rl.thebourneidentity-第27部分

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　He　paused　to　get　his　breath　and　his　balance；　then　crossed　to　the　staircase；　aware　that　the　pain　in　his　left　shoulder　was　suddenly　more　acute；　the　paralysis　spreading　more　rapidly。　Messages　from　brain　to　limb　were　less　clear。　He　hoped　to　God　he　could　drive。
　He　reached　the　fifth　step　and　abruptly　stopped；　listening　as　he　had　listened　barely　a　minute　ago　for　sounds　of　concealment　For　a　scratch　of　cloth　or　a　quiet　intake　of　breath。　There　was　nothing；　the　wounded　man　may　have　been　tactically　deficient；　but　he　had　told　the　truth。　Jason　hurried　down　the　staircase　He　would　drive　out　of　Zurich　…　somehow　…　and　find　a　doctor　…somewhere。
　He　spotted　the　car　easily。　It　was　different　from　the　other　shabby　automobiles　on　the　street。　Outsized；　well…kept；　and　he　could　see　the　bulge　of　an　antenna　base　riveted　into　the　boot　He　walked　to　the　driver's　side　and　ran　his　hand　around　the　panel　and　left　front　mudguard；　there　was　no　alarm　device。
　He　unlocked　the　door；　then　opened　it；　holding　his　breath　in　case　he　was　wrong　about　the　alarm；　he　was　not　He　climbed　in　behind　the　wheel；　adjusting　his　position　until　he　was　as　fortable　as　he　could　be；　grateful　that　the　car　had　automatic　gears。　The　large　weapon　in　his　belt　inhibited　him。　He　placed　it　on　the　seat　beside　him；　then　reached　for　the　ignition；　assuming　the　key　that　had　unlocked　the　door　was　the　proper　one。
　It　was　not。　He　tried　the　one　next　to　it；　but　it；　too；　would　not　fit。　For　the　boot；　he　assumed。　It　was　the　third　key。
　Or　was　it？　He　kept　stabbing　at　the　opening。　The　key　would　not　enter；　he　tried　the　second　again；　it　was　blocked。　Then　the　first。　None　of　the　keys　would　fit　into　the　ignition！　Or　were　the　messages　from　brain　to　limb　to　fingers　too　garbled；　his　coordination　too　inadequate？　Goddamn　it！　Try　again！
　A　powerful　light　came　from　his　left；　burning　his　eyes；　blinding　him。　He　grabbed　for　the　gun；　but　a　second　beam　shot　out　from　the　right；　the　door　was　yanked　open　and　a　heavy　torch　crashed　down　on　his　hand；　another　hand　taking　the　weapon　from　the　seat。
　'Get　out　I'　The　order　came　from　his　left；　the　barrel　of　a　gun　pressed　into　his　neck。
　He　climbed　out；　a　thousand　coruscating　circles　of　white　in　his　eyes。　As　vision　slowly　came　back　to　him；　the　first　thing　he　saw　was　the　outline　of　two　circles。　Gold　circles；　the　spectacles　of　the　killer　who　had　hunted　him　throughout　the　night　The　man　spoke。
　They　say　in　the　laws　of　physics　that　every　action　has　an　equal　and　opposite　reaction。　The　behaviour　of　certain　men　under　certain　conditions　is　similarly　predictable。　For　a　man　like　you　one　sets　up　a　gauntlet；　each　batant　told　what　to　say　if　he　falls。　If　he　does　not　fall；　you　are　taken。　If　he　does；　you　are　misled；　lulled　into　a　false　sense　of　progress。'
　'It's　a　high　degree　of　risk；'　said　Jason。　'For　those　in　the　gauntlet。'
　'They're　paid　well。　And　there's　something　else　…　no　guarantee；　of　course；　but　it's　there。　The　enigmatic　Bourne　does　not　kill　Indiscriminately。　Not　out　of　passion；　naturally；　but　for　a　far　more　practical　reason。　Men　remember　when　they've　been　spared；　he　infiltrates　the　armies　of　others。　Refined　guerrilla　tactics　applied　to　a　sophisticated　battleground。　I　mend　you。'
　'You're　a　horse's　ass。'　It　was　all　Jason　could　think　to　say。　'But　both　your　men　are　alive；　if　that's　what　you　want　to　know。'
　Another　figure　came　into　view；　led　from　the　shadows　of　the　building　by　a　short；　stocky　man。　It　was　the　woman；　it　was　Marie　St　Jacques。
　'That's　him；'　she　said　softly；　her　look　unwavering。
　'Oh；　my　God。。。'　Bourne　shook　his　head　in　disbelief。　'How　was　it　done；　Doctor？'　he　asked　her；　raising　his　voice。　'Was　someone　watching　my　room　at　the　Carillon？　Was　the　lift　timed；　the　others　shut　down？　You're　very　convincing。　And　I　thought　you　were　going　to　crash　into　a　police　car。'
　'As　it　turned　out；'　she　replied；　'it　wasn't　necessary。　These　are　the　police。'
　Jason　looked　at　the　killer　in　front　of　him；　the　man　was　adjusting　his　gold　spectacles。　'I　mend　you；'　he　said。
　'A　minor　talent。！　answered　the　killer。　'The　conditions　were　right。　You　provided　them。'
