rl.thebourneidentity-第17部分

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　Whenever　you're　in　a　stress　situation　yourself…and　there's　time；　of　course　…　do　exactly　as　you　would　do　when　you　project　yourself　into　one　you're　observing。　Let　your　mind　fall　free；　let　whatever　thoughts　and　images　that　surface　e　cleanly。　Try　not　to　exercise　any　mental　discipline。　Be　a　sponge；　concentrate　on　everything　and　nothing。　Specifics　may　e　to　you；　certain　repressed　conduits　electrically　prodded　into　functioning。
　Bourne　thought　of　Washburn's　words　as　he　adjusted　his　body　into　the　corner　of　the　seat；　trying　to　restore　some　control。　He　massaged　his　chest；　gently　rubbing　the　bruised　muscles　around　his　previous　wound；　the　pain　was　still　there；　but　not　as　acute　as　it　had　been　minutes　ago。
　'You　can't　just　tell　me　to　drive！'　cried　the　St　Jacques　woman。　'I　don't　know　where　I'm　going！！
　'Neither　do　I。'　said　Jason。　He　had　told　her　to　stay　on　the　lakeshore　drive；　it　was　dark　and　he　had　to　have　time　to　think。　If　only　to　be　a　sponge。
　'People　will　be　looking　for　me；'　she　exclaimed。
　'They're　looking　for　me；　too。'
　'You've　taken　me　against　my　will。　You　struck　me。　Repeatedly。'　She　spoke　more　softly　now；　imposing　a　control　on　herself。　'That's　kidnapping；　assault。。。　those　are　serious　crimes。　You're　out　of　the　hotel；　that's　what　you　said　you　wanted。　Let　me　go　and　I　won't　say　anything。　I　promise　you！'
　'You　mean　you'll　give　me　your　word？'
　'Yes'
　'I　gave　you　mine　and　took　it　back。　So　could　you。'
　'You're　different　I　won't。　No　one's　trying　to　kill　me；　Oh　God！　Please　I'
　'Keep　driving。'
　One　thing　was　clear　to　him。　The　killers　had　seen　him　drop　his　suitcase　and　leave　it　behind　in　his　race　for　escape。　That　suitcase　told　them　the　obvious：　he　was　getting　out　of　Zurich；　undoubtedly　out　of　Switzerland。　The　airport　and　the　station　would　be　watched。　And　the　car　he　had　taken　from　the　man　he　had　killed　…　who　had　tried　to　kill　him　…　would　be　the　object　of　a　search。
　He　could　not　go　to　the　airport　or　to　the　station；　he　had　to　get　rid　of　the　car　and　find　another。　Yet　he　was　not　without　resources。　He　was　carrying　100；000　Swiss　francs；　and　more　than　16；000　French　francs；　the　Swiss　currency　in　his　passport　case；　the　French　in　the　wallet　he　had　stolen　from　the　Marquis　de　Chambord。　It　was　more　than　enough　to　buy　him　secretly　to　Paris。
　Why　Paris？　It　was　as　though　the　city　were　a　magnet；　pulling　him　to　her　without　explanation。
　You　are　not　helpless。　You　will　find　your　way。。。　Follow　your　instincts；　reasonably；　of　course。
　To　Paris。
　'Have　you　been　to　Zurich　before？'　he　asked　his　hostage。
　'Never。'
　〃You　wouldn't　lie　to　me；　would　you？'
　'I've　no　reason　to！　Please。　Let　me　stop。　Let　me　go！'
　'How　long　have　you　been　here？'
　'A　week。　The　conference　was　for　a　week。'
　Then　you've　had　time　to　get　around；　do　some　sightseeing。'
　'I　barely　left　the　hotel　There　wasn't　time。'
　The　schedule　I　saw　on　the　board　didn't　seem　very　crowded。　Only　two　lectures　for　the　entire　day。'
　They　were　guest　speakers；　there　were　never　more　than　two　a　day。　The　majority　of　our　work　was　done　in　conference。。。　small　conferences。　Ten　to　fifteen　people　from　different　countries；　different　interests。'
