rl.thebourneultimatum-第98节

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s　banks！　Those　kinds　of　headlines　never　leave　a　person；　do　they？　They　can　be　refuted；　proved　to　be　totally　false；　yet　still　there　is　that　lingering　doubt。　'Where　there's　smoke　there　must　be　fire；'　I　believe　is　the　bromide。　My　own　colleagues　in　Ottawa　。。。　dear；　dear　friends　I'd　worked　with　for　years　。。。　were　afraid　to　talk　to　me！〃
　〃Wait　a　minute！〃　shouted　Bourne；　his　eyes　again　flashing　at　David's　wife。　〃They　were　false…it　was　a　Treadstone　ploy　to　pull　me　in…you　were　the　one　who　understood　it；　I　didn't！〃
　〃Of　course　I　did；　because　you　were　so　stretched　you　couldn't　see　it。　It　didn't　matter　to　me　then　because　I'd　made　up　my　mind；　my　very　precise　analytical　mind；　a　mind　I'd　match　against　yours　any　day　of　the　week；　my　sweet　scholar。〃
　〃What？〃
　〃Watch　the　road！　You　missed　the　turn；　just　the　way　you　missed　the　one　to　our　cabin　only　days　ago…or　was　it　years　ago？〃
　〃What　the　hell　are　you　talking　about？〃
　〃That　small　inn　we　stayed　at　outside　the　Barbizon。　You　politely　asked　them　to　please　light　the　fire　in　the　dining　room…we　were　the　only　people　there。　It　was　the　third　time　I　saw　through　the　mask　of　Jason　Bourne　to　someone　else；　someone　I　was　falling　deeply　in　love　with。〃
　〃Don't　do　this　to　me。〃
　〃I　have　to；　David。　If　only　for　myself　now。　I　have　to　know　you're　there。〃
　Silence。　A　U…turn　on　the　grand…route　and　the　driver　pressed　the　accelerator　to　the　floor。　〃I'm　here；〃　whispered　the　husband；　lifting　his　right　arm　and　pulling　his　wife　to　him。　〃I　don't　know　for　how　long；　but　I'm　here。〃
　〃Hurry；　my　darling。〃
　〃I　will。　I　just　want　to　hold　you　in　my　arms。〃
　〃And　I　want　to　call　the　children。〃
　〃Now　I　know　I'm　here。〃
　
　28
　〃You'll　tell　us　everything　we　want　to　know　voluntarily　or　we'll　send　you　up　into　a　chemical　orbit　your　hacks　never　dreamed　of　with　Dr。　Panov；〃　said　Peter　Holland；　director　of　the　Central　Intelligence　Agency；　his　quiet　monotone　as　hard　and　as　smooth　as　polished　granite。　〃Furthermore；　I　should　elaborate　on；　the　extremes　to　which　I'm　perfectly　willing　to　go　because　I'm　from　the　old　school；　paisan。　I　don't　give　a　shit　for　rules　that　favor　garbage。　You　play　cipher　with　me；　I'll　deep…six　you　still　breathing　a　hundred　miles　off　Hatteras　in　a　torpedo　casing。　Am　I　clear？〃
　The　capo　subordinato；　thick　plaster　casts　around　his　left　arm　and　right　leg；　lay　on　the　bed　in　Langley's　deserted　infirmary　room；　deserted　since　the　DCI　ordered　the　medical　staff　to　get　out　of　hearing　range　for　their　own　good。　The　mafioso's　naturally　puffed　face　was　additionally　enlarged　by　swellings　around　both　eyes　as　well　as　his　generous　lips；　the　result　of　his　head　having　smashed　into　the　dashboard　when　Mo　Panov　sent　the　car　into　a　Maryland　oak。　He　looked　up　at　Holland；　his　heavy…lidded　gaze　traveling　over　to　Alexander　Conklin　seated　in　a　chair；　the　ever…present　cane　gripped　in　anxious　hands。
　〃You　got　no　right；　Mr。　Big　Shot；〃　said　the　capo　gruffly。　〃　'Cause　I　got　rights；　you　know　what　I　mean？〃
　〃So　did　the　doctor；　and　you　violated　them…Jesus；　did　you　violate　them！〃
　〃I　don't　gotta　talk　without　my　lawyer。〃