　'What　happens　now？　The　man　inside　said　I　was　to　be　taken；　not　killed。'
　'You　forget。　He　was　told　what　to　say。'　The　Swiss　paused。　'So　this　is　what　you　look　like。　Many　of　us　have　wondered　during　the　past　two　or　three　years。　How　much　speculation　there's　been！　How　many　contradictions。。。　He's　tall；　you　know；　no；　he's　of　medium　height。　He's　blond；　no；　he　has　dark　black　hair。　Very　light　blue　eyes；　of　course；　no；　quite　clearly；　they　are　brown。　His　features　are　sharp；　no；　they're　really　quite　ordinary；　can't　pick　him　out　in　a　crowd。　But　nothing　was　ordinary。　It　was　all　extraordinary。〃
　Your　features　have　been　softened；　the　character　submerged。　Change　your　hair；　you　change　your　face。。。　Certain　types　of　contact　lenses　are　designed　to　alter　the　colour　of　the　eyes。。。　Wear　glasses；　you're　a　different　man。　Visas；　passports。。。　switched　at　will。
　The　design　was　there。　Everything　fitted。　Not　all　the　answers；　but　more　of　the　truth　than　he　wanted　to　hear。
　'I'd　like　to　get　this　over　with；'　said　Marie　St　Jacques　stepping　forward。　I'll　sign　whatever　I　have　to　sign　…　at　your　office；　I　imagine。　But　then　I　really　must　get　back　to　the　hotel。　I　don't　have　to　tell　you　what　I've　been　through　tonight。'
　The　Swiss　glanced　at　her　through　his　gold…rimmed　glasses。　The　stocky　man　who　had　led　her　out　of　the　shadows　took　her　arm。　She　stared　at　both　men；　then　down　at　the　hand　that　held　her。
　Then　at　Bourne。　Her　breathing　stopped；　a　terrible　realization　being　clear。　Her　eyes　grew　wide。
　'Let　her　go；'　said　Jason。　'She's　on　her　way　back　to　Canada。　You'll　never　see　her　again。'
　'Be　practical。　Bourne。　She's　seen　us。　We　two　are　professionals；　there　are　rules。'　The　man　flicked　his　gun　up　under　Jason's　chin；　the　barrel　pressed　once　more　into　Bourne's　throat　He　ran　his　left　hand　about　his　victim's　clothes；　felt　the　weapon　in　Jason's　pocket　and　took　it　out。　'I　thought　as　much；'　he　said；　and　turned　to　the　stocky　man。　'Take　her　in　the　other　car。　The　Limmat。'
　Bourne　froze。　Marie　St　Jacques　was　to　be　killed；　her　body　thrown　into　the　Limmat　River。
　'Wait　a　minute！'　Jason　stepped　forward；　the　gun　was　jammed　into　his　neck；　forcing　him　back　into　the　bonnet　of　the　car。　'You're　being　stupid！　She　works　for　the　Canadian　government。　They'll　be　all　over　Zurich。'
　'Why　should　that　concern　you？　You　won't　be　here。！
　'Because　it's　a　waste！'　cried　Bourne。　'We're　professionals；　remember？'
　'You　bore　me。'　The　killer　turned　to　the　stocky　man。　'Machen　Sie　mal　los！　Der　Guisan　Quai。'
　'Scream　your　goddamn　head　oft！'　shouted　Jason。　'Start　yelling！　Don't　stop！'
　She　tried；　the　scream　cut　short　by　a　paralysing　blow　to　her　throat。　She　fell　to　the　pavement　as　her　would…be　executioner　dragged　her　towards　a　small　nondescript　black　car。
　'That　was　stupid；'　said　the　killer；　peering　through　his　gold…rimmed　spectacles　into　Bourne's　face。　'You　only　hasten　the　inevitable。　On　the　other　hand；　it　will　be　simpler　now。　I　can　free　a　man　to　tend　to　our　wounded。　Everything's　so　military；　isn't　it？　It　really　is　a　battlefield。'　He　turned　to　the　man　with　the　flashlight。　'Signal　Johann　to　go　inside。　We'll　e　back　for　them。'
　The　torch　was　switched　on　and　off　twice。　A　fourth　man；　who　had　opened　the　door　of　the　small　car　for　the　condemned　woman；　nodded。　Marie　St　Jacques　was　thrown　into　the　rear　seat；　the　door　slammed　shut。　The　man　named　Johann　started　for　the　concrete　steps；　nodding　now　at　the　executioner。
　Jason　felt　sick　as　the　engine　of　the　small　car　was　gunned　and　it　bolted　away　from　the　kerb　into　the　Steppdeckstrasse；　the　twisted　chrome　bumper　disappearing　into　the　shadows　of　the　street。　Inside　that　car　was　a　woman　he　had　never　seen　in　his　life。。。　before　three　hours　ago。　And　he　had　killed　her。　'You　don't　lack　for　soldiers；'　he　said。
　'If　there　were　a　hundred　men　I　could　trust；　I'd　pay　them　willingly。　As　they　say；　your　reputation　precedes　you。〃
　'Suppose　I　paid　you。　You　were　at　the　bank；　you　know　I've　got　funds。'
　'Probably　millions；　but　I　wouldn't　touch　a　franc　note。〃
　'Why？　Are　you　afraid？'
　'Most　assuredly。　Wealth　is　relative　to　the　amount　of　time　one　has　to　enjoy　it。　I　wouldn't　have　five　minutes。'　The　killer　turned　to　his　subordinate。　'Put　him　inside。　Strip　him。　I　want　photograph