rl.thebourneultimatum-第62节

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　〃He's　got　the　manpower　over　there。〃
　〃I've　got　Jason　Bourne；〃　said　David　Webb。
　〃I　don't　buy　that　crap！〃
　〃Neither　do　I；　but　it　seems　to　work。　。。。　I'm　calling　in　your　debt　to　me；　Johnny。　Cover　for　me。　Tell　Marie　I'm　fine；　not　hurt　at　all；　and　that　I've　got　a　lead　on　the　Jackal　that　only　old　Fontaine　could　have　provided…which　is　the　truth；　actually。　A　café　in　Argenteuil　called　Le　Coeur　du　Soldat。　Tell　her　I'm　bringing　in　Alex　Conklin　and　all　the　help　Washington　can　provide。〃
　〃But　you're　not；　are　you？〃
　〃No。　The　Jackal　would　hear　about　it；　he's　got　ears　up　and　down　the　Quai　d'Orsay。　Solo's　the　only　way。〃
　〃Don't　you　think　she'll　know　that？〃
　〃She'll　suspect　it；　but　she　can't　be　certain。　I'll　have　Alex　call　her；　confirming　that　he's　in　touch　with　all　the　heavy　covert　firepower　in　Paris。　But　first　it　es　from　you。〃
　〃Why　the　lie？〃
　〃You　shouldn't　have　to　ask　that；　Bro。　I've　put　her　through　enough。〃
　〃All　right；　I'll　tell　her；　but　she　won't　believe　me。　She'll　see　right　through　me；　she　always　has。　Since　I　was　a　kid；　those　big　brown　eyes　would　look　into　mine；　most　of　the　time　pissed　off；　but　not　like　our　brothers'；　not…oh；　I　don't　know…not　with　that　disgust　in　their　faces　because　the　'kid'　was　a　screwup。　Can　you　understand　that？〃
　〃It's　called　caring。　She's　always　cared　for　you…even　when　you　were　a　screwup。〃
　〃Yeah；　Mare's　okay。〃
　〃Somewhat　more　than　that；　I　think。　Call　her　in　a　couple　of　hours　and　bring　them　back　here。　It's　the　safest　place　they　can　be。
　〃What　about　you？　How　are　you　going　to　get　to　Paris？　The　connections　out　of　Antigua　and　Martinique　are　lousy；　sometimes　booked　days　in　advance。〃
　〃I　can't　use　those　airlines　anyway。　I've　got　to　get　in　secretly　under　a　shroud。　Somehow；　a　man　in　Washington　will　have　to　figure　it　out。　Somehow。　He's　got　to。〃
　Alexander　Conklin　limped　out　of　the　small　kitchen　in　the　CIA's　Vienna　apartment；　his　face　and　hair　soaking　wet。　In　the　old　days；　before　the　old　days　fell　into　a　distillery　vat；　he　would　calmly　leave　the　office…wherever　it　was…when　things　got　too　heavy　too　fast　and　indulge　himself　in　an　unwavering　ritual。　He　would　seek　out　the　best　steak　house…again；　wherever　he　was…have　two　dry　martinis　and　a　thick　rare　slab　of　meat　with　the　greasiest　potatoes　on　the　menu。　The　bination　of　the　solitude；　the　limited　intake　of　alcohol；　the　blood…rare　hunk　of　beef　and；　in　particular；　the　grease…laden　potatoes；　had　such　a　calming　effect　on　him　that　all　the　rushing；　conflicting　plexities　of　the　hectic　day　sorted　themselves　out　and　reason　prevailed。　He　would　return　to　his　office…whether　a　smart　flat　in　London's　Belgravia　Square　or　the　back　rooms　of　a　whorehouse　in　Katmandu…with　multiple　solutions。　It　was　how　he　got　the　sobriquet　of　Saint　Alex　of　Conklin。　He　had　once　mentioned　this　gastronomical　phenomenon　to　Mo　Panov；　who　had　a　succinct　reply：　〃If　your　crazy　head　doesn't　kill　you；　your　stomach　will。〃
