rl.thebourneidentity-第78部分

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he　thinks　there　is　only　one　course　of　action　to　be　taken；　no　different　strategies　to　be　argued　by　those　above。'
　'Age　hasn't　dulled　your　sense　of　manoeuvre；　old　friend。　It's　why　I　called　upon　you。'
　'Or　perhaps；'　continued　the　beggar；　'he　really　has　turned。　It's　happened。'
　'I　don't　think　so；　but　it　doesn't　matter。　Washington　thinks　he　has。　The　Monk　is　dead；　they're　all　dead　at　Treadstone。　Cain　is　established　as　the　killer。'
　'The　Monk？'　said　the　beggar。　'A　name　from　the　past；　he　was　active　in　Berlin；　in　Vienna。　We　knew　him　well；　from　a　distance　and　healthier　for　it。　There's　your　answer；　Carlos。　It　was　always　the　Monk's　style　to　reduce　the　numbers　to　as　few　as　possible。　He　operated　on　the　theory　that　his　circles　were　infiltrated；　promised。　He　must　have　ordered　Cain　to　report　only　to　him。　It　would　explain　Washington's　confusion；　the　six　months　of　silence。'
　'Would　it　explain　ours？　For　six　months　there　was　no　word；　no　activity。'
　'A　score　of　possibilities。　Illness；　exhaustion；　brought　back　for　new　training。　Even　to　spread　confusion　to　the　enemy。　The　Monk　had　a　cathedral　full　of　tricks。'
　'Yet　before　he　died　he　said　to　an　associate　that　he　did　not　know　what　had　happened。　That　he　wasn't　even　certain　the　man　was　Cain。'
　'Who　was　the　associate？'
　'A　man　named　Gillette。　He　was　our　man；　but　Abbott　couldn't　have　known　it。'
　'Another　possible　explanation。　The　Monk　had　an　instinct　about　such　men。　EC　was　said　in　Vienna　that　David　Abbott　would　distrust　Christ　on　the　mountain　and　look　for　a　bakery。'
　'It's　possible。　Your　words　are　forting；　you　look　for　things　others　do　not　look　for。'
　'I've　had　far　more　experience；　I　was　once　a　man　of　stature。　Unfortunately　I　pissed　away　the　money。'
　'You　still　do。'
　'A　profligate；　what　can　I　tell　you？'
　'Obviously　something　else。'
　'You're　perceptive；　Carlos。　We　should　have　known　each　other　in　the　old　days。'
　'Now　you're　presumptuous。'
　'Always。　You　know　that　I　know　you　can　swat　my　life　away　at　any　moment　you　choose；　so　I　must　be　of　value。　And　not　merely　with　words　that　e　from　experience。'
　'What　have　you　to　tell　me？'
　'This　may　not　be　of　great　value；　but　it　is　something。　I　put　on　respectable　clothes　and　spent　the　day　at　the　Auberge　du　Coin。　There　was　a　man；　an　obese　man　…　questioned　and　dismissed　by　the　Surete　…　whose　eyes　were　too　unsteady；　and　he　perspired　too　much。　I　had　a　chat　with　him；　showing　him　an　official　NATO　identification　I　had　made　in　the　early　'fifties。　It　seems　he　negotiated　the　rental　of　his　car　at　three　o'clock　yesterday　morning。　To　a　blond　man　in　the　pany　of　a　woman。　The　description　fits　the　photograph　from　Argenteuil。'
　'A　rental？'
　'Supposedly。　The　car　was　to　be　returned　within　a　day　or　so　by　the　woman。'
　'It　will　never　happen。'
　'Of　course　not；　but　it　raises　a　question；　doesn't　it？　Why　would　Cain　go　to　the　trouble　of　obtaining　a　car　in　such　a　fashion？'
　'To　get　as　far　away　as　possible　as　rapidly　as　possible。'
