rl.thebourneidentity-第123部分

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　'Blow　smoke；　spook。'
　'What？'
　'Get　a　written　priority　requisition　on　my　desk　before　three　o'clock　this　afternoon；　and　it　may　…　just　may　…　get　processed　tomorrow。　Then　we'll　put　everything　back。'
　'Put　everything　back？'
　That's　right　You　tell　us　to　take　it　out　we　take　it　out　You　tell　us　to　put　it　back；　we　put　it　back。　We　have　methods　and　procedures　to　follow　just　like　you。'
　'That　equipment　…　everything　…　was　on　loan！　It　wasn't；　isn't　an　agency　operation。'
　'Then　why　are　you　calling　me？　What　have　you　got　to　do　with　it？'
　'I　don't　have　time　to　explain。　lust　get　those　people　out　of　there。　Call　New　York　and　get　them　out！　Those　are　Four…Zero　orders。'
　'Make　them　a　hundred　and　four　and　you　can　still　blow　smoke。。。　Look；　Conklin；　we　both　know　you　can　get　what　you　want　if　I　get　what　I　need。　Do　it　right。　Make　it　legitimate。'
　'I　can't　involve　the　agency！'
　'You're　not　going　to　involve　me；　either。'　〃Those　people　have　got　to　get　out！　I'm　telling　you。。。'　Conklin　stopped；　his　eyes　on　the　brownstone　below　and　across　the　street；　his　thoughts　suddenly　paralysed。　A　tall　man　in　a　black　overcoat　had　walked　up　the　concrete　steps；　he　turned　and　stood　motionless　in　front　of　the　open　door。　It　was　Crawford。　What　was　he　doing？　What　was　he　doing　here？　He　had　lost　his　senses；　he　was　out　of　his　mind！　He　was　a　stationary　target；　he　could　break　the　trap！
　'Conklin？　Conklin。。。？'　The　voice　floated　up　out　of　the　phone　as　the　C。I。A。　man　hung　up。
　Conklin　turned　to　a　stocky　man　six　feet　away　at　an　adjacent　window。　In　the　man's　large　hand　was　a　rifle；　a　telescopic　sight　secured　to　the　barrel。　Alex　did　not　know　the　man's　name　and　he　did　not　want　to　know　it；　he　had　paid　enough　not　to　be　burdened。
　'Do　you　see　that　man　down　there　in　the　black　overcoat　standing　by　the　door？'　he　asked。
　'I　see　him。　He's　not　the　one　we're　looking　for。　He's　too　old。'
　'Get　over　there　and　tell　him　there's　a　cripple　across　the　street　who　wants　to　see　him；'
　Bourne　walked　out　of　the　second…hand　clothing　shop　on　Third　Avenue；　pausing　in　front　of　the　filthy　glass　window　to　appraise　what　he　saw。　It　would　do；　everything　was　co…ordinated。　The　black　woollen　hat　covered　his　head　to　the　middle　of　his　forehead；　the　wrinkled；　patched　army　field　jacket　was　several　sizes　too　large；　the　red　checked　flannel　shirt；　the　wide　bulging　khaki　trousers　and　the　heavy　work　shoes　with　thick　rubber　soles　and　huge　rounded　toes　were　all　of　a　piece。　He　only　had　to　find　a　walk　to　match　the　clothing。　The　walk　of　a　strong；　slow…witted　man　whose　body　had　begun　to　show　the　effects　of　a　lifetime　of　physical　strain；　whose　mind　accepted　the　daily　inevitability　of　hard　labour；　reward　found　in　a　pack　of　beer　at　the　end　of　the　drudgery。
　He　would　find　that　walk；　he　had　used　it　before。　Somewhere。　But　before　he　searched　his　imagination；　there　was　a　phone　call　to　make；　he　saw　a　telephone　box　up　the　block；　a　mangled　directory　hanging　from　a　chain　beneath　the　metal　shelf。　He　started　walking；　his　legs　automatically　more　rigid；　his　feet　pressing　weight　on　the　pavement；　his　arms　heavy　in　their　sockets；　the　fingers　of　his　hands　slightly　spaced；　curved　from　years　of　abuse。　A　set；　dull　expression　on　his　face　would　e　later。　Not　now。
　'Belkins　Moving　and　Storage；〃　announced　an　operator　somewhere　in　the　Bronx。
　'My　name　is　Johnson；'　said　Jason　impatiently　but　kindly。　'I'm　afraid　I　have　a　problem；　and　I　hope　you　might　be　able　to　help　me。'
　'I'll　try；　sir。　What　is　it？'
　'I　was　on　my　way　over　to　a　friend's　house　on　Seventy…first　Street　…　a　friend　who　died　recently；　I'm　sorry　to　say　…　to　pick　up　something　I'd　lent　him。　When　I　got　there　your　van　was　in　front　of　the　house。　It's　most　embarrassing；　but　I　think　your　men　may　remove　my　property。　Is　there　someone　I　might　speak　to？'
　That　would　be　a　dispatcher；　sir。'
　'Might　I　have　his　name；　please？'
　'What？'
　'His　name。〃
　'Sure。　Murray。　Murray　Schumach。　I'll　connect　you。'
　Two　clicks　preceded　a　long　hum　over　the　line。
　'Schumach。'
　'Mr。　Schumach？'
　'That's　right。'
　Bourne　repeated　his　embarrassing　tale。　'Of　course；　I　can　easily　obtain　a　letter　from　my　attorney；　but　the　item　in　question　has　little　or　no　value。。。'
