rl.thebourneultimatum-第120部分

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　spun　back　into　the　wall。　It　was　the　Jackal！
　
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　Madness！　At　full　force　Carlos　slammed　his　right　shoulder　into　the　blond…haired　waiter；　propelling　the　young　man　across　the　hallway　and　crashing　the　room…service　table　over　on　its　side；　dishes　and　food　splattered　the　walls　and　the　carpeted　floor。　Suddenly　the　waiter　lunged　to　his　left；　spinning　in　midair　as；　astonishingly；　he　yanked　a　weapon　from　his　belt。　The　Jackal　either　sensed　or　caught　the　movement　in　the　corner　of　his　eye。　He　whipped　around；　his　automatic　weapon　on　rapid　fire；　savagely　pinning　the　blond　Russian　into　the　wall；　bullets　puncturing　the　waiter's　head　and　torso。　At　that　prolonged；　horrible　moment；　the　enlarged　sight　line　on　the　barrel　of　Bourne's　Graz　Burya　caught　in　the　waistline　of　his　trousers。　He　tore　the　fabric　as　the　eyes　of　Carlos　swept　up　centering　on　his　own；　fury　and　triumph　in　the　assassin's　stare。
　Jason　ripped　the　gun　loose；　spinning；　crouching　back　into　the　wall　of　the　small　alcove　as　the　Jackal's　fusillade　blew　apart　the　gaudy　paneling　of　the　soft…drink　machine　and　tore　into　the　sheets　of　heavy　plastic　that　fronted　the　broken…down　ice　maker。　On　his　stomach；　Bourne　surged　across　the　opening；　the　Graz　Burya　raised　and　firing　as　fast　as　he　could　squeeze　the　trigger。　Simultaneously；　there　were　other　gunshots；　not　those　of　a　machine　pistol。　Alex　was　firing　from　inside　the　suite！　They　had　Carlos　in　their　cross　fire！　It　was　possible…it　could　all　end　in　a　hotel　corridor　in　Moscow！　Let　it　happen；　let　it　happen！
　The　Jackal　roared；　it　was　a　defiant　shriek　at　having　been　hit。　Bourne　lunged　back　across　the　opening；　pivoting　once　again　into　the　wall；　momentarily　distracted　by　the　sounds　of　a　now　functioning　ice　machine。　Again　he　crouched；　inching　his　face　toward　the　corner　of　the　archway　when　the　murderous　insanity　in　the　hallway　erupted　into　the　fever　pitch　of　close　bat。　Like　an　enraged　caged　animal；　the　wounded　Carlos　kept　spinning　around　in　place；　continuous　bursts　from　his　weapon　exploding　as　if　he　were　firing　through　unseen　walls　that　were　closing　in　on　him。　Two　piercing；　hysterical　screams　came　from　the　far　end　of　the　hallway；　one　male；　one　female；　a　couple　had　been　wounded　or　killed　in　the　panicked　fusillade　of　stray　bullets。
　〃Get　down！〃　Conklin's　scream　from　across　the　corridor　was　an　instant　mand　for　what　Jason　could　not　know。　〃Take　cover！　Grab　the　fucking　walls！〃　Bourne　did　as　he　was　told；　under　standing　only　that　the　order　meant　he　was　to　shove　himself　into　as　small　a　place　as　possible；　protecting　his　head　as　much　as　possible。　The　corner。　He　lunged　as　the　first　explosion　rocked　the　walls…somewhere…and　then　a　second；　this　much　nearer；　far　more　thunderous；　in　the　hallway　itself。　Grenades！
　Smoke　mingled　with　falling　plaster　and　shattered　glass。　Gunshots。　Nine；　one　after　another…a　Graz　Burya　automatic　。。。　Alex！　Jason　spun　up　and　away　from　the　corner　of　the　recess　and　lurched　for　the　opening。　Conklin　stood　outside　the　door　of　their　suite　in　front　of　the　upturned　room…service　table；　he　snapped　out　his　empty　clip　and　furiously　searched　his　trousers　pockets。　〃I　haven't　got　one！〃　he　shouted　angrily；　referring　to　the　extra　clips　of　ammunition　supplied　by　Krupkin。　〃He　ran　around　the　corner　into　the　other　corridor；　and　I　don't　have　any　goddamned　shells！〃
