rl.thebourneidentity-第59部分

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arm　…　not　to　guide　her；　not　even　out　of　courtesy　…　only　to　touch　her；　to　hold　a　part　of　her。　There　was　so　little　time。
　I　am　Cain。　I　am　death；
　'Can　we　slow　down？'　asked　Marie　sharply。
　'What？'　Jason　realized　he　had　been　practically　running；　for　a　few　seconds　he　had　been　in　the　labyrinth；　racing　through　it；　careening；　feeling；　and　not　feeling。　He　looked　up　ahead　and　found　an　answer。　At　the　corner　an　empty　cab　had　stopped　by　a　garish　news…stand；　the　driver　shouting　through　an　open　window　to　the　dealer。　'I　want　to　catch　that　taxi；'　said　Bourne；　without　breaking　stride。　'It's　going　to　rain　like　hell。'
　They　reached　the　corner；　both　breathless　as　the　empty　cab　pulled　away；　swinging　left　into　rue　de　Rivoli。　Jason　looked　up　into　the　night　sky；　feeling　the　wet　pounding　on　his　face；　unnerved。　The　rain　had　arrived。　He　looked　at　Marie　in　the　gaudy　lights　of　the　news…stand；　she　was　wincing　in　the　sudden　downpour。　No。　She　was　not　wincing；　she　was　staring　at　something。。。　staring　in　disbelief；　in　shock。　In　horror。　Without　warning；　she　screamed；　her　face　contorted；　the　fingers　of　her　right　hand　pressed　against　her　mouth。　Bourne　grabbed　her；　pulling　her　head　into　the　damp　cloth　of　his　overcoat；　she　would　not　stop　screaming。
　He　turned；　trying　to　find　the　cause　of　her　hysterics。　Then　he　saw　it；　and　in　that　unbelievable　split　half…second　he　knew　the　countdown　was　aborted。　He　had　mitted　the　final　crime；　he　could　not　leave　her。　Not　now；　not　yet。
　On　the　first　ledge　of　the　news…stand　was　an　early　morning　tabloid；　black　headlines　electrifying　under　the　circles　of　light：
　Slayer　in　Paris
　Woman　Sought　in　Zurich　Killings
　Suspect　in　Rumoured　Theft　of　Millions
　Under　the　screaming　words　was　a　photograph　of　Marie　St　Jacques。
　'Stop　it！'　whispered　Jason；　using　his　body　to　cover　her　face　from　the　curious　newsdealer；　reaching　into　his　pocket　for　coins。　He　threw　the　money　on　the　counter；　grabbed　two　papers；　and　propelled　her　down　the　dark；　rain…soaked　street
　They　were　both　in　the　labyrinth　now。
　Bourne　opened　the　door；　and　led　Marie　inside。　She　stood　motionless；　looking　at　him；　her　face　pale　and　frightened；　her　breathing　erratic；　an　audible　mixture　of　fear　and　anger。　'I'll　get　you　a　drink；'　said　Jason；　going　to　the　bureau。　As　he　poured；　his　eyes　strayed　to　the　minor　and　he　had　an　overpowering　urge　to　smash　the　glass；　so　despicable　was　his　own　image　to　him。　What　the　hell　had　he　done！　Oh　God！
　I　am　Coin。　I　am　death。
　He　heard　her　gasp　and　span　around；　too　late　to　stop　her；　too　far　away　to　lunge　and　tear　the　awful　thing　from　her　hand。　Oh；　Christ；　he　had　forgotten！　She　had　found　the　envelope　on　the　bedside　table；　and　was　reading　his　note。　Her　single　scream　was　a　searing；　terrible　cry　of　pain。
　'Jasonunn！。。。'
　'Please！　No！'　He　raced　from　the　bureau　and　grabbed　her。　'It　doesn't　matter！　It　doesn't　count　any　more！'　He　shouted　helplessly；　seeing　the　tears　welling　in　her　eyes；　streaking　down　her　face。　'Listen　to　me！　That　was　before；　not　now。'
