rl.thebourneidentity-第105部分

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　whose　afflictions　were　not　explained　in　twenty　years　of　training；　but　were　understandable　if　one　thought　about　the　pains　and　the　losses；　the　unending　waves　of　violence。。。　all　ending　in　futility。　No　one　knew　anything　really。　Nothing　made　sense。　A　Carlos　was　trapped；　killed　today；　and　another　would　take　his　place。　Why　did　we　do　it。。。　David？
　David。　I　say　your　name　finally。　We　were　friends　once。　David。。。　Delta。　I　knew　your　wife　and　your　children。　We　drank　together　and　had　a　few　dinners　together　in　far…off　posts　in　Asia。　You　were　the　best　foreign　service　officer　in　the　Orient　and　everyone　knew　it。　You　were　going　to　be　the　key　to　the　new　policy；　the　one　that　was　around　the　corner。　And　then　it　happened。　Death　from　the　skies　in　the　Mekong。。。　You　turned；　David。　We　all　lost；　but　only　one　of　us　became　Delta。　In　Medusa。　I　did　not　know　you　that　well　…　drinks　and　a　dinner　or　two　do　not　a　close　panion　make　…　but　few　of　us　bee　animals。　You　did。　Delta。
　And　now　you　must　die。　Nobody　can　afford　you　any　longer。　None　of　us。
　'Leave　us；　please；'　said　General　Villiers　to　his　aide　as　he　sat　down　opposite　Marie　St　Jacques　in　the　Montmartre　cafe〃。　The　aide　nodded　and　walked　to　a　table　ten　feet　from　the　booth；　he　would　leave　but　he　was　still　on　guard。　The　exhausted　old　soldier　looked　at　Marie。　'Why　did　you　insist　on　my　ing　here？　He　wanted　you　out　of　Paris。　I　gave　him　my　word。'
　'Out　of　Paris；　out　of　the　race；'　said　Marie；　touched　by　the　sight　of　the　old　man's　haggard　face。　'I'm　sorry。　I　don't　want　to　be　another　burden　for　you。　I　heard　the　reports　on　the　radio。'
　'Insanity；'　said　Villiers；　picking　up　the　brandy　his　aide　had　ordered　for　him。　Three　hours　with　the　police　living　a　terrible　lie；　condemning　a　man　for　a　crime　that　was　mine　alone。'
　The　description　was　accurate；　uncannily　accurate。　No　one　could　miss　him。'
　'He　gave　it　to　me　himself。　He　sat　in　front　of　my　wife's　mirror　and　told　me　what　to　say；　looking　at　his　own　face　in　the　strangest　manner。　He　saw　it　was　the　only　way。　Carlos　could　only　be　convinced　by　my　going　to　the　police；　creating　a　manhunt。　He　was　right；　of　course。'
　'He　was　right；'　agreed　Marie；　'but　he's　not　in　Paris；　or　Brussels；　or　Amsterdam。'　'I　beg　your　pardon？'　'I　want　you　to　tell　me　where　he's　gone。'　'He　told　you　himself。'　'He　lied　to　me。'　'How　can　you　be　certain？'
　'Because　I　know　when　he　tells　me　the　truth。　You　see；　we　both　listen　for　it。'
　'You　both。。。？　I'm　afraid　I　don't　understand。'　'I　didn't　think　you　would；　I　was　sure　he　hadn't　told　you。　When　he　lied　to　me　on　the　phone；　saying　the　things　he　said　so　hesitantly；　knowing　I　knew　they　were　lies；　I　couldn't　understand。　I　didn't　piece　it　together　until　I　heard　the　radio　reports。　Yours　and　another。　That　description。。。　so　plete；　so　total；　even　to　the　scar　on　his　left　temple。　Then　I　knew。　He　wasn't　planning　to　stay　in　Paris；　or　within　five　hundred　miles　of　Paris。　He　was　going　far　away　…　where　that　description　wouldn't　mean　very　much　…　where　Carlos　could　be　led；　delivered　to　the　people　Jason　had　his　agreement　with。　Am　I　right？'
