rl.thebourneidentity-第87部分

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　'I　believe　so。　And？'
　'Who　was　the　woman？　Do　you　know　her？'
　'I　would　hope　to　God　I　did。　She's　my　wife。'
　'Your　wife？'　Bourne's　shock　was　on　his　face。　'I　thought　you　said。。。　I　thought　you　said　she　was　an　old　woman。　That　you　wanted　her　to　listen　to　me　because　over　the　years　you'd　learned　to　respect　her　judgment　In　the　field；　you　said。　That's　what　you　said。'
　'Not　exactly。　I　said　she　was　an　old　soldier's　woman。　And　I　do；　indeed；　respect　her　judgment。　But　she's　my　second　wife　…my　very　much　younger　second　wife　…　but　every　bit　as　devoted　as　my　first；　who　died　eight　years　ago。'
　'Oh；　my　God。。。'
　'Don't　let　the　disparity　of　our　ages　concern　you。　She　is　proud　and　happy　to　be　the　second　Madame　Villiers。　She's　been　a　great　help　to　me　in　the　Assembly。'
　'I'm　sorry；'　whispered　Bourne。　'Christ；　I'm　sorry。'
　'What　about？　You　mistook　her　for　someone　else？　People　frequently　do；　she's　a　stunning　girl。　I'm　quite　proud　of　her。'　Villiers　opened　the　door　as　Jason　stood　up　on　the　pavement。　'You　wait　here；'　said　the　general；　'I'll　go　inside　and　check；　if　everything's　normal；　I'll　open　the　door　and　signal　you。　If　it　isn't；　I'll　e　back　to　the　car　and　we'll　drive　away。'
　Bourne　remained　motionless　in　front　of　Villiers；　preventing　the　old　man　from　stepping　forward。　'General；　I've　got　to　ask　you　something。　I'm　not　sure　how；　but　I　have　to。　I　told　you　I　found　your　number　at　a　relay　drop　used　by　Carlos。　I　didn't　tell　you　where；　only　that　it　was　confirmed　by　someone　who　admitted　passing　messages　to　and　from　contacts　of　Carlos。'　Bourne　took　a　breath；　his　eyes　briefly　on　the　door　across　the　street。　'Now　I've　got　to　ask　you　a　question；　and　please　think　carefully　before　you　answer。　Does　your　wife　buy　clothes　at　a　shop　called　Les　Classiques？'
　'In　Saint…Honoree？'
　'Yes。'
　'I　happen　to　know　she　does　not'
　'Are　you　sure？'
　'Very　much　so。　Not　only　have　I　never　seen　a　bill　from　there；　but　she's　told　me　how　much　she　dislikes　its　designs。　My　wife　is　very　knowledgeable　in　matters　of　fashion。'
　'Oh；　Jesus。'
　'What？'
　'General；　I　can't　go　inside　that　house。　No　matter　what　you　find；　I　can't　go　in　there。'
　'Why　not？　What　are　you　saying？'
　The　man　on　the　steps　who　was　talking　to　your　wife。　He's　from　the　drop；　it's　Les　Classiques。　He's　a　contact　to　Carlos。'
　The　blood　drained　from　Andrel　Villiers's　face。　He　turned　and　stared　across　the　tree…lined　street　at　his　house；　at　the　glistening　black　door　and　the　brass　fittings　that　reflected　the　light　of　the　carriage　lamps。
　The　pockmarked　beggar　scratched　the　stubble　of　his　beard；　took　off　his　threadbare　beret　and　trudged　through　the　bronze　doors　of　the　small　church　in　Neuilly…sur…Seine。
　He　walked　down　the　far　right　aisle　under　the　disapproving　glances　of　two　priests。　Both　clerics　were　upset；　this　was　a　wealthy　parish　and；　biblical　passion　notwithstanding；　wealth　did　have　its　privileges。　One　of　them　was　to　maintain　a　certain　status　of　worshipper　…　for　the　benefit　of　other　worshippers　…　and　this　elderly；　dishevelled　derelict　hardly　fitted　the　mould。
　The　beggar　made　a　feeble　attempt　to　genuflect；　sat　down　in　a　pew　in　the　second　row；　crossed　himself　and　knelt　forward；　his　head　in　prayer；　his　right　hand　pushing　back　the　left　sleeve　of　his　overcoat。　On　his　wrist　was　a　watch　somewhat　in　contradistinction　to　the　rest　of　his　apparel。　It　was　an　expensive　digital；　the　numbers　large　and　the　readout　bright　It　was　a　possession　he　would　never　be　foolish　enough　to　part　with；　for　it　was　a　gift　from　Carlos。　He　had　once　been　twenty…five　minutes　late　for　confession；　upsetting　his　benefactor；　and　had　no　other　excuse　but　the　lack　of　an　accurate　timepiece。　During　their　next　appointment；　Carlos　had　pushed　it　beneath　the　translucent　scrim　separating　sinner　from　holy　man。
　It　was　the　hour　and　the　minute。　The　beggar　rose　and　walked　towards　the　second　booth　on　the　right；　lie　parted　the　curtain　and　went　inside。
　'Angelus　Domini。'
　'Angelus　Domini；　child　of　God。〃　The　whisper　from　behind　the　black　cloth　was　harsh。　'Are　your　days　fortable？'
　'They　are　made　fortable。。。'
