rl.thebourneultimatum-第77节

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have　done　so　very　successfully　had　I　arrived　at　your　establishment　in　a　business　suit　carrying　an　attaché　case。〃
　Santos　laughed。　〃You　never　would　have　gotten　inside。　You　would　have　been　rudely　stopped　in　the　alley　and　stripped。〃
　〃The　thought　occurred　to　me。　。。。　Do　we　do　business；　say　a　million　francs'　worth？〃
　The　Jackal's　man　shrugged。　〃It　would　seem　to　me　that　if　a　buyer　mentions　such　an　amount　in　his　first　offer；　he　will　go　higher。　Say　a　million　and　a　half。　Perhaps　even　two。〃
　〃But　I'm　not　the　buyer；　I'm　the　broker。　I　was　authorized　to　pay　one　million；　which　is　far　too　much　in　my　opinion；　but　time　is　of　the　essence。　Take　it　or　leave　it；　I　have　other　options。〃
　〃Do　you　really？〃
　〃Certainly。〃
　〃Not　if　you're　a　corpse　found　floating　in　the　Seine　without　any　identification。〃
　〃I　see。〃　Jason　looked　around　the　darkened　flat；　it　bore　little　relationship　to　the　shabby　café　below。　The　furniture　was　large；　as　required　by　the　oversized　owner；　but　tastefully　selected；　not　elegant　but　certainly　not　cheap。　What　was　mildly　astonishing　were　the　bookshelves　covering　the　wall　between　the　two　front　windows。　The　academic　in　Bourne　wished　he　could　read　the　titles；　they　might　give　him　a　clearer　picture　of　this　strange；　huge　man　whose　speech　might　have　been　formed　at　the　Sorbonne…a　mitted　brute　on　the　outside；　perhaps　someone　else　inside。　His　eyes　returned　to　Santos。　〃Then　my　leaving　here　freely　under　my　own　power　is　not　a　given；　is　it？〃
　〃No；〃　answered　the　Jackal's　conduit。　〃It　might　have　been　had　you　answered　my　simple　questions；　but　you　tell　me　that　your　conditions；　or　should　I　say　your　restrictions；　forbid　you　to　do　so。　。。。　Well；　I；　too；　have　conditions　and　you　will　live　or　die　by　them。〃
　〃That's　succinct。〃
　〃There's　no　reason　not　to　be。〃
　〃Of　course；　you're　forfeiting　any　chance　of　collecting　a　million　francs…or；　as　you　suggested；　perhaps　a　great　deal　more。〃
　〃Then　may　I　also　suggest；〃　said　Santos；　crossing　his　thick　arms　in　front　of　him　and　absently　glancing　at　the　large　tattoos　on　his　skin；　〃that　a　man　with　such　funds　available　will　not　only　part　with　them　in　exchange　for　his　life；　but　will　happily　deliver　the　information　requested　so　as　to　avoid　unnecessary　and　excruciating　pain。〃　The　Jackal's　man　suddenly　slammed　his　clenched　right　fist　down　on　the　armrest　and　shouted；　〃What　do　you　know　about　a　blackbird？　Who　told　you　about　Le　Coeur　du　Soldat？　Where　do　you　e　from　and　who　are　you　and　who　is　your　client？〃
　Bourne　froze；　his　body　rigid　but　his　mind　spinning；　whirling；　racing。　He　had　to　get　out！　He　had　to　reach　Bernardine…how　many　hours　was　his　call　overdue？　Where　was　Marie？　Yet　what　he　wanted　to　do；　had　to　do；　could　not　be　done　by　opposing　the　giant　across　the　room。　Santos　was　neither　a　liar　nor　a　fool。　He　would　and　could　kill　his　prisoner　handily　and　without　hesitation　。。。　and　he　would　not　be　duped　by　outright　false　or　convoluted　information。　The　Jackal's　man　was　protecting　two　turfs…his　own　and　his　mentor's。　The　Chameleon　had　only　one　option　open：　to　expose　a　part　of　the　truth　so　dangerous　as　to　be　credible；　the　ring　of　authenticity　so　plausible　that　the　risk　of　rejecting　it　was　unacceptable。　Jason　put　the　ice　bag　on　the　tray　and　spoke　slowly　from　the　shadows　of　the　large　couch。