　Villiers　put　down　the　glass。　'I've　given　my　word。　You're　to　be　taken　to　safety　in　the　country。　I　don't　understand　the　things　you're　saying。'
　'Then　I'll　try　to　be　clearer；'　said　Marie；　leaning　forward。　'There　was　another　report　on　the　radio；　one　you　obviously　didn't　hear　because　you　were　with　the　police　or　in　seclusion。　Two　men　were　found　shot　to　death　in　a　cemetery　near　Rambouillet　this　morning。　One　was　a　known　killer　from　St…Gervais。　The　other　was　identified　as　a　former　American　Intelligence　officer　living　in　Paris；　a　highly　controversial　man　who　was　given　the　choice　of　retiring　from　the　army　or　facing　a　court　martial。'
　'Are　you　saying　the　incidents　are　related？'　asked　the　old　man。
　'Jason　was　instructed　by　the　American　Embassy　to　go　to　that　cemetery　last　night　to　meet　a　man　flying　over　from　Washington。'
　Washington？'
　'Yes。　His　agreement　was　with　a　small　group　of　men　from　American　Intelligence。　They　tried　to　kill　him　last　night；　they　think　they　have　to　kill　him。'
　'Good　God；　why？'
　'Because　they　can't　trust　him。　They　don't　know　what　he's　done　or　where　he's　been　for　a　long　period　of　time　and　he　can't　tell　them。'　Marie　paused；　closing　her　eyes　briefly。　'He　doesn't　know　who　he　is。　He　doesn't　know　who　they　are；　and　the　man　from　Washington　hired　other　men　to　kill　him　last　night　That　man　wouldn't　listen；　they　think　he's　betrayed　them；　stolen　millions　from　them；　killed　men　he's　never　heard　of。　He　hasn't　but　he　doesn't　have　any　clear　answers　either。　He's　a　man　with　only　fragments　of　a　memory；　each　fragment　condemning　him。　He's　a　near　total　amnesiac。'
　Villiers's　lined　face　was　locked　in　astonishment；　his　eyes　pained　in　recollection。　'　〃For　all　the　wrong　reasons。。。〃　He　said　that　to　me。　〃They　have　men　everywhere。。。　the　orders　are　to　execute　me　on　sight　I'm　hunted　by　men　I　don't　know　and　can't　see。　For　all　the　wrong　reasons。〃'
　'For　all　the　wrong　reasons；'　emphasized　Marie；　reaching　across　the　narrow　table　and　touching　the　old　man's　arm。　'And　they　do　have　men　everywhere；　men　ordered　to　kill　him　on　sight。　Wherever　he　goes；　they'll　be　waiting。〃
　'How　will　they　know　where　he's　gone？〃
　'He'll　tell　them。　It's　part　of　his　strategy。　And　when　he　does；　they'll　kill　him。　He's　walking　into　his　own　trap。'
　For　several　moments　Villiers　was　silent；　his　guilt　overwhelming。　Finally　he　spoke　in　a　whisper。　'Almighty　God；　what　have　I　done？'
　'What　you　thought　was　right。　What　he　persuaded　you　was　right。　You　can't　blame　yourself。　Or　him；　really。'
　'He　said　he　was　going　to　write　out　everything　that　had　happened　to　him；　everything　that　he　remembered。。。　How　painful　that　statement　must　have　been　for　him。　I　can't　wait　for　that　letter；　Mademoiselle。　We　can't　wait。　I　must　know　everything　you　can　tell　me。　Now。'
　'What　can　you　do？'
　'Go　to　the　American　Embassy。　To　the　ambassador。　Now。　Everything。'
　Marie　St　Jacques　withdrew　her　hand　slowly　as　she　leaned　back　in　the　booth；　her　dark　red　hair　against　the　banquette。　Her　eyes　were　far　away；　clouded　with　the　mist　of　tears。　'He　told　me　his　life　began　for　him　on　a　small　island　in　the　Mediterranean　called　lie　de　Port　Noir。。。'
