rl.thebourneultimatum-第124部分

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　He　glanced　over　at　the　armory's　entrance。　The　two　soldiers　were　laughing　quietly；　the　one　without　a　cigarette　again　looking　at　his　watch。　Then　the　object　of　their　minor　conspiracy　came　out　of　the　left　front　door；　an　attractive　dark…haired　girl；　barely　in　her　twenties。　She　humorously　clapped　both　her　hands　over　her　ears；　made　a　grotesque　face　and　walked　rapidly　to　the　time…conscious　man　in　uniform；　kissing　him　on　the　lips。　The　threesome　linked　arms；　the　woman　in　the　center；　and　started　to　their　right；　away　from　the　entrance。
　A　crash！　Metal　colliding　with　metal；　glass　shattering　glass；　the　loud　harsh　sound　ing　from　the　distant　parking　area。　Something　had　happened　to　the　Komitet　car　with　Alex　and　Krupkin；　the　young　driver　from　the　assault　squad　had　either　smashed　or　skidded　into　another　vehicle　in　the　dry　dirt　of　the　lot。　Using　the　sound　as　an　excuse；　Jason　started　down　the　road；　the　image　of　Conklin　ing　instantly　to　his　mind；　producing　a　limp　in　his　own　rapid　strides　the　better　to　keep　his　weapon　in　minimum　view。　He　turned　his　head；　expecting　to　see　the　two　soldiers　and　the　woman　running　down　the　armory　path　toward　the　accident；　only　to　realize　that　the　three　of　them　were　running　the　other　way；　removing　themselves　from　any　involvement。　Obviously；　precious　breaks　in　a　military　schedule　were　jealously　protected。
　Bourne　abandoned　the　limp；　crashed　through　the　hedgerow　and　raced　to　the　concrete　path　that　stretched　to　the　corner　of　the　huge　building；　gathering　speed　and　breathing　heavily　with　increasing　frequency。　Jason's　weapon　was　now　in　plain　sight；　slashing　the　air　as　he　gripped　it　in　the　hand　of　his　swinging　right　arm。　He　reached　the　end　of　the　path；　his　chest　heaving；　the　veins　in　his　neck　seemingly　prepared　to　burst　as　the　sweat　ran　down　his　skin；　drenching　his　face；　his　collar　and　his　shirt。　Gasping；　he　steadied　the　AK…47；　his　back　pressed　against　the　wall　of　the　building；　then　spun　around　the　corner　into　the　parking　area；　stunned　by　what　he　saw。　His　pounding　feet；　coupled　with　the　anxiety　that　caused　his　hair…soaked　temples　to　throb；　had　blocked　out　all　sound　up　ahead。　What　he　observed　now；　what　sickened　him　now；　he　knew　had　to　be　the　result　of　multiple　gunshots　muted　by　a　weapon　equipped　with　a　silencer。　Dispassionately；　Medusa's　Delta　understood；　he　had　been　there　many　times　many　years　before。　There　were　circumstances　under　which　kills　had　to　be　made　quietly…utter　silence　was　the　unreachable　goal；　but　at　least　minimal　noise　was　crucial。
　The　young　KGB　driver　from　the　assault　squad　was　sprawled　on　the　ground　by　the　trunk　of　the　dark　green　sedan；　the　wounds　in　his　head　certifying　death。　The　car　had　swerved　into　the　side　of　a　government　bus；　the　sort　used　to　haul　workers　to　and　from　their　places　of　employment。　How　or　why　the　accident　had　happened；　Bourne　could　not　know。　Neither　could　he　know　whether　Alex　or　Krupkin　had　survived；　the　car's　windows　had　been　pierced　repeatedly　and　there　was　no　sign　of　movement　inside；　both　facts　suggesting　the　worst　but　nothing　conclusive。　Above　all；　at　this　moment；　the　Chameleon　also　understood　that　he　could　not　be　affected　by　what　he　saw…emotions　were　out！　If　the　worst　had　happened；　mourning　the　dead　would　e　later；　vengeance　and　taking　the　killer　came　now。
　Think！　How？　Quickly！
