rl.thebourneidentity-第88部分

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ss　conspicuously。　And　Bourne　could　hardly　trust　an　avaricious　night　clerk；　he　might　easily　look　for　a　reward　from　the　Surete。　Or　anyone　else。'
　'What's　your　point？
　'I　suggest　that　Bourne　could　have　obtained　that　car　for　the　sole　purpose　of　following　someone　here　in　Paris。　No　loitering　in　public　where　he　might　be　spotted；　no　rented　cars　that　could　be　traced；　no　frantic　searches　for　elusive　taxis。　Instead；　a　simple　exchange　of　licence　plates　and　a　nondescript　black　Renault　in　the　crowded　streets。　Where　would　one　begin　to　look？'
　The　silhouette　turned。　'The　Lavier　woman；'　said　the　assassin　softly。　'And　everyone　else　he　suspects　at　Les　Classiques。　It's　the　only　place　he　has　to　start。　They'll　be　watched；　and　within　days　…　hours　perhaps　…　a　nondescript　black　Renault　will　be　seen　and　he'll　be　found。　Do　you　have　a　full　description　of　the　car？'
　'Down　to　three　dents　in　the　left　rear　bumper。'
　'Good。　Spread　the　word　to　the　old　men。　b　the　streets；　the　garaged；　the　parking　areas。　The　one　who　finds　it　will　never　have　to　look　for　work　again。'
　'Speaking　of　such　matters。。'
　An　envelope　was　slipped　between　the　taut　edge　of　the　curtain　and　the　blue　felt　of　the　frame。　'If　your　theory　proves　right；　consider　this　a　token。'
　'I　am　right；　Carlos。'
　'Why　are　you　so　convinced？'
　'Because　Cain　does　what　you　would　do；　what　I　would　have　done　…　in　the　old　days。　He　must　be　respected。'
　'He　must　be　killed；'　said　the　assassin。　There's　symmetry　in　the　timing。　In　a　few　days　it　will　be　the　twenty…fifth　of　March。　On　25　March　1968；　Jason　Bourne　was　executed　in　the　jungles　of　Tarn　Quan。　Now；　years　later　…　nearly　to　the　day　…　another　Jason　Bourne　is　hunted；　the　Americans　as　anxious　as　we　are　to　see　him　killed。　I　wonder　which　of　us　will　pull　the　trigger　this　time。'
　'Does　it　matter？'
　'I　want　him；'　whispered　the　silhouette。　'He　was　never　real　and　that's　his　crime　against　me。　Tell　the　old　men　that；　if　any　find　him；　to　get　word　to　Pare　Monceau　but　do　nothing。　Keep　him　in　sight；　but　do　nothing！　I　want　him　alive　on　the　twenty…fifth　of　March。　On　25　March　I'll　execute　him　myself；　and　deliver　his　body　to　the　Americans。'
　The　word　will　go　out　immediately。'
　'Angelus　Domini；　child　of　God。'
　'Angelus　Domini；'　said　the　beggar。
　The　old　soldier　walked　in　silence　beside　the　younger　man　down　the　moonlit　path　in　the　Bois　de　Boulogne。　Neither　spoke　for　too　much　had　already　been　said　…　admitted；　challenged；　denied　and　reaffirmed。　Fillers　had　to　reflect　and　analyse；　to　accept　or　violently　reject　what　he　had　heard。　His　life　would　be　far　more　bearable　if　he　could　strike　back　in　anger；　attack　the　lie　and　find　his　sanity　again。　But　he　could　not　do　that　with　impunity；　he　was　a　soldier　and　to　turn　away　was　not　in　him。
　There　was　too　much　truth　in　the　younger　man。　It　was　in　his　eyes；　in　his　voice；　in　his　every　gesture　that　asked　for　understanding。　The　man　without　a　name　was　not　lying。　The　ultimate　treason　was　in　Villiers's　house。　It　explained　so　many　things　he　had　not　dared　to　question　before。　An　old　man　wanted　to　weep。
　For　the　man　without　a　memory　there　was　little　to　change　or　invent；　the　chameleon　was　not　called　upon。　His　story　was　convincing　because　the　most　vital　part　was　based　in　the　truth。　He　had　to　find　Carlos；　learn　what　the　assassin　knew；　there　would　be　no　life　for　him　if　he　failed。　Beyond　this　he　would　say　nothing。　There　was　no　mention　of　Marie　St　Jacques；　or　the　lie　de　Port　Noir；　or　a　message　being　sent　by　person　or　persons　unknown；　or　a　walking　hollow　shell　that　might　or　might　not　be　someone　he　was　or　was　not　…　who　could　not　even　be　sure　that　the　fragments　of　memories　he　possessed　were　really　his　own。　None　of　this　was　spoken　of。
　Instead；　he　recounted　everything　he　knew　about　the　assassin　called　Carlos。　That　knowledge　was　so　vast　that　during　the　telling　Villiers　stared　at　him　in　astonishment；　recognizing　information　he　knew　to　be　highly　classified；　shocked　at　new　and　startling　data　that　was　in　concert　with　a　dozen　existing　theories；　but　to　his　ears　never　before　put　forth　with　such　clarity。　Because　of　his　son；　the　general　had　been　given　access　to　his　country's　most　secret　files　on　Carlos　and　nothing　in　those　records　matched　the　younger　man's　array　of　facts。
