rl.thebourneidentity-第74章

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　'I　know。　e　on！　Quickly！　Others'll　be　ing　back；　they'll　be　looking　for　us。　e　on！'
　A　patch　of　black　fell　across　Bourne's　eyes；　at　the　corner　of　his　eyes。　He　spun　around；　instinctively　shoving　d'Anjou　down　as　four　rapid　shots　came　from　a　gun　held　by　a　dark　figure　standing　by　the　line　of　taxis。　Fragments　of　granite　and　marble　exploded　all　around　them。　It　was　him！　The　wide；　heavy　shoulders　that　floated　in　space；　the　tapered　waist　outlined　by　a　form…fitting　black　suit。。。　the　dark…skinned　face　encased　in　a　white　silk　scarf　below　the　narrow…brimmed　black　hat　Carlos！　Get　Carlos！　Trap　Carlos！　Cain　is　for　Charlie　and　Delta　is　for　Cain！　False！
　Find　Treadstone！　Find　a　message；　find　a　man！　Find　Jason　Bourne！
　He　was　going　mad！　Blurred　images　from　the　past　converged　with　the　terrible　reality　of　the　present；　driving　him　insane。　The　doors　of　his　mind　opened　and　closed；　crashing　open；　crashing　shut；　light　streaming　out　one　moment；　darkness　the　next。　The　pain　returned　to　his　temples　with　sharp；　jarring　notes　of　deafening　thunder。　He　started　after　the　man　in　the　black　suit　with　the　white　silk　scarf　wrapped　around　his　face。　Then　he　saw　the　eyes　and　the　barrel　of　the　gun；　three　dark　orbs　zeroed　in　on　him　like　black　laser　beams。　Bergeron？。。。　Was　it　Bergeron？　Was　it？　Or　Zurich。。。　or。。。　No　time！
　He　feigned　to　his　left　then　dived　to　the　right；　out　of　the　line　of　fire。　Bullets　splattered　into　stone；　the　screeches　of　ricochets　following　each　explosion。　Jason　spun　under　a　stationary　car；　he　could　see　the　figure　in　black　racing　away　between　the　wheels。　The　pain　remained；　but　the　thunder　stopped。　He　crawled　out　on　the　cobblestones；　rose　to　his　feet　and　ran　back　towards　the　steps　of　the　Louvre。
　What　had　he　done？　D'Anjou　was　gone。'　How　had　it　happened？　The　reverse　trap　was　no　trap　at　all！　His　own　strategy　had　been　used　against　him；　permitting　the　only　man　who　could　give　him　the　answers　to　escape。　He　had　followed　Carlos's　soldiers；　but　Carlos　bad　followed　him　since　Saint…Honoreee。　It　was　all　for　nothing；　a　sickening　hollowness　spread　through　him。
　And　then　he　heard　the　words；　spoken　from　behind　a　nearby　car。　Philippe　d'Anjou　came　cautiously　into　view。
　Tam　Quan's　never　far　away　it　seems。　Where　shall　we　go；　Delta？　We　can't　stay　here。'
　They　sat　inside　a　curtained　booth　in　a　crowded　cafe　on　the　rue　Visage；　a　back　street　that　was　hardly　more　than　an　alley　in　Montmartre。　D'Anjou　sipped　his　double　brandy；　his　voice　low；　pensive。
　'I　shall　return　to　Asia；'　he　said。　To　Singapore　or　Hong　Kong　or　even　the　Seychelles；　perhaps。　France　was　never　very　good　for　me；　now　it's　deadly。'
　'You　may　not　have　to；'　said　Bourne；　swallowing　the　whisky；　the　warm　liquid　spreading　quickly；　inducing　a　brief；　spatial　calm。　'I　meant　what　I　said。　You　tell　me　what　I　want　to　know。　I'll　give　you。。。〃　He　stopped；　the　doubts　sweeping　over　him；　no；　he　would　say　it。　'I'll　give　you　Carlos's　identity。'
　'I'm　not　remotely　interested；'　replied　the　former　Medusan；　watching　Jason　closely。　'I'll　tell　you　whatever　I　can。　Why　should　I　withhold　anything？　Obviously；　I　won't　go　to　the　authorities；　but　if　I　have　information　that　could　help　you　take
　Carlos；　the　world　would　be　a　safer　place　for　me；　wouldn't　it？　Personally；　however；　I　wish　no　involvement'
　'You're　not　even　curious？'
　'Academically；　perhaps；　for　your　expression　tells　me　I'll　be　shocked。　So　ask　your　questions；　and　then　astonish　me。'
　'You'll　be　shocked。'
　Without　warning　d'Anjou　said　the　name　quietly。　'Bergeron？'
　Jason　did　not　move；　speechless；　he　stared　at　the　older　man。　D'Anjou　continued。
　'I've　thought　about　it　over　and　over　again。　Whenever　we　talk　I　look　at　him　and　wonder。　Each　time；　however；　I　reject　the　idea。'