　〃Where　the　hell　was　Panov's　lawyer？〃　shouted　Alex；　thumping　his　cane　on　the　floor。
　〃That's　not　the　way　the　system　works；〃　protested　the　patient；　attempting　to　raise　his　eyebrows　in　indignation。　〃Besides；　I　was　good　to　the　doc。　He　took　advantage　of　my　goodness；　help　me　God！〃
　〃You're　a　cartoon；〃　said　Holland。　〃You're　a　hot　sketch　but　you're　not　remotely　amusing。　There　are　no　lawyers　here；　linguine；　just　the　three　of　us；　and　a　torpedo　casing　is　very　much　in　your　future。〃
　〃Whaddaya　want　from　me？〃　cried　the　mafioso。　〃What　do　I　know？　I　just　do　what　I'm　told；　like　my　older　brother　did…may　he　rest　in　peace…and　my　father…may　he　also　rest　in　peace…and　probably　his　father；　which　I　don't　know　nothin'　about。〃
　〃It's　like　succeeding　generations　on　welfare；　isn't　it？〃　observed　Conklin。　〃The　parasites　never　get　off　the　dole。〃
　〃Hey；　that's　my　family　you're　talkin'　about…whatever　the　fuck　you're　talkin'　about。〃
　〃My　apologies　to　your　heraldry；〃　added　Alex。
　〃And　it's　that　family　of　yours　we're　interested　in；　Augie；〃　broke　in　the　DCI。　〃It　is　Augie；　isn't　it？　That　was　the　name　on　one　of　the　five　driver's　licenses　and　we　thought　it　seemed　most　authentic。〃
　〃Well；　you're　not　so　authentically　bright；　Mr。　Big　Shot！〃　spat　out　the　immobilized　patient　through　his　painfully　swollen　lips。　〃I　got　none　of　them　names。〃
　〃We　have　to　call　you　something；〃　said　Holland。　〃If　only　to　burn　it　into　the　casing　down　at　Hatteras　so　that　some　scale…headed　archaeologist　several　thousand　years　from　now　can　give　an　identity　to　the　teeth　he's　measuring。〃
　〃How　about　Chauncy？〃　asked　Conklin。
　〃Too　ethnic；〃　replied　Peter。　〃I　like　Asshole　because　that's　what　he　is。　He's　going　to　be　strapped　into　a　tube　and　dropped　over　the　continental　shelf　into　six　miles　of　seawater　for　crimes　other　people　mitted。　I　mean；　that's　being　an　asshole。〃
　〃Cut　it　out！〃　roared　the　asshole。　〃Awright；　my　name's　Nicolo　。。。　Nicholas　Dellacroce；　and　for　even　giving　you　that　you　gotta　get　me　protection！　Like　with　Valachi；　that's　part　of　the　deal。〃
　〃It　is？〃　Holland　frowned。　〃I　don't　remember　mentioning　it。〃
　〃Then　you　don't　get　nuthin'！〃
　〃You're　wrong；　Nicky；〃　broke　in　Alex　from　across　the　small　room。　〃We're　going　to　get　everything　we　want；　the　only　drawback　being　that　it's　a　one…time　shot。　We　won't　be　able　to　cross…examine　you；　or　bring　you　into　a　federal　court；　or　even　have　you　sign　a　deposition。〃
　〃Huh？〃
　〃You'll　e　out　a　vegetable　with　a　refried　brain。　Of　course；　I　suppose　it's　a　blessing　in　a　way。　You'll　hardly　know　it　when　you're　packed　into　that　shell　casing　in　Hatteras。〃
　〃Hey；　waddaya　talkin'？〃
　〃Simple　logic；〃　answered　the　former　naval　mando　and　present　head　of　the　Central　Intelligence　Agency。　〃After　our　medical　team　gets　finished　with　you；　you　can't　expect　us　to　keep　you　around；　can　you？　An　autopsy　would　railroad　us　to　a　rock　pile　for　thirty　years　and；　frankly；　I　haven't　got　that　kind　of　time。　。。。　What'll　it　be；　Nicky？　You　want　to　talk　to　us　or　do　you　want　a　priest？〃
　〃I　gotta　think…〃
　〃Let's　go；　Alex；〃　said　Holland　curtly；　walking　away　from　the　bed　toward　the　door。　〃I'll　send　for　a　priest。　This　poor　son　of　a　bitch　is　going　to　need　all　the　fort　he　can　get。〃
