rl.thebourneultimatum-第67节

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nctuated　by　the　tinkling　of　wine　bottles　gently　touching　wineglasses　and　the　delicate　clatter　of　utensils　lowered　on　china　plates。　The　decibel　level　of　the　conversation　was　suddenly　reduced；　and　the　general；　aware　that　his　presence　inevitably　brought　stares；　amiable　waves　and　not　infrequently　mild　applause；　smiled　benignly　at　no　one　in　particular　and　yet　at　everyone　as　he　guided　his　lady　to　the　deserted　table　where　a　small　folded　card　read　Réservé。
　The　owner；　with　two　waiters　trailing　behind　him　like　anxious　egrets；　practically　flew　between　the　tables　to　greet　his　distinguished　guest。　When　the　mander　was　seated；　a　chilled　bottle　of　Corton…Charlemagne　was　presented　and　the　menu　discussed。　A　young　Belgian　child；　a　boy　of　five　or　six；　walked　shyly　up　to　the　table　and　brought　his　hand　to　his　forehead；　he　smiled　and　saluted　the　general。　Teagarten　rose　to　his　feet；　standing　erect；　and　saluted　the　child　back。
　〃Vous　etes　un　soldat　distingué；　mon　camarade；〃　said　the　general；　his　manding　voice　ringing　through　the　sidewalk　café；　his　bright　smile　winning　the　crowd；　who　responded　with　appreciative　applause。　The　child　retreated　and　the　meal　continued。
　A　leisurely　hour　later；　Teagarten　and　his　lady　were　interrupted　by　the　general's　chauffeur；　a　middle…aged　army　sergeant　whose　expression　conveyed　his　anxiety。　The　mander　of　NATO　had　received　an　urgent　message　over　his　vehicle's　secure　phone；　and　the　chauffeur　had　had　the　presence　of　mind　to　write　it　down　and　repeat　it　for　accuracy。　He　handed　Teagarten　the　note。
　The　general　stood　up；　his　tanned　face　turning　pale　as　he　glanced　around　the　now…half…empty　sidewalk　café；　his　eyes　narrowed；　angry；　afraid。　He　reached　into　his　pocket　and　pulled　out　a　folded　wad　of　Belgian　franc　notes；　peeled　off　several　large　ones　and　dropped　them　on　the　table。　〃e　on；〃　he　said　to　the　woman　major。　〃Let's　go。　。。。　You〃…he　turned　to　his　driver…〃get　the　car　started！〃
　〃What　is　it？〃　asked　his　luncheon　panion。
　〃London。　Over　the　wire。　Armbruster　and　DeSole　are　dead。〃
　〃Oh；　my　God！　How？〃
　〃It　doesn't　matter。　Whatever　they　say　is　a　lie。〃
　〃What's　happening？〃
　〃I　don't　know。　I　just　know　we're　getting　out　of　here。　e　on！〃
　The　general　and　his　lady　rushed　through　the　latticework　archway；　across　the　wide　pavement　and　into　the　military　vehicle。　On　either　side　of　the　hood；　something　was　missing。　The　middle　aged　sergeant　had　removed　the　two　red…and…gold　flags　denoting　the　impressive　rank　of　his　superior；　the　mander　of　NATO。　The　car　shot　forward；　traveling　less　than　fifty　yards　when　it　happened。
　A　massive　explosion　blew　the　military　vehicle　into　the　sky；　shards　of　glass　and　metal；　pieces　of　flesh　and　streaks　of　blood　filling　the　narrow　street　in　Anderlecht。
　〃Monsieur！〃　cried　the　petrified　waiter　as　crews　of　police；　firemen　and　sanitation　workers　went　about　their　grisly　business　in　the　road。
　〃What　is　it？〃　replied　the　distraught　owner　of　the　sidewalk　café；　still　shaking　from　the　harsh　interrogation　he　had　gone　through　by　the　police　and　the　descending　hordes　of　journalists。　〃I　am　ruined。　We　will　be　known　as　the　Café　de　la　Mort；　the　restaurant　of　death。〃
