rl.thebourneidentity-第22部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


ence　of　blood。　He　got　out　and　limped　as　fast　as　he　could　down　the　pavement。
　Somewhere　there　was　a　corner；　somewhere　a　taxi。　Steppdeckstrasse。
　Marie　St　Jacques　kept　running　in　the　middle　of　the　wide；　deserted　avenue；　in　and　out　of　the　spills　of　the　street　lamps；　waving　her　arms　at　the　cars　in　the　Lowenstrasse。　They　sped　by　her。　She　turned　in　the　wash　of　headlights　behind　her；　holding　up
　her　hands；　pleading　for　attention；　the　can　accelerated　and　passed　her　by。　This　was　Zurich；　and　the　Lowenstrasse　at　night　was　too　wide；　too　dark；　too　near　the　deserted　park　and　the　river　Sihl。
　The　men　in　one　car；　however；　were　aware　of　her。　Its　headlights　were　off；　the　driver　inside　having　seen　the　woman　in　the　distance。　He　spoke　to　his　panion　in　Schweitzerdeutsch。
　〃It　could　be　her。　This　Chernak　lives　only　a　block　or　so　down　the　street。！
　'Stop　and　let　her　e　closer。　She's　supposed　to　be　wearing　a　silk。。。　it's　her。！
　'Let's　make　certain　before　we　radio　the　others。〃
　Both　men　got　out　of　the　car；　the　passenger　moving　discreetly　around　the　boot　to　join　the　driver。　They　wore　conservative　business　suits；　their　faces　pleasant；　but　serious；　businesslike。　The　panicked　woman　approached；　they　walked　rapidly　into　the　middle　of　the　street。　The　driver　called　out。
　'Frauleint　Was　ist　lot？'
　'Help　me！〃　she　screamed。　'I。。。　I　don't　speak　German。　Richt　sprechen。　Call　the　police！　The。。。　Polizei　I'
　The　driver's　panion　spoke　with　authority；　calming　her　with　his　voice。　'We　are　with　the　police；'　he　said　in　English。　'Züriche　Sicherheit。　We　weren't　sure；　Miss。　You　are　the　woman　from　the　Carillon　du　Lac？'
　'Yes！'　she　cried。　'He　wouldn't　let　me　go！　He　kept　hitting　me；　threatening　me　with　his　gun！　It　was　horrible！'
　'Where　is　he　now？'
　'He's　hurt。　He　was　shot。　I　ran　from　the　car。。。　he　was　in　the　car　when　I　ran！！　She　pointed　down　the　Lowenstrasse。　'Over　there。　Two　blocks；　I　think　…　in　the　middle　of　the　block。　A　coupe；　a　grey　coupe！　He　has　a　gun。！
　'So　do　we；　Miss；'　said　the　driver。　'e　along；　get　in　the　back　of　the　car。　You'll　be　perfectly　safe；　we'll　be　very　careful。　Quickly；　now。'
　They　approached　the　grey　coupe；　coasting；　headlights　extinguished。　There　was　no　one　inside。　There　were；　however；　people　talking　excitedly　on　the　pavement　and　up　the　stone　steps　of　Number　37。　The　driver's　associate　turned　and　spoke　to　the　frightened　woman　pressed　into　the　corner　of　the　rear　seat。
　'This　is　the　residence　of　a　man　named　Chernak。　Did　he　mention　him？　Did　he　say　anything　about　going　in　to　see　him？'
　'He　did　go；　he　made　me　e　with　him！　He　killed　him！　He　killed　that　crippled　old　man！'
　'Radioapparat！　Schnell；'　said　the　associate　to　the　driver；　as　he　grabbed　a　microphone　from　the　dashboard。　The　car　bolted　forward；　the　woman　gripped　the　front　seat。
　'What　are　you　doing！　A　man　was　killed　back　there！'
　'And　we　must　find　the　killer；'　said　the　driver。　'As　you　say；　he　was　wounded；　he　may　still　be　in　the　area。　This　is　an　unmarked　vehicle　and　we　could　spot　him。　We'll　wait；　of　course；　to　make　sure　the　inspection　team　arrives；　but　our　duties　are　quite　separate。'　The　car　slowed　down；　sliding　into　the　kerb　several　hundred　yards　from　Number　37　Swenstrasse。