　'Why？'　Bourne　interrupted；　refusing　to　acknowledge　the　Medusan's　accuracy。
　'Mind　you；　I'm　not　sure；　I　just　feel　it's　wrong。　Perhaps　because　I've　learned　more　about　Carlos　from　Roue〃　Bergeron　than　anyone　else。　He's　obsessed　by　Carlos；　he's　worked　for　him　for　years；　takes　enormous　pride　in　the　confidence。　My　problem　is　that　he　talks　too　much　about　him。'
　〃The　ego　speaking　through　the　assumed　second　party？'
　'It's　possible；　I　suppose；　but　inconsistent　with　the　extraordinary　precautions　Carlos　takes；　the　literally　impenetrable　wall　of　secrecy　he's　built　around　himself。　I'm　not　certain；　of　course；　but　I　doubt　it's　Bergeron。'
　'You　said　the　name。　I　didn't。'
　D'Anjou　smiled。　'You　have　nothing　to　be　concerned　about；　Delta。　Ask　your　questions。'
　'I　thought　it　was　Bergeron。　I'm　sorry。'
　'Don't　be；　for　he　may　be。　I　told　you；　it　doesn't　matter　to　me。　In　a　few　days；　I'll　be　back　in　Asia；　following　the　franc；　or　the　dollar；　or　the　yen。　We　Medusans　were　always　resourceful；　weren't　we？'
　Jason　was　not　sure　why；　but　the　haggard　face　of　Andrel　Villiers　came　to　his　mind's　eye。　He　had　promised　himself　to　learn　what　he　could　for　the　old　soldier。　He　would　not　get　the　opportunity　again。
　'Where　does　Villiers's　wife　fit　in？'
　D'Anjou's　eyebrows　arched。　'Angelique？'　he　asked。　'But　of　course；　you　said　Pare　Monceau；　didn't　you？　How？。。。'
　The　details　aren't　important　now。'
　'Certainly　not　to　me；'　agreed　the　Medusan。
　'What　about　her？'　pressed　Bourn'。
　'Have　you　looked　at　her　closely？'　asked　d'Anjou。　'The　skin？'
　'I've　been　close　enough。　She's　tanned。　Very　tall　and　very　tanned。'
　'She　keeps　her　skin　that　way。　The　Riviera；　the　Greek　Isles；　Costa　del　Sol；　Gstaad；　she　is　never　without　a　sun…drenched　skin。'
　'It's　very　being。'
　'It's　also　a　successful　device。　It　covers　what　she　is。　For　her　there　is　no　autumn　or　winter　pallor；　no　lack　of　colour　in　her　face　or　arms　or　very　long　legs。　The　attractive　hue　of　her　skin　is　always　there；　because　it　would　be　there　in　any　event。　With　or　without　St　Tropez　or　the　Costa　Brava　or　the　Alps。'
　'What　are　you　talking　about？'
　'Although　the　stunning　Angelique　Villiers　is　presumed　to　be　Parisian；　she's　not。　She's　Hispanic。　Venezuelan；　to　be　precise。'
　'Sanchez；'　whispered　Bourne。　'Ilyich　Ramirez　Sanchez。'
　'Yes。　Among　the　very　few　who　speak　of　such　things；　it　is　said　she　is　Carlos's　first　cousin；　his　lover　since　the　age　of　fourteen。　It　is　rumoured　…　among　those　very　few　people　…that　beyond　himself　she　is　the　only　person　on　earth　he　cares　about。'
　'And　Villiers　is　the　unwitting　drone？'
　'Words　from　Medusa；　Delta？'　d'Anjou　nodded。　'Yes；　Villiers　is　the　drone。　Carlos's　brilliantly　conceived　wire　into　many　of　the　most　sensitive　departments　of　the　French　government；　including　the　files　on　Carlos　himself。'
　'Brilliantly　conceived；'　said　Jason；　remembering。　'Because　it's　unthinkable。'
　Totally。'
　Bourne　leaned　forward；　the　interruption　abrupt。　'Tread…stone；'　he　said；　both　hands　gripping　the　glass　in　front　of　him。　Tell　me　about　Treadstone　Seventy…one。'
　'What　can　/　tell　you？'
　'Everything　they　know。　Everything　Carlos　knows。'
　'I　don't　think　I'm　capable　of　doing　that。　I　hear　things；　piece　things　together；　but　except　where　Medusa's　concerned；　I'm　hardly　a　consultant；　much　less　a　confidant。'
　It　was　all　Jason　could　do　to　control　himself；　curb　himself　from　asking　about　Medusa；　about　Delta　and　Tarn　Quan；　the　winds　in　the　night　sky　and　the　darkness　and　the　explosions　of　light　that　blinded　him　whenever　he　heard　the　words。　He　could　not；　certain　things　had　to　be　assumed；　his　own　loss　passed　over；　no　indication　given。　The　priorities。　Treadstone。　Treadstone　Seventy…one！
　'What　have　you　heard？　What　have　you　pieced　together？'
　'What　I　heard　and　what　I　pieced　together　were　not　always　patible。　Still；　obvious　facts　were　apparent　to　me。'
