rl.thebourneidentity-第21部分

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　But　before　he　left　Zurich　he　had　to　know；　he　had　to　talk　to　a　man　named。。。
　M。　Chernak。　The　name　was　to　the　right　of　the　doorbell。　He　sidestepped　away　from　the　door；　pulling　the　woman　with　him。
　'Do　you　speak　German？'　Jason　asked。
　'No。'
　'Don't　lie。'
　I'm　not。'
　Bourne　thought；　glancing　up　and　down　the　short　hallway；　'Ring　the　bell。　If　the　door　opens　just　stand　there。　If　someone　answers　from　inside；　say　you　have　a　message　…　an　urgent　message　…　from　a　friend　at　the　Drei　AlpenhSuser。！
　'Suppose　he　…　or　she　…　says　to　slide　it　under　the　door？'
　Jason　looked　at　her。　'Very　good。'
　'I　just　don't　want　any　more　violence。　I　don't　want　to　know　anything　or　see　anything。　I　just　want　to。。。'
　'I　know；'　he　interrupted。　'Go　back　to　Caesar's　taxes　and　the　Punic　Wars。。。　If　he　…　or　she　…　says　something　like　that；　explain　in　a　couple　of　words　that　the　message　is　verbal　and　can　only　be　delivered　to　the　man　who　was　described　to　you。！
　'If　he　asks　for　that　description？'　said　Marie　St　Jacques　icily；　analysis　momentarily　pre…empting　fear。
　'You've　got　a　good　mind；　Doctor；'　he　said。
　I'm　precise。　I'm　frightened；　I　told　you　that。　What　do　I　do？'
　'Say　to　hell　with　them；　someone　else　can　deliver　it　Then　start　to　walk　away。'
　She　moved　to　the　door　and　rang　the　bell　There　was　an　odd　sound　from　within。　A　scratching；　growing　louder；　constant。　Then　it　stopped　and　a　deep　voice　was　heard　through　the　wood。
　'Was　ist　los？'
　'I'm　afraid　I　don't　speak　German；'　said　the　St　Jacques　woman。
　'Englisch。　What　is　it？　Who　are　you？'
　'I　have　an　urgent　message　from　a　friend　at　the　Drei　Alpen…hauser。'
　'Shove　it　under　the　door。！
　'I　can't　do　that　It　isn't　written　down。　I　have　to　deliver　it　personally　to　the　man　who　was　described　to　me。'
　'Well；　that　shouldn't　be　difficult；'　said　the　voice。　The　lock　clicked　and　the　door　opened。
　Bourne　stepped　away　from　the　wall；　into　the　doorframe。
　'You're　insane　I'　cried　a　man　with　two　stumps　for　legs；　propped　up　in　a　wheelchair。　'Get　out！　Get　away　from　here！'
　I'm　tired　of　hearing　that；'　said　Jason；　pulling　the　girl　inside　and　closing　the　door。
　It　took　no　pressure　to　persuade　Marie　St　Jacques　to　remain　in　a　small　windowless　bedroom　while　they　talked；　she　did　So　willingly。　The　legless　Chernak　was　close　to　panic；　his　ravaged　face　chalk　white；　his　unkempt　grey　hair　matted　about　his　neck　and　forehead。
　'What　do　you　want　from　me？'　he　asked。　'You　swore　the　last　transaction　was　our　final　one！　I　can　do　no　more；　I　cannot　take　the　risk。　Messengers　have　been　here。　No　matter　how　cautious；　how　many　times　removed　from　your　sources；　they　have　been　here＇　If　one　leaves　an　address　in　the　wrong　surroundings；　I'm　a　dead　man！'
　'You've　done　pretty　well　for　the　risks　you've　taken；'　said　Bourne；　standing　in　front　of　the　wheelchair；　his　mind　racing；　wondering　if　there　was　a　word　or　a　phrase　that　could　trigger　a　flow　of　information。　Then　he　remembered　the　envelope。　II　there　was　any　discrepancy；　it　had　nothing　to　do　with　me。　A　fat　man　at　the　Drei　Alpenhauser。
