rl.thebourneultimatum-第24部分

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　〃Blessings　upon　you；　child　of　God；〃　said　the　voice　several　thousand　miles　away。　〃Is　everything　suitable？〃
　〃Beyond　description；〃　answered　the　old　man。　〃It　is　。。。　so　grand；　so　much　more　than　we　deserve。〃
　〃You　will　earn　it。〃
　〃However　I　may　serve　you。〃
　〃You'll　serve　me　by　following　the　orders　given　to　you　by　the　woman。　Follow　them　precisely　with　no　deviation　whatsoever；　is　that　understood？〃
　〃Certainly。〃
　〃Blessings　upon　you。〃　There　was　a　click　and　the　voice　was　no　more。
　Fontaine　turned　to　address　the　nurse；　but　she　was　not　at　his　side。　Instead；　she　was　across　the　room；　unlocking　the　drawer　of　a　table。　He　walked　over　to　her；　his　eyes　drawn　to　the　contents　of　the　drawer。　Side　by　side　were　a　pair　of　surgical　gloves；　a　pistol　with　a　cylindrical　silencer　attached　to　the　barrel；　and　a　straight　razor；　the　blade　recessed。
　〃These　are　your　tools；〃　said　the　woman；　handing　him　the　key；　her　flat；　expressionless　gray　eyes　boring　into　his　own；　〃and　the　targets　are　in　the　last　villa　on　this　row。　You　are　to　familiarize　yourself　with　the　area　by　taking　extended　walks　on　the　path；　as　old　men　do　for　circulatory　purposes；　and　you　are　to　kill　them。　You　are　to　do　this　wearing　the　gloves　and　firing　the　gun　into　each　skull。　It　must　be　the　head。　Then　each　throat　must　be　slit…〃
　〃Mother　of　God；　the　children's？〃
　〃Those　are　the　orders。〃
　〃They're　barbaric！〃
　〃Do　you　wish　me　to　convey　that　judgment？〃
　Fontaine　looked　over　at　the　balcony　door；　at　his　woman　in　the　wheelchair。　〃No；　no；　of　course　not。〃
　〃I　thought　not。　。。。　There　is　a　final　instruction。　With　whosesoever　blood　is　most　convenient；　you　are　to　write　on　the　wall　the　following：　'Jason　Bourne；　brother　of　the　Jackal。'　〃
　〃Oh；　my　God。　。。。　I'll　be　caught；　of　course。〃
　〃That's　up　to　you。　Coordinate　the　executions　with　me　and　I'll　swear　a　great　warrior　of　France　was　in　this　villa　at　the　time。〃
　〃Time？　。。。　What　is　the　time？　When　is　this　to　be　done？〃
　〃Within　the　next　thirty…six　hours。〃
　〃Then　what？〃
　〃You　may　stay　here　until　your　woman　dies。〃
　
　9
　Brendan　Patrick　Pierre　Prefontaine　was　again　astonished。　Though　he　had　no　reservation；　the　front　desk　of　Tranquility　Inn　treated　him　like　a　visiting　celebrity；　then　only　moments　after　he　had　secured　a　villa　told　him　that　he　already　had　a　villa　and　asked　How　was　the　flight　from　Paris？　Confusion　descended　for　several　minutes　as　the　owner　of　Tranquility　Inn　could　not　be　reached　for　consultation；　he　was　not　at　his　residence；　and　if　he　was　on　the　premises　he　could　not　be　found。　Ultimately　hands　were　thrown　up　in　frustration　and　the　former　judge　from　Boston　was　taken　to　his　lodgings；　a　lovely　miniature　house　overlooking　the　Caribbean。　By　accident；　hardly　by　design；　he　had　reached　into　the　wrong　pocket　and　given　the　manager　behind　the　desk　a　fifty…dollar　American　bill　for　his　courtesy。　Prefontaine　instantly　became　a　man　to　be　reckoned　with；　fingers　snapped　and　palms　hit　bells　rapidly。　Nothing　was　too　splendid　for　the　bewildering　stranger　who　had　suddenly　flown　in　on　the　seaplane　from　Montserrat。　。。。　It　was　the　name　that　had　thrown　everyone　behind　Tranquility's　front　desk　into　confusion。　Could　such　a　coincidence　be　possible？　。。。　Still　the　Crown　governor…　Err　on　the　safe　side。　Get　the　man　a　villa。