　These　days；　however；　with　postalcoholic　vacuum　and　various　other　impediments；　such　as　high　cholesterol　and　dumb　little　triglycerides；　whatever　the　hell　they　were；　he　had　to　e　up　with　a　different　solution。　It　came　about　by　accident。　One　morning　during　the　Iran…contra　hearings；　which　he　found　to　be　the　finest　hours　of　edy　on　television；　his　set　blew　out。　He　was　furious；　so　he　turned　on　his　portable　radio；　an　instrument　he　had　not　used　in　months　or　perhaps　years；　as　the　television　set　had　a　built…in　radio　ponent…also　inoperable　at　the　time…but　the　portable　radio's　batteries　had　long　since　melted　into　white　slime。　His　artificial　foot　in　pain；　he　walked　to　his　kitchen　telephone；　knowing　that　a　call　to　his　television　repairman；　for　whom　he　had　done　several　favors；　would　bring　the　man　running　to　his　emergency。　Unfortunately；　the　call　only　brought　forth　a　hostile　diatribe　from　the　repairman's　wife；　who　screamed　that　her　husband；　the　〃customerfucker；〃　had　run　off　with　a　〃horny　rich　black　bitch　from　Embassy　Row！〃　（Zaire；　as　it　later　turned　out　in　the　Puerta　Vallarta　papers。）　Conklin；　in　progressive　apoplexy；　had　rushed　to　the　kitchen　sink；　where　his　stress　and　blood　pressure　pills　stood　on　the　windowsill　above　the　sink；　and　turned　on　the　cold　water。　The　faucet　exploded；　surging　out　of　its　recess　into　the　ceiling　as　a　powerful　gush　of　water　inundated　his　entire　head。　Caramba！　The　shock　calmed　him　down；　and　he　remembered　that　the　Cable　Network　was　scheduled　to　rebroadcast　the　hearings　in　full　that　evening。　A　happy　man；　he　called　the　plumber　and　went　out　and　bought　a　new　television　set。
　So；　since　that　morning；　whenever　his　own　furies　or　the　state　of　the　world　disturbed　him…the　world　he　knew…he　lowered　his　head　in　a　kitchen　sink　and　let　the　cold　water　pour　over　his　head。　He　had　done　so　this　morning。　This　goddamned；　fucked…up　morning！
　DeSole！　Killed　in　an　accident　on　a　deserted　country　road　in　Maryland　at　4：30　that　morning。　What　the　hell　was　Steven　DeSole；　a　man　whose　driver's　license　clearly　stated　that　he　was　afflicted　with　night　blindness；　doing　on　a　backcountry　road　outside　Annapolis　at　4：30　in　the　morning？　And　then　Charlie　Casset；　a　very　angry　Casset；　calling　him　at　six　o'clock；　yelling　his　usually　cool　head　off；　telling　Alex　he　was　going　to　put　the　mander　of　NATO　on　the　goddamned　spit　and　demand　an　explanation　for　the　buried　fax　connection　between　the　general　and　the　dead　chief　of　clandestine　reports；　who　was　not　a　victim　of　an　accident　but　of　murder！　Furthermore；　one　retired　field　officer　named　Conklin　had　better　damned　well　e　clean　with　everything　he　knew　about　DeSole　and　Brussels　and　related　matters；　or　all　bets　were　off　where　said　retired　field　agent　and　his　elusive　friend　Jason　Bourne　were　concerned。　Noon　at　the　latest！　And　then；　Ivan　Jax！　The　brilliant　black　doctor　from　Jamaica　phoned；　telling　him　he　wanted　to　put　Norman　Swayne's　body　back　where　he　had　found　it　because　he　did　not　want　to　be　loused　up　by　another　Agency　fiasco。　But　it　was　not　Agency；　cried　Conklin　to　himself；　unable　to　explain　to　Ivan　Jax　the　real　reason　he　had　asked　for　his　help。　Medusa。　And　Jax　could　not　simply　drive　the　corpse　back　to　Manassas　because　the　police；　on　federal　orders…the　orders　of　one　retired　field　agent　using　appropriated　codes　he　was　not　entitled　to　use…had　sealed　off　General　Norman　Swayne's　estate　without　explanation。
