rl.thebourneultimatum-第60部分

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　〃Are　you？〃
　〃I　will。〃
　〃He　doesn't　buy　it。　He　wants　to　question　you；　he　says　he　can't　question　pages　of　paper。〃
　〃I'm　too　close　to　the　Jackal！　I　won't　do　it。　He's　an　unreasonable　son　of　a　bitch！〃
　〃I　think　he　wanted　to　be　reasonable；〃　said　Conklin。　〃He　knows　what　you're　going　through；　what　you've　been　through；　but　after　seven　o'clock　last　night　he　closed　the　doors。〃
　〃Why？〃
　〃Armbruster　was　shot　to　death　outside　his　house。　They're　calling　it　a　Georgetown　robbery；　which；　of　course；　it　isn't　and　wasn't。〃
　〃Oh；　Jesus！〃
　〃There　are　a　couple　of　other　things　you　ought　to　know。　To　begin　with；　we're　releasing　Swayne's　'suicide。'　〃
　〃For　God's　sake；　why？〃
　〃To　let　whoever　killed　him　think　he's　off　the　hook；　and；　more　important；　to　see　who　shows　up　during　the　next　week　or　so。
　〃At　the　funeral？〃
　〃No；　that's　a　'closed　family　affair；'　no　guests；　no　formal　ceremony。〃
　〃Then　who's　going　to　show　up　where？
　〃At　the　estate；　in　one　form　or　another。　We　checked　with　Swayne's　attorney；　very　officially；　of　course；　and　he　confirmed　what　Swayne's　wife　told　you　about　his　leaving　the　whole　place　to　a　foundation。〃
　〃Which　one？〃　asked　Bourne。
　〃One　you've　never　heard　of；　funded　privately　a　few　years　ago　by　wealthy　close　friends　of　the　august　'wealthy'　general。　It's　as　touching　as　can　be。　It　goes　under　the　title　of　the　Soldiers；　Sailors　and　Marines　Retreat；　the　board　of　directors　is　already　in　place。〃
　〃Medusans。〃
　〃Or　their　surrogates。　We'll　see。〃
　〃Alex；　what　about　the　names　I　gave　you；　the　six　or　seven　names　Flannagan　gave　me？　And　that　slew　of　license　plate　numbers　from　their　meetings？〃
　〃Cute；　real　cute；〃　said　Conklin　enigmatically。
　〃What's　cute？〃
　〃Take　the　names…they're　the　dregs　of　the　wing…ding　social　set；　no　relation　to　the　Georgetown　upper　crust。　They're　out　of　the　National　Enquirer；　not　The　Washington　Post。〃
　〃But　the　licenses；　the　meetings！　That's　got　to　be　the　ball　of　wax。〃
　〃Even　cuter；〃　observed　Alex。　〃A　ball　of　sheep　dip。　。。。　Every　one　of　those　licenses　is　registered　to　a　limousine　pany；　read　that　panies。　I　don't　have　to　tell　you　how　authentic　the　names　would　be　even　if　we　had　the　dates　to　trace　them。〃
　〃There's　a　cemetery　out　there！〃
　〃Where　is　it？　How　big；　how　small？　There　are　twenty…eight　acres…〃
　〃Start　looking！〃
　〃And　advertise　what　we　know？〃
　〃You're　right；　you're　playing　it　right。　。。。　Alex；　tell　Holland　you　couldn't　reach　me。〃
　〃You're　joking。〃
　〃No；　I　mean　it。　I've　got　the　concierge；　I　can　cover。　Give　Holland　the　hotel　and　the　name　and　tell　him　to　call　himself；　or　send　over　whoever　he　likes　from　the　embassy　to　verify。　The　concierge　will　swear　I　checked　in　yesterday　and　he　hasn't　seen　me　since。　Even　the　switchboard　will　confirm　it。　Buy　me　a　few　days；　please。〃
　〃Holland　could　still　pull　all　the　plugs　and　probably　will。〃
　〃He　won't　if　he　thinks　I'll　e　back　when　you　find　me。　I　just　want　him　to　keep　looking　for　Mo　and　keep　my　name　out　of　Paris。　Good　or　bad；　no　Webb；　no　Simon；　no　Bourne！〃
　〃I'll　try。〃
　〃Was　there　anything　else？　I've　got　a　lot　to　do。〃
　〃Yes。　Casset　is　flying　over　to　Brussels　in　the　morning。　He's　going　to　nail　Teagarten…him　we　can't　allow　and　it　won't　touch　you。〃
　〃Agreed。〃
　On　a　side　street　in　Anderlecht；　three　miles　south　of　Brussels；　a　military　sedan　bearing　the　flags　of　a　four…star　general　officer　pulled　up　to　the　curb　in　front　of　a　sidewalk　café。　General　James　Teagarten；　mander　of　NATO；　his　tunic　emblazoned　with　five　rows　of　ribbons；　stepped　gingerly　out　of　the　car　into　the　bright　early　afternoon　sunlight。　He　turned　and　offered　his　hand　to　a　stunning　WAC　major；　who　smiled　her　thanks　as　she　climbed　out　after　him。　Gallantly；　with　military　authority；　Teagarten　released　the　woman's　hand　and　took　her　elbow；　he　escorted　her　across　the　wide　pavement　toward　a　cluster　of　umbrella…topped　tables　behind　a　row　of　flowering　planter　boxes　that　was　the　alfresco　section　of　the　café。　