rl.thebourneultimatum-第78节

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　〃Figure　what？　What　are　Seventy　and　Ninety…seven？〃
　〃Routes；　for　Christ's　sake！　There　are　routes　and　there　are　routes。　You　are　one　dumb　medicine　man。　Hit　the　head；　then　maybe　later　we'll　stop　at　a　motel　where　we　can　continue　our　business　discussion　while　you　get　an　advance　bonus。〃
　〃I　beg　your　pardon？〃
　〃I'm　pro…choice。　Is　that　against　your　religion？〃
　〃Good　Lord；　no。　I'm　a　firm　advocate。〃
　〃Good。　Hurry　up！〃
　So　Panov　headed　for　the　men's　room；　and　indeed　the　woman　was　right。　There　was　no　phone；　and　the　window　to　the　outside　was　too　small　for　anyone　but　a　small　cat　or　a　large　rat　to　crawl　through。　。。。　But　he　had　money；　a　great　deal　of　money；　along　with　five　driver's　licenses　from　five　different　states。　In　Jason　Bourne's　lexicon　these　were　weapons；　especially　the　money。　Mo　went　to　the　urinal…long　overdue…and　then　to　the　door；　he　pulled　it　back　several　inches　to　observe　the　blonde。　Suddenly；　the　door　swung　violently　back　several　feet　and　Panov　crashed　into　the　wall。
　〃Hey；　sorry；　pal！〃　cried　a　short　heavyset　man；　who　grabbed　the　psychiatrist　by　the　shoulders　as　Mo　grabbed　his　face。　〃You　okay；　buddy？〃
　〃Oh；　certainly。　Yes；　of　course。〃
　〃The　hell　you　are；　you　got　a　nosebleed！　C'mon　over　here　by　the　towels；〃　ordered　the　T…shirted　trucker；　one　sleeve　rolled　up　to　hold　a　pack　of　cigarettes。　〃C'mon；　put　your　head　back　while　I　get　some　cold　water　on　your　schnoz。　。。。　Loosen　up　and　lean　against　the　wall。　There；　that's　better；　we'll　stop　this　sucker　in　a　moment　or　two。〃　The　short　man　reached　up　and　gently　pressed　the　wet　paper　towels　across　Panov's　face　while　holding　the　back　of　his　neck；　and　every　few　seconds　checking　the　flow　of　blood　from　Mo's　nostrils。　〃There　y'are；　buddy；　it's　damned　near　stopped。　Just　breathe　through　your　mouth；　deep　breaths；　you　got　me？　Head　tilted；　okay？〃
　〃Thank　you；〃　said　Panov；　holding　the　towels　and　amazed　that　a　nosebleed　could　be　stopped　so　quickly。　〃Thank　you　very　much。〃
　〃Don't　thank　me；　I　bashed　you　one　by　mistake；〃　answered　the　trucker；　relieving　himself。　〃Feel　better　now？〃　he　asked；　zipping　up　his　trousers。
　〃Yes；　I　do。〃　And　against　the　advice　of　his　dear　deceased　mother；　Mo　decided　to　take　advantage　of　the　moment　and　forgo　righteousness。　〃But　I　should　explain　that　it　was　my　mistake；　not　yours。〃
　〃Waddaya　mean？〃　asked　the　trucker；　washing　his　hands。
　〃Frankly；　I　was　hiding　behind　the　door　looking　at　a　woman　I'm　trying　to　get　away　from…if　that　makes　sense　to　you。〃
　Panov's　personal　medic　laughed　as　he　dried　his　hands。　〃Whose　sense　wouldn't　it　make？　It's　the　story　of　mankind；　pal！　They　getcha　in　their　clutches　and　whammo；　they　whine　and　you　don't　know　what　to　do；　they　scream　and　you're　at　their　feet。　Now　me；　I　got　it　different。　I　married　a　real　European；　you　know？　She　don't　speak　so　good　English；　but　she's　grateful。　。。。　Great　with　the　kids；　great　with　me；　and　I　still　get　excited　when　I　see　her。　Not　like　these　fuckin'　princesses　over　here。〃
　〃That's　an　extremely　interesting；　even　visceral；　statement；〃　said　the　psychiatrist。
　〃It's　who？〃
