rl.thebourneidentity-第69部分

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　'There's　your　message；'　said　Jason。　'Now　you　know　what　it　is。　And　now　I　think　you'd　better　listen　to　what　I　have　to　say。'
　Marie　did　not　answer　him。　Instead；　she　walked　slowly　to　the　dress；　studying　it　as　if　not　believing　what　she　saw。　Without　warning；　she　suddenly　spun　around；　her　eyes　glittering；　the　tears　arrested。　'No！　It's　wrong！　Something's　terribly　wrong！　Call　the　embassy。'　'What？'
　'Do　as　I　say。　Now！'
　'Stop　it；　Marie。　You've　got　to　understand。'　'No；　goddamn　you！　You've　got　to　understand！　It　wouldn't　happen　this　way。　It　couldn't？　'It　did。'
　'Call　the　embassy！　Use　that　phone　over　there　and　call　it　now！　Ask　for　Corbelier。　Quickly；　for　God's　sake！　If　I　mean　anything　to　you；　do　as　I　ask！'
　Bourne　could　not　deny　her。　Her　intensity　killing　both　herself　and　him。　'What　do　I　tell　him？'　he　asked；　going　to　the　telephone。
　'Get　him　first！　That's　what　I'm　afraid　of。。。　oh；　God；　I'm　frightened！'　'What's　the　number？'
　She　gave　it　to　him；　he　dialled；　holding　on　interminably　for　the　switchboard　to　answer。　When　it　finally　did；　the　operator　was　in　panic；　her　words　rising　and　falling；　at　moments　inprehensible。　In　the　background；　he　could　hear　shouts；　sharp　mands　voiced　rapidly　in　English　and　in　French。　Within　seconds　he　learned　why。
　Dennis　Corbelier；　Canadian　attaché；　had　walked　down　the　steps　of　the　embassy　on　the　avenue　Montaigne　at　1。40　in　the　morning　and　had　been　shot　in　the　throat。　He　was　dead。
　'There's　the　other　part　of　the　message；　Jason；'　whispered
　Marie；　drained；　staring　at　him。　'And　now　I'll　listen　to　anything　you　have　to　say。　Because　there　is　someone　out　there　trying　to　reach　you；　trying　to　help　you。　A　message　was　sent；　but　not　to　us；　not　to　me。　Only　to　you；　and　only　you　were　to　understand　it。
　One　by　one　the　four　men　arrived　at　the　crowded　Hilton　Hotel　on　Sixteenth　Street　in　Washington；　D。　C。　Each　went　to　a　separate　lift；　taking　it　two　or　three　floors　above　or　below　his　destination；　walking　the　remaining　flights　to　the　correct　level　There　was　no　time　to　meet　outside　the　limits　of　the　District　of　Columbia；　the　crisis　was　unparalleled。　These　were　men　of　Treadstone　Seventy…one　…　those　that　remained　alive。　The　rest　were　dead；　slaughtered　in　a　massacre　on　a　quiet；　tree…lined　street　in　New　York。
　Two　of　the　faces　were　familiar　to　the　public；　one　more　than　the　other。　The　first　belonged　to　the　ageing　senator　from　Colorado；　the　second　was　Brigadier…General　I。　A。　Crawford　…Irwin　Arthur；　freely　translated　as　Iron　Ass　…　acknowledged　spokesman　for　Army　Intelligence　and　defender　of　the　G…Two　data　banks。　The　other　two　men　were　virtually　unknown；　except　within　the　corridors　of　their　own　operations。　One　was　a　middle…aged　naval　officer；　attached　to　Information　Control；　5th　Naval　District　The　fourth　and　last　man　was　a　forty…six…year…old　veteran　of　the　Central　Intelligence　Agency；　a　slender；　coiled　spring　of　anger　who　walked　with　a　cane。　His　foot　had　been　blown　off　by　a　grenade　in　South…east　Asia；　he　had　been　a　deep　cover　agent　with　the　Medusa　operation　at　the　time。　His　name　was　Alexander　Conklin。