　'You　were　leaving！　My　God；　…you　were　leaving　me！'　Her　eyes　went　blank；　two　blind　circles　of　panic。　'I　knew　it！　I　felt　it！'
　'I　made　you　feel　it！'　he　said；　forcing　her　to　look　at　him。　'But　it's　over　now。　I　won't　leave　you。　Listen　to　me。　I　won't　leave　you！'
　She　screamed　again。　'I　couldn't　breathe！。。。　It　was　so　cold！'
　He　pulled　her　to　him；　enveloping　her。　'We　have　to　begin　again。　Try　to　understand。　It's　different　now　…　and　I　can't　change　what　was　…　but　I　won't　leave　you。　Not　like　this。'
　She　pushed　her　hands　against　his　chest；　her　tear…stained　face　angled　back；　begging；　'Why；　Jason？　Why？'
　'Later。　Not　now。　Don't　say　anything　for　a　while。　lust　hold　me；　let　me　hold　you。'
　The　minutes　passed；　hysteria　ran　its　course　and　the　outlines　of　reality　came　back　into　focus。　Bourne　led　her　to　the　chair；　she　caught　the　sleeve　of　her　dress　on　the　frayed　lace。　They　both　smiled　as　he　knelt　beside　her；　holding　her　hand　in　silence。
　'How　about　that　drink？'　he　said　finally。
　'I　think　so；'　she　replied；　briefly　tightening　her　grip　on　his　hand　as　he　got　up　from　the　floor。　'You　poured　it　quite　a　while　ago。'
　'It　won't　go　flat。'　He　went　to　the　bureau　and　returned　with　two　glasses　half　filled　with　whisky。　She　took　hers。　'Feeling　better？'　he　asked。
　'Calmer。　Still　confused。。。　frightened；　of　course。　Maybe
　angry；　too；　I'm　not　sure。　I'm　too　afraid　to　think　about　that。'　She　drank；　closing　her　eyes；　her　head　pressed　back　against　the　chair。　'Why　did　you　do　it；　Jason？'
　'Because　I　thought　I　had　to。　That's　the　simple　answer。'
　'And　no　answer　at　all。　I　deserve　more　than　that。'
　'Yes；　you　do；　and　I'll　give　it　to　you。　I　have　to　now　because　you　have　to　hear　it；　you　have　to　understand。　You　have　to　protect　yourself。'
　'Protect。。。？'
　He　held　up　his　hand；　interrupting　her。　'It'll　e　later。　All　of　it；　if　you　like。　But　the　first　thing　we　have　to　do　is　know　what　happened　…　not　to　me；　but　to　you。　That's　where　we　have　to　begin。　Can　you　do　it？'
　'The　newspaper？'
　'Yes。'
　'God　knows；　I'm　interested；'　she　said；　smiling　weakly。
　'Here。'　Jason　went　to　the　bed　where　he　had　dropped　the　two　papers。　'We'll　both　read　it。'
　'No　games？〃
　'No　games。'
　They　read　the　long　article　in　silence；　an　article　that　told　of　death　and　intrigue　in　Zurich。　Every　now　and　then　Marie　gasped；　shocked　at　what　she　was　reading；　at　other　times　she　shook　her　head　in　disbelief。　Bourne　said　nothing。　He　saw　the　hand　of　Ilyich　Ramirez　Sanchez。　Carlos　will　follow　Cain　to　the　ends　of　the　earth。　Carlos　will　kill　him。　Marie　St　Jacques　was　expendable；　a　baited　decoy　that　would　die　in　the　trap　that　caught　Cain。
　I　am　Cain。　I　am　death。
　The　article　was；　in　fact；　two　articles　…　an　odd　mixture　of　fact　and　conjecture；　speculations　taking　over　where　evidence　came　to　an　end。　The　first　part　indicted　a　Canadian　government　employee；　a　female　economist；　Marie　St　Jacques。　She　was　placed　at　the　scene　of　three　murders；　her　fingerprints　confirmed　by　the　Canadian　government。　In　addition；　police　found　a　hotel　key　from　the　Carillon　du　Lac；　apparently　lost　during　the　violence　on　the　Guisan　Quai。　It　was　the　key　to　Marie　St　Jacques'　room；　given　to　her　by　the　hotel　clerk　who　remembered　her　well　…　remembered　what　appeared　to　him　to　be　a　guest　in　a　highly　disturbed　state　of　anxiety。　The　final　piece　of　evidence　was　a　handgun　discovered　not　far　from　the　Steppdeckstrasse；　in　an　alley　close　by　the　scene　of　two　other　killings。　Ballistics　held　it　to　be　the　murder　weapon；　and　again　there　were　fingerprints；　again　confirmed　by　the　Canadian　government。　They　belonged　to　the　woman；　Marie　St　Jacques。