　〃Obviously　I　don't　care　to　die　for　a　client　or　be　tortured　to　protect　his　information；　so　I'll　tell　you　what　I　know；　which　isn't　as　much　as　I'd　like　under　the　present　circumstances。　I'll　take　your　points　in　order　if　I'm　not　too　damned　frightened　to　forget　the　sequence。　To　begin　with；　the　funds　are　not　available　to　me　personally。　I　meet　with　a　man　in　London　to　whom　I　deliver　the　information；　and　he　releases　an　account　in　Bern；　Switzerland；　to　a　name　and　a　number…any　name；　any　number…that　I　give　him。　。。。　We'll　skip　over　my　life　and　the　'excruciating　pain'…I've　answered　both。　Let's　see；　what　do　I　know　about　a　blackbird？　The　Coeur　du　Soldat　is　part　of　that　question；　incidentally。　。。。　I　was　told　that　an　old　man…name　and　nationality　unknown；　at　least　to　me；　but　I　suspect　French…approached　a　well…known　public　figure　and　told　him　he　was　the　target　of　an　assassination。　Who　believes　a　drunken　old　man；　especially　one　with　a　long　police　record　looking　for　a　reward？　Unfortunately　the　assassination　took　place；　but　fortunately　an　aide　to　the　deceased　was　by　his　side　when　the　old　man　warned　him。　Even　more　fortunate；　the　aide　was　and　is　extremely　close　to　my　client　and　the　assassination　was　a　wele　event　to　both。　The　aide　secretly　passed　on　the　old　man's　information。　A　blackbird　is　sent　a　message　through　a　café　known　as　Le　Coeur　du　Soldat　in　Argenteuil。　This　blackbird　must　be　an　extraordinary　man；　and　now　my　client　wants　to　reach　him。　。。。　As　for　myself；　my　offices　are　hotel　rooms　in　various　cities。　I'm　currently　registered　under　the　name　of　Simon　at　the　Pont…Royal；　where　I　keep　my　passport　and　other　papers。〃　Bourne　paused；　his　palms　outstretched。　〃I've　just　told　you　the　entire　truth　as　I　know　it。〃
　〃Not　the　entire　truth；〃　corrected　Santos；　his　voice　low　and　guttural。　〃Who　is　your　client？〃
　〃I'll　be　killed　if　I　tell　you。〃
　〃I'll　kill　you　right　now　if　you　don't；〃　said　the　Jackal's　conduit；　removing　Jason's　hunting　knife　from　his　wide　leather　belt；　the　blade　glistening　in　the　light　of　the　floor　lamp。
　〃Why　not　give　me　the　information　my　client　wants　along　with　a　name　and　a　number…any　name；　any　number…and　I'll　guarantee　you　two　million　francs。　All　my　client　asks　is　for　me　to　be　the　only　intermediary。　Where's　the　harm？　The　blackbird　can　turn　me　down　and　tell　me　to　go　to　hell。　。。。　Three　million！〃
　Santos's　eyes　wavered　as　if　the　temptation　were　almost　too　much　for　his　imagination。　〃Perhaps　we'll　do　business　later…〃
　〃Now。〃
　〃No！〃　Carlos's　man　pushed　his　immense　body　out　of　the　chair　and　walked　toward　the　couch；　the　knife　held　threateningly　in　front　of　him。　〃Your　client。〃
　〃Plural；〃　replied　Bourne。　〃A　group　of　powerful　men　in　the　United　States。〃
　〃Who？〃
　〃They　guard　their　names　like　nuclear　secrets；　but　I　know　of　one　and　he　should　be　enough　for　you。〃
　〃Who？〃
