rl.thebourneidentity-第39部分

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orbelier；　attaché。
　Marie　got　to　the　point　of　her　call　almost　immediately。　'I　assume　Peter　told　you　I　might　need　some　help。'
　'More　than　that；'　replied　Corbelier；　'he　explained　that　you　were　in　Zurich。　Can't　say　I　understood　everything　he　said；　but　I　got　the　general　idea。　Seems　there's　a　lot　of　maneuvering　in　the　world　of　high　finance　these　days。'
　'More　than　usual。　The　trouble　is　no　one　wants　to　say　who's　maneuvering　whom。　That's　my　problem。'
　'How　can　I　help？'
　'I　have　a　licence　plate　and　a　telephone　number；　both　here　in　Paris。　The　telephone's　unlisted；　it　could　be　awkward　if　I　called。！
　'Give　them　to　me。'　She　did。　'A　mart　usque　ad　mare；'　Corbelier　said；　reciting　the　national　motto　of　their　country。　'We　have　several　friends　in　splendid　places。　We　trade　favours　frequently；　usually　in　the　narcotics　area；　but　we're　all　flexible。　Why　not　have　lunch　with　me　tomorrow？　I'll　bring　what　I　can。'
　'I'd　like　that；　but　tomorrow's　no　good。　I'm　spending　the　day　with　an　old　friend。　Perhaps　another　time。〃
　'Peter　said　I'd　be　an　idiot　not　to　insist。　He　says　you're　a　terrific　lady。！
　'He's　a　dear；　and　so　are　you。　I'll　call　you　tomorrow　afternoon。〃
　'Fine。　I'll　go　to　work　on　these。'
　'Talk　to　you　tomorrow；　and　thanks　again。〃　Marie　hung　up　and　looked　at　her　watch。　Tin　to　call　Peter　in　three　hours。　Don't　let　me　forget。'
　〃You　really　think　he'll　have　something　so　soon？〃
　'He　does！　he　started　last　night　by　calling　Washington。　It's　what　Corbelier　just　said；　we　all　trade　off。　This　piece　of　information　here　for　that　one　there；　a　name　from　our　side　for　one　of　yours。〃
　'Sounds　vaguely　like　betrayal。'
　The　opposite。　We're　dealing　in　money；　not　missiles。　Money　that　is　illegally　moving　around；　outflanking　laws　that　are　good　for　all　our　interests。　Unless　you　want　the　sheikhs　of　Arab！　owning　Grumman　Aircraft。　Then　we're　talking　about　missiles。。。　after　they've　left　the　launching　pads。'
　'Strike　my　objection。'
　'We've　got　to　see　d'Amacourt's　man　first　thing　in　the　morning。　Figure　out　what　you　want　to　withdraw。〃
　'All　of　it。'
　'All''
　'That's　right。　If　you　were　the　directors　of　Treadstone；　what　would　you　do　if　you　learned　that　four　million　Swiss　francs　were　missing　from　a　corporate　account？'
　'I　see！'
　'D'Amacourt　suggested　a　series　of　cashier's　cheques　made　out　to　the　bearer。〃
　'He　said　that？　Cheques？'
　'Yes。　Something　wrong？〃
　There　certainly　is。　The　numbers　of　those　cheques　could　be　punched　on　a　fraud　tape　and　sent　to　banks　everywhere。　You　have　to　go　to　a　bank　to　redeem　them；　payments　would　be　stopped。〃
　'He's　a　winner；　isn't　he？　He　collects　from　both　sides。　What　do　we　do？〃
　'Accept　half　of　what　he　told　you；　the　bearer　part。　But　not　cheques。　Bonds。　Bearer　bonds　of　various　denominations。　They're　far　more　easily　brokered。'
　'You've　just　earned　dinner；'　said　Jason；　reaching　down　and　touching　her　face。
　'I　tries　to　earn　my　keep；　sir；〃　she　replied；　holding　his　hand　against　her　cheek。　'First　dinner；　then　Peter。。。　and　then　a　bookshop　in　Saint…German。'