　〃Monsieur；　look！〃　The　waiter　pointed　at　the　table　where　the　general　and　his　lady　had　sat。
　〃The　police　have　gone　over　it；〃　said　the　disconsolate　owner。
　〃No；　monsieur。　Now！〃
　Across　the　glass　top　of　the　table；　the　capital　letters　scrawled　in　glistening　red　lipstick；　was　a　name。
　JASON　BOURNE
　
　20
　Stunned；　Marie　stared　at　the　television　set；　at　the　satellite　news　program　beamed　from　Miami。　Then　she　screamed　as　a　camera　moved　in　on　a　glass　table　in　a　town　called　Anderlecht　in　Belgium　and　the　name　printed　in　red　across　the　top。　〃Johnny！〃
　St。　Jacques　burst　through　the　bedroom　door　of　the　suite　he　had　built　for　himself　on　the　second　floor　of　Tranquility　Inn。　〃Christ；　what　is　it？〃
　Tears　streaming　down　her　face；　Marie　pointed　in　horror　at　the　set。　The　announcer　on　the　overseas　〃feed〃　was　speaking　in　the　monotonic　drone　peculiar　to　such　satellite　transmissions。
　〃。。。　as　if　a　bloodstained　savage　from　the　past　had　returned　to　terrorize　civilized　society。　The　infamous　killer；　Jason　Bourne；　second　only　to　Carlos　the　Jackal　in　the　assassin　for…hire　market；　has　claimed　responsibility　for　the　explosion　that　took　the　lives　of　General　James　Teagarten　and　his　panions。　Conflicting　reports　have　e　from　Washington　and　London　intelligence　circles　and　police　authorities。　Sources　in　Washington　claim　that　the　assassin　known　as　Jason　Bourne　was　hunted　down　and　killed　in　Hong　Kong　five　years　ago　in　a　joint　British…American　operation。　However；　spokesmen　for　both　the　Foreign　Office　and　British　intelligence　deny　any　knowledge　of　such　an　operation　and　say　that　a　joint　effort　as　was　described　is　highly　unlikely。　Still　other　sources；　these　from　Interpol's　headquarters　in　Paris；　have　stated　that　their　branch　in　Hong　Kong　knew　of　the　supposed　death　of　Jason　Bourne；　but　as　the　widely　circulated　reports　and　photographs　were　so　sketchy　and　unidentifiable；　they　did　not　give　much　credence　to　the　story。　They　assumed；　as　was　also　reported；　that　Bourne　disappeared　into　the　People's　Republic　of　China　for　a　last　contract　fatal　to　himself。　All　that's　clear　today　is　that　in　the　quaint　city　of　Anderlecht　in　Belgium；　General　James　Teagarten；　mander　of　NATO；　was　assassinated　and　someone　calling　himself　Jason　Bourne　has　taken　credit　for　killing　this　great　and　popular　soldier。　。。。　We　now　show　you　an　old　posite　photograph　from　Interpol's　files　produced　by　a　consensus　of　those　who　purportedly　had　seen　Bourne　at　close　range。　Remember；　this　is　a　posite；　the　features　put　together　separately　from　scores　of　other　photographs　and；　considering　the　killer's　reputation　for　changing　his　appearance；　probably　not　of　great　value。〃
　The　screen　was　suddenly　filled　with　the　face　of　a　man；　somewhat　irregular　and　lacking　definition。
　〃It's　not　David！〃　said　John　St。　Jacques。
　〃It　could　be；　Bro；〃　said　his　sister。
　〃And　now　to　other　news。　The　drought　that　has　plagued　large　areas　of　Ethiopia…〃