　It　was　at　this　point　that　the　article　veered　from　fact。　It　spoke　of　rumours　along　the　Bahnhofstrasse　that　a　multi…million…dollar　theft　had　taken　place　by　means　of　a　puter　manipulation　dealing　with　a　numbered；　confidential　account　belonging　to　an　American　corporation　called　Treadstone　Seventy…one。　The　bank　was　also　named；　it　was　of　course　the　Gemeinschaft　But　everything　else　was　clouded；　obscure；　more　speculation　than　fact。
　According　to　'unnamed　sources'；　an　American　male　holding　the　proper　codes　transferred　millions　to　a　bank　in　Paris；　assigning　the　new　account　to　specific　individuals　who　were　to　assume　rights　of　possession。　The　assignees　were　waiting　in　Paris　and；　upon　clearance；　withdrew　the　millions　and　disappeared。　The　success　of　the　operation　was　traced　to　the　American's　obtaining　the　accurate　codes　to　the　Gemeinschaft　account；　a　feat　made　possible　by　penetrating　the　bank's　numerical　sequence　related　to　year；　month　and　day　of　entry；　standard　procedure　for　confidential　holdings。　Such　an　analysis　could　only　be　made　through　the　use　of　sophisticated　puter　techniques　and　a　thorough　knowledge　of　Swiss　banking　practices。　When　questioned；　an　officer　of　the　bank；　Herr　Walther　Apfel；　acknowledged　that　there　was　an　on…going　investigation　into　matters　pertaining　to　the　American　pany；　but　pursuant　to　Swiss　law；　'the　bank　would　make　no　further　ment。　To　anyone。'
　Here　the　connection　with　Marie　St。　Jacques　was　clarified。　She　was　described　as　a　government　economist　extensively　schooled　in　international　banking　procedures；　as　well　as　a　skilled　puter　programmer。　She　was　suspected　of　being　an　acplice；　her　expertise　necessary　to　the　massive　theft。　And　there　was　a　male　suspect；　she　was　reported　to　have　been　seen　in　his　pany　at　the　Carillon　du　Lac。
　Marie　finished　the　article　first　and　let　the　paper　drop　to　the　floor。　At　the　sound；　Bourne　looked　over　from　the　edge　of　the　bed。　She　was　staring　at　the　wall；　a　strange　pensive　serenity　having　e　over　her。　It　was　the　last　reaction　he　expected。　He　finished　reading　quickly；　feeling　depressed　and　hopeless　…　for　a　moment；　speechless。　Then　he　found　his　voice　and　spoke。
　'Lies；'　he　said；　'and　they　were　made　because　of　me；　because　of　who　and　what　I　am。　Smoke　you　out；　they　find　me。　I'm　sorry；　sorrier　than　I　can　ever　tell　you。'
　Marie　shifted　her　eyes　from　the　wall　and　looked　at　him。　'It　goes　much　deeper　than　lies；　Jason；'　she　said。　〃There's　too　much　truth　for　lies　alone。'
　'Truth？　The　only　truth　is　that　you　were　in　Zurich！　You　never　touched　a　gun；　you　were　never　in　an　alley　near　the　Steppdeckstrasse；　you　didn't　lose　a　hotel　key；　and　you　never　went　near　the　Gemeinschaft。'
　'Agreed；　but　that's　not　the　truth　I'm　talking　about。'
　Then　what　is？'
　'The