　'Minor　pared　to　the　magnitude　of　those　risks。'　Chernak　shook　his　head；　his　upper　chest　heaved；　the　stumps　that　fell　over　the　chair　moved　obscenely　back　and　forth。　'I　was　content　before　you　came　into　my　life；　mein　Herr；　for　I　was　minor。　An　old　soldier　who　made　his　way　to　Zurich　…　blown　up；　a　cripple；　worthless　except　for　certain　facts　stored　away　that　former　rades　paid　meagrely　to　keep　suppressed。　It　was　a　decent　life；　not　much；　but　enough。　Then　you　found　me。。。〃
　I'm　touched；'　broke　in　Jason。　'Let's　talk　about　the　envelope　…the　envelope　you　passed　to　our　mutual　friend　at　Drei　Alpenhauser。　Who　gave　it　to　you？'
　'A　messenger。　Who　else？！
　'Where　did　it　e　from？'
　'How　would　I　know？　It　arrived　in　a　box；　just　like　the　others。　I　unpacked　It　and　sent　it　on。　It　was　you　who　wished　it　so。　You　said　you　could　not　e　here　any　longer。'
　'But　you　opened　it。'　A　statement
　'Never！'
　'Suppose　I　told　you；　there　was　money　missing。'
　'Then　it　was　not　paid；　it　was　not　in　the　envelope！'　The　legless　man's　voice　rose。　'However；　I　don't　believe　you。　If　that　were　so；　you　would　not　have　accepted　the　assignment。　But　you　did　accept　that　assignment。　So　why　are　you　here　now？'
　Because　I　have　to　know。　Because　I'm　going　out　of　my　mind。　I　see　things　and　I　hear　things　I　do　not　understand。　I'm　a　skilled；　resourceful。。。　vegetable！　Help　me！
　Bourne　moved　away　from　the　chair；　he　walked　aimlessly　towards　a　bookcase　where　there　were　several　upright　photographs　recessed　against　the　wall。　They　explained　the　man　behind　him。　Groups　of　German　soldiers；　some　with　alsatians；　posing　outside　barracks　and　by　fences。。。　and　in　front　of　a　high…wire　gate　with　part　of　a　name　showing。　DACH。。。Dachau。
　The　man　behind　him。　He　was　moving！　Jason　turned；　the　legless　Chernak　had　his　hand　in　the　canvas　bag　strapped　to　his　chair；　his　eyes　were　on　fire；　his　ravaged　face　contorted。　The　hand　came　out　swiftly；　in　it　a　short…barrelled　revolver；　and　before　Bourne　could　reach　his　own；　Chernak　fired。　The　shots　came　rapidly；　the　icelike　pain　filling　his　left　shoulder；　then　head　…　oh　God　I　He　dived　to　his　right；　spinning　on　the　rug；　shoving　a　heavy　floor　lamp　towards　the　cripple；　spinning　again　until　he　was　at　the　far　side　of　the　wheelchair。　He　crouched　and　lunged；　crashing　his　right　shoulder　into　Chernak's　back；　sending　the　legless　man　out　of　the　chair　as　he　reached　into　his　pocket　for　the　gun。
　'They'll　pay　for　your　corpse！　Screamed　the　deformed　man；　writhing　on　the　floor；　trying　to　steady　his　slumped　body　long　enough　to　level　his　weapon。　'You　won't　put　me　in　a　coffin！　I'll　see　you　there！　Carlos　will　pay！　By　Christ；　he'll　pay！'
　Jason　sprang　to　the　left　and　fired。　Chernak's　head　snapped　back；　his　throat　erupting　blood。　He　was　dead。
　A　cry　came　from　the　door　of　the　bedroom。　It　grew　in　depth；　low　and　hollow；　an　elongated　wail；　fear　and　revulsion　weaved　into　the　chord。　A　woman's　cry。。。　of　course；　it　was　a　woman！　His　hostage；　his　conduit　out　of　Zurich！　Oh；　Jesus；　he　could　not　focus　his　eyes！　His　temple　was　in　agony！