　'A　bookshop　in　Saint…German；'　repeated　Bourne；　the　pain　ing　to　his　chest　again。　What　was　it？　Why　was　he　so　afraid？
　They　left　the　restaurant　on　the　boulevard　Raspail　and　walked　to　the　telephone　plex　on　rue　de　Vaugirard。　There　were　glass　booths　against　the　walls　and　a　huge　circular　counter　in　the　centre　of　the　floor　where　clerks　filled　out　slips；　assigning　booths　to　those　placing　calls。
　The　traffic　is　very　light；　Madame；'　said　the　clerk　to　Marie。　'Your　call　should　go　through　in　a　matter　of　minutes。　Number　twelve；　please。〃
　Thank　you。　Booth　twelve？〃
　'Yes；　Madame。　Directly　over　there。〃
　As　they　walked　across　the　crowded　floor　to　the　booth；　Jason　held　her　arm。　'I　know　why　people　use　these　places；'　he　said。　They're　a　hundred　and　ten　times　quicker　than　a　hotel　phone。'
　That's　only　one　of　the　reasons。'
　They　had　barely　reached　the　booth　and　lighted　cigarettes　when　they　heard　the　two　short　bursts　of　the　bell　inside。　Marie　opened　the　door　and　went　in；　her　spiral…hinged　notebook　and　a　pencil　in　her　hand。　She　picked　up　the　receiver。
　Sixty　seconds　later　Bourne　watched　in　astonishment　as　she　stared　at　the　wall；　the　blood　draining　from　her　face；　her　skin　chalk　white。　She　began　shouting；　and　dropped　her　bag；　the　contents　scattering　over　the　floor　of　the　small　booth；　the　notebook　was　caught　on　the　ledge；　the　pencil　broken　in　the　grip　of　her　hand。　He　rushed　inside；　she　was　close　to　collapse。
　This　is　Marie　St　Jacques　in　Paris；　Lisa。　Peter's　expecting　my　call。'
　'Marie？　Oh；　my　God。。。'　The　secretary's　voice　trailed　off；　replaced　by　other　voices　in　the　background。　Excited　voices；　muted　by　a　cupped　hand　over　the　phone。　Then　there　was　a　rustle　of　movement；　the　phone　being　given　to　or　taken　by　another。
　'Marie；　this　is　Alan；'　said　the　first　assistant　director　of　the　section。　'We're　all　in　Peter's　office。'
　'What's　the　matter；　Alan？　I　don't　have　much　time；　may　I　speak　to　him；　please？'
　There　was　a　moment　of　silence。　'I　wish　I　could　make　this　easier　for　you；　but　I　don't　know　how。　Peter's　dead；　Marie。〃
　'He's。。。　what？'
　The　police　called　a　few　minutes　ago；　they're　on　their　way　over。'
　'The　police！　What　happened？　Oh　God；　he's　dead！　What　happened〃｝'
　'We're　trying　to　piece　it　together。　We're　studying　his　phone　log；　but　we're　not　supposed　to　touch　anything　on　his　desk。'
　'His　desk。。。？'
　'Notes　or　memos；　or　anything　like　that。'
　'Alan！　Tell　me　what　happened！'
　'That's　just　it；　we　don't　know。　He　didn't　tell　any　of　us　what　he　was　doing。　All　we　know　is　that　he　got　two　phone　calls　this　morning　from　the　States；　one　from　Washington；　the　other　from　New　York。　Around　noon　he　told　Lisa　he　was　going　to　the　airport　to　meet　someone　flying　up。　He　didn't　say　who。。。　The　police　found　him　an　hour　ago　in　one　of　those　tunnels　used　for　freight。　It　was　terrible；　he　was　shot。　In　the　throat。。。　Marie？　Marie？'
　The　old　man　with　the　hollow　eyes　and　the　stubble　of　a　white　beard；　limped　into　the　dark　confessional　booth；　blinking　his　eyes　repeatedly；　trying　to　focus　on　the　hooded　figure　beyond　the　opaque　curtain。　Sight　was　not　easy　for　this　eighty…year…old　messenger。　But　his　mind　was　clear；　that　was　all　that　mattered。
