rl.thebourneultimatum-第33部分

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preferable　to　less。　The　laws　that　supported　petition　in　the　marketplace　he　attacked　as　stifling　to　the　larger　agenda　of　industrial　growth　from　which　would　flow　all　manner　of　benefits　for　everyone…well；　practically　everyone。　It　was；　after　all；　a　Darwinian　world　and；　like　it　or　not；　the　fittest　would　always　survive。　The　drums　went　bang　and　the　cymbals　clanged　and　the　financial　manipulators　found　a　champion；　a　legal　scholar　who　lent　respectability　to　their　righteous　dreams　of　merger　and　consolidation；　buy　out；　take　over　and　sell　off；　all　for　the　good　of　the　many；　of　course。
　Randolph　Gates　was　summoned；　and　he　ran　into　their　arms　with　alacrity；　stunning　one　courtroom　after　another　with　his　elocutionary　gymnastics。　He　had　made　it；　but　Edith　Gates　was　not　sure　what　it　all　meant。　She　had　envisioned　a　fortable　living；　naturally；　but　not　millions；　not　the　private　jets　flying　all　over　the　world；　from　Palm　Springs　to　the　South　of　France。　Nor　was　she　fortable　when　her　husband's　articles　and　lectures　were　used　to　support　causes　that　struck　her　as　unrelated　or　patently　unfair；　he　waved　her　arguments　aside；　stating　that　the　cases　in　point　were　legitimate　intellectual　parallels。　Above　everything；　she　had　not　shared　a　bed　or　a　bedroom　with　her　husband　in　over　six　years。
　She　walked　into　the　study；　abruptly　stopping　as　he　gasped；　swerving　his　head　around；　his　eyes　glazed　and　filled　with　alarm。
　〃I'm　sorry；　I　didn't　mean　to　startle　you。〃
　〃You　always　knock。　Why　didn't　you　knock？　You　know　how　it　is　when　I'm　concentrating。〃
　〃I　said　I'm　sorry。　Something's　on　my　mind　and　I　wasn't　thinking。〃
　〃That's　a　contradiction。〃
　〃Thinking　about　knocking；　I　mean。〃
　〃What's　on　your　mind；〃　asked　the　celebrated　attorney　as　if　he　doubted　his　wife　had　one。
　〃Please　don't　be　clever　with　me。〃
　〃What　is　it；　Edith？〃
　〃Where　were　you　last　night？〃
　Gates　arched　his　brows　in　mock　surprise。　〃My　God；　are　you　suspicious？　I　told　you　where　I　was。　At　the　Ritz。　In　conference　with　someone　I　knew　years　ago；　someone　I　did　not　care　to　have　at　my　house。　If；　at　your　age；　you　want　confirmation；　call　the　Ritz。〃
　Edith　Gates　was　silent　for　a　moment；　she　simply　looked　at　her　husband。　〃My　dear；〃　she　said；　〃I　don't　give　a　damn　if　you　had　an　assignation　with　the　most　voluptuous　whore　in　the　bat　Zone。　Somebody　would　probably　have　to　give　her　a　few　drinks　to　restore　her　confidence。〃
　〃Not　bad；　bitch。〃
　〃In　that　department　you're　not　exactly　a　stud；　bastard。〃
　〃Is　there　a　point　to　this　colloquy？〃
　〃I　think　so。　About　an　hour　ago；　just　before　you　came　home　from　your　office；　a　man　was　at　the　door。　Denise　was　doing　the　silver；　so　I　answered　it。　I　must　say　he　looked　impressive；　his　clothes　were　terribly　expensive　and　his　car　was　a　black　Porsche…〃
　〃And？〃　broke　in　Gates；　lurching　forward　in　the　chair；　his　eyes　suddenly　wide；　rigid。
　〃He　said　to　tell　you　that　le　grand　professeur　owed　him　twenty　thousand　dollars　and　'he'　wasn't　where　he　was　supposed　to　be　last　night；　which　I　assumed　was　the　Ritz。〃
　〃It　wasn't。　Something　came　up。　。。。　Oh；　Christ；　he　doesn't　understand。　What　did　you　say？〃
　〃I　didn't　like　his　language　or　his　attitude。　I　told　him　I　hadn't　the　vaguest　idea　where　you　were。　He　knew　I　was　lying；　but　there　wasn't　anything　he　could　do。〃
　〃Good。　Lying's　something　he　knows　about。〃
　〃I　can't　imagine　that　twenty　thousand　is　such　a　problem　for　you…〃
　〃It's　not　the　money；　it's　the　method　of　payment。〃
　〃For　what？〃
　〃Nothing。〃
　〃I　believe　that's　what　you　call　a　contradiction；　Randy。〃
　〃Shut　up！〃
　The　telephone　rang。　Gates　lunged　up　from　the　chair　and　stared　at　it。　He　made　no　move　to　go　to　the　desk；　instead；　he　spoke　in　a　guttural　voice　to　his　wife。　〃Whoever　it　is；　you　tell　him　I'm　not　here。　。。。　I'm　away；　out　of　town…you　don't　know　when　I'll　be　back。〃
　Edith　walked　over　to　the　phone。　〃It's　your　very　private　line；〃　she　said　as　she　picked　it　up　on　the　third　ring。　〃The　Gates　residence；〃　began　Edith；　a　ploy　she　had　used　for　years；　her　friends　knew　who　it　was；　others　did　not　matter　to　her　any　longer。　〃Yes。　。。。　Yes？　I'm　sorry；　he's　away　and　we　don't　know　when　he'll　return。〃　Gates's　wife　looked　briefly　at　the　phone；　then　hung　up。　She　turned　to　her　husband。　〃That　was　the　operator　in　Paris。　。。。　It's　strange。　Someone　was　calling　you；　but　when　I　said　you　weren't　here；　she　didn't　even　ask　where　you　could　be　reached。　She　simply　got　off　the　line…very　abruptly。〃