　The　Secretary　of　State　walked　angrily　into　the　office　of　the　director　of　Consular　Operations；　the　department's　section　dealing　with　clandestine　activities。　He　strode　across　the　room　to　the　desk　of　the　astonished　director；　who　rose　at　the　sight　of　this　powerful　man；　his　expression　a　mixture　of　shock　and　bewilderment。
　'Mr。。　Secretary？。。。　I　didn't　receive　any　message　from　your　office；　sir。　I　would　have　e　upstairs　right　away。'
　The　Secretary　of　State　slapped　a　yellow　legal　pad　down　on　the　director's　desk。　On　the　top　page　was　a　column　of　six　names　written　with　the　broad　strokes　of　a　felt…tipped　pen。
　Bourne
　Delta
　Medusa
　Cain
　Carlos
　Treadstone
　'What　is　this？'　asked　the　Secretary。　'What　the　hell　is　this？'　The　director　of　Cons…Op　leaned　over　the　desk。　'I　don't　know；　sir。　They're　names；　of　course。　A　code　for　the　alphabet　…　the　letter　D　…　and　a　reference　to　Medusa；　that's　still　classified；　but　I've　heard　of　it。　And　I　suppose　the　〃Carlos〃　refers　to　the　assassin；　I　wish　we　knew　more　about　him。　But　I've　never　heard　of　〃Bourne〃　or　〃Cain〃　or　〃Treadstone〃。'
　'Then　e　up　to　my　office　and　listen　to　a　tape　of　a　telephone　conversation　that　I've　just　had　with　Paris　and　you'll　learn　all　about　them！'　exploded　the　Secretary　of　State。　'There　are　extraordinary　things　on　that　tape；　including　killings　in
　Ottawa　and　Paris　and　some　very　strange　dealings　our　First　Secretary　in　the　Montaigne　had　with　a　C。I。A。　man。　There's　also　outright　lying　to　the　authorities　of　foreign　governments；　to　our　own　intelligence　units　and　to　the　European　newspapers　…　with　neither　the　knowledge　or　the　consent　of　the　Department　of　State！　There's　been　a　global　deception　that's　spread　misinformation　throughout　more　countries　than　I　want　to　think　about。　We're　flying　over　under　a　deep　diplomatic　a　Canadian　woman；　an　economist　for　the　government　in　Ottawa　who's　wanted　for　murder　in　Zurich。　We're　being　forced　to　grant　asylum　to　a　fugitive；　to　subvert　the　laws；　because　if　that　woman's　telling　the　truth　we've　got　our　ass　in　a　sling！　I　want　to　know　what's　been　going　on。　Cancel　everything　on　your　calendar；　and　I　mean　everything。　You're　spending　the　rest　of　the　day　and　all　night　if　you　have　to　digging　this　damn　thing　out　of　the　ground。　There's　a　man　walking　around　who　doesn't　know　who　he　is；　but　with　more　classified　information　in　his　head　than　ten　sterile　puters！'
　It　was　past　midnight　when　the　exhausted　director　of　Consular　Operations　made　the　connection；　he　had　nearly　missed　it　The　First　Secretary　at　the　embassy　in　Paris；　under　threat　of　instant　dismissal；　had　given　him　Alexander　Conklin's　name。　But　Conklin　was　nowhere　to　be　found。　He　had　returned　to　Washington　from　Brussels　on　a　military　jet　in　the　morning；　but　had　signed　out　of　Langley　at　1。22　in　the　afternoon；　leaving　no　telephone　number　…　not　even　an　emergency　number　…where　he　could　be　reached。　And　from　what　the　director　had　learned　about　Conklin；　that　omission　was　extraordinary。　The　C。I。A。　man　was　what　was　monly　referred　to　as　a　shark…killer；　he　directed　individual　strategies　throughout　the　world　where　defection　and　treason　were　suspected。　There　were　too　many　men　in