　'Such　as？'
　'When　I　saw　it　was　you；　I　knew。　Delta　had　made　a　lucrative　agreement　with　the　Americans。　Another　lucrative　agreement；　a　different　kind　than　before；　perhaps。'
　'Spell　that　out；　please。'
　Ten　years　ago；　the　rumours　from　Saigon　were　that　the　ice…cold　Delta　was　the　highest　paid　Medusan　of　us　all。　Surely；　you　were　the　most　capable　/　knew；　so　I　assumed　you　drove　a　hard　bargain。　You　must　have　driven　an　infinitely　harder　one　to　do　what　you're　doing　now。〃
　'Which　is？　From　what　you've　heard。〃
　〃What　we　know。　It　was　confirmed　in　New　York。　The　Monk　confirmed　it　before　he　died；　that　much　I　was　told。　It　was　consistent　with　the　pattern　since　the　beginning。'
　Bourne　held　the　glass；　avoiding　d'Anjou's　eyes。　The　Monk。　The　Monk。　Do　not　ask。　The　Monk　is　dead；　whoever　and　whatever　he　was。　He　is　not　pertinent　now。　'I　repeat；'　said　Jason；　'what　is　it　they　think　they　know　I'm　doing？'
　'e；　Delta；　I'm　the　one　who's　leaving。　It's　pointless　to。。。〃
　'Please；'　interrupted　Bourne。
　'Very　well。　You　agreed　to　bee　this　Cain。　This　mythical　killer　with　an　unending　list　of　contracts　that　never　existed；　each　created　out　of　whole　cloth；　given　substance　by　all　manner　of　reliable　sources。　Purpose。　To　challenge　Carlos　…　〃eroding　his　stature　at　every　turn〃　was　the　way　Bergeron　phrased　it　…　to　undercut　his　prices；　spread　the　word　of　his　deficiencies；　your　own　superiority。　In　essence；　to　draw　out　Carlos　and　take　him。　This　was　your　agreement　with　the　Americans。'
　Rays　of　his　own　personal　sunlight　burst　into　the　dark　corners　of　Jason's　mind。　In　the　distance；　doors　were　opening；　but　they　were　still　too　far　away　and　opened　only　partially。　But　there　was　light　where　before　there　was　only　darkness。
　Then　the　Americans　are。。。'　Bourne　did　not　finish　the　statement；　hoping　in　brief　torment　that　d'Anjou　would　finish　it　for　him。
　'Yes；'　said　the　Medusan。　Treadstone　Seventy…one。　The　most　controlled　unit　of　American　intelligence　since　the　State　Department's　Consular　Operations　Created　by　the　same　man　who　built　Medusa。　David　Abbott
　'The　Monk；'　said　Jason　softly；　instinctively；　another　door　in　the　distance　partially　open。
　'Of　course。　Who　else　would　he　approach　to　play　the　role　of　Cain　but　the　man　from　Medusa　known　as　Delta？　As　I　say；　the　instant　I　saw　you；　I　knew　it。'
　'A　role。。。'　Bourne　stopped；　the　sunlight　growing　brighter；　warm　not　blinding。
　D'Anjou　leaned　forward。　'It's　here；　of　course；　that　what　I　heard　and　what　I　pieced　together　were　inpatible。　It　was　said　that　Jason　Bourne　accepted　the　assignment　for　reasons　I　knew　were　not　true。　I　was　there；　they　were　not；　they　could　not　know。'　'What　did　they　say？　What　did　you　hear？'　That　you　were　an　American　intelligence　officer；　possibly　military。　Can　you　imagine？　You。　Delta！　The　man　filled　with　contempt　for　so　much；　not　the　least　of　which　was　for　most　things　American。　I　told　Bergeron　it　was　impossible；　but　I'm　not　sure　he　believed　me。'　'What　did　you　tell　him？'
　'What　I　believed。　What　I　still　believe。　It　wasn't　money　…　no　amount　of　money　could　have　made　you　do　it　…　it　had　to　be　something　else。　I　think　you　did　it　for　the　same　reason　so　many　others　agreed　to　Medusa　ten　years　ago。　To　clean　a　slate　somewhere；　to　be　able　to　return　to　something　you　had　before　that　was　barred　to　you。　I　don't　know；　of　course；　and　I　don't　expect　you　to　confirm　it；　but　that's　what　I　think。'
　'It's　possible　you're　right；'　said　Jason；　holding　his　breath；　the　cool　winds　of　release　blowing　into　the　mists。　It　made　sense。　A　message　was　sent。　This　could　be　it。　Find　the　message！　Find　the　sender！　Treadstone！
　'Which　leads　us　back；〃　continued　d'Anjou；　'to　the　stories　about　Delta。　Who　was　he？　What　was　he？　This　educated；　oddly　quiet　man　who　could　transform　himself　into　a　lethal　weapon　in　the　jungles。　Who　stretched　himself　and　others　beyond