rl.thebourneultimatum-第89节

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　〃What？〃
　〃You　forget。　He　thinks　you're　already　dead…thanks　to　me。〃
　〃I　have　cases　ing　up；　a　congressional　hearing　next　week。　He'll　know　I'm　alive！〃
　〃Not　if　you　don't　show　up。〃
　〃I　have　to！　My　clients　expect…〃
　〃Then　I　agree；〃　interrupted　Prefontaine。　〃He'll　kill　you。　Sorry　about　that；　Randy。〃
　〃What　am　I　going　to　do？〃
　〃There's　a　way；　Dandy　Boy；　not　only　out　of　your　current　dilemma　but　for　years　to　e。　Of　course；　it　will　require　some　sacrifice　on　your　part。　For　starters；　a　long　convalescence　at　a　private　rehabilitation　center；　but　even　before　that；　your　plete　cooperation　right　now。　The　first　ensures　your　imminent　disappearance；　the　second…the　capture　and　elimination　of　Carlos　the　Jackal。　You'll　be　free；　Randy。〃
　〃Anything！〃
　〃How　do　you　reach　him？〃
　〃I　have　a　telephone　number！〃　Gates　fumbled　for　his　wallet；　yanking　it　out　of　his　pocket　and　with　trembling　fingers　digging　into　a　recess。　〃Only　four　people　alive　have　it！〃
　Prefontaine　accepted　his　first　20；000…an…hour　fee；　instructed　Randy　to　go　home；　beg　Edith's　forgiveness；　and　be　prepared　to　leave　Boston　tomorrow。　Brendan　had　heard　of　a　private　treatment　center　in　Minneapolis；　he　thought；　where　the　rich　sought　help　incognito；　he　would　refine　the　details　in　the　morning　and　call　him；　naturally　expecting　a　second　payment　for　his　services。　The　instant　a　shaken　Gates　left　the　room；　Prefontaine　went　to　the　phone　and　called　John　St。　Jacques　at　Tranquility　Inn。
　〃John；　it's　the　judge。　Don't　ask　me　questions；　but　I　have　urgent　information　that　could　be　invaluable　to　your　sister's　husband。　I　realize　I　can't　reach　him；　but　I　know　he's　dealing　with　someone　in　Washington…〃
　〃His　name　is　Alex　Conklin；〃　interrupted　St。　Jacques。　〃Wait　a　minute；　Judge；　Marie　wrote　the　number　down　on　the　desk　blotter。　Let　me　get　over　there。〃　The　sound　of　one　phone　being　placed　on　a　hard　surface　preceded　the　clicks　of　another　being　picked　up。　〃Here　it　is。〃　Marie's　brother　recited　the　number。
　〃I'll　explain　everything　later。　Thank　you；　John。〃
　〃An　awful　lot　of　people　keep　telling　me　that；　goddamn　it！〃　said　St。　Jacques。
　Prefontaine　dialed　the　number　with　a　Virginia　area　code。　It　was　answered　with　a　short；　brusque　〃Yes？〃
　〃Mr。　Conklin；　my　name　is　Prefontaine　and　I　was　given　this　number　by　John　St。　Jacques。　What　I　have　to　tell　you　is　in　the　nature　of　an　emergency。〃
　〃You're　the　judge；〃　broke　in　Alex。
　〃Past　tense；　I'm　afraid。　Very　past。〃
　〃What　is　it？〃
　〃I　know　how　to　reach　the　man　you　call　the　Jackal。〃
　〃What？〃
　〃Listen　to　me。〃
　Bernardine　stared　at　the　ringing　telephone；　briefly　debating　with　himself　whether　or　not　to　pick　it　up。　There　was　no　question；　he　had　to。　〃Yes？〃
　〃Jason？　It's　you；　isn't　it？　。。。　Perhaps　I　have　the　wrong　room。〃
　〃Alex？　This　is　you？〃
　〃Fran？ois？　What　are　you　doing　there？　Where's　Jason？〃
　〃Things　have　happened　so　fast。　I　know　he's　been　trying　to　reach　you。〃
　〃It's　been　a　rough　day。　We've　got　Panov　back。〃
　〃That's　good　news。〃
　〃I've　got　other　news。　A　telephone　number　where　the　Jackal　can　be　reached。〃
