rl.thebourneidentity-第75部分

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f　their　fabric　brought　back　by　a　force　that　could　serve　causes　they　refused　to　admit　were　no　longer　viable。　Once　a　terrorist；　always　a　terrorist；　and　assassination　was　the　raw　core　of　terror。
　The　general　was　raising　his　voice；　Jason　tried　to　hear　the　words　through　the　glass。　They　became　clearer。
　'。。。　our　presence　will　be　felt；　our　purpose　understood。　We　are　together　in　our　stand；　and　that　stand　is　immovable；　we　shall　be　heard！　In　memory　of　all　those　who　have　fallen　…　our　brothers　of　the　tunic　and　the　cannon？　'Who　laid　down　their　lives　for　the　glory　of　France。　We　shall　force　our　beloved　country　to　remember；　and　in　their　names　to　remain　strong；　lackey　to　no　one　Those　who　oppose　us　will　know　our　anger。　In　this；　too；　we　are　united。　We　pray　to　Almighty　God　that　those　who　have　gone　before　us　have　found　peace；　for　we　are　still　in　conflict。。。　Gentlemen。　I　give　you　our　Lady。　Our　France。〃
　There　was　a　murmur　of　muttered　approvals；　the　old　soldiers　remaining　rigidly　at　attention。　And　then　another　voice　was　raised；　the　first　five　words　sung　singly；　joined　at　the　sixth　by　the　rest　of　the　group。
　Allans；　enfants　de　la　patrie；　Le　jour　de　gloire　est　arrive。。。
　Bourne　turned　away；　sickened　by　the　sight　and　the　sounds　inside　that　room。　Lay　waste　in　the　name　of　glory；　the　death　of　fallen　rades　perforce　demands　further　death。　It　is　required；　and　if　it　means　a　pact　with　Carlos；　so　be　it。
　What　disturbed　him　so？　Why　was　he　suddenly　swept　by　feelings　of　anger　and　futility？　What　triggered　the　revulsion　he　felt　so　strongly？　And　then　he　knew。　He　hated　a　man　like　Andrel　Villiers；　despised　the　men　in　that　room。　They　were　all　old　men　who　made　war；　stealing　life　from　the　young。。。　and　the　very　young。
　Why　were　the　mists　closing　in　again？　Why　was　the　pain　so　acute？　There　was　no　time　for　questions；　no　strength　to　tolerate　them。　He　had　to　push　them　out　of　his　mind；　and　concentrate　on　Andrel　Francois　Villiers；　warrior　and　warlord；　whose　causes　belonged　to　yesterday　but　whose　pact　with　an　assassin　called　for　death　today。
　He　would　trap　the　general。　Break　him。　Learn　everything　he　knew　and　probably　kill　him。　Men　like　Villiers　robbed　life　from　the　young　and　the　very　young。　They　did　not　deserve　to　live。　7　am　in　my　labyrinth　again；　and　the　walls　are　embedded　with　spikes。　Oh；　Cod；　they　hurt。
　Jason　climbed　over　the　railing　in　the　darkness　and　lowered　himself　to　the　drainpipe；　each　muscle　aching。　Pain；　too；　had　to　be　erased。　He　had　to　reach　a　deserted　stretch　of　road　in　the　moonlight　and　trap　a　broker　of　death。
　Bourne　waited　in　the　Renault　two　hundred　yards　east　of　the　restaurant　entrance；　the　motor　running；　prepared　to　race　ahead　the　instant　he　saw　Villiers　drive　out。　Several　others　had　already　left；　all　in　separate　cars。　Conspirators　did　not　advertise　their　association；　and　these　old　men　were　conspirators　in　the　truest　sense。　They　had　traded　whatever　honours　they　had　earned　for　the　lethal　convenience　of　an　assassin's　gun　and　an　assassin's　organization。　Age　and　bias　had　robbed　them　of　reason；　as　they　had　spent　their　lives　robbing　life。。。　from　the　young　and　the　very　young。