　〃What　do　I　do　with　the　body？〃　Jax　had　yelled。
　〃Keep　it　cold　for　a　while；　Cactus　would　want　it　that　way。〃
　〃Cactus？　I've　been　with　him　at　the　hospital　all　night。　He's　going　to　be　okay；　but　he　doesn't　know　what　the　hell　is　going　on　any　more　than　I　do！〃
　〃We　in　the　clandestine　services　can't　always　explain　things；〃　Alex　said；　wincing　as　he　spoke　the　ridiculous　words。　〃I'll　call　you　back。〃
　So　he　had　gone　into　the　kitchen　and　put　his　head　under　a　spray　of　cold　water。　What　else　could　go　wrong？　And　naturally　the　telephone　rang。
　〃Dunkin'　Donuts；〃　said　Conklin；　the　phone　to　his　ear。
　〃Get　me　out　of　here；〃　said　Jason　Bourne；　not　a　trace　of　David　Webb　in　his　voice。　〃To　Paris！〃
　〃What　happened？〃
　〃He　got　away；　that's　what　happened；　and　I　have　to　get　to　Paris　under　a　cover；　no　immigration；　no　customs。　He's　got　them　all　wired　and　I　can't　give　him　the　chance　to　track　me。　。。。　Alex；　are　you　listening　to　me？〃
　〃DeSole　was　killed　last　night；　killed　in　an　accident　that　was　no　accident　at　four　o'clock　in　the　morning。　Medusa's　closing　in。〃
　〃I　don't　give　a　damn　about　Medusa！　For　me　it's　history；　we　made　a　wrong　turn。　I　want　the　Jackal　and　I've　got　a　place　to　start。　I　can　find　him；　take　him！〃
　〃Leaving　me　with　Medusa　。。。〃
　〃You　said　you　wanted　to　go　higher…you　said　you'd　only　give　me　forty…eight　hours　until　you　did。　Shove　the　clock　ahead。　The　forty…eight　hours　are　over；　so　go　higher；　just　get　me　out　of　here　and　over　to　Paris。〃
　〃They'll　want　to　talk　to　you。〃
　〃Who？〃
　〃Peter　Holland；　Casset；　whoever　else　they　bring　in　。。。　the　attorney　general；　Christ；　the　President　himself。〃
　〃About　what？〃
　〃You　spoke　at　length　with　Armbruster；　with　Swayne's　wife　and　that　sergeant；　Flannagan。　I　didn't。　I　just　used　a　few　code　words　that　triggered　responses　from　Armbruster　and　Ambassador　Atkinson　in　London；　nothing　substantive。　You've　got　the　fuller　picture　firsthand。　I'm　too　deniable。　They'll　have　to　talk　to　you。〃
　〃And　put　the　Jackal　on　a　back　burner？〃
　〃Just　for　a　day；　two　at　the　most。〃
　〃Goddamn　it；　no。　Because　it　doesn't　work　that　way　and　you　know　it！　Once　I'm　back　there　I'm　their　only　material　witness；　shunted　from　one　closed　interrogation　to　another；　and　if　I　refuse　to　cooperate；　I'm　in　custody。　No　way；　Alex。　I've　got　only　one　priority　and　he's　in　Paris！〃
　〃Listen　to　me；〃　said　Conklin。　〃There　are　some　things　I　can　control；　others　I　can't。　We　needed　Charlie　Casset　and　he　helped　us；　but　he's　not　someone　you　can　con；　nor　would　I　want　to。　He　knows　DeSole's　death　was　no　accident…a　man　with　night　blindness　doesn't　take　a　five…hour　drive　at　four　o'clock　in　the　morning…and　he　also　knows　that　we　know　a　lot　more　about　DeSole　and　Brussels　than　we're　telling　him。　If　we　want　the　Agency's　help；　and　we　need　it　for　things　like　getting　you　on　a　military　or　a　diplomatic　flight　into　France；　and　God　knows　what　else　when　you're　there；　I　can't　ignore　Casset。　He'll　step　on　us　and　by　his　lights；　he　should。〃
　Bourne　was　silent；　only　his　breathing　was　heard。　〃All　right；〃　he　said。　〃I　see　where　we