　〃We've　got　it！　And　a　location。　Our　man　left　an　hour　ago。〃
　〃For　Christ's　sake；　how　did　you　get　it？〃
　〃A　convoluted　process　I　sincerely　believe　only　your　man　could　have　negotiated。　He's　brilliantly　imaginative；　a　true　caméléon。〃
　〃Let's　pare；〃　said　Conklin。　〃What's　yours？〃
　Bernardine　plied；　reciting　the　number　he　had　written　down　on　Bourne's　instructions。
　The　silence　on　the　phone　was　a　silent　scream。　〃They're　different；〃　said　Alex　finally；　his　voice　choked。　〃They're　different！〃
　〃A　trap；〃　said　the　Deuxième　veteran。　〃God　in　heaven；　it's　a　trap！〃
　
　26
　Twice　Bourne　had　passed　the　dark；　quiet　row　of　old　stone　houses　on　the　boulevard　Lefebvre　in　the　concrete　backwater　of　the　fifteenth　arrondissement。　He　then　doubled　back　to　the　rue　d'Alésia　and　found　a　sidewalk　café。　The　outdoor　tables；　their　candles　flickering　under　glass；　were　peopled　mostly　by　gesturing；　argumentative　students　from　the　nearby　Sorbonne　and　Montparnasse。　It　was　nearing　ten　o'clock　and　the　aproned　waiters　were　growing　irritable；　the　majority　of　customers　were　not　full　of　largess；　either　in　their　hearts　or　in　their　pockets。　Jason　wanted　only　a　strong　espresso；　but　the　perpetual　scowl　on　the　face　of　the　approaching　garзon　convinced　him　he　would　get　mud　if　he　ordered　only　the　coffee；　so　he　added　the　most　expensive　brandy　he　could　recall　by　name。
　As　the　waiter　returned　to　the　service　bar；　Jason　pulled　out　his　small　notebook　and　ballpoint　pen；　shutting　his　eyes　for　a　moment；　then　opening　them　and　sketching　out　everything　he　could　envision　from　the　row　of　houses　on　his　inner　screen。　There　were　three　structures　of　two　attached　houses　each；　separated　by　two　narrow　alleyways。　Each　double　plex　was　three　stories　high；　each　front　entrance　reached　by　climbing　a　steep　flight　of　brick　steps；　and　at　either　end　of　the　row　were　vacant　lots　covered　with　rubble；　the　remains　of　demolished　adjacent　buildings。　The　address　of　the　Jackal's　buried　telephone　number…the　address　was　available　in　the　underground　tunnels　solely　for　repair　purposes…was　the　final　structure　on　the　right；　and　it　took　no　imagination　to　know　he　occupied　the　entire　building；　if　not　the　entire　row。
　Carlos　was　the　consummate　self…protector；　so　one　had　to　assume　that　his　Paris　mand　post　would　be　a　fortress；　employing　every　human　and　electronic　security　device　that　loyalty　and　high　technology　could　provide。　And　the　seemingly　isolated；　all　but　deserted；　section　of　the　outlying　fifteenth　arrondissement　served　his　purposes　far　better　than　any　crowded　section　of　the　city。　For　that　reason；　Bourne　had　first　paid　a　drunken　tramp　to　walk　with　him　during　his　initial　foray　past　the　houses；　he　himself　limping　unsteadily　in　the　shadows　beside　his　panion；　and　for　his　second　appraisal；　he　had　hired　a　middle…aged　whore　as　his　cover；　with　no　limp　or　stagger　in　his　gait。　He　knew　the　terrain　now；　for　all　the　good　it　did　him；　but　it　was　the　beginning　of　the　end。　He　swore　himself　to　that！
　The　waiter　arrived　with　his　espresso　and　the　cognac；　and　only　when　Jason　placed　a　hundred…franc　note　on　the　table；　acpanied　by　a　wave　of　his　hand；　did　the　man's　hostile　countenance　move　to　neutral　ground。　〃Merci；〃　he　mumbled。