　'You're　from　Canada？！
　'I　work　for　the　Canadian　government。。。'
　The　〃doctor〃　is　not　medical　then。'
　〃Economics。　Mcgill　University。　Pembroke　College；　Oxford。'
　I'm　impressed。'
　Suddenly；　with　controlled　stridency；　she　added；　'My　superiors　expect　me　to　be　in　contact　with　them。　Tonight。　If　they　don't　hear　from　me；　they'll　be　alarmed。　They'll　make　inquiries；　they'll　call　the　Zurich　police。'
　'I　see；'　he　said。　That's　something　to　think　about；　isn't　it？'　It　occurred　to　Bourne　that　throughout　the　shock　and　the　violence　of　the　last　half　hour；　the　St　Jacques　woman　had　not　let　her　handbag　out　of　her　hand。　He　leaned　forward；　wincing　as　he　did　so；　the　pain　in　his　chest　suddenly　acute　again。　'Give　me　your　bag。'
　'What？'　She　moved　her　hand　quickly　from　the　wheel；　grabbing　the　bag　in　a　futile　attempt　to　keep　it　from　him。
　He　thrust　his　right　hand　over　the　seat；　his　fingers　grasping　the　leather。　'Just　drive；　Doctor；'　he　said　as　he　lifted　the　purse　off　the　seat　and　leaned　back　again。
　'You　have　no　right。。。'　She　stopped；　the　foolishness　of　her　remark　apparent。
　'I　know　that；'　he　replied；　opening　the　handbag；　turning　on　the　reading　lamp；　moving　the　bag　into　its　spill。　As　befitted　the　owner；　it　was　well　organized。　Passport；　wallet；　a　purse；　keys　and　assorted　notes　and　messages　in　the　rear　pockets。　He　looked　for　a　specific　message；　it　was　in　a　yellow　envelope　given　to　her　by　the　clerk　at　the　Carillon　du　Lac's　front　desk。　He　found　it；　lifted　the　flap；　and　took　out　the　folded　paper。　It　was　a　cablegram　from　Ottawa。
　Daily　reports　first　rate。　Leave　granted。　Will　meet　you　at　airport　Wednesday　26th。　Call　or　cable　flight。　In　Lyons；　do　not　miss　Beau　Meuniere。　Cuisine　superb。
　Love；　Peter
　Jason　put　the　cable　back。　He　saw　a　small　book　of　matches；　the　cover　a　glossy　white；　scroll　writing　on　the　front。　He　picked　it　out　and　read　the　name。　Kronehalle。　A　restaurant。。。　A　restaurant。　Something　bothered　him；　he　did　not　know　what　it　was　but　it　was　there。　Something　about　a　restaurant。　He　kept　the　matches；　closed　the　bag　and　leaned　forward；　dropping　it　on　the　front　seat。　〃That's　all　I　wanted　to　see；'　he　said；　settling　back　into　the　corner；　staring　at　the　matches。　'I　seem　to　remember　your　saying　something　about　〃word　from　Ottawa〃。　You　got　it；　the　twenty…sixth　is　over　a　week　away。'　'Please。。。'
　The　supplication　was　a　cry　for　help；　he　heard　it　for　what　it　was　but　could　not　respond。　For　the　next　hour　or　so　he　needed　this　woman；　needed　her　as　a　lame　man　needed　a　crutch　or；　more　aptly；　as　one　who　could　not　function　behind　a　wheel　needed　a　driver。　But　not　in　this　car。　Turn　around；'　he　ordered。　'Head　back　to　the　Carillon。！　To　the。。。　hotel？'
　'Yes；'　he　said；　his　eyes　on　the　matches；　turning　them　over　and　over　in　his　hand　under　the　light　of　the　reading　lamp。　'We　need　another　car。'