　The　associate　had　spoken　into　the　microphone　while　the　driver　had　explained　their　official　position。　There　was　static　from　the　dashboard　speaker；　then　the　words；　'Aufenthalt。　Zwanzig　Minuten。'
　'Our　superior　will　be　here　shortly；'　the　associate　said。　'We're　to　wait　for　him。　He　wishes　to　speak　with　you。'
　Marie　St　Jacques　leaned　back　in　the　seat；　closing　her　eyes；　expelling　her　breath。　'Oh；　God；　I　wish　I　had　a　drink！'
　The　driver　laughed；　nodded　to　his　panion。　The　associate　took　out　a　pint　bottle　from　the　glove　partment　and　held　it　up；　smiling　at　the　woman。　'We're　not　very　chic；　Miss。　We　have　no　glasses　or　cups　but　we　do　have　brandy。　For　medical　emergencies；　of　course。　I　think　this　is　one　now。　Please；　our　pliments。'
　The　St　Jacques　woman　smiled　back　and　accepted　the　bottle。　'You're　two　very　nice　people；　and　you'll　never　know　how　grateful　I　am。　If　you　ever　e　to　Canada；　I'll　cook　you　the　best　French　meal　in　the　province　of　Ontario。'
　'Thank　you；　Miss；'　said　the　driver。
　Bourne　studied　the　bandage　on　his　shoulder；　squinting　at　the　dull　reflection　in　the　dirty；　streaked　mirror；　adjusting　his　eyes　to　the　dim　light　of　the　filthy　room。　He　had　been　right　about　the　Steppdeckstrasse；　the　image　of　the　faded　red　doorway　accurate；　down　to　the　cracked　window　panes　and　rusted　iron　railings。　No　questions　had　been　asked　when　he　rented　the　room；　in　spite　of　the　fact　that　he　was　obviously　hurt。　However；　a　statement　had　been　made　by　the　Vermieter　when　Bourne　paid　him。
　'For　something　more　substantial　a　doctor　can　be　found　who　keeps　his　mouth　shut。'　'I'll　let　you　know。'
　The　wound　was　not　that　severe；　the　plaster　would　hold　it　until　he　found　a　doctor　somewhat　more　reliable　than　one　who　practised　surreptitiously　in　the　Steppdeckstrasse。
　With　a　stress　situation　results　in　injury；　be　aware　of　the　fact　that　the　damage　may　be　as　much　psychological　as　physical。　You　may　have　a　very　real　revulsion　to　pain　and　bodily　harm。　Don't　take　risks；　but　if　there's　time；　give　yourself　a　chance　to　adjust。　Don't　panic。。。
　He　had　panicked；　areas　of　his　body　had　frozen。　Although　the　penetration　in　his　shoulder　and　the　graze　at　his　temple　were　real　and　painful；　neither　was　serious　enough　to　immobilize　him。　He　could　not　move　as　fast　as　he　might　wish　or　with　the　strength　he　knew　he　had；　but　he　could　move　deliberately。　Messages　were　sent　and　received；　brain　to　muscle　and　limb；　he　could　function。　He　would　function　better　after　a　rest。　He　had　no　conduit　now；　he　had　to　be　up　long　before　daybreak　and　find　another　way　out　of　Zurich。　The　Steppdeckstrasse　Vermieter　on　the　first　floor　liked　money；　he　would　wake　up　the　slovenly　landlord　in　an　hour　or　so。
　He　lowered　himself　on　the　sagging　bed　and　lay　back　on　the　pillow；　staring　at　the　naked　lightbulb　in　the　ceiling；　trying　not　to　hear　the　words　so　he　could　rest。　They　came　anyway；　filling　his　ears　like　the　pounding　of　kettledrums。　A　man　was　killed。。。　But　you　did　accept　that　assignment。。。　He　turned　to　the　wall；　shutting　his　eyes；　blocking　out　the　words。　Then　other　words　came　and　he　sat　up；　sweat　breaking　out　on　his　forehead。