　'What　is　it？'
　'A　fishing　rod。　Not　an　expensive　one；　but　with　an　old　fashioned　casting　reel；　the　kind　that　doesn't　get　tangled　every　five　minutes。'
　'Yeah；　I　know　what　you　mean。　I　fish　out　of　Sheepshead　Bay。　They　don't　make　them　reels　like　they　used　to。　I　think　it's　the　alloys。'
　'I　think　you're　right；　Mr。　Schumach。　I　know　exactly　in　which　closet　he　kept　it'
　'Oh；　what　the　hell；　a　fishing　rod。　Go　up　and　see　a　guy　named　Dugan；　he's　the　supervisor　on　the　job。　Tell　him　I　said　you　could　have　it；　but　you'll　have　to　sign　for　it　If　he　gives　you　static；　tell　him　to　go　outside　and　call　me；　the　phone's　disconnected　down　there。'
　'A　Mr。　Dugan。　Thank　you　very　much；　Mr。　Schumach。'
　'Christ；　that　place　is　a　ball…breaker　today。'
　'I　beg　your　pardon？'
　'Nothing。　Some　whacko　called　telling　us　to　get　out　of　there。　And　the　job's　firm；　cash　guaranteed。　Can　you　believe　it？'
　Carlos。　Jason　could　believe　it。
　'It's　difficult；　Mr。　Schumach。'
　'Good　fishing；'　said　the　Belkins　man。
　Bourne　walked　west　on　Seventieth　Street　to　Lexington　Avenue。　Three　blocks　south　he　found　what　he　was　looking　for：　an　army…navy　surplus　store。　He　went　inside。
　Eight　minutes　later　he　came　out　carrying　four　brown　padded　blankets　and　six　wide　canvas　straps　with　metal　buckles。　In　the　pockets　of　his　field　jacket　were　two　ordinary　road　flares。　They　had　been　there　on　the　counter　looking　like　something　they　were　not；　triggering　images　beyond　memory；　back　to　a　moment　when　there　had　been　meaning　and　purpose。　And　anger。　He　slung　the　equipment　over　his　left　shoulder　and　trudged　up　towards　Seventy…first。　The　chameleon　was　heading　into　the　jungle；　a　jungle　as　dense　as　the　unremembered　Tarn　Quan。
　It　was　10：48　when　he　reached　the　corner　of　the　tree…lined　block　that　held　the　secrets　of　Treadstone　Seventy…one。　He　was　going　back　to　the　beginning　…　his　beginning　…　and　the　fear　that　he　felt　was　not　the　fear　of　physical　harm。　He　was　prepared　for　that；　every　sinew　taut；　every　muscle　ready；　his　knees　and　feet；　hands　and　elbows；　weapons；　his　eyes　trip…wire　alarms　that　would　send　instant　signals　to　those　weapons。　His　fear　was　far　more　profound。　He　was　about　to　enter　the　place　of　his　birth　and　he　was　terrified　at　what　he　might　find　there　…　remember　there。
　Stop　it！　The　trap　is　everything。　Cain　is　for　Charlie　and　Delta　is　for　Cain！
　The　traffic　had　diminished　considerably；　the　rush　hour　over；　the　street　in　the　doldrums　of　mid…morning　quiescence。　Pedestrians　strolled　now；　they　did　not　hasten；　cars　swung　leisurely　around　the　removal　van；　angry　horns　replaced　by　brief　grimaces　of　irritation。　Jason　crossed　with　the　light　to　the　Treadstone　side；　the　tall；　narrow　structure　of　brown；　jagged　stone　and　thick　blue　glass　was　fifty　yards　down　the　block。　Blankets　and　straps　in　place；　an　already　weary；　slow…witted　labourer　walked　behind　a　well…dressed　couple　towards　it。
　He　reached　the　concrete　steps　as　two　muscular　men；　one　black　one　white；　were　carrying　a　covered　harp　out　of　the　door。　Bourne　stopped　and　called　out；　his　words　halting；　his　dialect　coarse。
　'Hey！　Where's　Doogan？'
　'Where　the　hell　d'you　think？'　replied　the　white；　angling　his　head　around。　'Sittin'　in　a　fuckin'　chair。'
　'He　ain't　gonna　lift　nothin'　heavier　than　that　clipboard；　man；'　added　the　black。　'He's　an　executive；　ain't　that　right；　Joey？'
　'He's　a　crumb　ball；　is　what　he　is。　Watcha　got　there？'
　'Schumach　sent　me；'　said　Jason。　'He　wanted　another　man　down　here　and　figured　you　needed　this　stuff。　Told　me　to　bring　it。'
　'Murray　the　menace！'　laughed　the　black。　'You　new；　man？　I　ain't　seen　you　before。　You　e　from　shape…up？〃
　'Yeah。'
　'Take　that　shit　up　to　the　executive；'　grunted　Joey；　starting　down　the　steps。　'He　can　allocate　it；　how　about　that；　Pete？　Allocate；　you　like　it？'
　'I　love　it；　Joey。　You　a　regular　dictionary。'
　Bourne　walked　up　the　reddish　brown　steps　past　the　descending　movers　to　the　door。　He　stepped　inside　and　saw　the　winding　staircase　on　the　right；　and　the　long　narrow　corridor　in　front　of　him　that　led　to　another　door　thirty　feet　away。　He　had　climbed　those　steps　a　thousand　times；　walked　up　and　down　th