rl.thebourneidentity-第115部分

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　'As　an　Englishman？　The　passport's　British。'
　'On　a　N。　A。　T。　O。　acmodation。　Brevet　channels；　you　are　part　of　an　Anglo…American　team　engaged　in　military　negotiations。　We　favour　your　swift　return　to　the　United　States　for　further　instructions。　It's　not　unusual；　and　sufficient　to　get　you　rapidly　past　both　immigration　points。'
　'Good。　I've　checked　the　schedules。　There's　a　seven　a。　m。　flight；　Air　France　to　Kennedy。'
　'You'll　be　on　it。'　The　old　man　paused；　he　had　not　finished。　He　took　a　step　towards　Jason。　'Why　New　York？　What　makes　you　so　certain　Carlos　will　follow　you　to　New　York？〃
　Two　questions　with　different　answers；〃　said　Bourne。　'I　have　to　deliver　him　where　he　marked　me　for　killing　four　men　and　a　woman　I　didn't　know。。。　one　of　those　men　very　close　to　me；　very　much　a　part　of　me；　I　think。'
　'I　don't　understand　you。'
　'I'm　not　sure　I　do；　either。　There's　no　time。　It'll　all　be　in　what　I　write　down　for　you　on　the　plane。　I　have　to　prove　Carlos　knew。　A　building　in　New　York。　Where　it　all　took　place；　they've　got　to　understand。　He　knew　about　it　Trust　me。'
　'I　do。　The　second　question；　then。　Why　will　he　e　after　you？'
　Jason　looked　again　at　the　dead　woman　on　the　bed。　'Instinct；　maybe。　I've　killed　the　one　person　on　earth　he　cares　about。　If　she　were　someone　else　and　Carlos　killed　her；　I'd　follow　him　across　the　world　until　I　found　him。'
　'He　may　be　more　practical。　I　think　that　was　your　point　to　me。'
　〃There's　something　else；'　replied　Jason；　taking　his　eyes　away　from　Angelique　Villiers。　'He　has　nothing　to　lose；　everything　to　gain。　No　one　knows　what　he　looks　like；　but　he　knows　me　by　sight。　Still；　he　doesn't　know　my　state　of　mind。　He's　cut　me　off；　isolated　me；　turned　me　into　someone　I　was　never　meant　to　be。　Maybe　he　was　too　successful；　maybe　I'm　mad；　insane。　God　knows　killing　her　was　insane。　My　threats　are　irrational。　How　much　more　irrational　am　I？　An　irrational　man；　an　insane　man；　is　a　panicked　man。　He　can　be　taken　out。'
　'Is　your　threat　irrational？　Can　you　be　taken　out？'
　'I'm　not　sure。　I　only　know　I　don't　have　a　choice。'
　He　did　not。　At　the　end　it　was　as　the　beginning。　Get　Carlos。　Trap　Carlos。　Cain　is　for　Charlie　and　Delta　is　for　Cain。　The　man　and　the　myth　were　finally　one；　images　and　reality　fused。　There　was　no　other　way。
　Ten　minutes　had　passed　since　he　had　called　Marie；　lied　to　Marie；　and　heard　the　quiet　acceptance　in　her　voice；　knowing　it　meant　she　needed　time　to　think。　She　had　not　believed　him；　but　she　believed　in　him；　she；　too；　had　no　choice。　And　he　could　not　ease　her　pain；　there　had　been　no　time；　there　was　no　time。　Everything　was　in　motion　now；　Villiers　downstairs　calling　an　emergency　number　at　France's　Brevet　Militaire；　arranging　for　a　man　with　a　false　passport　to　fly　out　of　Paris　with　diplomatic　status。　In　less　than　three　hours　a　man　would　be　over　the　Atlantic　approaching　the　anniversary　of　his　own　execution。　It　was　the　key；　it　was　the　trap。　It　was　the　last　irrational　act；　insanity　the　order　of　that　date。
　Bourne　stood　by　the　desk；　he　put　down　the　pen　and　studied　the　words　he　had　written　on　a　dead　woman's　stationery。　They　were　the　words　a　broken；　bewildered　old　man　was　to　repeat　over　the　telephone　to　an　unknown　relay　who　would　demand　the　paper　and　give　it　to　Ilyich　Ramirez　Sanchez。
　I　killed　your　bitch　whore　and　I'll　e　back　for　you。　There　are　seventy…one　streets　in　the　jungle。　A　jungle　as　dense　as　Tarn　Quan；　but　there　was　a　path　you　missed；　a　vault　in　the　cellars　you　did　not　know　about　…　just　as　you　never　knew　about　me　on　the　day　of　my　execution　ten　years　ago。　One　other　man　knew　and　you　killed　him。　It　doesn't　matter。　In　that　vault　are　documents　that　will　set　me　free。　Did　you　think　I'd　bee　Cain　without　that　final　protection？　Washington　won't　dare　touch　met　It　seems　right　that　on　the　date　of　Bourne's　death；　Cain　picks　up　the　papers　that　guarantee　him　a　very　long　life。　You　marked　Cain。　Now　I　mark　you。　I'll　e　back　and　you　can　join　the　whore。
　Delta
　Jason　dropped　the　note　on　the　desk　and　walked　over　to　the　dead　woman。　The　alcohol　was　dry；　the　swollen　throat　prepared。　He　bent　down　and　spread　his　fingers；　placing　his　hands　where　another's　had　been　placed。　Madness。