　They'll　pay　for　your　corpse！。。。　Carlos　will　pay！　By　Christ；　he'll　pay！　Carlos。
　A　large　limousine　pulled　up　in　front　of　the　coupe〃　and　parked　at　the　kerb。　Behind　them；　at　37　Lowenstrasse；　the　patrol　cars　had　arrived　fifteen　minutes　ago；　the　ambulance　less　than　five。　Crowds　from　surrounding　flats　lined　the　pavement　near　the　staircase；　but　the　excitement　was　muted　now。　A　death　had　occurred；　a　man　killed　at　night　in　this　quiet　section　of　the
　Lowenstrasse。　Anxiety　was　uppermost；　what　had　happened　at　Number　37　could　happen　at　32　or　40　or　53。　The　world　was　going　mad；　and　Zurich　was　going　with　it。
　'Our　superior　has　arrived；　Miss。　May　we　take　you　to　him；　please？'　The　associate　got　out　of　the　car　and　opened　the　door　for　Marie　St　Jacques。
　'Certainly。'　She　stepped　out　onto　the　pavement　and　felt　the　man's　hand　on　her　arm：　it　was　so　much　gentler　than　the　hard　grip　of　the　animal　who　had　held　the　barrel　of　a　gun　to　her　cheek。　She　shuddered　at　the　memory。　They　approached　the　rear　of　the　limousine；　and　she　climbed　inside。　She　sat　back　in　the　seat　and　looked　at　the　man　beside　her。　She　gasped；　suddenly　paralysed；　unable　to　breathe；　the　man　beside　her　evoking　a　memory　of　terror。
　The　light　from　the　street　lamps　was　reflected　off　the　thin　gold　rims　of　his　spectacles。
　'You！。。。　You　were　at　the　hotel！　You　were　one　of　them！'
　The　man　nodded　wearily；　his　fatigue　apparent。　〃That's　right。　We're　a　special　branch　of　the　Zurich　police。　And　before　we　speak　further；　I　must　make　it　clear　to　you　that　at　no　time　during　the　events　of　the　Carillon　du　Lac　were　you　in　any　danger　of　being　harmed　by　us。　We're　trained　marksmen；　no　shots　were　fired　that　could　have　struck　you；　a　number　withheld　because　you　were　too　close　to　the　man　in　our　sights。'
　Her　shock　eased；　the　man's　quiet　authority　reassuring。　'Thank　you　for　that。'
　'It's　a　minor　talent；'　said　the　official。　'Now；　as　I　understand；　you　last　saw　him　in　the　front　seat　of　the　car　back　there。'
　'Yes。　He　was　wounded。'
　'How　seriously？'
　'Enough　to　be　incoherent。　He　held　some　kind　of　bandage　to　his　head；　and　there　was　blood　on　his　shoulder　…　on　the　cloth　of　his　coat；　I　mean。　Who　is　he？'
　'Names　are　meaningless；　he　goes　by　many。　But　as　you've　seen；　he's　a　killer。　A　brutal　killer；　and　he　must　be　found　before　he　kills　again。　We've　been　hunting　him　for　several　years。　Many　police　from　many　countries。　We　have　an　opportunity　now　none　of　them　has　had。　We　know　he's　in　Zurich；　and　he's　wounded。　He　would　not　stay　in　this　area；　but　how　far　can　he　go？　Did　he　mention　how　he　expected　to　get　out　of　the　city？'
　'He　was　going　to　rent　a　car。　In　my　name；　I　gather。　He　doesn't　have　a　driver's　licence。'
　'He　was　lying。　He　travels　with　all　manner　of　false　papers。　You　were　an　expendable　hostage。　Now；　from　the　beginning；　tell　me　everything　he　said　to　you。　Where　you　went；　whom　he　met；　whatever　es　to　mind。'
　'There's　a　restaurant；　the　Drei　Alpenhauser；　and　a　large　fat　man　who　was　frightened　to　death。。。'　Marie　St　Jacques　recounted　everything　she　could　remember。