　What　was　it？　Why　won't　it　leave　me？　Some　terrible　thing　is　deep　inside　me；　trying　to　break　out；　trying　I　think　to　kill　me。　The　fear　and　the　guilt　sweep　through　me。。。　but　of　…what　and　for　what　I　do　not　know。　Why　should　these　withered　old　men　provoke　such　feelings　of　fear　and　guilt。。。　and　loathing？
　They　were　war。　They　were　death。　On　the　ground　and　from　the　skies。　From　the　skies。。。　from　the　skies。　Help　me；　Marie。　For　God's　sake；　help　me！
　There　it　was。　The　headlights　swung　out　of　the　drive；　the　long　black　chassis　reflecting　the　wash　of　the　floodlights。　Jason　kept　his　own　lights　off　as　he　pulled　out　of　the　shadows。　He　accelerated　down　the　road　until　he　reached　the　first　curve；　where　he　switched　on　the　headlights　and　pressed　the　pedal　to　the　floor。　The　isolated　stretch　of　countryside　was　roughly　two　miles　away；　he　had　to　get　there　quickly。
　It　was　ten　past　eleven　and；　as　three　hours　before；　the　fields　swept　into　the　hills；　both　bathed　in　the　light　of　the　March　moon；　now　in　the　centre　of　the　sky。　He　reached　the　area；　it　was　feasible。　The　shoulder　was　wide；　bordering　a　pasture；　which　meant　that　both　cars　could　be　pulled　off　the　road。　The　immediate　objective；　however；　was　to　get　Villiers　to　stop。　The　general　was　old　but　not　feeble；　if　the　tactic　were　suspect；　he　would　break　over　the　grass　and　race　away。　Everything　was　timing；　and　a　totally　convincing　moment　of　the　unexpected。
　Bourne　swung　the　Renault　around　in　a　U…turn；　waited　until　he　saw　the　headlights　in　the　distance；　then　suddenly　accelerated；　swinging　the　wheel　violently　back　and　forth。　The　car　careened　over　the　road　…　an　out…of…control　driver；　incapable　of　finding　a　straight　line；　but　nevertheless　speeding。
　Villiers　had　no　choice；　he　slowed　down；　as　Jason　came　racing　insanely　towards　him。　Then　abruptly；　when　the　two　cars　were　no　more　than　twenty　feet　from　colliding；　Bourne　spun　the　wheel　to　the　left；　braking　as　he　did　so；　sliding　into　skid；　tyres　screeching。　He　came　to　a　stop；　the　window　open；　and　raised　his　voice　in　an　undefined　cry。　Half　shout；　half　scream；　it　could　have　been　the　vocal　explosion　of　an　ill　man　or　a　drunken　man；　but　the　one　thing　it　was　not　was　threatening。　He　slapped　his　hand　on　the　frame　of　the　window　and　was　silent；　crouching　in　the　seat；　his　gun　on　his　lap。
　He　heard　the　door　of　Villiers's　saloon　open　and　peered　through　the　steering　wheel。　The　old　man　was　not　visibly　armed；　he　seemed　to　suspect　nothing；　relieved　only　that　a　collision　had　been　avoided。　The　general　walked　through　the　beams　of　the　headlights　to　the　Renault's　left　window；　his　shouts　anxious；　his　French　the　interrogating　mands　of　Saint　Cyr。
　'What's　the　meaning　of　this？　What　do　you　think　you're　doing！　Are　you　all　right？'　His　hands　gripped　the　base　of　the　window。
　'Yes；　but　you're　not；'　replied　Bourne　in　English；　raising　the　gun。
　'What？。。。'　The　old　man　gasped；　standing　erect。　'Who　are　you　and　what　is　this？'
　Jason　got　out　of　the　Renault；　his　left　hand　extended　above　the　barrel　of　the　weapon。　'I'm　glad　your　English　is　fluent。　Walk　back　to　your　car。　Drive　it　off　the　road。'