　〃I　do　and　I'm　a　lot　faster　than　you；〃　said　Jason；　removing　his　spent　magazine　and　inserting　a　fresh　clip　from　his　pocket。　〃Get　back　in　there　and　call　the　lobby。　Tell　them　to　clear　it。〃
　〃Krupkin　said…〃
　〃I　don't　give　a　damn　what　he　said！　Tell　them　to　shut　down　the　elevators；　barricade　all　staircase　exits；　and　stay　the　hell　away　from　this　floor！〃
　〃I　see　what　you　mean…〃
　〃Do　it！〃　Bourne　raced　down　the　hallway；　wincing　as　he　approached　the　couple　who　lay　on　the　carpet；　each　moved；　groaning。　Their　clothes　were　spotted　with　blood；　but　they　moved！　He　turned　and　yelled　to　Alex；　who　was　limping　around　the　room…service　table。　〃Get　help　up　here！〃　he　ordered；　pointing　at　an　exit　door　directly　down　the　corridor。　〃They're　alive！　Use　that　exit　and　only　that　one！〃
　The　hunt　began；　pounded　and　impeded　by　the　fact　that　the　word　had　been　spread　throughout　these　adjacent　wings　of　the　Metropole's　tenth　floor。　It　took　no　imagination　to　realize　that　behind　the　closed　doors；　along　both　sides　of　the　hallways；　panicked　calls　were　being　made　to　the　front　desk　as　the　sound　of　nearby　gunfire　echoed　throughout　the　corridors。　Krupkin's　strategy　for　a　KGB　assault　team　in　civilian　clothes　had　been　nullified　by　the　first　burst　from　the　Jackal's　weapon。
　Where　was　he？　There　was　another　exit　door　at　the　far　end　of　the　long　hallway　Jason　had　entered；　but　there　were　perhaps　fifteen　to　eighteen　guest…room　doors　lining　that　hallway。　Carlos　was　no　fool；　and　a　wounded　Carlos　would　call　upon　every　tactic　he　could　summon　from　a　long　life　of　violence　and　survival　to　survive；　if　only　long　enough　to　achieve　the　kill　he　wanted　more　than　life　itself。　。。。　Bourne　suddenly　realized　how　accurate　his　analysis　was；　for　he　was　describing　himself。　What　had　old　Fontaine　said　on　Tranquility　Isle；　in　that　faraway　storeroom　from　which　they　had　stared　down　at　the　procession　of　priests　knowing　that　one　had　been　bought　by　the　Jackal？　〃。。。　Two　aging　lions　stalking　each　other；　not　caring　who's　killed　in　the　cross　fire〃…those　had　been　Fontaine's　words；　a　man　who　had　sacrificed　his　life　for　another　he　barely　knew　because　his　own　life　was　over；　for　the　woman　he　loved　was　gone。　As　Jason　started　cautiously；　silently　down　the　hall　toward　the　first　door　on　the　left；　he　wondered　if　he　could　do　the　same。　He　wanted　desperately　to　live…with　Marie　and　their　children…but　if　she　was　gone　。。。　if　they　were　gone　。。。　would　life　really　matter？　Could　he　throw　it　away　if　he　recognized　something　in　another　man　that　reflected　something　in　himself？
　No　time。　Meditate　on　your　own　time；　David　Webb！　I　have　no　use　for　you；　you　weak；　soft　son　of　a　bitch。　Get　away　from　me！　I　have　to　flush　out　a　bird　of　prey　I've　wanted　for　thirteen　years。　His　claws　are　razor…sharp　and　he's　killed　too　often；　too　many；　and　now　he　wants　to　kill　my　own…your　own。　Get　away　from　me！
　Bloodstains。　On　the　dull；　dark　brown　carpet；　wet　driblets　glistening　in　the　dim　overhead　light。　Bourne　crouched　and　felt　them；　they　were　wet；　they　were　red…bloodred。　Unbroken；　they　passed　the　first　door；　then　the　second；　remaining　on　the　left…then　they　crossed　the　hall；　the　pattern　now　altered；　no　longer　steady；　instead　zigzagging；　as　if　the　wound　had　been　located；　the　bleeding　partially　stemmed。　The　trail　passed　the　sixth　door　on　the　right；　and　the　seventh　。。。　then　abruptly　the　shining　red　drops　stopped…no；　not　entirely。　There　was　a　trickle　heading　left；　barely　visible；　and　again；　across　the　hallway…there　it　was！　A　faint　smudge　of　red　just　above　the　knob　on　the　eighth　door　on　the　left；　no　more　than　twenty　feet　from　the　corridor's　exit　staircase。　Carlos　was　behind　that　door　holding　hostage　whoever　was　inside。