　Early　light　broke　over　the　spires　of　the　church　in　Levallois…Perret　in　north…west　Paris；　the　March　morning　cold；　the　night　rain　replaced　by　mist。　A　few　old　women；　returning　to　their　flats　from　all…night　cleaning　shifts　in　the　city　proper；　trudged　in　and　out　of　the　bronze　doors；　holding　railings　and　prayer　books；　devotions　about　to　begin　or　finished　with；　precious　sleep　to　follow　before　the　drudgery　of　surviving　the　daylight　hours。　Along　with　the　old　women　were　shabbily　dressed　men　most　also　old；　others　pathetically　young　…　holding　overcoats　together；　seeking　the　warmth　of　the　church；　these　clutching　bottles　in　their　pockets；　precious　oblivion　extended；　another　day　to　survive。
　One　old　man；　however；　did　not　float　with　the　trance…like　movements　of　the　others。　He　was　an　old　man　in　a　hurry。　There　was　reluctance　…　even　fear；　perhaps　…　in　his　lined；　sallow　face；　but　no　hesitation　in　his　progress　up　the　steps　and　through　the　doors；　past　the　flickering　candles　and　down　the　far　left　aisle　of　the　church。　It　was　an　odd　hour　for　a　worshipper　to　seek　confession；　nevertheless　the　old　beggar　went　directly　to　the　first　booth；　parted　the　curtain　and　slipped　inside。
　'Angelus　Domini。。。〃
　'Did　you　bring　it？'　the　whisper　demanded；　the　priestly　silhouette　behind　the　curtain　trembling　with　rage。
　'Yes。　He　thrust　it　in　my　hand　like　a　man　in　a　stupor；　weeping；　telling　me　to　get　out　He's　burned　Cain's　note　to　him　and　says　he'll　deny　everything　if　a　single　word　is　ever　mentioned。'　The　old　man　shoved　the　pages　of　writing　paper　under　the　curtain。
　'He　used　her　stationery。。。'　The　assassin's　whisper　broke；　a　silhouetted　hand　brought　to　a　silhouetted　head；　a　muted　cry　of　anguish　now　heard　behind　the　curtain。
　'I　urge　you　to　remember；　Carlos；'　pleaded　the　beggar　〃The　messenger　is　not　responsible　for　the　news　he　bears。　I　could　have　refused　to　hear　it；　refused　to　bring　it　to　you。'　'How？　Why。
　'Lavier。　He　followed　her　to　Pare　Monceau；　then　both　of　them　to　the　church。　I　saw　him　in　Neuilly…sur…Seine　when　I　was　your　point。　I　told　you　that。'
　'I　know。　But　why！　He　could　have　used　her　in　a　hundred　different　ways！　Against　me！　Why　this？'
　'It's　in　his　note。　He's　gone　mad。　He　was　pushed　too　far；　Carlos。　It　happens；　I've　seen　it　happen。　A　man　on　a　double　entry；　his　source…controls　taken　out；　he　has　no　one　to　confirm　his　initial　assignment。　Both　sides　want　his　corpse。　He's　stretched　to　the　point　where　he　may　not　even　know　who　he　is　any　longer。'
　'He　knows。'　The　whisper　was　drawn　out　in　quiet　fury。　'By　signing　the　name　Delta；　he's　telling　me　he　knows。　We　both　know　where　it　es　from；　where　he　es　from！'
　The　beggar　paused。　'If　that's　true；　then　he's　still　dangerous　to　you。　He's　right。　Washington　won't　touch　him。　It　may　not　want　to　acknowledge　him；　but　it　will　call　off　its　hangmen。　It　may　even　be　forced　to　grant　him　a　privilege　or　two　in　return　for　his　silence。'
　'The　papers　he　spoke　of？'　asked　the　assassin。　'Yes。　In　the　old　days　…　in　Berlin；　Prague；　Vienna　…　they　were　called　〃final　payments〃。　Bourne　uses　〃final　protection〃；　a　minor　variance。　They　were　papers　drawn　up　between　a　primary　source…control　and　the　infiltrator；　to　be　used　in　the　event　the　strategy　collapsed；　the　primary　killed；　no　other　avenues　open　to　the　agent。　It　was　not　something　you　would　have　studied　in　Novgorod；　the　Soviets　had　no　such　acmodations。　Soviet　defectors；　however；　insisted　upon　them。'　'They　were　incriminating；　then？'
　They　had　to　be　to　some　degree。　Generally　in　the　area　of　who　was　manipulated。　Embarrassment　is　always　to　be　avoided；　careers　are　destroyed　by　embarrassment。　But　then；　I　don't　have　to　tell　you　that。　You've　used　the　technique　brilliantly。'
　'　〃Seventy…one　streets　in　the　jungle。。。〃'　said　Carlos；　reading　from　the　paper　in　his　hand；　an　ice…like　calm　imposed　on　his　whisper。'　〃A　jungle　as　dense　as　Tarn　Quan。〃。。。　This　time　the　execution　will　take　place　as　scheduled。　Jason　Bourne　will　not　leave　this　Tarn　Quan　alive。　By　any　other　name；　Cain　will　be　dead；　and　Delta　will　die　for　what　he's　done。　Angelique！　You　have　my　word！'　The　incantation　stopped；　the　assassin's　mind　racing　to　the　practical。　'D