　〃It's　times　like　this；〃　added　Conklin；　planting　his　cane　on　the　floor　and　rising；　〃when　I　seriously　ponder　man's　inhumanity　to　man。　Then　I　rationalize。　It's　not　brutality；　for　that's　only　a　descriptive　abstraction；　it's　merely　the　custom　of　the　trade　we're　all　in。　Still；　there's　the　individual…his　mind　and　his　flesh　and　his　all　too　sensitive　nerve　endings。　It's　the　excruciating　pain。　Thank　heavens　I've　always　been　in　the　background；　out　of　reach…like　Nicky's　associates。　They　dine　in　elegant　restaurants　and　he　goes　over　in　a　tube　beyond　the　continental　shelf；　six　miles　down　in　the　sea；　his　body　imploding　into　itself。〃
　〃Awright；　awright！〃　screamed　Nicolo　Dellacroce；　twisting　on　the　bed；　his　obese　frame　tangling　the　sheets。　〃Ask　your　fuckin'　questions；　but　you　give　me　protection；　capisce？〃
　〃That　depends　on　the　truthfulness　of　your　answers；〃　said　Holland；　returning　to　the　bed。
　〃I'd　be　very　truthful；　Nicky；〃　observed　Alex；　limping　back　to　the　chair。　〃One　misstatement　and　you　sleep　with　the　fishes…I　believe　that's　the　customary　phrase。〃
　〃I　don't　need　no　coaching；　I　know　where　it's　at。〃
　〃Let's　begin；　Mr。　Dellacroce；〃　said　the　CIA　chief；　taking　a　small　tape　recorder　out　of　his　pocket；　checking　the　charge　and　placing　it　on　the　high　white　table　by　the　patient's　bed。　He　drew　up　a　chair　and　continued　speaking；　addressing　his　opening　remarks　to　the　thin　silver　recorder。　〃My　name　is　Admiral　Peter　Holland；　currently　director　of　the　Central　Intelligence　Agency；　voice　confirmation　to　be　verified　if　necessary。　This　is　an　interview　with　an　informer　we'll　call　John　Smith；　voice　distortion　to　follow　on　interagency　master　tape；　identification　in　the　DCI's　classified　files。　。。。　All　right；　Mr。　Smith；　we're　going　to　cut　through　the　bullshit　to　the　essential　questions。　I'll　generalize　them　as　much　as　possible　for　your　protection；　but　you'll　know　exactly　what　I'm　referring　to　and　I　expect　specific　answers。　。。。　Whom　do　you　work　for；　Mr。　Smith？〃
　〃Atlas　Coin　Vending　Machines；　Long　Island　City；〃　replied　Dellacroce；　his　words　slurred　and　spoken　gruffly。
　〃Who　owns　it？〃
　〃I　dunno　who　owns　it。　Most　of　us　work　from　home…some　fifteen；　maybe　twenty　guys；　you　know　what　I　mean？　We　service　the　machines　and　send　in　our　reports。〃
　Holland　glanced　over　at　Conklin；　both　men　smiled。　With　one　answer　the　mafioso　had　placed　himself　within　a　large　circle　of　potential　informers。　Nicolo　was　not　new　to　the　game。　〃Who　signs　your　paychecks；　Mr。　Smith？〃
　〃A　Mr。　Louis　DeFazio；　a　very　legitimate　businessman；　to　d'best　of　my　knowledge。　He　gives　us　our　assignments。〃
　〃Do　you　know　where　he　lives？〃
　〃Brooklyn　Heights。　On　the　river；　I　think　someone　told　me。〃
　〃What　was　your　destination　when　our　personnel　intercepted　you？〃
　Dellacroce　winced；　briefly　closing　his　swollen　eyes　before　answering。　〃One　of　those　drunk…and…dope　tanks　somewhere　south　of　Philly…which　you　already　know；　Mr。　Big　Shot；　'cause　you　found　the　map　in　the　car。〃
　Holland　angrily　reached　for　the　recorder；　snapping　it　off。　〃You're　on　your　way　to　Hatteras；　y