　Once　settled；　his　casual　clothes　distributed　in　the　closet　and　the　bureau；　the　craziness　continued。　A　chilled　bottle　of　Chateau　Carbonnieux　'78　acpanied　fresh…cut　flowers；　and　a　box　of　Belgian　chocolates　arrived；　only　to　have　a　confused　room…service　waiter　return　to　remove　them；　apologizing　for　the　fact　that　they　were　for　another　villa　down　the　line…or　up　the　line…he　thought；　mon。
　The　judge　changed　into　Bermuda　shorts；　wincing　at　the　sight　of　his　spindly　legs；　and　put　on　a　subdued　paisley　sport　shirt。　White　loafers　and　a　white　cloth　cap　pleted　his　tropical　outfit；　it　would　be　dark　soon　and　he　wanted　a　stroll。　For　several　reasons。
　〃I　know　who　Jean　Pierre　Fontaine　is；〃　said　John　St。　Jacques；　reading　the　register　behind　the　front　desk；　〃he's　the　one　the　CG's　office　called　me　about；　but　who　the　hell　is　B。　P。　Prefontaine？〃
　〃An　illustrious　judge　from　the　United　States；〃　declared　the　tall　black　assistant　manager　in　a　distinct　British　accent。　〃My　uncle；　the　deputy　director　of　immigration；　phoned　me　from　the　airport　roughly　two　hours　ago。　Unfortunately；　I　was　upstairs　when　the　confusion　arose；　but　our　people　did　the　right　thing。〃
　〃A　judge？〃　asked　the　owner　of　Tranquility　Inn　as　the　assistant　manager　touched　St。　Jacques's　elbow；　gesturing　for　him　to　move　away　from　the　desk　and　the　clerks。　Both　men　did　so。　〃What　did　your　uncle　say？〃
　〃There　must　be　total　privvissy　where　our　two　distinguished　guests　are　concerned。〃
　〃Why　wouldn't　there　be？　What　does　that　mean？〃
　〃My　uncle　was　very　discreet；　but　he　did　allow　that　he　watched　the　honored　judge　go　to　the　Inter…Island　counter　and　purchase　a　ticket。　He　further　permitted　himself　to　say　that　he　knew　he　had　been　right。　The　judge　and　the　French　war　hero　are　related　and　wish　to　meet　confidentially　on　matters　of　great　import。〃
　〃If　that　was　the　case；　why　didn't　the　honored　judge　have　a　reservation？〃
　〃There　appear　to　be　two　possible　explanations；　sir。　According　to　my　uncle；　they　were　originally　to　meet　at　the　airport　but　the　Crown　governor's　reception　line　precluded　it。〃
　〃What's　the　second　possibility？〃
　〃An　error　may　have　been　made　in　the　judge's　own　offices　in　Boston；　Massachusetts。　According　to　my　uncle；　there　was　a　brief　discussion　regarding　the　judge's　law　clerks；　how　they　are　prone　to　errors　and　if　one　had　been　made　with　his　passport；　he'd　fly　them　all　down　to　apologize。〃
　〃Then　judges　are　paid　a　lot　more　in　the　States　than　they　are　in　Canada。　He's　damned　lucky　we　had　space。〃
　〃It's　the　summer　season；　sir。　We　usually　have　available　space　during　these　months。〃
　〃Don't　remind　me。　。。。　All　right；　so　we've　got　two　illustrious　relatives　who　want　to　meet　privately　but　go　about　it　in　a　very　plicated　way。　Maybe　you　should　call　the　judge　and　tell　him　what　villa　Fontaine　is　in。　Or　Prefontaine…whichever　the　hell　it　is。
　〃I　suggested　that　courtesy　to　my　uncle；　sir；　and　he　was　most　adamant。　He　said　we　should　do　and　say　absolutely　nothing。　According　to　my　uncle；　all　great　men　have　secrets　and　he　would　not　care　to　have　his　own　brilliant　deduction　revealed　except　by　the　parties　themselves。〃
　〃Beg　your　pardon？〃
　〃If　such　a　call　were　made　to　the　judge；　he　would　know　the　information　could　only　e　from　my　uncle；　the　deputy　director　of　Montserrat's　immigration。〃
　〃Christ；　do　whatever　you　want；　I've　got　other　things　on　my　mind。　。。。　Incidentally；　I've　doubled　the　patrols　on　the　road　and　the　beach。〃
　〃We'll　be　stretched　thin；　sir。〃
　〃I've　shifted　a　number　off　the　paths。　I　know　who's　here；　but　I　don't　know　who　may　want　to　get　in　here。〃
　〃Do　we　expect　trouble；　sir？〃