　〃Find　out　for　yourself…at　least　learn　the　enormity　of　what　I'm　trying　to　tell　you。　Protect　your　blackbird　by　all　means！　Ascertain　that　I'm　telling　you　the　truth　and　in　the　process　make　yourself　so　rich　you　can　do　anything　you　want　to　do　for　the　rest　of　your　life。　You　could　travel；　disappear；　perhaps　have　time　for　those　books　of　yours　rather　than　being　concerned　with　all　that　garbage　downstairs。　As　you　pointed　out；　neither　of　us　is　young。　I　make　a　generous　brokering　fee　and　you're　a　wealthy　man；　free　of　care；　of　unpleasant　drudgery。　。。。　Again；　where's　the　harm？　I　can　be　turned　down；　my　clients　turned　down。　There's　no　trap。　My　clients　don't　ever　want　to　see　him。　They　want　to　hire　him。〃
　〃How　could　this　be　done？　How　could　I　be　satisfied？〃
　〃Invent　some　high　position　for　yourself　and　reach　the　American　ambassador　in　London…the　name　is　Atkinson。　Tell　him　you've　received　confidential　instructions　from　Snake　Lady。　Ask　him　if　you　should　carry　them　out。〃
　〃Snake　Lady？　What's　that？〃
　〃Medusa。　They　call　themselves　Medusa。〃
　Mo　Panov　excused　himself　and　slid　out　of　the　booth。　He　made　his　way　through　the　crowded　highway　diner　toward　the　men's　room；　frantically　scanning　the　wall　at　the　far　end　for　a　pay　phone。　There　was　none！　The　only　goddamned　phone　was　ten　feet　from　the　booth　and　in　clear　sight　of　the　wild…eyed　platinum　blonde　whose　paranoia　was　as　deeply　embedded　as　the　dark　roots　of　her　hair。　He　had　casually　mentioned　that　he　thought　he　should　call　his　office　and　tell　his　staff　about　the　accident　and　where　he　was；　and　was　instantly　met　with　invective。
　〃And　have　a　swarm　of　cops　ing　out　to　pick　you　up！　Not　on　your　fuckin'　life；　Medicine　Man。　Your　office　calls　the　fuzz；　they　call　my　devoted　Chief　Fork…in…Mouth；　and　my　ass　is　bouncing　into　every　barbed…wire　fence　in　the　county。　He's　in　with　every　cop　on　the　roads。　I　think　he　tells　'em　where　to　get　laid。〃
　〃There'd　be　no　reason　for　me　to　mention　you　and　I　certainly　wouldn't。　If　you　recall；　you　said　he　might　resent　me。〃
　〃Resent　don't　count。　He'd　just　cut　your　cute　little　nose　off。　I'm　not　takin'　any　chances…you　don't　look　like　you're　too　with…it。　You'd　blurt　out　about　your　accident…next　thing　the　cops。〃
　〃You　know；　you're　not　really　making　sense。〃
　〃All　right；　I'll　make　sense。　I'll　yell　'Rape！'　and　tell　these　not…so…pansy　truckers　I　picked　you　up　on　the　road　two　days　ago　and　I've　been　a　sex　slave　ever　since。　How　does　that　grab　you？〃
　〃Very　firmly。　May　I　at　least　go　to　the　men's　room？　It's　urgent　that　I　do。〃
　〃Be　my　guest。　They　don't　put　phones　in　the　can　in　these　places。〃
　〃Really？　。。。　No；　honestly；　I'm　not　chagrined；　not　disappointed…just　curious。　Why　don't　they？　Truckers　make　good　money；　they're　not　interested　in　stealing　dimes　or　quarters。〃
　〃Boy；　you're　from　La　La　Land；　Doc。　Things　happen　on　the　highways；　things　get　switched　or　snitched；　you　dig？　If　people　make　phone　calls；　other　people　want　to　know　who　makes　them。〃
　〃Really　。。。　？〃
　〃Oh；　Jesus。　Hurry　up。　We　only　got　time　for　a　couple　of　greasies；　so　I'll　order。　He'll　head　up　Seventy；　not　Ninety…seven。　He　wouldn't　figure。〃
　〃Figure　what？　What　are　Seventy　and　Ninety…seven？〃
　〃Routes；　for　Christ's　sake！　There　are　routes　and　there　are　routes。　You　are　one　dumb　medic