　Krupkin　had　said　there　were　〃several　dozen　men　and　women〃　working　at　the　armory。　If　so；　where　the　hell　were　they？　The　Jackal　was　not　acting　in　a　vacuum；　it　was　impossible！　Yet　a　collision　had　occurred；　its　violent　crash　heard　over　a　hundred　yards　away…well　over　the　distance　of　a　football　field…and　a　man　had　been　shot　dead　at　the　site　of　that　crash；　his　lifeless　body　bleeding　in　the　dirt；　yet　no　one…no　one…had　appeared；　either　accidentally　or　intentionally。　With　the　exception　of　Carlos　and　five　unknown　people；　was　the　entire　armory　operating　in　a　vacuum？　Nothing　made　sense！
　And　then　he　heard　the　muffled　but　emphatic　strains　of　music　from　deep　inside　the　building。　Martial　music；　drums　and　trumpets　predominating；　swelling　to　crescendos　that　Bourne　could　only　imagine　were　deafening　within　the　echoing　confines　of　the　huge　structure。　The　image　of　the　young　woman　emerging　from　the　front　entrance　returned；　she　had　playfully　clapped　her　hands　over　her　ears　and　grimaced；　and　Jason　had　not　understood。　He　did　now。　She　had　e　from　the　armory's　inner　staging　area；　where　the　decibel　level　of　the　music　was　overpowering。　An　event　was　taking　place　at　the　Kubinka；　a　decently　attended　affair；　which　accounted　for　the　profusion　of　automobiles；　small　vans　and　buses　in　the　vast　parking　area…profusion　at　any　rate　in　the　Soviet　Union；　where　such　vehicles　were　not　in　oversupply。　Altogether　there　were　perhaps　twenty　conveyances　in　the　dirt　lot；　parked　in　a　semicircle。　The　activity　inside　was　both　the　Jackal's　diversion　and　his　protection；　he　knew　how　to　orchestrate　both　to　his　advantage。　So　did　his　enemy。　Checkmate。
　Why　didn't　Carlos　e　out？　Why　hadn't　he　e　out？　What　was　he　waiting　for？　The　circumstances　were　optimal；　they　couldn't　be　better。　Had　his　wounds　slowed　him　to　the　point　that　he　had　lost　the　advantages　he　had　created？　It　was　possible；　but　not　likely。　The　assassin　had　gotten　this　far；　and　if　escape　was　in　the　offing；　it　was　in　him　to　go　further；　much　further。　Then　why？　Irreversible　logic；　a　killer's　survival　logic　demanded　that　after　taking　out　the　backup　the　Jackal　had　to　race　away　as　fast　as　humanly　possible。　It　was　his　only　chance！　Then　why　was　he　still　inside？　Why　hadn't　his　escape　car　fled　from　the　area；　speeding　him　to　freedom？
　His　back　once　again　pressed　against　the　wall；　Jason　sidestepped　to　his　left；　closely　observing　everything　he　could　see。　Like　most　armories　the　world　over；　Kubinka　had　no　windows　on　the　first　floor；　at　least　not　for　the　first　fifteen　feet　from　the　ground；　he　presumed　it　was　because　the　occasional　wildly　galloping　horses　and　glass　did　not　go　together。　He　could　see　a　window　frame　on　what　appeared　to　be　the　second　floor　but　close　enough　to　the　slain　driver　to　afford　maximum　accuracy　for　a　silenced　high…powered　weapon：　Another　frame　on　ground　level　had　a　knob　protruding；　it　was　the　rear　exit　no　one　had　bothered　to　mention。　The　little　things；　the　insignificant　things！　Goddamn！
　The　muted　music　inside　swelled　again；　but　now　the　swelling　was　different；　the　drums　louder；　the　trumpets　more　sustained；　more　piercing。　It　was　the　unmistakable　ending　of　a　symphonic　march；　martial　music　at　its　most　intense。　。。。　That　was　it！　The　end　of　the　event　inside　was　at　hand　and　the　Jackal　would　use　the　emerging　crowds　to　cover　his　escape。　He　would　mingle；　and　when　panic　spread　through　the　parking　area　with　the　sight　of　the　dead　man　and　the　shot…up　sedan；　he　would　disappear…with　whom　and　with　what　vehicle　would　take　hours　to　determine。