　'In　which　case　the　information　has　no　value；'　said　the　beggar。　'But　then　there　are　so　many　ways　to　travel　faster　less　conspicuously。　And　Bourne　could　hardly　trust　an　avaricious　night　clerk；　he　might　easily　look　for　a　reward　from　the　Surete。　Or　anyone　else。'
　'What's　your　point？
　'I　suggest　that　Bourne　could　have　obtained　that　car　for　the　sole　purpose　of　following　someone　here　in　Paris。　No　loitering　in　public　where　he　might　be　spotted；　no　rented　cars　that　could　be　traced；　no　frantic　searches　for　elusive　taxis。　Instead；　a　simple　exchange　of　licence　plates　and　a　nondescript　black　Renault　in　the　crowded　streets。　Where　would　one　begin　to　look？'
　The　silhouette　turned。　'The　Lavier　woman；'　said　the　assassin　softly。　'And　everyone　else　he　suspects　at　Les　Classiques。　It's　the　only　place　he　has　to　start。　They'll　be　watched；　and　within　days　…　hours　perhaps　…　a　nondescript　black　Renault　will　be　seen　and　he'll　be　found。　Do　you　have　a　full　description　of　the　car？'
　'Down　to　three　dents　in　the　left　rear　bumper。'
　'Good。　Spread　the　word　to　the　old　men。　b　the　streets；　the　garaged；　the　parking　areas。　The　one　who　finds　it　will　never　have　to　look　for　work　again。'
　'Speaking　of　such　matters。。'
　An　envelope　was　slipped　between　the　taut　edge　of　the　curtain　and　the　blue　felt　of　the　frame。　'If　your　theory　proves　right；　consider　this　a　token。'
　'I　am　right；　Carlos。'
　'Why　are　you　so　convinced？'
　'Because　Cain　does　what　you　would　do；　what　I　would　have　done　…　in　the　old　days。　He　must　be　respected。'
　'He　must　be　killed；'　said　the　assassin。　There's　symmetry　in　the　timing。　In　a　few　days　it　will　be　the　twenty…fifth　of　March。　On　25　March　1968；　Jason　Bourne　was　executed　in　the　jungles　of　Tarn　Quan。　Now；　years　later　…　nearly　to　the　day　…　another　Jason　Bourne　is　hunted；　the　Americans　as　anxious　as　we　are　to　see　him　killed。　I　wonder　which　of　us　will　pull　the　trigger　this　time。'
　'Does　it　matter？'
　'I　want　him；'　whispered　the　silhouette。　'He　was　never　real　and　that's　his　crime　against　me。　Tell　the　old　men　that；　if　any　find　him；　to　get　word　to　Pare　Monceau　but　do　nothing。　Keep　him　in　sight；　but　do　nothing！　I　want　him　alive　on　the　twenty…fifth　of　March。　On　25　March　I'll　execute　him　myself；　and　deliver　his　body　to　the　Americans。'
　The　word　will　go　out　immediately。'
　'Angelus　Domini；　child　of　God。'
　'Angelus　Domini；'　said　the　beggar。
　The　old　soldier　walked　in　silence　beside　the　younger　man　down　the　moonlit　path　in　the　Bois　de　Boulogne。　Neither　spoke　for　too　much　had　already　been　said　…　admitted；　challenged；　denied　and　reaffirmed。　Fillers　had　to　reflect　and　analyse；　to　accept　or　violently　reject　what　he　had　heard。　His　life　would　be　far　more　bearable　if　he　could　strike　back　in　anger；　attack　the　lie　and　find　his　sanity　again。　But　he　could　not　do　that　with　impunity；　he　was　a　soldier　and　to　turn　away　was　not　in　him。
　There　was　too　much　truth　in　the　younger　man。　It　was　in　his　eyes；　in　his　voice；　in　his　every　gesture　that　asked　for　understanding。　The　man　without　a　name　was　not　lying。　The　ultimate　treason　was　in　Villiers's　house。　It　explained　so　many　things　he　had　not　dared　to　question　before。　An　old　man　wanted　to　weep。