　'We？　No；　you　can't＇　I　won't　go　any。。。'　Again　she　stopped　before　the　statement　was　made；　before　the　thought　was　pleted。　Another　thought　had　obviously　struck　her；　she　was　abruptly　silent　as　she　swung　the　wheel　until　the　car　was　facing　the　opposite　direction　on　the　dark　lakesbore　road。　She　pressed　the　accelerator　down　with　such　force　that　the　car　bolted；　the　tyres　span　under　the　sudden　burst　of　speed。　She　depressed　the　pedal　instantly；　gripping　the　wheel；　trying　to　control　herself。
　Bourne　looked　up　from　the　matches　at　the　back　of　her　head；　at　the　long　dark　red　hair　that　shone　in　the　light。　He　took　the　gun　from　his　pocket　and　once　more　leaned　forward　directly　behind　her。　He　raised　the　weapon；　moving　his　hand　over　her　shoulder；　turning　the　barrel　and　pressing　it　against　her　cheek。
　'Understand　me　clearly。　You're　going　to　do　exactly　as　I　tell　you。　You're　going　to　be　right　at　my　side　and　this　gun　will　be　in　my　pocket。　It　will　be　aimed　at　your　stomach；　just　as　it's　aimed　at　your　head　right　now。　As　you've　seen。　I'm　running　for　my　life；　and　I　won't　hesitate　to　pull　the　trigger。　I　want　you　to　understand。'
　'I　understand。'　Her　reply　was　a　whisper。　She　breathed　through　her　parted　lips；　her　terror　plete。　Jason　removed　the　barrel　of　the　gun　from　her　cheek；　he　was　satisfied。　Satisfied　and　revolted。
　Let　your　mind　fall　free。。。　The　matches。　What　was　it　about　the　matches？　But　it　was　not　the　matches；　it　was　the　restaurant　…not　the　Kronehalle。　but　a　restaurant。　Heavy　beams；　candlelight；　black。。。　triangles　on　the　outside。　White　stone　and　black　triangles。　Three？。。。　Three　black　triangles。
　Someone　was　there。。。　at　a　restaurant　with　three　triangles　in　front。　The　image　was　so　clear；　so　vivid。。。　so　disturbing。　What　was　it？　Did　such　a　place　even　exist？
　Specifics　may　e　to　you。。。　certain　repressed　conduits。。。　prodded　into　functioning。
　Was　it　happening　now？　Oh；　Christ；　I　can't　stand　it！
　He　could　see　the　lights　of　the　Carillon　du　Lac　several　hundred　yards　down　the　road。　He　had　not　fully　thought　out　his　moves；　but　was　operating　on　two　assumptions。　The　first　was　that　the　killers　had　not　remained　on　the　premises。　On　the　other　hand；　Bourne　was　not　about　to　walk　into　a　trap　of　his　own　making。　He　knew　two　of　the　killers；　he　would　not　recognize　others　if　they　had　been　left　behind。
　The　main　parking　area　was　beyond　the　circular　drive；　on　the　left　side　of　the　hotel。　'Slow　down；'　Jason　ordered。　Turn　into　the　first　drive　on　the　left！
　'It's　an　exit；'　protested　the　woman；　her　voice　strained。　'We're　going　the　wrong　way。'
　'No　one's　ing　out　Go　on　I　Drive　into　the　parking　area；　past　the　lights。'
　The　scene　at　the　hotel's　canopied　entrance　explained　why　no　one　paid　attention　to　them。　There　were　four　police　cars；　lined　up　in　the　circular　drive；　their　roof　lights　revolving；　conveying　the　aura　of　emergency。　He　could　see　uniformed　police　among　the　crowds　of　excited　hotel　guests；　they　were　asking　questions　as　well　as　answering　them；　checking　off　names　of　those　leaving　in　cars；　dark…suited　hotel　clerks　at　their　sides。
　Marie　St　Jacques　drove　across　the　parking　area　beyond　the　floodlights　and　into　an　open　space　on　the　right　She　turned　off　the　engine　and　sat　motionless；　staring　straight　ahead。
　'Be　very　careful；'　said　Bourne；　rolling　down　his　window。　'And　move　slowly。　Open　your　door　and　get　out；　then　stand　by　mine　and　help