rl.thebourneidentity-第1部分

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　FRIDAY；　11　JULY　1975
　FRONT　PAGE
　DIPLOMATS　SAID　TO　BE　LINKED　WITH　FUGITIVE　TERRORIST　KNOWN　AS　CARLOS
　Paris；　10　July　…　France　expelled　three　high…ranking　Cuban　diplomats　today　in　connection　with　the　world…wide　search　for　a　man　called　Carlos；　who　is　believed　to　be　an　important　link　in　an　international　terrorist　network。
　The　suspect；　whose　real　name　is　thought　to　be　Ilyich　Ramirez　Sanchez；　is　being　sought　in　the　killing　of　two　French　counter…intelligence　agents　and　a　Lebanese　informer　at　a　Latin　Quarter　apartment　on　27　June。
　The　three　killings　have　led　the　police　here　and　in　Britain　to　what　they　feel　is　the　trail　of　a　major　network　of　international　terrorist　agents。　In　the　search　for　Carlos　after　the　killings；　French　and　British　policemen　discovered　large　arms　caches　that　linked　Carlos　to　major　terrorism　in　West　Germany　and　led　them　to　suspect　a　connection　between　many　terrorist　acts　throughout　Europe。
　REPORTED　SEEN　IN　LONDON
　Since　then　Carlos　has　been　reported　seen　in　London　and　in　Beirut；　Lebanon。
　ASSOCIATED　PRESS
　MONDAY；　7　JULY　1975
　SYNDICATED　DISPATCH　A　DRAGNET　FOR　ASSASSIN
　London　（AP）　…　Guns　and　girls；　grenades　and　good　suits；　a　well…stuffed　wallet；　airline　tickets　to　romantic　places　and　nice　apartments　in　half　a　dozen　world　capitals。　This　is　the　portrait　emerging　of　a　jet…age　assassin　being　sought　in　an　international　manhunt。
　The　hunt　began　when　the　man　answered　his　doorbell　In　Paris　and　shot　dead　two　French　intelligence　agents　and　a　Lebanese　informer。　It　has　put　four　women　into　custody　in　two　capitals；　accused　of　offences　in　his　wake。　The　assassin　himself　has　vanished　…　perhaps　in　Lebanon；　the　French　police　believe。
　In　the　past　few　days　in　London；　those　acquainted　with　him　have　described　him　to　reporters　as　good　looking；　courteous；　well　educated；　wealthy　and　fashionably　dressed。
　But　his　associates　are　men　and　women　who　have　been　called　the　most　dangerous　in　the　world。　He　is　said　to　be　linked　with　the　Japanese　Red　Army；　the　Organization　for　the　Armed　Arab　Struggle；　the　West　German　Baader…Meinhof　gang；　the　Quebec　Liberation　Front；　the　Turkish　Popular　Liberation　Front；　separatists　in　France　and　Spain　and　the　Provisional　wing　of　the　Irish　Republican　Army。
　When　the　assassin　travelled　…　to　Paris；　to　the　Hague；　to　West　Berlin　…　bombs　went　off；　guns　cracked　and　there　were　kidnappings。
　A　breakthrough　occurred　in　Paris　when　a　Lebanese　terrorist　broke　under　questioning　and　led　two　intelligence　men　to　the　assassin's　door　on　27　June。　He　shot　all　three　to　death　and　escaped。　Police　found　his　guns　and　notebooks　containing　'death　lists'　of　prominent　people。
　Yesterday　the　London　Observer　said　police　were　hunting　for　the　son　of　a　Venezuelan　munist　lawyer　for　questioning　in　the　triple　slaying。　Scotland　Yard　said；　'We　are　not　denying　the　report'；　but　added　there　was　no　charge　against　him　and　he　was　wanted　only　for　questioning。
　The　Observer　identified　the　hunted　man　as　Ilyich　Ramirez　Sanchez；　of　Caracas。　It　said　his　name　was　on　one　of　the　four　passports　found　by　French　police　when　they　raided　the　Paris　flat　where　the　slayings　took　place。
