rl.thebourneultimatum-第32部分
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Not only with the instant offering of the Patrick name； but； more important； by using the word 〃learned〃 which conveyed that of a scholar…or a judge。 And； finally； by stating that he would not say anything without the Crown governor's instructions。 By the use of subtlety he had insinuated himself into the confidentiality of great men。 It was a breathtaking experience； and he must call his uncle and share their bined triumph。
Fontaine sat on the edge of the bed； the telephone in its cradle yet still in his hand； staring at his woman out on the balcony。 She sat in her wheelchair； her profile to him； the glass of wine on the small table beside the chair； her head bent down in pain。 。。。 Pain！ The whole terrible world was filled with pain！ And he had done his share inflicting it； he understood that and expected no quarter； but not for his woman。 That was never part of the contract。 His life； yes； of course； but not hers； not while she had breath in her frail body。 Non； monseigneur。 Je refuse！ Ce nest pas le contrat！
So the Jackal's army of very old men now extended to America…it was to be expected。 And an old Irish American in a foolish white cap； a learned man who for one reason or another had embraced the cult of the terrorist； was to be their executioner。 A man who had studied him and pretended to speak no French； who had the sign of the Jackal in his eyes。 Where you and the learned Mr。 Patrick are concerned； we follow the instructions of the Crown governor。 The Crown governor who took his instructions from a master of death in Paris。
A decade ago； after five productive years with the monseigneur； he had been given a telephone number in Argenteuil； six miles north of Paris； that he was never to use except in the most extreme emergency。 He had used it only once before； but he would use it now。 He studied the international codes； picked up the phone and dialed。 After the better part of two minutes； a voice answered。
〃Le Coeur du Soldat；〃 said a flat male voice； martial music in the background。
〃I must reach a blackbird；〃 said Fontaine in French。 〃My identity is Paris Five。〃
〃If such a request is possible； where can such a bird reach you？〃
〃In the Caribbean。〃 Fontaine gave the area code； the telephone number and the extension to Villa Eleven。 He hung up the phone and sat despondent on the edge of the bed。 In his soul he knew that this might be his and his woman's last few hours on earth。 If so； he and his woman could face their God and speak the truth。 He had killed； no question about that； but he had never harmed or taken the life of a person who had not mitted greater crimes against others…with a few minor exceptions that might be called innocent bystanders caught in the heat of fire or in an explosion。 All life was pain； did not the Scriptures tell us that？ 。。。 On the other hand； what kind of God allowed such brutalities？ Merde！ Do not think about such things！ They are beyond your understanding。
The telephone rang and Fontaine grabbed it； pulling it to his ear。 〃This is Paris Five；〃 he said。
〃Child of God； what can be so extreme that you would use a number you have called only once before in our relationship？〃
〃Your generosity has been absolute； monseigneur； but I feel we must redefine our contract。〃
〃In what way？〃
〃My life is yours to do with as you will； as mercifully as you will； but it does not include my woman。〃
〃What？〃
〃A man is here； a learned man from the city of Boston who studies me with curious eyes； eyes that tell me he has other purposes in mind。〃
〃That arrogant fool flew down to Montserrat himself？ He knows nothing！〃
〃Obviously he does； and I beg you； I shall do as you order me to do； but let us go back to Paris 。。。 I beg of you。 Let her die in peace。 I will ask no more of you。〃
〃You ask of me？ I've given you my word！〃
〃Then why is this learned man from America here following me with a blank face and inquisitive eyes； monseigneur？〃
The deep； hollow roll of a throated cough filled the silence； and then the Jackal spoke。 〃The great professor of law has transgressed； inserted himself where he should not be。 He's a dead man。〃
Edith Gates； wife of the celebrated attorney and professor of law； silently opened the door of the private study in their elegant town house on Louisburg Square。 Her husband sat motion less in his heavy leather armchair staring at the crackling fire； a fire he insisted upon despite the warm Boston night outside and the central air conditioning inside。
As she watched him； Mrs。 Gates was once again struck by the painful realization that there were 。。。 things 。。。 about her husband she would never understand。 Gaps in his life she could never fill； leaps in his thinking she could not prehend。 She only knew that there were times when he felt a terrible pain and would not share it； when by sharing it he would lessen the burden on himself。 Thirty…three years ago a passably attractive young woman of average wealth had married an extremely tall； gangling； brilliant but impoverished law school graduate whose anxiety and eagerness to please had turned off the major firms in those days of the cool； restrained late fifties。 The veneer of sophistication and the pursuit of security were valued over a smoldering； wandering first…rate mind of unsure direction； especially a mind inside a head of unkempt hair and a body dressed in clothes that were cheap imitations of J。 Press and Brooks Brothers； which appeared even worse because his bank account precluded any additional expenses for alterations and few discount stores carried his size。
The new Mrs。 Gates； however； had several ideas that would improve the prospects of their life together。 Among them was to lay aside an immediate law career…better none than with an inferior firm； or； God forbid； a private practice with the sort of clients he was bound to attract； namely； those who could not afford established attorneys。 Better to use his natural endowments； which were his impressive height and a quick； sponge…like intelligence that； bined with his drive； disposed of heavy academic workloads with ease。 Using her modest trust fund； Edith shaped the externals of her man； buying the correct clothes and hiring a theatrical voice coach who instructed his student in the ways of dramatic delivery and effective stage presence。 The gangling graduate soon took on a Lincolnesque quality with subtle flashes of John Brown。 Too； he was on his way to being a legal expert； remaining in the milieu of the university； piling one degree upon another while teaching at the graduate level until the sheer depth of his expertise in specific areas was incontestable。 And he found himself sought after by the prominent firms that had rejected him earlier。
The strategy took nearly ten years before concrete results appeared； and while the early returns were not earthshaking； still they represented progress。 Law reviews； first minor and then major； began publishing his semi…controversial articles as much for their style as for their content； for the young associate professor had a seductive way with the written word； at once riveting and arcane； by turns flowery and incisive。 But it was his opinions； latently emerging； that made segments of the financial munity take notice。 The mood of the nation was changing； the crust of the benevolent Great Society beginning to crack； the lesions initiated with code words coined by the Nixon boys； such as the Silent Majority and Bums…on…Welfare and the pejorative them。 A meanness was rising out of the ground and spreading； and it was more than the perceptive； decent Ford could stop； weakened as he was by the wounds of Watergate； and too much as well for the brilliant Carter； too consumed by minutiae to exercise passionate leadership。 The phrase 〃。。。 what you can do for your country〃 was out of fashion； replaced by 〃what I can do for me。〃
Dr。 Randolph Gates found a relentless wave on which to ride； a mellifluous voice with which to speak； and a growing acerbic vocabulary to match the dawning new era。 In his now refined scholarly opinion…legally； economically and socially…bigger was better； and more far preferable to less。 The laws that supported petition in the marketplace he attacked as stifling to t