　Precision　was　everything　now；　every　movement；　every　sound　concentrated　on　the　capture　or　the　kill。　Breathing　steadily　while　imposing　a　suspension　of　the　muscular　spasms　he　felt　everywhere　throughout　his　body；　Bourne　once　more　walked　silently；　now　retracing　his　steps　up　the　hallway。　He　reached　a　point　roughly　thirty　paces　away　from　the　eighth　door　on　the　left　and　turned　around；　suddenly　aware　of　a　muted　chorus　of　sporadic　sobs　and　cries　that　came　from　closed　doorways　along　the　hotel　corridor。　Orders　had　been　given　couched　in　language　far　removed　from　Krupkin's　instructions：　Stay　inside　your　rooms；　please。　Admit　no　one。　Our　people　are　investigating。　It　was　always　〃our　people；〃　never　〃the　police；〃　never　〃the　authorities〃；　with　those　names　came　panic。　And　panic　was　precisely　what　Medusa's　Delta　One　had　in　mind。　Panic　and　diversion；　eternal　ponents　for　the　human　snare；　lifelong　allies　in　the　springing　trap。
　He　raised　the　Graz　Burya　automatic；　aiming　at　one　of　the　ornate　hallway　chandeliers；　and　fired　twice；　simultaneously　shouting　furiously　as　the　earsplitting　explosions　acpanied　the　shattered　glass　that　plummeted　from　the　ceiling。　〃There　he　goes！　A　black　suit！〃　His　feet　pounding；　Bourne　ran　with　loud　emphatic　strides　down　the　corridor　to　the　eighth　door　on　the　left；　then　past　the　door；　shouting　once　again。　〃The　exit　。。。　the　exit！〃　He　abruptly　stopped；　firing　a　third　shot　into　another　chandelier；　the　jarring　cacophony　covering　the　absent　noise　of　his　pounding　feet　as　he　spun　around；　throwing　his　back　against　the　opposing　wall　of　the　eighth　door；　then　pushing　himself　away；　hurling　his　body　at　the　door　and　crashing　into　it；　smashing　it　off　its　hinges　as　he。　lurched　inside；　plunging　to　the　floor；　his　weapon　raised；　prepared　for　rapid　fire。
　He　was　wrong！　He　knew　it　instantly…a　final　reverse　trap　was　in　the　making！　He　heard　another　door　opening　somewhere　outside…he　either　heard　it　or　he　instinctively　knew　it！　He　rolled　furiously　to　his　right；　over　and　over　again；　his　legs　crashing　into　a　floor　lamp；　sending　it　toward　the　door；　his　panicked　darting　eyes　catching　a　glimpse　of　an　elderly　couple　clutching　each　other；　crouching　in　a　far　corner。
　The　white…gowned　figure　burst　into　the　room；　his　automatic　pistol　spitting　indiscriminately；　the　staccato　reports　deafening。　Bourne　fired　repeatedly　into　the　mass　of　white　as　he　sprang　into　the　left　wall；　knowing　that　if　for　only　a　split　second　he　was　positioned　on　the　killer's　blind　right　flank。　It　was　enough！
　The　Jackal　was　caught　in　his　shoulder…his　right　shoulder！　The　weapon　literally　snapped　out　of　his　grip　as　he　jerked　up　his　forearm；　his　fingers　spastically　uncurled　under　the　impact　of　the　Graz　Burya's　penetration。　With　no　cessation　of　movement；　the　Jackal　swung　around；　the　bloody　long　white　robe　separating；　billowing　like　a　sail　as　he　grabbed　the　massive　flesh　wound　with　his　left　hand　and　violently　kicked　the　floor　lamp　into　Jason's　face。
　Bourne　fired　again；　half　blinded　by　the　flying　shade　of　the　heavy　lamp；　his　weapon　deflected　by　the　thick　stem。　The　shot　went　wild；　steadying　his　hand；　he　squeezed　the　trigger　again；　only　to　hear　the　sickening　finality　of　a　sharp　metallic　click…the　gun's　magazine　was　empty！　Struggling　to　a　crouch；　he　lunged　for　the　blunt；　ugly　automatic　weapon　as　the　white…robed　Carlos　raced　through　the　shattered　doorway　into　the　corridor。　Jason　got　to