　The　newspaper　said　Ilyich　was　named　after　Vladimir　Ilyich　Lenin；　founder　of　the　Soviet　state；　and　was　educated　in　Moscow　and　speaks　fluent　Russian。
　In　Caracas；　a　spokesman　for　the　Venezuelan　munist　Party　said　Ilyich　is　the　son　of　a　seventy…year…old　Marxist　lawyer　living　450　miles　west　of　Caracas；　but　'neither　father　nor　son　belong　to　our　party'。
　He　told　reporters　he　did　not　know　where　Ilyich　was　now。
　Book　1
　The　trawler　plunged　into　the　angry　swells　of　the　dark；　furious　sea　like　an　awkward　animal　trying　desperately　to　break　out　of　an　impenetrable　swamp。　The　waves　rose　to　Goliathan　heights；　crashing　into　the　hull　with　the　power　of　raw　tonnage；　the　white　spray　caught　in　the　night　sky　cascaded　down　over　the　deck　under　the　force　of　the　night　wind。　Everywhere　there　were　the　sounds　of　inanimate　pain；　wood　straining　against　wood；　ropes　twisting；　stretched　to　the　breaking　point。　The　animal　was　dying。
　Two　abrupt　explosions　pierced　the　sounds　of　the　sea　and　the　wind　and　the　vessel's　pain。　They　came　from　the　dimly　lit　cabin　that　rose　and　fell　with　its　host　body。　A　man　lunged　out　of　the　door　grasping　the　railing　with　one　hand；　holding　his　stomach　with　the　other。
　A　second　man　followed；　the　pursuit　cautious；　his　intent　violent。　He　stood　bracing　himself　in　the　cabin　door；　he　raised　a　gun　and　fired　again。　And　again。
　The　man　at　the　railing　whipped　both　his　hands　up　to　his　head；　arching　backwards　under　the　impact　of　the　fourth　bullet。　The　trawler's　bow　dipped　suddenly　into　the　valley　of　two　giant　waves　lifting　the　wounded　man　off　his　feet；　he　twisted　to　his　left　unable　to　take　his　hands　away　from　his　head。　The　boat　surged　upwards；　bow　and　midships　more　out　of　the　water　than　in　it；　sweeping　the　figure　in　the　doorway　back　into　the　cabin；　a　fifth　gunshot　fired　wildly。　The　wounded　man　screamed；　his　hands　now　lashing　out　at　anything　he　could　grasp；　his　eyes　blinded　by　blood　and　the　unceasing　spray　of　the　sea。　There　was　nothing　he　could　grab；　so　he　grabbed　at　nothing；　his　legs　buckled　as　his　body　lurched　forward。　The　boat　rolled　violently　leeward　and　the　man　whose　skull　was　ripped　open　plunged　over　the　side　into　the　madness　of　the　darkness　below。
　He　felt　rushing　cold　water　envelop　him；　swallowing　him；　sucking　him　under；　and　twisting　him　in　circles；　then　propelling　him　up　to　the　surface　…　only　to　gasp　a　single　breath　of　air。　A　gasp　and　he　was　under　again。
　And　there　was　heat；　a　strange　moist　heat　at　his　temple　that　seared　through　the　freezing　water　that　kept　swallowing　him；　a　fire　where　no　fire　should　burn。　There　was　ice；　too；　an　icelike　throbbing　in　his　stomach　and　his　legs　and　his　chest；　oddly　warmed　by　the　cold　sea　around　him。　He　felt　these　things；　acknowledging　his　own　panic　as　he　felt　them。　He　could　see　his　own　body　turning　and　twisting；　arms　and　feet　working　frantically　against　the　pressures　of　the　whirlpool。　He　could　feel；　think；　see；　perceive　panic　and　struggle　…　yet　strangely　there　was　peace。　It　was　the　calm　of　the　observer；　the　uninvolved　observer；　separated　from　the　events；　knowing　of　them　but　not　essentially　involved。