　〃Nothing。　I　still　want　to　get　out　of　here　without　her　seeing　me　leave。　I　have　some　money…〃
　〃Hold　the　money；　who　is　she？〃
　Both　men　went　to　the　door　and　Panov　pulled　it　back　a　few　inches。　〃She's　the　one　over　there；　the　blonde'　who　keeps　looking　in　this　direction　and　at　the　front　door。　She's　getting　very　agitated…〃
　〃Holy　shit；〃　interrupted　the　short　trucker。　〃That's　the　Bronk's　wife！　She's　way　off　course。〃
　〃Off　course？　The　Bronk？〃
　〃He　trucks　the　eastern　routes；　not　these。　What　the　hell　is　she　doing　here？〃
　〃I　think　she's　trying　to　avoid　him。〃
　〃Yeah；〃　agreed　Mo's　panion。　〃I　heard　she's　been　messing　around　and　don't　charge　no　money。〃
　〃Do　you　know　her？〃
　〃Hell；　yeah。　I　been　to　a　couple　of　their　barbecues。　He　makes　a　hell　of　a　sauce。〃
　〃I　have　to　get　out　of　here。　As　I　told　you；　I　have　some　money…〃
　〃So　you　told　me　and　we'll　discuss　it　later。〃
　〃Where？〃
　〃In　my　truck。　It's　a　red　semi　with　white　stripes；　like　the　flag。　It's　parked　out　front；　on　the　right。　Get　around　the　cab　and　stay　out　of　sight。〃
　〃She'll　see　me　leave。〃
　〃No　she　won't。　I'm　goin'　over　and　give　her　a　big　surprise。　I'll　tell　her　all　the　CBs　are　hummin'　and　the　Bronk　is　headin'　south　to　the　Carolinas…at　least　that's　what　I　heard。〃
　〃How　can　I　ever　repay　you？〃
　〃Probably　with　some　of　that　money　you　keep　talkin'　about。　Not　too　much；　though。　The　Bronk's　an　animal　and　I'm　a　born…again　Christian。〃　The　short　trucker　swung　back　the　door；　nearly　shoving　Panov　back　into　the　wall　again。　Mo　watched　as　his　conspiratorial　colleague　approached　the　booth；　his　conspiratorial　arms　extended　as　the　trucker　embraced　an　old　friend　and　started　talking　rapidly；　the　woman's　eyes　were　attentive…she　was　mesmerized。　Panov　rushed　out　of　the　men's　room；　through　the　diner's　entrance　and　toward　the　huge　red…and…white…striped　truck。　He　crouched　breathlessly　behind　the　cab；　his　chest　pounding；　and　waited。
　Suddenly；　the　Bronk's　wife　came　racing　out　of　the　diner；　her　platinum　hair　rising　grotesquely　in　the　air　behind　her　as　she　ran　to　her　bright　red　automobile。　She　climbed　inside　and　in　seconds　the　engine　roared；　she　continued　north　as　Mo　watched；　astonished。
　〃How　are　y'doing；　buddy…wherever　the　hell　you　are？〃　shouted　the　short　man　with　no　name　who　had　not　only　amazingly　stopped　a　nosebleed　but　had　rescued　him　from　a　manic　wife　whose　paranoid　mood　swings　were　rooted　in　equal　parts　of　vengeance　and　guilt。
　Stop　it；　asshole；　cried　Panov　to　himself　as　he　raised　his　voice。　〃Over　here　。。。　buddy！〃
　Thirty…five　minutes　later　they　reached　the　outskirts　of　an　unidentified　town　and　the　trucker　stopped　in　front　of　a　cluster　of　stores　that　bordered　the　highway。　〃You'll　find　a　phone　there；　buddy。　Good　luck。〃
　〃Are　you　sure？〃　asked　Mo。　〃About　the　money；　I　mean。〃
　〃Sure　I'm　sure；〃　replied　the　short　man　behind　the　wheel。　〃Two　hundred　dollars　is　fine…maybe　even　what　I　earned…but　more　than　that　corrupts；　don't　it？　I　been　offered　fifty　times　that　to　haul　stuff　I　won't　haul；　and　you　know　what　I　tell　'em？〃
　〃What　do　you　tell　them？〃
　〃I　tell　'em　to　go　piss　into　the　wind　with　their　poison。　It's　gonna　flash　back　and　blind　'em。〃