　'Very　well。'　interrupted　the　silhouette。　'What　did　you　bring　me？　My　patience　draws　to　an　end。　I　pay　thousands　…　hundreds　of　thousands　…　for　inpetence　and　failure。　What　happened　in　Montrouge？　Who　was　responsible　for　the　lies　that　came　from　the　embassy　in　the　Montaigne？　Who　accepted　them？'
　The　Auberge　du　Coin　was　a　trap；　yet　not　one　for　killing。　It　is　difficult　to　know　exactly　what　it　was。　If　the　attache　named　Corbelier　repeated　lies；　our　people　are　convinced　he　was　not　aware　of　it。　He　was　duped　by　the　woman。'
　'He　was　duped　by　Cain　I　Bourne　traces　each　source；　feeding　each　one　false　information；　thus　exposing　each　and　confirming　the　exposure。　But　why？　To　whom？　We　know　what　and　who　he　is　now；　but　he　relays　nothing　to　Washington。　He　refuses　to　surface。〃
　'To　suggest　an　answer；'　said　the　beggar；　'I　would　have　to　go　back　many　years；　but　it's　possible　he　wants　no　interference　from　his　superiors。　American　intelligence　has　its　share　of　vacillating　autocrats；　rarely　municating　fully　with　one　another。　In　the　days　of　the　cold　war；　money　was　made　selling　information　three　and　four　times　over　to　the　same　stations。　Perhaps　Cain　waits　until　he　thinks　there　is　only　one　course　of　action　to　be　taken；　no　different　strategies　to　be　argued　by　those　above。'
　'Age　hasn't　dulled　your　sense　of　manoeuvre；　old　friend。　It's　why　I　called　upon　you。'
　'Or　perhaps；'　continued　the　beggar；　'he　really　has　turned。　It's　happened。'
　'I　don't　think　so；　but　it　doesn't　matter。　Washington　thinks　he　has。　The　Monk　is　dead；　they're　all　dead　at　Treadstone。　Cain　is　established　as　the　killer。'
　'The　Monk？'　said　the　beggar。　'A　name　from　the　past；　he　was　active　in　Berlin；　in　Vienna。　We　knew　him　well；　from　a　distance　and　healthier　for　it。　There's　your　answer；　Carlos。　It　was　always　the　Monk's　style　to　reduce　the　numbers　to　as　few　as　possible。　He　operated　on　the　theory　that　his　circles　were　infiltrated；　promised。　He　must　have　ordered　Cain　to　report　only　to　him。　It　would　explain　Washington's　confusion；　the　six　months　of　silence。'
　'Would　it　explain　ours？　For　six　months　there　was　no　word；　no　activity。'
　'A　score　of　possibilities。　Illness；　exhaustion；　brought　back　for　new　training。　Even　to　spread　confusion　to　the　enemy。　The　Monk　had　a　cathedral　full　of　tricks。'
　'Yet　before　he　died　he　said　to　an　associate　that　he　did　not　know　what　had　happened。　That　he　wasn't　even　certain　the　man　was　Cain。'
　'Who　was　the　associate？'
　'A　man　named　Gillette。　He　was　our　man；　but　Abbott　couldn't　have　known　it。'
　'Another　possible　explanation。　The　Monk　had　an　instinct　about　such　men。　EC　was　said　in　Vienna　that　David　Abbott　would　distrust　Christ　on　the　mountain　and　look　for　a　bakery。'
　'It's　possible。　Your　words　are　forting；　you　look　for　things　others　do　not　look　for。'
　'I've　had　far　more　experience；　I　was　once　a　man　of　stature。　Unfortunately　I　pissed　away　the　money。'
　'You　still　do。'
　'A　profligate；　what　can　I　tell　you？'
　'Obviously　something　else。'
　'You're　perceptive；　Carlos。　We　should　have　known　each　other　in　the　old　days。'
　'Now　you're　presumptuous。'
　'Always。　You　know　that　I　know　you　can　swat　my　life　away　at　any　moment　you　choose；　so　I　must　be　of　value。　And　not　merely　with　words　that　e　from　experience。'
　'What　have　you　to　tell　me？'
　'This　may　not　be　of　great　value；　but　it　is　something。　I　put　on　respectable　clothes　and　spent　the　day　at　the　Auberge　du　Coin。　There　was　a　man；　an　obese　man　…　questioned　and　dismissed　by　the　Surete　…　whose　eyes　were　too　unsteady；　and　he　perspired　too　much。　I　had　a　chat　with　him；　showing　him　an　official　NATO　identification　I　had　made　in　the　early　'fifties。　It　seems　he　negotiated　the　rental　of　his　car　at　three　o'clock　yesterday　morning。　To　a　blond　man　in　the　pany　of　a　woman。　The　description　fits　the　photograph　from　Argenteuil。'
　'A　rental？'
　'Supposedly。　The　car　was　to　be　returned　within　a　day　or　so　by　the　woman。'
　'It　will　never　happen。'
　'Of　course　not；　but　it　raises　a　question；　doesn't　it？　Why　would　Cain　go　to　the　trouble　of　obtaining　a　car　in　such　a　fashion？'
　'To　get　as　far　away　as　possible　as　rapidly　as　possible。'
　'In　which　case　the　information　has　no　value；'　said　the　beggar。　'But　then　there　are　so　many　ways　to　travel　faster　less