　'And　if　I　refuse？'
　'I'll　kill　you　right　now。　It　wouldn't　take　much　to　provoke　me。'
　'Do　these　words　e　from　the　Red　Brigades？　Or　the　Paris　branch　of　the　Baader…Meinhof？'
　'Why？　Could　you　countermand　them　if　they　did？'
　'I　spit　at　them！　And　you！'
　'No　one's　ever　doubted　your　courage；　General。　Walk　to　your　car。'
　'It's　not　a　matter　of　courage'　said　Villiers；　without　moving。　'It's　a　question　of　logic。　You'll　acplish　nothing　by　killing　me；　less　by　kidnapping　me。　My　orders　are　firm；　fully　understood　by　my　staff　and　my　family。　The　Israelis　are　absolutely　right！　There　can　be　no　negotiations　with　terrorists。　Use　your　gun；　garbage！　Or　get　out　of　here！'
　Jason　studied　the　old　soldier；　suddenly　profoundly　uncertain；　but　not　about　to　be　fooled。　It　would　be　in　the　furious　eyes　that　stared　at　him。　One　name　soaked　in　filth　coupled　with　another　name　heaped　with　the　honours　of　his　nation　would　cause　another　kind　of　explosion；　it　would　be　in　the　eyes。
　'Back　at　that　restaurant；　you　said　France　shouldn't　be　a　lackey　to　anyone。　But　a　general　of　France　became　someone's　lackey。　General　Andrel　Villiers；　messenger　for　Carlos。。。　Carlos's　contact；　Carlos's　soldier；　Carlos's　lackey。'
　The　furious　eyes　did　grow　wide；　but　not　in　any　way　Jason　expected。　Fury　was　suddenly　joined　by　hatred；　not　shock；　not　hysteria；　but　deep；　unpromising　abhorrence。　The　back　of　Villiers's　hand　shot　up；　arching　from　his　waist；　the　crack　against　Bourne's　face　sharp；　accurate；　painful。　It　was　followed　by　a　forward　slap；　brutal；　insulting；　the　force　of　the　blow　reeling　Jason　back　on　his　feet。　The　old　man　moved　in；　blocked　by　the　barrel　of　the　gun　but　unafraid；　undeterred　by　its　presence；　intent　only　on　inflicting　punishment。　The　blows　came　one　after　another；　delivered　by　a　man　possessed。
　'Pig！'　screamed　Villiers。　'Filthy；　detestable　pig！　Garbage！'
　'I'll　shoot！　I'll　kill　you！　Stop　it！'　But　Bourne　could　not　pull　the　trigger。　He　was　backed　into　the　small　car；　his　shoulders　pressed　against　the　roof。　Still　the　old　man　attacked；　his　hands　flying　out；　swinging　up；　crashing　down。
　'Kill　me　if　you　can；　if　you　dare！　Dirt！　Filth！'　Jason　threw　the　gun　to　the　ground；　raising　his　arms　to　fend　off　Villiers's　assault。　He　lashed　his　left　hand　out；　grabbing　the　old　man's　right　wrist；　then　his　left；　gripping　the　left　forearm
　that　was　slashing　down　like　a　broadsword。　He　twisted　both　violently；　bending　Villiers　into　him；　forcing　the　old　soldier　to　stand　motionless；　their　faces　inches　from　each　other；　the　old　man's　chest　heaving。
　'Are　you　telling　me　you're　not　Carlos's　man？　Are　you　denying　it？'
　Villiers　lunged　forward；　trying　to　break　Bourne's　grip；　his　barrel…like　chest　smashing　into　Jason。　'I　revile　you！　Animal！'
　'Goddamn　you；　yes　or　no！
　The　old　man　spat　in　Bourne's　face；　the　fire　in　his　eyes　now　clouded；　tears　welling。　'Carlos　killed　my　son；'　he　said　in　a　whisper。　'He　killed　my　only　son　on　the　rue　du　Bac。　My　son's　life　was　blown　up　with　five　sticks　of　dynamite　on　the　rue　du　Bac'
　Jason　slowly　reduced　the　pressure　of　his　fingers。　Breathing　heavily；　he　spoke　as　calmly　as　he　could。
　'Drive　you