　There　was　no　conference　table　in　the　room；　it　was　an　ordinary　double　bedroom　with　the　standard　twin　beds；　a　couch；　two　armchairs　and　a　coffee　table。　It　was　an　unlikely　spot　to　hold　a　meeting　of　such　consequence；　there　were　no　spinning　puters　to　light　up　dark　screens　with　green　letters；　no　electronic　munications　equipment　that　would　reach　consoles　in　London　or　Paris　or　Istanbul。　It　was　a　plain　hotel　room；　devoid　of　everything　but　four　minds　that　held　the　secrets　of　Tread　stone　Seventy…one。
　The　senator　sat　at　one　end　of　the　couch；　the　naval　officer　at　the　other。　Conklin　lowered　himself　into　an　armchair；　stretching　his　immobile　limb　out　in　front　of　him；　the　cane　between　his　legs；　while　Brigadier…General　Crawford　remained　standing；　his　face　flushed；　the　muscles　of　his　jaw　pulsing　in　anger。
　'I've　reached　the　President；'　said　the　senator；　rubbing　his　forehead；　the　lack　of　sleep　apparent　in　his　bearing。　'I　had　to；　we're　meeting　tonight。　Tell　me　everything　you　can；　each　of　you。　You　begin；　General。　What　in　the　name　of　God　happened？'
　'Major　Webb　was　to　meet　his　car　at　twenty…three…hundred　hours　on　the　corner　of　Lexington　and　Seventy…second　Street。　The　time　was　firm；　but　he　didn't　show　up。　By　twenty…three…thirty　the　driver　became　alarmed　because　of　the　distance　to　the　airfield　in　New　Jersey。　The　sergeant　remembered　the　address　…　mainly　because　he'd　been　told　to　forget　it　…　drove　round　and　went　to　the　door。　The　security　bolts　had　been　jammed；　and　the　door　just　swung　open；　all　the　alarms　had　been　shorted　out。　There　was　blood　on　the　foyer　floor；　the　dead　woman　on　the　staircase。　He　walked　down　the　hall　into　the　operations　room　and　found　the　bodies。'
　'That　man　deserves　a　very　quiet　promotion；'　said　the　naval　officer。
　'Why　do　you　say　that？'　asked　the　senator。　Crawford　replied。　'He　had　the　presence　of　mind　to　call　the　Pentagon　and　insist　on　speaking　with　covert　transmissions；　domestic。　He　specified　the　scrambler　frequency；　the　time　and　the　place　of　reception；　and　said　he　had　to　speak　with　the　sender。　He　didn't　say　a　word　to　anyone　until　he　got　me　on　the　phone。'
　'Put　him　in　the　War　College；　Irwin；'　said　Conklin　grimly；　holding　his　cane。　'He's　brighter　than　most　of　the　clowns　you've　got　over　there。'
　That's　not　only　unnecessary；　Conklin；'　admonished　the　senator；　'but　patently　offensive。　Go　on；　please；　General。'
　Crawford　exchanged　looks　with　the　C。I。A。　man。　I　reached　Colonel　Paul　McClaren　in　New　York；　ordered　him　over　there；　and　told　him　to　do　absolutely　nothing　until　I　arrived。　I　then　phoned　Conklin　and　George　here；　and　we　flew　up　together。'
　'I　called　a　Bureau　print　team　in　Manhattan；'　added　Conklin。　'One　we've　used　before；　and　can　trust　I　didn't　tell　them　what　we　were　looking　for；　but　I　told　them　to　sweep　the　place　and　give　what　they　found　only　to　me。'　The　C。I。A。　man　stopped；　lifting　his　cane　in　the　direction　of　the　naval　officer。　Then　George　fed　them　thirty…seven　names；　all　men　whose　prints　we　knew　were　in　the　F。B。I。　files。　They　came　up　with　the　one　set　we　didn't　expect；　didn't　want。。。　didn't　believe。'
　'Delta's；'　said　the　senator。