　〃You're　a　good　person；〃　said　Panov；　climbing　out　onto　the　pavement。
　〃I　got　a　few　things　to　make　up　for。〃　The　door　of　the　cab　slammed　shut　and　the　huge　truck　shot　forward　as　Mo　turned　away；　looking　for　a　telephone。
　〃Where　the　hell　are　you？〃　shouted　Alexander　Conklin　in　Virginia。
　〃I　don't　know！〃　answered　Panov。　〃If　I　were　a　patient；　I'd　ponderously　explain　that　it　was　an　extension　of　some　Freudian　dream　sequence　because　it　never　happens　but　it　happened　to　me。　They　shot　me　up；　Alex！〃
　〃Stay　cold。　We　assumed　that。　We　have　to　know　where　you　are。　Let's　face　it；　others　are　looking　for　you；　too。〃
　〃All　right；　all　right。　。。。　Wait　a　minute！　There's　a　drugstore　across　the　street。　The　sign　says　'Battle　Ford's　Best；'　will　that　help？〃
　The　sigh　on　the　line　from　Virginia　was　the　reply。　〃Yes；　it　does。　If　you　were　a　socially　productive　Civil　War　buff　rather　than　an　insignificant　shrink；　you'd　know　it；　too。〃
　〃What　the　hell　does　that　mean？〃
　〃Head　for　the　old　battleground　at　Ford's　Bluff。　It's　a　national　landmark；　there　are　signs　everywhere。　A　helicopter　will　be　there　in　thirty　minutes；　and　don't　say　a　goddamned　thing　to　anybody！〃
　〃Do　you　know　how　extreme　you　sound？　Yet　I　was　the　object　of　hostility…〃
　〃Out；　coach！〃
　Bourne　walked　into　the　Pont…Royal　and　immediately　approached　the　night　concierge；　peeling　off　a　five…hundred…franc　note　and　placing　it　quietly　in　the　man's　hand。　〃The　name　is　Simon；〃　he　said；　smiling。　〃I've　been　away。　Any　messages？〃
　〃No　messages；　Monsieur　Simon；〃　was　the　quiet　reply；　〃but　two　men　are　outside；　one　on　Montalembert；　the　other　across　on　the　rue　du　Bac。〃
　Jason　removed　a　thousand…franc　note　and　palmed　it　to　the　man。　〃I　pay　for　such　eyes　and　I　pay　well。　Keep　it　up。〃
　〃Of　course；　monsieur。〃
　Bourne　crossed　to　the　brass　elevator。　Reaching　his　floor；　he　walked　rapidly　down　the　intersecting　corridors　to　his　room。　Nothing　was　disturbed；　everything　was　as　he　had　left　it；　except　that　the　bed　had　been　made　up。　The　bed。　Oh；　God；　he　needed　to　rest；　to　sleep。　He　couldn't　do　it　any　longer。　Something　was　happening　inside　him…less　energy；　less　breath。　Yet　he　had　to　have　both；　now　more　than　ever。　Oh；　Christ；　he　wanted　to　lie　down。　。。。　No。　There　was　Marie。　There　was　Bernardine。　He　went　to　the　telephone　and　dialed　the　number　he　had　mitted　to　memory。
　〃I'm　sorry　I'm　late；〃　he　said。
　〃Four　hours　late；　mon　ami。　What　happened？〃
　〃No　time。　What　about　Marie？〃
　〃There　is　nothing。　Absolutely　nothing。　She　is　not　on　any　international　flight　currently　in　the　air　or　scheduled　for　departure。　I　even　checked　the　transfers　from　London；　Lisbon；　Stockholm　and　Amsterdam…nothing。　There　is　no　Marie　Elise　St。　Jacques　Webb　en　route　to　Paris。〃
　〃There　has　to　be。　She　wouldn't　change　her　mind；　it's　not　like　her。　And　she　wouldn't　know　how　to　bypass　immigration。〃
　〃I　repeat。　She's　not　listed　on　any　flight　from　any　country　ing　into　Paris。〃
　〃Damn！〃
　〃I　will　keep　trying；　my　friend。　The　words　of　Saint　Alex　keep　ringing　in　my　ears。　Do　not　underestimate　la　belle　mademoiselle。〃
　〃She's　not　a　goddamned　mademoiselle；　she's　my　wife。　。。。　She's　not　one　of　us；　Bern