　〃Is　there　a　pay　phone　nearby？〃　asked　Bourne；　removing　an　additional　ten…franc　note。
　〃Down　the　street；　fifty；　sixty　meters；〃　replied　the　waiter；　his　eyes　on　the　new　money。
　〃Nothing　closer？〃　Jason　peeled　off　another　note；　twenty　francs。　〃I'm　calling　right　here　within　a　few　blocks。〃
　〃e　with　me；〃　said　the　aproned　garзon；　gingerly　picking　up　the　franc　notes　and　leading　Bourne　through　the　open　doors　of　the　café　to　a　cashier　seated　on　high　at　the　far　end　of　the　restaurant。　The　gaunt；　sallow…faced　woman　looked　annoyed；　obviously　she　assumed　that　Bourne　was　a　discontented　customer。
　〃Let　him　use　your　telephone；〃　said　the　waiter。
　〃Why？〃　spat　out　the　harridan。　〃So　he　can　call　China？〃
　〃He　calls　up　the　street。　He　will　pay。〃
　Jason　proffered　a　ten…franc　note；　his　innocent　eyes　looking　blankly　at　the　highly　suspicious　woman。　〃Augh；　take　it；〃　she　said；　removing　a　phone　from　under　her　cash…register　stand　and　grasping　the　money。　〃It　has　an　extension　so　you　can　move　to　the　wall；　as　they　all　do。　Men！　Business　and　the　bed；　it's　all　you　think　about！〃
　He　dialed　the　Pont…Royal　and　asked　for　his　room；　expecting　Bernardine　to　pick　up　on　the　first　or　second　ring。　By　the　fourth；　he　was　concerned；　by　the　eighth；　he　was　profoundly　disturbed。　Bernardine　was　not　there！　Had　Santos　。。。　？　No；　the　Deuxième　veteran　was　armed　and　knew　how　to　use　his　〃deterrence〃…there　would　have　been　at　the　least　loud　gunfire；　at　the　last　a　room　blown　apart　by　a　grenade。　Bernardine　had　left　under　his　own　control。　Why？
　There　could　be　any　one　of　several　reasons；　thought　Bourne；　handing　back　the　telephone　and　returning　to　his　table　outside。　The　first　and　most　wished　for　was　news　of　Marie；　the　old　intelligence　officer　would　not　raise　false　hopes　by　detailing　the　nets　he　had　spread　throughout　the　city；　but　they　were　there；　Jason　was　sure　of　it。　。。。　Bourne　could　not　think　of　another　reason；　so　it　was　best　not　to　think　about　Bernardine。　He　had　other　pressing　considerations；　the　most　intensely　pressing　of　his　life。　He　returned　to　the　strong　coffee　and　his　notebook；　every　detail　had　to　be　exact。
　An　hour　later　he　finished　his　espresso；　taking　a　sip　of　the　cognac　and　spilling　the　rest　on　the　pavement　under　the　usual　soiled　red　tablecloth。　He　left　the　café　and　the　rue　d'Alésia；　turning　right　and　walking　slowly；　as　a　far　older　man　might　walk；　toward　the　boulevard　Lefebvre。　The　closer　he　came　to　the　last　corner；　the　more　he　became　aware　of　the　undulating；　erratic　sounds　from　apparently　different　directions。　Sirens！　The　two…note　sirens　of　the　Paris　police！　What　had　happened？　What　was　happening？　Jason　abandoned　his　elderly　gait　and　ran　to　the　edge　of　the　building　fronting　the　Lefebvre　and　the　row　of　old　stone　houses。　Instantly；　he　was　in　shock；　fury　and　astonishment　joining　together　in　panic。　What　were　they　doing？
　Five　patrol　cars　converged　on　the　row　of　stone　houses；　each　successively　screeching　to　a　halt　in　front　of　the　structure　on　the　right。　Then　a　large　black　police　van　appeared；　swinging　directly　around　to　face　the　two　entrances　of　the　buildin