　For　the　man　without　a　memory　there　was　little　to　change　or　invent；　the　chameleon　was　not　called　upon。　His　story　was　convincing　because　the　most　vital　part　was　based　in　the　truth。　He　had　to　find　Carlos；　learn　what　the　assassin　knew；　there　would　be　no　life　for　him　if　he　failed。　Beyond　this　he　would　say　nothing。　There　was　no　mention　of　Marie　St　Jacques；　or　the　lie　de　Port　Noir；　or　a　message　being　sent　by　person　or　persons　unknown；　or　a　walking　hollow　shell　that　might　or　might　not　be　someone　he　was　or　was　not　…　who　could　not　even　be　sure　that　the　fragments　of　memories　he　possessed　were　really　his　own。　None　of　this　was　spoken　of。
　Instead；　he　recounted　everything　he　knew　about　the　assassin　called　Carlos。　That　knowledge　was　so　vast　that　during　the　telling　Villiers　stared　at　him　in　astonishment；　recognizing　information　he　knew　to　be　highly　classified；　shocked　at　new　and　startling　data　that　was　in　concert　with　a　dozen　existing　theories；　but　to　his　ears　never　before　put　forth　with　such　clarity。　Because　of　his　son；　the　general　had　been　given　access　to　his　country's　most　secret　files　on　Carlos　and　nothing　in　those　records　matched　the　younger　man's　array　of　facts。
　'This　woman　you　spoke　with　in　Argenteuil；　the　one　who　telephones　my　house；　who　admitted　being　a　courier　to　you。。。'
　'Her　name　is　Lavier；'　Bourne　interrupted。
　The　general　paused。　Thank　you。。。　She　saw　through　you；　she　had　your　photograph　taken。'
　'Yes。'
　They　had　no　photograph　before？'
　'No。'
　'So　as　you　hunt　Carlos；　he　in　turn　hunts　you。　But　you　have　no　photograph；　you　only　know　two　couriers；　one　of　which　was　at　my　house。'
　'Yes。'
　'Speaking　with　my　wife。'
　'Yes。'
　The　old　man　turned　away；　the　period　of　silence　had　begun。
　They　came　to　the　end　of　the　path　where　there　was　a　miniature　lake。　It　was　bordered　with　white　gravel；　benches　spaced　every　ten　to　fifteen　feet；　circling　the　water　like　a　guard　of　honour　surrounding　a　grave　of　black　marble。　They　walked　to　the　second　bench。　Villiers　broke　his　silence。
　'I　should　like　to　sit　down；'　he　said。　'With　age　there　es　a　paucity　of　stamina。　It　often　embarrasses　me。'
　'It　shouldn't；'　said　Bourne；　sitting　down　beside　him；
　'It　shouldn't；'　agreed　the　general；　'but　it　does。'　He　paused　for　a　moment；　adding　quietly；　'Frequently　in　the　pany　of　my　wife。''
　That's　not　necessary；'　said　Jason。
　'You　mistake　me。'　The　old　man　turned　to　the　younger。　'I'm　not　referring　to　the　bed。　There　are　simply　times　when　I　find　it　necessary　to　curtail　activities　…　leave　a　dinner　party　early；　absent　myself　on　weekends　to　the　Mediterranean；　or　decline　a　few　days　on　the　slopes　in　Gstaad。'
　'I'm　not　sure　I　understand。'
　'My　wife　and　I　are　often　apart。　In　many　ways　we　live　quite　separate　lives；　taking　pleasure；　of　course；　in　each　other's　pursuits。'
　'I　still　don't　understand。'
　'Must　I　embarrass　myself　further？'　said　Villiers。　'When　an　old　man　finds　a　stunning　young　woman　anxious　to　share　his　life；　certain　things　are　understood；　others　not　so　readily。　There　is；　of　course；　financial　security　and　in　my　case　a　degree　of　public　exposure。　Creature　forts；　entry　into　the　great　houses；　easy　friendship　with　the　celebrated；　it's　all　very　underst