rl.thebourneultimatum-第101部分

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　be　there。　She　said　she'd　work　with　me！〃
　〃Why　would　she？〃　asked　Krupkin　sharply。
　〃Because　Carlos　killed　her　sister　and　she　had　no　choice　but　to　join　him　or　be　killed　herself。〃　Bourne　turned　to　the　console。　〃I　need　the　telephone　number　of　the　Meurice…〃
　〃Four　two　six　zero；　three　eight　six　zero；〃　offered　Krupkin　as　Jason　grabbed　a　pencil　and　wrote　down　the　numbers　on　Alex's　notepad。　〃A　lovely　place；　once　known　as　the　hotel　of　kings。　I　especially　like　the　grill。〃
　Bourne　touched　the　buttons；　holding　up　his　hand　for　quiet。　Remembering；　he　asked　for　Madame　Brielle's　room；　the　name　they　had　agreed　upon；　and　when　the　hotel　operator　said　〃Mais　oui；〃　he　nodded　rapidly　in　relief　to　Alex　and　Dimitri　Krupkin。　Lavier　answered。
　〃Yes？〃
　〃It　is　I；　madame；〃　said　Jason；　his　French　just　slightly　coarse；　ever　so　minimally　Anglicized；　the　Chameleon　was　in　charge。　〃Your　housekeeper　suggested　we　might　reach　you　here。　Madame's　dress　is　ready。　We　apologize　for　the　delay。〃
　〃It　was　to　have　been　brought　to　me　yesterday…by　noon…you　ass！　I　intended　to　wear　it　last　evening　at　Le　Grand　Véfour。　I　was　mortified！〃
　〃A　thousand　apologies。　We　can　deliver　it　to　the　hotel　immediately。〃
　〃You　are　again　an　ass！　I'm　sure　my　maid　also　told　you　I　was　here　for　only　two　days。　Take　it　to　my　flat　on　the　Montaigne　and　it　had　better　be　there　by　four　o'clock　or　your　bill　will　not　be　paid　for　six　months！〃　The　conversation　was　believably　terminated　by　a　loud　crack　at　the　other　end　of　the　line。
　Bourne　replaced　the　phone；　perspiration　had　formed　at　his　slightly　graying　hairline。　〃I've　been　out　of　this　too　long；〃　he　said；　breathing　deeply。　〃She　has　a　flat　on　the　Montaigne　and　she'll　be　there　after　four　o'clock。〃
　〃Who　the　hell　is　Dominique　whatever　her　name　is？〃　fairly　yelled　the　frustrated　Conklin。
　〃Lavier；〃　answered　Krupkin；　〃only；　she　uses　her　dead　sister's　name；　Jacqueline。　She's　been　posing　as　her　sister　for　years。〃
　〃You　know　about　that？〃　asked　Jason；　impressed。
　〃Yes；　but　it　never　did　us　much　good。　It　was　an　understandable　ruse…look…alikes；　several　months'　absence；　minor　surgery　and　programming…all　quite　normal　in　the　abnormal　world　of　haute　couture。　Who　looks　or　listens　to　anyone　in　that　superficial　orbit？　We　watch　her；　but　she's　never　led　us　to　the　Jackal；　she　wouldn't　know　how。　She　has　no　direct　access；　everything　she　reports　to　Carlos　is　filtered；　stone　walls　at　every　relay。　That's　the　way　of　the　Jackal。〃
　〃It's　not　always　the　way；〃　said　Bourne。　〃There　was　a　man　named　Santos　who　managed　a　run…down　café　in　Argenteuil　called　Le　Coeur　du　Soldat。　He　had　access。　He　gave　it　to　me　and　it　was　very　special。〃
　〃Was？〃　Krupkin　raised　his　eyebrows。　〃Had？　You　employ　the　past　tense？〃
　〃He's　dead。〃
　〃And　that　run…down　café　in　Argenteuil；　is　it　still　flourishing？〃
　〃It's　cleaned　out　and　closed　down；〃　admitted　Jason；　no　defeat　in　his　admission。
　〃So　the　access　is　terminated；　no？〃
　〃Sure；　but　I　believe　what　he　told　me　because　he　was　killed　for　telling　it　to　me。　You　see；　he　was　getting　out；　just　as　this　Lavier　woman　wants　to　get　out…only；　his　association　went　back　to　the　beginning。　To　Cuba；　where　Carlos　saved　a　misfit　like　himself　from　execution。　He　knew　he　could　use　that　man；　that　huge　imposing　giant　who　could　operate　inside　the　world　of　the　dregs　of　humanity　and　be　his　primary　relay。　Santos　had　direct　access。　He　proved　it　because　he　gave　me　an　alternate　number　that　did　reach　the　Jackal。　Only　a　very　few　men　could　do　that。〃