　He　found　his　vision；　refusing　to　acknowledge　the　pain。　He　saw　a　bathroom；　the　door　open；　towels　and　a　basin　and　a。。。　mirrored　cabinet。　He　ran　in；　pulled　the　mirror　back　with　such　force　that　it　jumped　its　hinges；　crashing　to　the　floor；　shattered。　Shelves。　Rolls　of　gauze　and　plaster　and。。。　they　were　ad　he　could　grab。　He　had　to　get　out。。。　gunshots；　gunshots　were　alarms。　He　had　to　get　out；　take　his　hostage；　and　get　away！　The　bedroom；　the　bedroom。　Where　was　it？
　The　cry；　the　wail。。。　follow　the　cry！　He　reached　the　door　and　kicked　it　open　The　woman。。。　his　hostage　…　what　the　hell　was　her　name！　…　was　pressed　against　the　wall；　tears　streaming　down　her　face；　her　lips　parted。　He　rushed　in　and　grabbed　her　by　the　wrist；　dragging　her　out。
　'My　God；　you　killed　him！'　she　cried。　'An　old　man　with　no。。。'
　'Shut　up'。'　He　pushed　her　towards　the　door；　opened　it　and　shoved　her　into　the　hallway。　He　could　see　blurred　figures　in　open　spaces；　by　railings；　inside　rooms。　They　began　running；　disappearing；　he　heard　doors　slam；　people　shout。　He　took　the　woman's　arm　with　his　left　hand；　the　grip　caused　shooting　pains　in　his　shoulder。　He　propelled　her　to　the　staircase　and　forced　her　to　descend　with　him；　using　her　for　support；　his　right　hand　holding　the　gun。
　They　reached　the　lobby　and　the　heavy　door。　'Open　it！'　he　ordered；　she　did。　They　passed　the　row　of　letterboxes　to　the　outside　entrance。　He　released　her　briefly；　opening　the　door　himself；　peering　out　into　the　street；　listening　for　sirens。　There　were　none。　'e　on！'　he　said；　pulling　her　out　to　the　stone　steps　and　down　to　the　pavement。　He　reached　into　his　pocket；　wincing；　taking　out　the　car　keys。　'Get　in！'
　Inside　the　car　he　unravelled　the　gauze；　bunching　it　against　the　side　of　his　head；　blotting　the　trickle　of　blood。　From　deep　inside　his　conscious；　there　was　a　strange　feeling　of　relief。　The　wound　was　a　graze；　the　fact　that　it　had　been　his　head　had　sent　him　into　panic；　but　the　bullet　had　not　entered　his　skull。　It　had　not　entered；　there　would　be　no　return　to　the　agonies　of　Port　Noir。
　'Goddamn　it；　start　the　car！　Get　out　of　here！'
　'Where？　You　didn't　say　where。'　The　woman　was　not　screaming；　instead　she　was　calm。　Unreasonably　calm。　Looking　at　him。。。　was　she　looking　at　him？
　He　was　feeling　dizzy　again；　losing　focus　again。　Steppdeckstrasse。。。〃　He　heard　the　word　as　he　spoke　it；　not　sure　the　voice　was　his。　But　he　could　picture　the　doorway。　Faded　dark…red　paint；　cracked　glass。。。　rusted　iron。　'Steppdeckstrasse；'　he　repeated。
　What　was　wrong？　Why　wasn't　the　engine　running？　Why　'　didn't　the　car　move　forward。　Didn't　she　hear　him？
　His　eyes　were　closed；　he　opened　them。　The　gun＇　It　was　on　his　lap；　he　had　set　it　down　to　press　the　bandage。。　she　was　hitting　it；　hitting　it！　The　weapon　crashed　to　the　floor；　he　reached　down　and　she　pushed　him；　sending　his　head　into　the　window。　Her　door　opened　and　she　leaped　out　into　the　street　and　began　running。　She　was　running　away！　His　hostage；　his　conduit　was　racing　up　the　Lowenstrasse！
　He　could　not　stay　in　the　car；　he　dared　not　try　to　drive　it。　It　was　a　steel　trap；　marking　him。　He　put　the　gun　in　his　pocket　with　the　roll　of　plaster；　and　grabbed　the　gauze；　clutching　it　in　his　left　hand；　ready　to　press　it　against　his　temple　at　the　first　recurrence　of