　'This　woman　you　spoke　with　in　Argenteuil；　the　one　who　telephones　my　house；　who　admitted　being　a　courier　to　you。。。'
　'Her　name　is　Lavier；'　Bourne　interrupted。
　The　general　paused。　Thank　you。。。　She　saw　through　you；　she　had　your　photograph　taken。'
　'Yes。'
　They　had　no　photograph　before？'
　'No。'
　'So　as　you　hunt　Carlos；　he　in　turn　hunts　you。　But　you　have　no　photograph；　you　only　know　two　couriers；　one　of　which　was　at　my　house。'
　'Yes。'
　'Speaking　with　my　wife。'
　'Yes。'
　The　old　man　turned　away；　the　period　of　silence　had　begun。
　They　came　to　the　end　of　the　path　where　there　was　a　miniature　lake。　It　was　bordered　with　white　gravel；　benches　spaced　every　ten　to　fifteen　feet；　circling　the　water　like　a　guard　of　honour　surrounding　a　grave　of　black　marble。　They　walked　to　the　second　bench。　Villiers　broke　his　silence。
　'I　should　like　to　sit　down；'　he　said。　'With　age　there　es　a　paucity　of　stamina。　It　often　embarrasses　me。'
　'It　shouldn't；'　said　Bourne；　sitting　down　beside　him；
　'It　shouldn't；'　agreed　the　general；　'but　it　does。'　He　paused　for　a　moment；　adding　quietly；　'Frequently　in　the　pany　of　my　wife。''
　That's　not　necessary；'　said　Jason。
　'You　mistake　me。'　The　old　man　turned　to　the　younger。　'I'm　not　referring　to　the　bed。　There　are　simply　times　when　I　find　it　necessary　to　curtail　activities　…　leave　a　dinner　party　early；　absent　myself　on　weekends　to　the　Mediterranean；　or　decline　a　few　days　on　the　slopes　in　Gstaad。'
　'I'm　not　sure　I　understand。'
　'My　wife　and　I　are　often　apart。　In　many　ways　we　live　quite　separate　lives；　taking　pleasure；　of　course；　in　each　other's　pursuits。'
　'I　still　don't　understand。'
　'Must　I　embarrass　myself　further？'　said　Villiers。　'When　an　old　man　finds　a　stunning　young　woman　anxious　to　share　his　life；　certain　things　are　understood；　others　not　so　readily。　There　is；　of　course；　financial　security　and　in　my　case　a　degree　of　public　exposure。　Creature　forts；　entry　into　the　great　houses；　easy　friendship　with　the　celebrated；　it's　all　very　understandable。　In　exchange　for　these　things；　one　brings　a　beautiful　panion　into　his　home；　shows　her　off　among　his　peers　…　a　form　of　continuing　virility；　as　it　were。　But　there　are　always　doubts。'　The　old　soldier　stopped　for　several　moments；　what　he　had　to　say　was　not　easy　for　him。　'Will　she　take　a　lover？'　he　continued　softly。　'Does　she　long　for　a　younger；　firmer　body；　one　more　in　tune　with　her　own？　If　she　does；　one　can　accept　it　…　even　be　relieved；　I　imagine　…　hoping　to　God　she　has　the　sense　to　be　discreet。　A　cuckolded　statesman　loses　his　constituency　faster　than　a　sporadic　drunk；　it　means　he's　fully　lost　his　grip。。。　There　are　other　worries。　Will　she　abuse　his　name？　Publicly　condemn　an　adversary　whom　one　is　trying　to　win　over？　These　are　the　inclinations　of　the　young；　they　are　manageable；　part　of　the　risks　in　the　exchange。。。　But　there　is　one　underlying　doubt　that　if　proved　justified　cannot　be　tolerated。　And　that　is　if　she　is　part　of　a　design。　From　the　beginning。'
　'You've　felt　it　then？'　asked　Jason　quietly。
　'Feelings　are　not　reality！'　shot　back　the　old　soldier　vehemently。　They　have　no　place　in　observing　the　field。'
　'Then　why　are　you　telling　me　this？'
　Villiers's　head　arched　back；　then　fell　forward；　his　eyes　on　the　water。　'There　could　be　a　simple　explanation　for　what　we　both　saw　tonight。　I　pray　there　is；　and　I　shall　give　her　every　opportunity　to　provide　it。'　The　old　man　paused　again。　'But　in　my　heart　I　know　there　isn't。　I　knew　it　the　moment　you　told　me　about　Les　Classiques。　I　looked　across　the　street　at　the　door　of　my　house；　and　suddenly　a　number　of　things　fell　painfully　into　place。　For　the　past　two　hours　I　have　played　the　devil's　advocate；　there　is　no　point　in　continuing。　There　was　my　son　before　there　was　this　woman。'
　'But　you　said　you　trusted　her　judgment　that　she　was　a　great　help　to　you。'
　'True。　You　see；　I　wanted　to　trust　her；　desperately　wanted　to　trust　her。　The　easiest　thing　in　the　world　is　to　convince　yourself　that　you're　right。　As　one　grows　old　it　is　easier　still
　'What　fell　into　place　for　you？'