　〃Fascinating；〃　said　Krupkin；　his　eyes　firmly　focused　on　Bourne。　〃But　as　my　fine　old　enemy；　Aleksei；　who　is　now　looking　at　you　as　I　look　at　you；　might　inquire；　what　are　you　leading　up　to；　Mr。　Bourne？　Your　words　are　ambiguous　but　your　implied　accusations　appear　dangerous。〃
　〃To　you。　Not　to　us。〃
　〃I　beg　your　pardon？〃
　〃Santos　told　me　that　only　four　men　in　the　world　have　direct　access　to　the　Jackal。　One　of　them　is　in　Dzerzhinsky　Square。　'Very　high　in　the　Komitet'　were　Santos's　words；　and　believe　me；　he　didn't　think　much　of　your　superior。〃
　It　was　as　if　Dimitri　Krupkin　had　been　struck　in　the　face　by　a　director　of　the　Politburo　in　the　middle　of　Red　Square　during　a　May　Day　parade。　The　blood　drained　from　his　head；　his　skin　taking　on　the　pallor　of　ash；　his　eyes　steady；　unblinking。　〃What　else　did　this　Santos　tell　you？　I　have　to　know！〃
　〃Only　that　Carlos　had　a　thing　about　Moscow；　that　he　was　making　contact　with　people　in　high　places。　It　was　an　obsession　with　him。　。。。　If　you　can　find　that　contact　in　Dzerzhinsky　Square；　it　would　be　a　big　leap　forward。　In　the　meantime；　all　we've　got　is　Dominique　Lavier…〃
　〃Damn；　damn！〃　roared　Krupkin；　cutting　off　Jason。　〃How　insane；　yet　how　perfectly　logical！　You've　answered　several　questions；　Mr。　Bourne；　and　how　they've　burned　into　my　mind。　So　many　times　I've　e　so　close…so　many；　so　close…and　always　nothing。　Well；　let　me　tell　you；　gentlemen；　the　games　of　the　devil　are　not　restricted　to　those　confined　to　hell。　Others　can　play　them。　My　God；　I've　been　a　pearl　to　be　flushed　from　one　oyster　to　another；　always　the　bigger　fool！　。。。　Make　no　more　calls　from　that　telephone！〃
　It　was　3：30　in　the　afternoon；　Moscow　time；　and　the　elderly　man　in　the　uniform　of　a　Soviet　army　officer　walked　as　rapidly　as　his　age　permitted　down　the　hallway　on　the　fifth　floor　of　KGB　headquarters　in　Dzerzhinsky　Square。　It　was　a　hot　day；　and　as　usual　the　air　conditioning　was　only　barely　and　erratically　adequate；　so　General　Grigorie　Rodchenko　permitted　himself　a　privilege　of　rank：　his　collar　was　open。　It　did　not　stop　the　occasional　rivulet　of　sweat　from　sliding　in　and　out　of　the　crevices　of　his　deeply　lined　face　on　its　way　down　to　his　neck；　but　the　absence　of　the　tight；　red…bordered　band　of　cloth　around　his　throat　was　a　minor　relief。
　He　reached　the　bank　of　elevators；　pressed　the　button　and　waited；　gripping　a　key　in　his　hand。　The　doors　to　his　right　opened；　and　he　was　pleased　to　see　that　there　was　no　one　inside。　It　was　easier　than　having　to　order　everyone　out…at　least；　far　less　awkward。　He　entered；　inserted　the　key　in　the　uppermost　lock…release　above　the　panel；　and　again　waited　while　the　mechanism　performed　its　function。　It　did　so　quickly；　and　the　elevator　shot　directly　down　to　the　lowest　underground　levels　of　the　building。
　The　doors　opened　and　the　general　walked　out；　instantly　aware　of　the　pervasive　silence　that　filled　the　corridors　both　left　and　right。　In　moments；　that　would　change；　he　thought。　He　proceeded　down　the　left　hallway　to　a　large　steel　door　with　a　metal　sign　riveted　in　the　center。
　ENTRANCE　FORBIDDEN
　AUTHORIZED　PERSONNEL　ONLY
　It　was　a　foolish　admonition；　he　thought；　as　he　took　out　a　thin　plastic　card　from　his　pocket　and　shoved　it　slowly；　carefully；　into　a　slot　on　the　right。　Without　the　pass　card…and　sometimes　even　with　it　if　inserted　too　quickly…the　door　would　not　open。　There　were　two　clicks；　and　Rodchenko　removed　his　card　as　the　heavy；　knobless　door　swung　back；　a　television　monitor　recording　his　entry。
