rl.thebourneultimatum-第34部分
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tamed grounds…flickerings of light ing from the large house。 Slowly； he made his way toward what he knew was the circular drive。 He reached the outer border of the asphalt and lay prone beneath a spreading pine； gathering his thoughts and his breath as he studied the scene in front of him。 Suddenly there was a flash of light on his far right； deep inside the grounds at the end of a straight graveled road that branched off from the circular drive。
A door had been opened； it belonged to what appeared to be a small house or a large cabin and it remained open。 Two men and a woman came out and were talking 。。。 no； they were not just talking； they were arguing heatedly。 Bourne ripped the short powerful binoculars out of their Velcro recess and put them up to his eyes。 Quickly he focused on the trio； whose voices grew in volume； the words indistinguishable but the anger apparent。 As the blurred image sharpened； he studied the three people； knowing instantly that the medium…sized； medium…built； ramrod…straight protesting man on the left was the Pentagon's General Swayne； and the large…breasted woman with streaked dark hair his wife； but what struck him…and fascinated him…was the hulking overweight figure nearest the open door。 He knew him！ Jason could not remember from where or when； which was certainly not unusual； but his visceral reaction to the sight of the man was not usual。 It was one of instant loathing and he did not know why； since no connection with anything in the past came to him。 Only feelings of disgust and revulsion。 Where were the images； the brief flashes of time or circumstance that so often illuminated his inner screen？ They did not e； he only knew that the man he focused on in the binoculars was his enemy。
Then that huge man did an extraordinary thing。 He reached for Swayne's wife； throwing his large left arm protectively around her shoulders； his right hand accusingly jabbing the space between him and the general。 Whatever he said…or yelled…caused Swayne to react with what seemed to be stoic resolve mixed with feigned indifference。 He turned around； and in military fashion strode back across the lawn toward a rear entrance to the house。 Bourne lost him in the darkness and swung back to the couple in the light of the door。 The large obese man released the general's wife and spoke to her。 She nodded； brushed her lips against his； and ran after her husband。 The obvious consort walked back into the small house and slammed the door shut； removing the light。
Jason reattached the binoculars to his trousers and tried to understand what he had observed。 It had been like watching a silent movie minus the subtitles； the gestures far more real and without exaggerated theatricality。 That there was in the confines of this fenced acreage a ménage а trois was obvious； but this could hardly explain the fence。 There was another reason； a reason he had to learn。
Further； instinct told him that whatever it was； was linked to the huge overweight man who had walked angrily back into the small house。 He had to reach that house； he had to reach that man who had been a part of his forgotten past。 He slowly got to his feet； and ducking from one pine to the next； he made his way to the end of the circular drive； and then continued down the tree…lined border of the narrow graveled road。
He stopped； lurching to the ground at a sudden sound that was no part of the murmuring woods。 Somewhere wheels were spinning； crushing stone and displacing it； he rolled over and over into the dark recesses of the low…hanging； wide…spreading branches of a pine tree； swinging his body around to locate the disturbance。
Within seconds he saw something racing out of the shadows of the circular drive； rushing over the gravel of the extended road。 It was a small odd…shaped vehicle； half three…wheeled motorbike； half miniature golf cart； the tires large and deeply treaded； capable of both high speed and balance。 It was also； in its way； ominous； for； in addition to a high flexible antenna； thick curved Plexiglas shields shot up from all sides； bulletproof windows that protected the driver from gunfire while alerting by radio anyone inside the residences of an assault。 General Norman Swayne's 〃farm〃 took on an even stranger ambience。 。。。 Then； abruptly； it was macabre。
A second three…wheeled cart swung out from the shadows behind the cabin…and it was a cabin with split logs on the exterior…and came to a stop only feet from the first vehicle on the graveled road。 Both drivers' heads swung militarily toward the small house as if they were robots in a public gallery； and then the words shot out from an unseen speaker。
〃Secure the gates；〃 said the amplified voice； a voice in mand。 〃Release the dogs and resume your rounds。〃
As if choreographed； the vehicles swung in unison； each in the opposite direction； the drivers gunning their engines as one； the strange…looking carts racing forward into the shadows。 At the mention of dogs Bourne had automatically reached into his back pocket and removed the CO2 gun； he then crawled laterally； rapidly； through the underbrush to within feet of the extended fence。 If the dogs were in a pack； he would have no choice but to scramble up the links and spring over the coiled barbed wire to the other side。 His dual…chambered dart pistol could eliminate two animals； not more； there would be no time to reload。 He crouched； waiting； ready to leap up on the fence； the sightlines beneath the lower branches relatively clear。
Suddenly a black Doberman raced by on the graveled road； no hesitation in his pace； no scent picked up； the animal's only objective apparently to reach a given place。 Then another dog appeared； this a long…haired shepherd。 It slowed down； awkwardly yet instinctively； as if programmed to halt at a specific area； it stopped； an obscure moving silhouette up the road。 Standing motionless； Bourne understood。 These were trained male attack dogs； each with its own territory； which was constantly urinated upon； forever its own turf。 It was a behavioral discipline favored by Oriental peasants and small landowners who knew too well the price of feeding the animals who guarded their minuscule fiefdoms of survival。 Train a few； as few as possible； to protect their separated areas from thieves； and if alarms were raised the others would converge。 Oriental。 Vietnam。 。。。 Medusa。 It was ing back to him！ Vague； obscure outlines…images。 A young； powerful man in uniform； driving a Jeep； stepping out； and…through the mists of Jason's inner screen…yelling at what was left of an assault team that had returned from interdicting an ordnance route paralleling the Ho Chi Minh Trail。 That same man； older； larger； had been in his binoculars only moments ago！ And years ago that same man had promised supplies。 Ammunition； mortars； grenades； radios。 He had brought nothing！ Only plaints from mand Saigon that 〃you fucking illegals fed us crap！〃 But they hadn't。 Saigon had acted too late； reacted too late； and twenty…six men had been killed or captured for nothing。
As if it were an hour ago； a minute ago； Bourne remembered。 He had yanked his 。45 out of his holster and； without warning； jabbed the barrel into the approaching non's forehead。
〃One more word and you're dead； Sergeant。〃 The man had been a sergeant！ 〃You bring us our requisitions by O…five…hundred tomorrow morning or I'll get to Saigon and personally blow you into the wall of whatever whorehouse you're frequenting。 Do I make myself clear or do you care to save me a trip to publicity city？ Frankly； in light of our losses； I'd rather waste you now。〃
〃You'll get what you need。〃
〃Très bien！〃 had yelled the oldest French member of Medusa； who years later would save his life in a wildlife sanctuary in Beijing。 〃Tu es formidable； mon fils！〃 How right he was。 And how dead he was。 D'Anjou； a man legends were written about。 Jason's thoughts were abruptly shattered。 The long…haired attack dog was suddenly circling in the road； its snarls growing louder； its nostrils picking up the human scent。 Within seconds； as the animal found its directional bearings； a frenzy developed。 The dog lunged through the foliage； its teeth bared； the snarls now the throated growls of a kill。 Bou