　Then　another　form　of　panic　spread　through　him；　surging　through　the　heat　and　the　ice　and　the　uninvolved　recognition。'　He　could　not　submit　to　peace。　Not　yet！　It　would　happen　any　second　now；　he　was　not　sure　what　it　was；　but　it　would　happen。　He　had　to　be　there。
　He　kicked　furiously；　clawing　at　the　heavy　walls　of　water　above；　his　chest　bursting。　He　broke　surface；　thrashing　to　stay　on　top　of　the　black　swells。　Climb　up！　Climb　up！
　A　monstrous　rolling　wave　acmodated；　he　was　on　the　crest；　surrounded　by　pockets　of　foam　and　darkness。　Nothing。　Turn！　Turn！
　It　happened。　The　explosion　was　massive；　he　could　hear　it　through　the　clashing　waters　and　the　wind；　the　sight　and　the　sound　somehow　his　doorway　to　peace。　The　sky　lit　up　like　a　fiery　diadem　and　within　that　crown　of　fire；　objects　of　all　shapes　and　sizes　were　blown　through　the　light　into　the　outer　shadows。
　He　had　won。　Whatever　it　was；　he　had　won。
　Suddenly；　he　was　plummeting　downwards　again；　into　an　abyss　again。　He　could　feel　the　rushing　waters　crash　over　his　shoulders；　cooling　the　white　hot　heat　at　his　temple；　warming　the　ice　cold　incisions　in　his　stomach　and　his　legs　and。。。
　His　chest。　His　chest　was　in　agony！　He　had　been　struck　…　the　blow　crushing；　the　impact　sudden　and　intolerable。　It　happened　again！　Let　me　alone。　Give　me　peace。
　And　again！
　And　he　clawed　again；　and　kicked　again。。。　until　he　felt　it。　A　thick；　oily　object　that　moved　only　with　the　movements　of　the　sea。　He　could　not　tell　what　it　was；　but　it　was　there　and　he　could　feel　it；　hold　it。
　Hold　it！　It　will　ride　you　to　peace。　To　the　silence　of　darkness。。。　and　peace。
　The　rays　of　the　early　sun　broke　through　the　mists　of　the　eastern　sky；　lending　glitter　to　the　calm　waters　of　the　Mediterranean。　The　skipper　of　the　small　fishing　boat；　his　eyes　bloodshot；　his　hands　marked　with　rope　burns；　sat　on　the　stern　gunwale　smoking　a　Gauloise；　grateful　for　the　sight　of　the　smooth　sea。　He　glanced　over　at　the　open　wheelhouse；　his　younger　brother　was　easing　the　throttle　forward　to　make　better　time；　the　single　other　crewman　checking　a　net　several　feet　away。　They　were　laughing　at　something　and　that　was　good；　there　had　been　nothing　to　laugh　about　last　night。　Where　had　the　storm　e　from？　The　weather　reports　from　Marseilles　had　indicated　nothing；　if　they　had　he　would　have　stayed　in　the　shelter　of　the　coastline。　He　wanted　to　reach　the　fishing　grounds　eighty　kilometres　south　of　La　Seyne…sur…mer　by　daybreak；　but　not　at　the　expense　of　costly　repairs；　and　what　repairs　were　not　costly　these　days？
　Or　at　the　expense　of　his　life；　and　there　were　moments　last　night　when　that　was　a　distinct　consideration。
　'Tu　es　fatigue；　monfrere？　his　brother　shouted；　grinning　at　him。　'Vas　te　coucher！　Je　suis　tres　capable！'
　'Yes；　you　are；'　he　answered；　throwing　his　cigarette　over　the　side　and　sliding　down　to　the　deck　on　top　of　a　net。　'A　little　sleep　won't　hurt。！
　It　was　good　to　have　a　brother　at　the　wheel。　A　member　of　the　family　should　always　be　the　pilot　on　a　family　boat；　the　eyes　were　sharper。　Even　a　brother　who　spoke　with　the　smooth　tongue　of　a　literate　man　as　opp