　〃Turn　that　goddamned　thing　off！〃　shouted　Marie；　lurching　out　of　the　chair　and　heading　for　the　telephone　as　her　brother　switched　off　the　set。　〃Where's　Conklin's　number？　I　wrote　it　down　here　on　your　desk　somewhere。　。。。　Here　it　is；　on　the　blotter。　Saint　Alex　has　a　hell　of　a　lot　to　explain；　that　son　of　a　bitch！〃　She　dialed　angrily　but　accurately；　sitting　in　St。　Jacques's　chair；　tapping　her　clenched　fist　as　the　tears　continued　to　roll　down　her　cheeks。　Tears　of　sorrow　and　fury。　〃It's　me；　you　bastard！　。。。　You've　killed　him！　You　let　him　go…helped　him　to　go…and　you've　killed　him！〃
　〃I　can't　talk　to　you　now；　Marie；〃　said　a　cold；　controlled　Alexander　Conklin。　〃I've　got　Paris　on　the　other　line。〃
　〃Screw　Paris！　Where　is　he？　Get　him　out！〃
　〃Believe　me；　we're　trying　to　find　him。　All　fucking　hell　has　broken　out　here。　The　British　want　Peter　Holland's　ass　for　even　hinting　at　a　Far　East　connection；　and　the　French　are　in　an　up　roar　over　something　they　can't　figure　out　but　suspect；　like　special　Deuxième　cargo　on　a　plane　from　Martinique；　which　was　originally　rejected。　I'll　call　you　back；　I　swear　it！〃
　The　line　was　disconnected；　and　Marie　slammed　down　the　phone。　〃I'm　flying　to　Paris；　Johnny；〃　she　said；　breathing　deeply　and　wiping　the　tears　from　her　face。
　〃You're　what？〃
　〃You　heard　me。　Bring　Mrs。　Cooper　over　here。　Jamie　loves　her　and　she's　better　with　Alison　than　I　could　ever　be…and　why　not？　She's　had　seven　children；　all　grown　up　who　still　e　back　to　her　every　Sunday。〃
　〃You're　crazy！　I　won't　let　you！〃
　〃Somehow；〃　said　Marie；　giving　her　brother　a　withering　look；　〃I　have　an　idea　you　probably　said　something　like　that　to　David　when　he　told　you　he　was　going　to　Paris。〃
　〃Yes；　I　did！〃
　〃And　you　couldn't　stop　him　any　more　than　you　can　stop　me。〃
　〃But　why？〃
　〃Because　I　know　every　place　he　knows　in　Paris；　every　street；　every　café；　every　alley；　from　Sacré…Coeur　to　Montmartre。　He　has　to　use　them；　and　I'll　find　him　long　before　the　Deuxième　or　the　Sыreté。〃　The　telephone　rang；　Marie　picked　it　up。
　〃I　told　you　I'd　call　you　right　back；〃　said　the　voice　of　Alex　Conklin。　〃Bernardine　has　an　idea　that　might　work。〃
　〃Who's　Bernardine？〃
　〃An　old　Deuxième　colleague　and　a　good　friend　who's　helping　David。〃
　〃What's　his　idea？〃
　〃He　got　Jason…David…a　rental　car。　He　knows　the　license…plate　number　and　is　having　it　radioed　to　all　the　Paris　police　patrols　to　report　it　if　seen；　but　not　to　stop　the　car　or　harass　the　driver。　Simply　keep　it　in　sight　and　report　directly　to　him。〃
　〃And　you　think　David…Jason…won't　spot　something　like　that？　You've　got　a　terrible　memory；　worse　than　my　husband's。〃
　〃It's　only　one　possibility；　there　are　others。〃
　〃Such　as？〃
　〃Well　。。。　well；　he's　bound　to　call　me。　When　he　hears　the　news　about　Teagarten；　he's　got　to　call　me。〃
　〃Why？〃
　〃Like　you　say；　to　get　him　out！〃
　〃With　Carlos　in　the　offing？　Fat　chance；　fathead。　I've　got　a　better　idea。　I'm　flying　to　Paris。〃
　〃You　can't！〃
　〃I　don't　want　to　hear　that　anymore；　I　won't　hear　that　anymore。　Are　you　going　to　help　me　or　do　I　do　it　by　myself？〃
　〃I　couldn't　get　a　postage　stamp　from　a　dispensing　machine　in　France；　and　Holland　couldn't　get　the　address　of　the　Eiffel　Tower。〃
　〃Then　I'm　on　my　own；　which；　frankly；　under　the　circumstances；　makes　m