　'Angelus　Domini；'　he　said。
　'Angelus　Domini；　child　of　God；'　whispered　the　hooded　silhouette。　'Are　your　days　fortable？'
　'They　draw　to　an　end　but　they　are　made　fortable。〃
　'Good。。。　Zurich？'
　'They　found　the　man　from　the　Guisan　Quai。　He　was　wounded；　they　traced　him　through　a　doctor　known　to　the　Verbrecherwelt。　Under　severe　interrogation　he　admitted　assaulting　the　woman。　Cain　came　back　for　her；　it　was　Cain　who　shot　him。'
　'So　it　was　an　arrangement；　the　woman　and　Cain。'
　'The　man　from　the　Guisan　Quai　does　not　think　so。　He　was　one　of　the　two　who　picked　her　up　on　the　Lowenstrasse。'
　'He's　also　a　fool。　He　killed　the　watchman？！
　'He　admits　it　and　defends　it。　He　had　no　choice　in　making　his　escape。'
　'He　may　not　have　to　defend　it；　it　could　be　the　most　intelligent　thing　he　did。　Does　he　have　his　gun？'
　'Your　people　have　it。'
　'Good；　There　is　a　prefect　in　the　Zurich　police。　That　gun　must　be　given　to　him。　Cain　is　elusive；　the　woman　far　less　so。　She　has　associates　in　Ottawa；　they'll　stay　in　touch。　We　trap　her；　we　trace　him。　Is　your　pencil　ready？〃
　'Yes；　Carlos。'
　Bourne　held　her　in　the　close　confines　of　the　glass　booth；　gently　lowering　her　to　the　seat　that　protruded　from　the　narrow　wall。　She　was　shaking；　breathing　in　swallows　and　gasps；　her　eyes　glazed；　ing　into　focus　as　she　looked　at　him。
　'They　killed　him。　They　killed　him！　My　God；　what　did　I　dot　Peter：
　'You　didn't　do　it！　If　anyone　did　it；　I　did。　Not　you。　Get　that　through　your　head。'
　'Jason；　I'm　frightened。　He　was　half　a　world　away。。。　and　they　killed　him！'
　'Treadstone？'
　'Who　else？　There　were　two　phone　calls；　Washington。。。　New　York。　He　went　to　the　airport　to　meet　someone　and　he　was　killed。'
　'How？'
　'Oh；　Jesus　Christ。。。〃　Tears　came　to　Marie's　eyes。　'He　was　shot。　In　the　throat；'　she　whispered。
　Bourne　suddenly　felt　a　dull　ache；　he　could　not　localize　it；　but　it　was　there；　cutting　off　air。　'Carlos；'　he　said；　not　knowing　why　he　said　it。
　'What？'　Marie　stared　up　at　him。　'What　did　you　say？'
　'Carlos；'　he　repeated　softly。　'A　bullet　in　the　throat。　Carlos。'
　'What　are　you　trying　to　say？'
　'I　don't　know。'　He　took　her　arm。　'Let's　get　out　of　here。　Are　you　all　right？　Can　you　walk？'
　She　nodded；　closing　her　eyes　briefly；　breathing　deeply。　'Yes。　'We'll　stop　for　a　drink；　we　both　need　it。　Then　we'll　find　it。'　'Find　what？'　'A　bookshop　on　Saint…Germain。'
　There　were　three　back　issues　of　magazines　under　the　Carlos　index。　A　four…year…old　edition　of　the　international　Time；　and　two　Paris　issues　of　Le　Globe。　They　did　not　read　the　articles　inside　the　shop；　instead　they　bought　all　three　and　took　a　taxi　back　to　the　hotel　in　Montparnasse。　There　they　began　reading；　Marie　on　the　bed；　Jason　in　the　chair　by　the　window。　Several　minutes　passed；　and　Marie　bolted　up。
　'It's　here；'　she　said；　fear　in　both　her　face　and　voice。
　'Read　it。'
　'〃A　particularly　brutal　form　of　punishment　is　said　to　be　inflicted　by　Carlos　and/or　his　small　band　of　soldiers。　It　is　death　by　a　gunshot　in　the　throat；　often　leaving　the　victim　to　die　in　excruciating　pain。　It　is　reserved　for　those　who　break　the　Code　of　silence　or　loyalty