rl.thebourneidentity-第119部分
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in a sling! I want to know what's been going on。 Cancel everything on your calendar; and I mean everything。 You're spending the rest of the day and all night if you have to digging this damn thing out of the ground。 There's a man walking around who doesn't know who he is; but with more classified information in his head than ten sterile puters!'
It was past midnight when the exhausted director of Consular Operations made the connection; he had nearly missed it The First Secretary at the embassy in Paris; under threat of instant dismissal; had given him Alexander Conklin's name。 But Conklin was nowhere to be found。 He had returned to Washington from Brussels on a military jet in the morning; but had signed out of Langley at 1。22 in the afternoon; leaving no telephone number … not even an emergency number …where he could be reached。 And from what the director had learned about Conklin; that omission was extraordinary。 The C。I。A。 man was what was monly referred to as a shark…killer; he directed individual strategies throughout the world where defection and treason were suspected。 There were too many men in too many stations who might need his approval or disapproval at any given moment。 It was not logical for him to sever that cord for twelve hours。 What was also unusual was the fact that his telephone logs had been scratched; there were none for the past two days and the Central Intelligence Agency had very specific regulations concerning those logs。 Traceable accountability was the new order of the new regime。 However; the director of Cons…Op had learned one fact: Conklin had been attached to Medusa。
Using the threat of State Department retaliation; the director had requested a closed circuit readout of Conklin's logs for the past five weeks。 Reluctantly; the agency beamed them over and the director sat in front of a screen for two hours; instructing the operators at Langley to keep the tape repeating until he told them to stop。
Eighty…six logicals had been called; the word Treadstone mentioned; none had responded。 Then the director went back to the possible; there was an Army man he had not considered because of his well…known antipathy to the C。I。A。 But Conklin had telephoned him twice during the space of twelve minutes a week ago。 The director called his sources at the Pentagon and found what he was looking for: Medusa。
Brigadier…General Irwin Arthur Crawford; current ranking officer in charge of Army Intelligence data banks; former mander Saigon; attached to covert operations … still classified。 Medusa。
The director picked up the conference room phone; it bypassed the switchboard。 He dialled the Brigadier's home in Fairfax and; on the fourth ring; Crawford answered。 The State Department man identified himself and asked if the General cared to return a call to State and be put through for verification。
'Why would I want to do that?'
'It concerns a matter that es under the heading of Treadstone。'
'I'll call you back。'
He did so in eighteen seconds; and within the next two minutes the director had delivered the outlines of the State's information。
〃There's nothing there we don't know about;' said the Brigadier。 'There's been a control mittee on this from the beginning; the Oval office were given a preliminary summation within a week of the inauguration。 Our objective warranted the procedures; you may be assured of that。'
'I'm willing to be convinced;' replied the man from State。 'Is this related; to that business in New York a week ago? Elliot Stevens; that Major Webb and David Abbott? Where the circumstances were; shall we say; considerably altered?'
'You were aware of the alterations?'
'I'm the head of Cons…Op; General。。。
'Yes; you would be。。。 Stevens wasn't married; the rest understood。 Robbery and homicide were preferable。 The answer is affirmative。'
'I see。。。 Your man Bourne flew into New York yesterday morning。'
'I know。 We know … that is Conklin and myself。 We're the inheritors。'
'You've been in touch with Conklin?'
'I last spoke to him around one o'clock in the afternoon。 Unlogged。 He insisted on it; frankly。'
'He's checked out of Langley。 There's no number where he can be reached。'
'I know that; too。 Don't try。。。 With all due respect; tell the Secretary to back away。 You back away。 Don't get involved。'
'We are involved; General。 We're flying over the Canadian woman by; diplomatic。'
'For God's sake; why?'
'We were forced to; she forced us to。'
〃Then keep her in isolation。 You've got to! She's our resolve; we'll be responsible。'
'I think you'd better explain。'
'We're dealing with an insane man; A multiple schizophrenic。 He's a walking firing squad; he could kill a dozen innocent people with one outburst; one explosion in his own head; and he wouldn't know why。'
'How do you know?'
'Because he's already killed。 That massacre in New York last week … it was him。 He killed Stevens; the Monk; Webb …above all; Webb … and two others you never heard of。。。 We understand now。 He wasn't responsible; but that can't change anything。 Leave him to us。 To Conklin。'
'Last week? Bourne?'
'Yes。 We have proof。 Prints。 They were confirmed by the bureau。 It was him。'
'Your man would leave prints?'
'He did。'
'He couldn't have;' said the man from State。
'What?'
Tell me; where did you e up with the conclusion of insanity? This multiple schizophrenia; or whatever the hell you call it。'
'Conklin spoke to a psychiatrist … one of the best … an authority on stress…breakdowns。 Alex described the history and it was brutal。 The doctor confirmed our suspicions; Conklin's suspicions。'
'He confirmed them?' asked the director; stunned。
'Yes。'
'Based on what Conklin said? On what he thought he knew?'
'There's no other explanation。 Leave him to us。 He's our problem。'
'You're a damn fool; General。 You should have stuck to your data banks; or maybe more primitive artillery。〃
'I resent that。'
'Resent it all you like。 If you've done what I think you've done you may not have anything left but resentment。'
'Explain that;' said Crawford harshly。
'You're not dealing with a madman; or with insanity; or with any goddamned multiple schizophrenia; which I doubt you know any more about than I do。 You're dealing with an amnesiac; a man who's been trying for six months to find out who he is and where he es from。 And from a telephone tape we've got over here; we gather he tried to tell you … tried to tell Conklin; but Conklin wouldn't listen。 None of you would listen。。。 You sent a man out in deep cover for three years … three years … to pull in Carlos; and when the strategy broke; you assumed the worst。'
'Amnesia?。。。 No; you're wrong! I spoke to Conklin; he did listen。 You don't understand; we both knew。。。'
'I don't want to hear his name!' broke in the director of Consular Operations。
The general paused。 'We both knew。。。 Bourne。。。 years ago。 I think you know from where; you read the name to me。 He was the strangest man I ever met; as close to being paranoid as anyone in that outfit。 He undertook missions …risks … no sane man would accept。 Yet he never asked for anything。 He was filled with so much hate。'
'And that made him a candidate for a psychiatric ward ten years later?'
'Seven years;' corrected Crawford。 'I tried to prevent his selection in Treadstone。 But the Monk said he was the best。 I couldn't argue with that; not in terms of expertise。 But I made my objections known。 He was psychologically a borderline case; we knew why。 I was proved right。 I stand on that'
'You're not going to stand on anything; General。 You're going to fall right on your iron ass。 Because the Monk was right。 Your man is the best; with or without a memory。 He's bringing in Carlos; delivering him right to your goddamn front door。 That is; he's bringing him in unless you kill Bourne first。' Crawford's low; sharp intake of breath was precisely what the director was afraid he might hear。 He continued。 'You can't reach Conklin; can you?' he asked。
'No。'
'He's gone under; hasn't he? Made his own arrangements; payments funnelled through third and fourth parties unknown to each other; the source untraceable; all connections to the agency and Treadstone obl