　'Yes；'　concurred　the　naval　officer。　The　names　I　submitted　were　those　of　anyone　…　no　matter　how　remote　…　who　might　have　learned　the　address　of　Treadstone；　including；　incidentally；　all　of　us。　The　room　had　been　wiped　clean；　every　surface；　every　knob；　every　glass　…　except　one。　It　was　a　broken　brandy　glass；　only　a　few　fragments　in　the　corner　under　a　curtain；　but　it　was　enough。　The　prints　were　there：　third　and　index　fingers；　right　hand。'
　'You're　absolutely　positive？'　asked　the　senator　slowly。
　'The　prints　can't　lie；　sir；'　said　the　officer。　They　were　there；　moist　brandy　still　on　the　fragments。　Outside　this　room；　Delta's　the　only　one　who　knows　about　Seventy…first　Street'
　'Can　we　be　sure　of　that？　The　others　may　have　said　something。'
　'No　possibility；'　interrupted　the　brigadier…general。　'Abbott　would　never　have　revealed　it　and　Elliot　Stevens　wasn't　given　the　address　until　fifteen　minutes　before　he　got　there；　when　he　called　from　a　phone　booth。　Beyond　that；　assuming　the　worst；　he　would　hardly　ask　for　his　own　execution。'
　'What　about　Major　Webb？'　pressed　the　senator。
　The　major；'　replied　Crawford；　'was　radioed　the　address　by　me　after　he　landed　at　Kennedy　Airport　As　you　know；　it　was　a　G…Two　frequency　and　scrambled。　I　remind　you；　he　also　lost　his　life。'
　'Yes；　of　course。'　The　ageing　senator　shook　his　head。　'It's　unbelievable。　Why？'
　'I　should　like　to　bring　up　a　painful　subject；'　said　Brigadier…General　Crawford。　'At　the　outset；　I　was　not　enthusiastic　about　the　candidate。　I　understood　David's　reasoning　and　agreed　he　was　qualified；　but　if　you　recall；　he　wasn't　my　choice。'
　'I　wasn't　aware　we　had　that　many　choices；'　said　the　senator。　'We　had　a　man　…　a　qualified　man；　as　you　agreed　…　who　was　willing　to　go　in　deep　cover　for　an　indeterminate　length　of　tune；　risking　his　life　every　day；　severing　all　ties　with　his　past　How　many　such　men　exist？'
　'We　might　have　found　a　more　balanced　one；'　countered　the　brigadier。　'I　pointed　that　out　at　the　time。'
　'You　pointed　out；'　corrected　Conklin；　'your　own　definition　of　a　balanced　man；　which　I；　at　the　time；　pointed　out　was　a　crock。'
　'We　were　both　in　Medusa；　Conklin；'　said　Crawford；　angrily　yet　reasonably。　'You　don't　have　exclusive　insight。　Delta's　conduct　in　the　field　was　continuously　and　overtly　hostile　to　mand。　I　was　in　a　position　to　observe　that　pattern　somewhat　more　clearly　than　you。　'
　'Most　of　the　time　he　had　every　right　to　be。　If　you'd　spent　more　time　in　the　field　and　less　in　Saigon　you　would　have　understood　that。　I　understood　it。'
　'It　may　surprise　you；'　said　the　brigadier；　holding　his　hand　up　in　a　gesture　of　truce；　'but　I'm　not　defending　the　gross　stupidities　often　rampant　in　Saigon；　no　one　could。　I'm　trying　to　describe　a　pattern　of　behaviour　that　could　lead　to　the　night　before　last　on　Seventy…first　Street。'
　The　C。I。A。　man's　eyes　remained　on　Crawford；　his　hostility　vanished　as　he　nodded　his　head。　'I　know　you　are。　Sorry。　That's　the　crux　of　it；　isn't　it？　It's　not　easy　for　me；　I　worked　with　Delta　in　half　a　dozen　sectors；　was　stationed　with　him　in　Phnom…Penh　before　Medusa　was　even　a　gleam　in　the　Monk's　eye。　He　was　never　the　same　after　Phnom…Pe