussels　and　our　whole　thing。〃
　〃What　are　you　talking　about？〃
　〃For　starters；　your　goddamn　fax　machine　exclusively　between　you　and　that　fruitcake　in　Brussels。〃
　〃It's　a　buried；　dedicated　line！　It's　locked　up！〃
　〃Someone　found　the　key；　Mr。　Precision；〃　said　the　New　Yorker；　not　smiling。
　〃Oh；　my　God；　that's　terrible！　What　should　I　do？〃
　〃Make　up　a　story　between　you　and　Teagarten；　but　do　it　from　public　phones；〃　continued　the　mafioso。　〃One　of　you　will　e　up　with　something。〃
　〃You　know　about　。。。　Brussels？〃
　〃There's　very　little　I　don't　know。〃
　〃That　son　of　a　bitch　conned　me　into　thinking　he　was　one　of　us　and　he　had　me　by　the　balls！〃　said　Armbruster　angrily；　continuing　to　walk　along　the　edge　of　the　parking　lot；　the　other　two　joining　him；　DeSole　hesitantly；　apprehensively。　〃He　seemed　to　know　everything；　but　when　I　think　back；　he　only　brought　up　bits　and　pieces…damned　big　bits　and　pieces　like　Burton　and　you　and　Brussels…and　I；　like　a　fucking　idiot；　filled　in　a　hell　of　a　lot　more。　Shit！〃
　〃Now；　just　wait　a　minute！〃　cried　the　CIA　analyst；　once　again　forcing　the　others　to　stop。　〃I　don't　understand…I'm　a　strategist；　and　I　don't　understand。　What　was　David　Webb　Jason　Bourne；　if　he　is　Jason　Bourne…doing　at　Swayne's　place　the　other　night？〃
　〃Who　the　hell　is　Jason　Bourne？〃　roared　the　chairman　of　the　Federal　Trade　mission。
　〃He's　the　tie…in　with　Saigon's　Medusa　that　I　just　mentioned。　Thirteen　years　ago　the　Agency　gave　him　the　name　Jason　Bourne；　the　original　Bourne　a　dead　man　by　then；　and　sent　him　out　in　deep　cover　on　a　Four　Zero　assignment…a　termination　with　extreme　prejudice；　if　you　like…〃
　〃A　hit；　if　you　want　to　speak　English；　paisan。〃
　〃Yes；　yes；　that's　what　it　was。　。。。　But　things　went　wrong；　he　had　a　loss　of　memory　and　the　operation　collapsed。　It　collapsed；　but　he　survived。〃
　〃Holy　Christ；　what　a　bunch　of　zucchinis！〃
　〃What　can　you　tell　us　about　this　Webb　。。。　or　Bourne…this　Simon　or　the　'Cobra'？　Jesus；　he's　a　walking　vaudeville　act！〃
　〃Apparently　that's　what　he　did　before。　He　assumed　different　names；　different　appearances；　different　personalities。　He　was　trained　to　do　that　when　he　was　sent　out　to　challenge　the　assassin　called　the　Jackal…to　draw　him　out　and　kill　him。〃
　〃The　Jackal？〃　asked　the　astonished　capo　supremo　of　the　Cosa　Nostra。　〃Like　in　the　movie？〃
　〃No；　not　the　movie　or　the　book；　you　idiot…〃
　〃Hey；　easy；　amico。〃
　〃Oh；　shut　up。　。。。　Ilich　Ramirez　Sanchez；　otherwise　known　as　Carlos　the　Jackal；　is　a　living　person；　a　professional　killer　the　international　authorities　have　been　hunting　for　over　a　quarter　of　a　century。　Outside　of　scores　of　confirmed　hits；　many　think　he　was　the　puff　of　smoke　on　the　grassy　knoll　in　Dallas；　the　true　killer　of　John　Kennedy。〃
　〃You're　shittin'　me。〃
　〃I　can　assure　you；　I　am　not　shitting　you。　The　word　we　got　at　the　Agency　at　the　highest　secure　levels　was　that　after　all　these　years　Carlos　had　tracked　down　the　only　man　alive　who　could　identify　him；　Jason　Bourne…or；　as　I'm　firmly　convinced；　David　Webb。〃
　〃That　word　had　to　e　from　somebody！〃　exploded　Albert　Armbruster。　〃Who　was　it？〃
　〃Oh；　yes。　Everything's　so　sudden；　so　bewildering。　。。。　He's　a　retired　field　agent　with　a　crippled　leg；　a　man　named　Conklin；　Alexander　Conklin。　He　and　a　psychiatrist…Panov；　Morris　Panov…are　close　friends　of　Webb　。。。　or　Jason　Bourne。〃
　〃Where　are　they？〃　asked　the　capo　supremo　grimly。
　〃Oh；　you　couldn't　reach　either　one；　talk　to　either　of　them。　They're　both