　John　St。　Jacques　looked　at　the　assistant　manager。　〃Not　now；〃　he　said。　〃I've　been　out　checking　every　inch　of　the　grounds　and　the　beach。　By　the　way；　I'll　be　staying　with　my　sister　and　her　children　in　Villa　Twenty。〃
　The　hero　of　World　War　II's　Resistance　known　as　Jean　Pierre　Fontaine　walked　slowly　up　the　concrete　path　toward　the　last　villa　overlooking　the　sea。　It　was　similar　to　the　others；　with　walls　of　pink　stucco　and　a　red　tiled　roof；　but　the　surrounding　lawn　was　larger；　the　bordering　shrubbery　taller　and　denser。　It　was　a　place　for　prime　ministers　and　presidents；　foreign　secretaries　and　secretaries　of　state；　men　and　women　of　international　stature　seeking　the　peace　of　pampered　isolation。
　Fontaine　reached　the　end　of　the　path　where　there　was　a　four…foot…high　white　stuccoed　wall　and　beyond　it　the　impenetrable　overgrown　slope　of　the　hill　leading　down　to　the　shoreline。　The　wall　itself　extended　in　both　directions；　curving　around　the　hill　below　the　villas'　balconies；　at　once　demarcation　and　protection。　The　entrance　to　Villa　Twenty　was　a　pink　wrought…iron　gate　bolted　into　the　wall。　Beyond　the　gate　the　old　man　could　see　a　small　child　running　about　the　lawn　in　a　bathing　suit。　In　moments　a　woman　appeared　in　the　frame　of　the　open　front　door。
　〃e　on；　Jamie！〃　she　called　out。　〃Time　for　dinner。〃
　〃Has　Alison　eaten；　Mommy？〃
　〃Fed　and　asleep；　darling。　She　won't　yell　at　her　brother。〃
　〃I　like　our　house　better。　Why　can't　we　go　back　to　our　house；　Mommy？〃
　〃Because　Uncle　John　wants　us　to　stay　here。　。。。　The　boats　are　here；　Jamie。　He　can　take　you　fishing　and　sailing　just　like　he　did　last　April　during　the　spring　vacation。〃
　〃We　stayed　at　our　house　then。〃
　〃Yes；　well；　Daddy　was　with　us…〃
　〃And　we　had　lots　of　fun　driving　over　in　the　truck！〃
　〃Dinner；　Jamie。　e　along　now。〃
　Mother　and　child　went　into　the　house　and　Fontaine　winced　thinking　about　his　orders　from　the　Jackal；　the　bloody　executions　he　was　sworn　to　carry　out。　And　then　the　child's　words　came　back　to　him。　Why　can't　we　go　back　to　our　house；　Mommy？　。。。　We　stayed　at　our　house　then。　And　the　mother's　answers：　Because　Uncle　John　wants　us　to　stay　here。　。。。　Yes；　well；　Daddy　was　with　us　then。
　There　might　be　any　number　of　explanations　for　the　brief　exchange　he　had　overheard；　but　Fontaine　could　sense　warnings　quicker　than　most　men；　for　his　life　had　been　filled　with　them。　He　sensed　one　now；　and　for　that　reason　an　old　man　would　take　a　number　of　walks　late　at　night　for　〃circulatory　purposes。〃
　He　turned　from　the　wall　and　started　down　the　concrete　path　so　absorbed　in　thought　that　he　nearly　collided　with　a　guest　at　least　his　own　age　wearing　a　foolish…looking　little　white　cap　and　white　shoes。
　〃Excuse　me；〃　said　the　stranger；　sidestepping　out　of　Fontaine's　way。
　〃Pardon；　monsieur！〃　exclaimed　the　embarrassed　hero　of　France；　unconsciously　slipping　into　his　native　tongue。　〃Je　regrette…that　is　to　say；　it　is　I　who　must　be　excused。〃
　〃Oh？〃　At　his　words　the　stranger's　eyes　briefly　widened；　almost　as　if　there　had　been　recognition　that　was　quickly　hidden。　〃Not　at　all。〃
　〃Pardon；　we　have　met；　monsieur？〃
　〃I　don't　believe　so；〃　replied　the　old　man　in　the　silly　white　cap。　〃But　we've　all　heard　the　rumors。　A　great　French　hero　is　among　the　guests。〃
　〃Foolishness。　The　accidents　of　war　when　we　were　all　much　younger。　My　name　is　Fontaine。　Jean　Pierre　Fontaine。〃
　〃Mine's　。。。　Patrick。　Brendan　Patrick…〃
　〃A　pleasure　to　make　your　acquaintance；　monsieur。〃　Both　men　shook　hands。　〃This　is　a　lovel