　The　hum　of　activity　was　pronounced　from　dozens　of　lighted　cubicles　within　the　huge；　dark　low…ceilinged　plex　the　size　of　a　czar's　grand　ballroom　but　without　the　slightest　attempt　at　decor。　A　thousand　pieces　of　equipment　in　black　and　gray；　several　hundred　personnel　in　pristine　white　coveralls　within　white…walled　cubicles。　And；　thankfully；　the　air　was　cool；　almost　cold；　in　fact。　The　machinery　demanded　it；　for　this　was　the　KGB's　munications　center。　Information　poured　in　twenty…four　hours　a　day　from　all　over　the　world。
　The　old　soldier　trudged　up　a　familiar　path　to　the　farthest　aisle　on　the　right；　then　left　to　the　last　cubicle　at　the　far　end　of　the　enormous　room。　It　was　a　long　walk；　and　the　general's　breath　was　short；　his　legs　were　tired。　He　entered　the　small　enclosure；　nodding　at　the　middle…aged　operator　who　looked　up　at　his　visitor　and　removed　the　cushioned　headset　from　his　ears。　On　the　white　counter　in　front　of　him　was　a　large　electronic　console　with　myriad　switches；　dials　and　a　keyboard。　Rodchenko　sat　down　in　a　steel　chair　next　to　the　man；　catching　his　breath；　he　spoke。
　〃You　have　word　from　Colonel　Krupkin　in　Paris？〃
　〃I　have　words　concerning　Colonel　Krupkin；　General。　In　line　with　your　instructions　to　monitor　the　colonel's　telephone　conversations；　including　those　international　lines　authorized　by　him；　I　received　a　tape　from　Paris　several　minutes　ago　that　I　thought　you　should　listen　to。〃
　〃As　usual；　you　are　most　efficient　and　I　am　most　grateful；　and　as　always；　I'm　sure　Colonel　Krupkin　will　inform　us　of　events；　but　as　you　know；　he's　so　terribly　busy。〃
　〃No　explanations　are　necessary；　sir。　The　conversations　you　are　about　to　hear　were　recorded　within　the　past　half　hour。　The　earphones；　please？〃
　Rodchenko　slipped　on　the　headset　and　nodded。　The　operator　placed　a　pad　and　a　container　of　sharpened　pencils　in　front　of　the　general；　he　touched　a　number　on　the　keyboard　and　sat　back　as　the　powerful　third　direktor　of　the　Komitet　leaned　forward　listening。　In　moments　the　general　began　taking　notes；　minutes　later　he　was　writing　furiously。　The　tape　came　to　an　end　and　Rodchenko　removed　the　headset。　He　looked　sternly　at　the　operator；　his　narrow　Slavic　eyes　rigid　between　the　folds　of　lined　flesh；　the　crevices　in　his　face　seemingly　more　pronounced　than　before。
　〃Erase　the　tape；　then　destroy　the　reel；〃　he　ordered；　getting　out　of　the　chair。　〃As　usual；　you　have　heard　nothing。〃
　〃As　usual；　General。〃
　〃And；　as　usual；　you　will　be　rewarded。〃
　It　was　4：17　when　Rodchenko　returned　to　his　office　and　sat　down　at　his　desk；　studying　his　notes。　It　was　incredible！　It　was　beyond　belief；　yet　there　it　was…he　had　heard　for　himself　the　words　and　the　voices　saying　those　words！　。。。　Not　those　concerning　the　monseigneur　in　Paris；　he　was　secondary　now　and　could　be　reached　in　minutes；　if　it　was　necessary。　That　could　wait；　but　the　other　could　not　wait；　not　an　instant　longer！　The　general　picked　up　his　phone　and　rang　his　secretary。
　〃I　want　an　immediate　satellite　transmission　to　our　consulate　in　New　York。　All　maximum　scramblers　in　place　and　operational。〃
　How　could　it　happen？
　Medusa！
　
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　Frowning；　Marie　listened　to　her　husband's　voice　over　the　telephone；　nodding　at　Mo　Panov　across　the　hotel　room。　〃Where　are　you　now？〃　she　asked。
　〃At　a　pay　phone　in　the　Plaza…Athénée；〃　answered　Bourne。　〃I'll　be　back　in　a　couple　of　hours。〃
　〃Wh