rl.thebourneidentity-第129部分

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　'Jason　Bourne。　A　Medusan　from　Sydney；　Australia；　a　runner　of　guns；　narcotics　and　slaves　throughout　all　South…east　Asia；　a　violent　man　with　a　criminal　record；　who　was　nevertheless　highly　effective　…　if　the　price　were　high　enough。　It　was　in　Medusa's　interests　to　bury　the　circumstances　of　his　death；　he　became　an　M。I。A。　from　a　specialized　unit　Years　later；　when　Treadstone　was　being　formed　and　Webb　called　back；　it　was　Webb　himself　who　took　the　name　of　Bourne。　It　fitted　the　requirements　of　authenticity；　traceability。　He　took　the　name　of　the　man　who'd　betrayed　him；　the　man　he　had　killed　in　Tarn　Quan。'
　'Where　was　he　when　he　was　called　back　for　Treadstone？'　asked　Marie。　'What　was　he　doing？'
　Teaching　in　a　small　college　in　New　Hampshire。　Living　an　isolated　life；　some　said　destructive。　For　him。'　Crawford　picked　up　the　folder。　Those　are　the　essential　facts；　Miss　St　Jacques。　Other　areas　will　be　covered　by　Dr　Panov；　who's　made　it　clear　that　my　presence　is　not　required。　There　is；　however；　one　remaining　detail　which　must　be　thoroughly　understood。　It's　a　direct　order　from　the　White　House。'
　The　protection；'　said　Marie；　her　words　a　statement
　'Yes。　Wherever　he　goes；　regardless　of　the　identity　he　assumes；　or　the　success　of　his　cover；　he'll　be　guarded　around　the　clock。　For　as　long　as　it　takes　…　even　if　it　never　happens。'
　'Please　explain　that'
　'He's　the　only　man　alive　who's　ever　seen　Carlos。　As　Carlos。　He　knows　his　identity　but　it's　locked　away　in　his　mind；　part　of　an　unremembered　past　We　understand　from　what　he　says　that　Carlos　is　someone　known　to　many　people　…　a　visible　figure　in　a　government　somewhere；　or　in　the　media；　or　international　banking　or　society。　It　fits　a　prevalent　theory。　The　point　is　that　one　day　that　identity　may　e　into　focus　for　Webb。。。　We　realize　you've　had　several　discussions　with　Dr　Panov。　I　believe　he'll　confirm　what　I've　said。'
　Marie　turned　to　the　psychiatrist　'Is　it　true；　Mo？'
　'It's　possible；'　said　Panov。
　Crawford　left　and　Marie　poured　coffee　for　the　two　of　them。　Panov　went　to　the　couch　where　the　brigadier　had　been　sitting。
　'It's　still　warm；'　he　said　smiling。　'Crawford　was　sweating　right　down　to　his　famous　backside。　He　has　every　right　to；　they　all　do。'
　'What's　going　to　happen？'
　'Nothing。　Absolutely　nothing　until　I　tell　them　they　can　go　ahead。　And　that　may　not　be　for　months；　a　couple　of　years　for　all　I　know。　Not　until　he's　ready。'
　'For　what？'
　The　questions。　And　photographs；　volumes　of　them。　They're　piling　a　photographic　encyclopaedia　based　on　the　loose　description　he　gave　them。　Don't　get　me　wrong；　one　day　he'll　have　to　begin。　He'll　want　to；　we'll　all　want　him　to。　Carlos　has　to　be　caught；　and　it's　not　my　intention　to　blackmail　them　into　doing　nothing。　Too　many　people　have　given　too　much；　he's　given　too　much。　But　right　now；　he　es　first。　His　head　es　first。'
　〃That's　what　I　mean。　What's　going　to　happen　to　him？'
　Panov　put　down　his　coffee。　'I'm　not　sure　yet。　I've　too　much　respect　for　the　human　mind　to　deal　you　chicken　soup　psychology；　there's　too　damn　much　of　it　floating　around　in　the　wrong　hands。　I've　been　in　on　all　the　conferences　…　I　insisted　upon　that　…　and　I've　talked　to　the　other　shrinks　and　the　neurosurgeons。　It's　true　we　can　go　in　with　a　knife　and　reach　the　storm　centres；　reduce　the　anxieties；　bring　a　kind　of　peace　to　him。　Even　bring　him　back　to　what　he　was；　perhaps。　But　it's　not　the　kind　of　peace　he　wants。。。　and　there's　a　far　more　dangerous　risk。　We　might　wipe　away　too　much；　take　away　the　things　he　has　found；　will　continue　to　find。　With　care。　With　time。'
　Time？'
　'I　believe　it；　yes。　Because　the　pattern's　been　established。　There's　growth；　the　pain　of　recognition　and　the　excitement　of　discovery。　Does　that　tell　you　something？'
　Marie　looked　into　Panov's　dark；　weary　eyes；　there　was　a　light　in　them。　'All　of　us；'　she　said。
　'That's　right。　In　a　way；　he's　a　functioning　microcosm　of　us　all。　I　mean；　we're　all　trying　to　find　out　who　the　hell　we　are；　aren't　we？'
　'　Marie　went　to　the　front　window　in　the　cottage　on　the　waterfront；　with　the　rising　dunes　behind　it；　the　fenced…off　grounds　surrounding　it　And　guards。　Every　fifty　feet　a　man　with　a　gun。　She　could　see　him　several　hundred　yards　down　the　beach；　he　was　skipping　shells　over　the　water；　watching　them　bounce　across　the　waves　that　gently　lapped　into　the　shore。　The　months　had　been　good　to　him；　for　him。　His　body　was　scarred　but　whole　again；　firm　again。　The　nightmares　were　still　there；　and　moments　of　anguish　kept　ing　back　during　the　daylight　hours；　but　somehow　it　was　all　less　terrifying。　He　was　beginning　to　cope；　he　was　beginning　to　laugh　again。　Panov　had　been　right。　Things　were　happening　to　him；　images　were　being　clearer；　meaning　found　where　there　had　been　no　meaning　before。
　Something　had　happened　now。　Oh；　God；　what　was　it？　He　had　thrown　himself　into　the　water　and　was　thrashing　around；　shouting。　Then　suddenly；　he　sprang　out；　leaping　over　the　waves　onto　the　beach。　In　the　distance；　by　the　barbed　wire　fence；　a　guard　spun　around；　a　rifle　whipped　up　under　an　arm；　a　handheld　radio　from　a　belt。
　He　began　racing　across　the　wet　sand　towards　the　house；　his　body　lurching；　swaying；　his　feet　digging　furiously　into　the　soft　surface；　sending　up　sprays　of　water　and　sand　behind　him。　What　was　it？
　Marie　froze；　prepared　for　the　moment　they　knew　might　e　one　day；　prepared　for　the　sound　of　gunfire。
　He　burst　through　the　door；　chest　heaving；　gasping　for　breath。　He　stared　at　her；　his　eyes　as　clear　as　she　had　ever　seen　them。　He　spoke　softly；　so　softly　she　could　barely　hear　him。　But　she　did　hear　him。
　'My　name　is　David。。。'
　She　walked　slowly　towards　him。
　'Hello；　David；'　she　said。
　End
　



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