　〃Oh；　my　God！〃　cried　Gates；　visibly　shaken。　〃Something　happened　。。。　something's　gone　wrong；　someone　lied！〃　With　those　enigmatic　words　the　attorney　whipped　around；　and　raced　across　the　room；　fumbling　in　his　trousers　pocket。　He　reached　a　section　of　the　floor…to…ceiling　bookshelves　where　the　center　of　the　chest…high　shelf　had　been　converted　into　a　safe…like　cupboard；　a　carved　wooden　door　superimposed　on　the　brown　steel。　In　panic；　as　an　afterthought　stunned　him　further；　he　spun　around　and　screamed　at　his　wife。　〃Get　out　of　here！　Get　out；　get　out；　get　out！〃
　Edith　Gates　walked　slowly　to　the　study　door；　where　she　turned　to　her　husband　and　spoke　quietly。　〃It　all　goes　back　to　Paris；　doesn't　it；　Randy？　Seven　years　ago　in　Paris。　That's　where　something　happened；　isn't　it？　You　came　back　a　frightened　man；　a　man　with　a　pain　you　won't　share。〃
　〃Get　out　of　here！〃　shrieked　the　vaunted　professor　of　law；　his　eyes　wild。
　Edith　went　out　the　door；　closing　it　behind　her　but　not　releasing　the　knob；　her　hand　twisted　so　the　latch　would　not　close。　Moments　later　she　opened　it　barely　a　few　inches　and　watched　her　husband。
　The　shock　was　beyond　anything　she　could　imagine。　The　man　she　had　lived　with　for　thirty…three　years；　the　legal　giant　who　neither　smoked　nor　drank　a　drop　of　alcohol；　was　plunging　a　hypodermic　needle　into　his　forearm。
　
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　Darkness　had　descended　on　Manassas；　the　countryside　alive　with　nocturnal　undercurrents；　as　Bourne　crept　through　the　woods　bordering　the　〃farm〃　of　General　Norman　Swayne。　Startled　birds　fluttered　out　of　their　black　recesses；　crows　awoke　in　the　trees　and　cawed　their　alarms；　then；　as　if　calmed　by　a　foraging　co…conspirator；　kept　silent。
　He　reached　it；　wondering；　if　indeed　it　would　be　there。　A　fence…high；　with　thick　crisscrossing　links　embedded　in　green　plastic；　a　coiled…barbed…wire　addition　above　slanting　outward。　Entry　prohibited。　Beijing。　The　Jing　Shan　Sanctuary。　There　had　been　things　to　conceal　within　that　Oriental　wildlife　preserve；　so　it　was　protected　by　an　all　but　impassable　government　barrier。　But　why　would　a　desk…bound　general　on　military　pay　erect　such　a　barricade　around　a　〃farm〃　in　Manassas；　Virginia；　an　obstruction　costing　thousands　of　dollars？　It　was　not　designed　to　fence　in　livestock；　it　was；　instead；　built　to　keep　out　human　life。
　As　with　the　sanctuary　in　China；　there　would　be　no　electric　alarms　threaded　through　the　links；　for　the　animals　and　the　birds　of　the　forest　would　set　them　off　repeatedly。　Nor　would　there　be　the　unseen　beams　of　trip　lights　for　the　same　reason；　instead；　they　would　be　on　the　flat　ground　nearer　the　house；　and　waist…high；　if　they　existed。　Bourne　pulled　the　small　wire　cutters　out　of　his　rear　pocket　and　started　with　the　links　at　earth　level。
　With　each　scissoring　cut；　he　again　understood　the　obvious；　the　inevitable；　confirmed　by　his　heavy　breathing　and　the　sweat　that　had　formed　on　his　hairline。　No　matter　how　hard　he　tried…not　fanatically　but　at　least　assiduously…to　keep　himself　in　reasonably　good　shape；　he　was　now　fifty　and　his　body　knew　it。　Again；　it　was　something　to　think　about；　not　dwell　upon；　and　with　every　inch　of　progress　not　think　about　at　all。　There　were　Marie　and　the　children；　his　family；　there　was　nothing　he　could　not　do　as　long　as　he　willed　it。　David　Webb　was　gone　from　his　psyche；　only　the　predator　Jason　Bourne　remained。
　He　was　through！　The　parallel　vertical　links　were　cut；　the　ground　wires　as　well。　He　gripped　the　fence　and　pulled　the　opening　toward　him；　making　each　half　foot　of　space　an　ordeal。　He　crawled　inside　this　strangely　fortified　acreage　and　stood　up；　listening；　his　eyes　darting　in　every　direction；　scanning　the　darkness…which　was　not　plete　darkness。　He　saw…filtered　through　the　thick　branches　of　the　tall　overlapping　pines　bordering　the　tamed　grounds…flickerings　of　light　ing　from　the　large　house。　Slowly；　he　made　his　way　toward　what　he