　Bourne　had　to　get　inside；　he　had　to　stop　him；　take　him！　Krupkin　had　worried　about　the　lives　of　〃several　dozen　men　and　women〃…he　had　no　idea　that　in　reality　there　were　several　hundred！　Carlos　would　use　whatever　firepower　he　had　stolen；　including　grenades；　to　create　mass　hysteria　so　that　he　could　escape。　Lives　meant　nothing；　if　further　killing　was　required　to　save　his　own；　nothing。　Abandoning　caution；　Delta　raced　to　the　door；　gripping　his　AK…47　laterally　in　his　arm；　the　safety　unlatched；　his　index　finger　on　the　trigger。　He　grabbed　the　knob　and　twisted　it…it　would　not　turn。　He　fired　his　weapon　into　the　plated　metal　around　the　lock；　then　a　second　fusillade　into　the　opposing　frame；　and　as　he　reached　for　the　smoking　knob；　his　personal　world　went　mad！
　Out　of　the　line　of　vehicles　a　heavy　truck　suddenly　shot　forward；　ing　straight　toward　him；　wildly　accelerating　as　it　approached。　Simultaneously；　successive　bursts　of　automatic　gunfire　erupted；　the　bullets　thumping　into　the　wood　to　his　right。　He　lunged　to　his　left；　rolling　on　the　ground；　the　dust　and　dirt　filling　his　eyes　as　he　kept　rolling；　his　body　a　tube　spinning　away。
　And　then　it　happened！　The　massive　explosion　tore　apart　the　door；　blowing　away　a　large　section　of　the　wall　above；　and　through　the　black　smoke　and　settling　debris；　he　could　see　a　figure　lurching　awkwardly　toward　the　semicircle　of　vehicles。　His　killer　was　getting　away　after　all；　But　he　was　alive！　And　the　reason　for　it　was　obvious…the　Jackal　had　made　a　mistake。　Not　in　the　trap；　that　was　extraordinary；　Carlos　knew　his　enemy　was　with　Krupkin　and　the　KGB　and　so　he　had　gone　outside　and　waited　for　him。　Instead；　his　error　was　in　the　placement　of　the　explosives。　He　had　wired　the　bomb　or　bombs　to　the　top　of　the　truck's　engine；　not　underneath。　Explosive　pounds　seek　release　through　the　least　resistant　barriers；　the　relatively　thin　hood　of　a　vehicle　is　far　less　solid　than　the　iron　beneath　it。　The　bomb　actually　blew　up；　it　did　not　blow　out　on　ground　level；　sending　death…inducing　metal　fragments　along　the　surface。
　No　time！　Bourne　struggled　to　his　feet　and　staggered　to　the　Komitet　sedan；　a　horrible　fear　ing　into　focus。　He　looked　through　the　shattered　windows；　his　eyes　suddenly　drawn　to　the　front　seat　as　a　heavily　fleshed　hand　was　raised。　He　yanked　the　door　open　and　saw　Krupkin；　his　large　body　squeezed　below　the　seat　under　the　dashboard；　his　right　shoulder　half　torn　away；　bleeding　flesh　apparent　through　the　fabric　of　his　jacket。
　〃We　are　hurt；〃　said　the　KGB　officer　weakly　but　calmly。　〃Aleksei　somewhat　more　seriously　than　I　am；　so　attend　to　him　first；　if　you　please。〃
　〃The　crowd's　ing　out　of　the　armory…〃
　〃Here！〃　interrupted　Krupkin；　painfully　reaching　into　his　pocket　and　pulling　out　his　plastic　identification　case。　〃Get　to　the　idiot　in　charge　and　bring　him　to　me。　We　must　get　a　doctor。　For　Aleksei；　you　damn　fool。　Hurry！〃
　The　two　wounded　men　lay　alongside　each　other　on　examining　tables　in　the　armory's　infirmary　as　Bourne　stood　across　the　room；　leaning　against　the　wall；　watching　but　not　understanding　what　was　being　said。　Three　doctors　had　been　dispatched　by　helicopter　from　the　roof　of　the　People's　Hospital　on　the　Serova　Prospekt…two　surgeons　and　an　anesthesiologist；　the　last；　however；　proving　unnecessary。　Severe　invasive　procedures　were　not　called　for；　local　anesthetics　were　sufficient　for　the　cleansing　and　suturing；　followed　by　generous　injections　of　antibiotics。　The　foreign　objects　had　passed　through　their　bodies；　explained　the　chief　doctor。
　〃I　presume　you　mean　bullets　when　you　speak　so