They　reached　the　entrance；　a　latticework　archway　profusely　covered　with　baby　roses；　and　walked　inside。　All　the　tables　were　occupied　save　one　at　the　far　end　of　the　enclosed　pavement；　the　hum　of　luncheon　conversation　was　punctuated　by　the　tinkling　of　wine　bottles　gently　touching　wineglasses　and　the　delicate　clatter　of　utensils　lowered　on　china　plates。　The　decibel　level　of　the　conversation　was　suddenly　reduced；　and　the　general；　aware　that　his　presence　inevitably　brought　stares；　amiable　waves　and　not　infrequently　mild　applause；　smiled　benignly　at　no　one　in　particular　and　yet　at　everyone　as　he　guided　his　lady　to　the　deserted　table　where　a　small　folded　card　read　Réservé。
　The　owner；　with　two　waiters　trailing　behind　him　like　anxious　egrets；　practically　flew　between　the　tables　to　greet　his　distinguished　guest。　When　the　mander　was　seated；　a　chilled　bottle　of　Corton…Charlemagne　was　presented　and　the　menu　discussed。　A　young　Belgian　child；　a　boy　of　five　or　six；　walked　shyly　up　to　the　table　and　brought　his　hand　to　his　forehead；　he　smiled　and　saluted　the　general。　Teagarten　rose　to　his　feet；　standing　erect；　and　saluted　the　child　back。
　〃Vous　etes　un　soldat　distingué；　mon　camarade；〃　said　the　general；　his　manding　voice　ringing　through　the　sidewalk　café；　his　bright　smile　winning　the　crowd；　who　responded　with　appreciative　applause。　The　child　retreated　and　the　meal　continued。
　A　leisurely　hour　later；　Teagarten　and　his　lady　were　interrupted　by　the　general's　chauffeur；　a　middle…aged　army　sergeant　whose　expression　conveyed　his　anxiety。　The　mander　of　NATO　had　received　an　urgent　message　over　his　vehicle's　secure　phone；　and　the　chauffeur　had　had　the　presence　of　mind　to　write　it　down　and　repeat　it　for　accuracy。　He　handed　Teagarten　the　note。
　The　general　stood　up；　his　tanned　face　turning　pale　as　he　glanced　around　the　now…half…empty　sidewalk　café；　his　eyes　narrowed；　angry；　afraid。　He　reached　into　his　pocket　and　pulled　out　a　folded　wad　of　Belgian　franc　notes；　peeled　off　several　large　ones　and　dropped　them　on　the　table。　〃e　on；〃　he　said　to　the　woman　major。　〃Let's　go。　。。。　You〃…he　turned　to　his　driver…〃get　the　car　started！〃
　〃What　is　it？〃　asked　his　luncheon　panion。
　〃London。　Over　the　wire。　Armbruster　and　DeSole　are　dead。〃
　〃Oh；　my　God！　How？〃
　〃It　doesn't　matter。　Whatever　they　say　is　a　lie。〃
　〃What's　happening？〃
　〃I　don't　know。　I　just　know　we're　getting　out　of　here。　e　on！〃
　The　general　and　his　lady　rushed　through　the　latticework　archway；　across　the　wide　pavement　and　into　the　military　vehicle。　On　either　side　of　the　hood；　something　was　missing。　The　middle　aged　sergeant　had　removed　the　two　red…and…gold　flags　denoting　the　impressive　rank　of　his　superior；　the　mander　of　NATO。　The　car　shot　forward；　traveling　less　than　fifty　yards　when　it　happened。
　A　massive　explosion　blew　the　military　vehicle　into　the　sky；　shards　of　glass　and　metal；　pieces　of　flesh　and　streaks　of　blood　filling　the　narrow　street　in　Anderlecht。
　〃Monsieur！〃　cried　the　petrified　waiter　as　crews　of　police；　firemen　and　sanitation　workers　went　about　their　grisly　business　in　the　road。
　〃What　is　it？〃　replied　the　distraught　owner　of　the　sidewalk　café；　still　shaking　from　the　harsh　interrogation　he　had　gone　through　by　the　police　and　the　descending　hordes　of　journalists。　〃I　am　ruined。　We　will　be　known　as　the　Café　de　la　Mort；　the　restaurant　of　death。〃
　〃Monsieur；　look！〃　The　waiter　pointed　at　the　table　where　the　general　and　his　lady　had　sat。
　〃The　police　have　gone　over　it；〃　said　the　disconsolate　owner。
　〃No；　monsieur。　Now！〃
　Across　the　glass　top　of　the　table；　the　capital　letters　scrawled　in　glistening　red　lipstick；　was　a　name。
　JASON　BOURNE
　
　20
　Stunned；　Marie　stared　at　the　television　set；　at　the　satellite　news　program　beamed　from　Miami。　Then　she　screamed　as　a　camera　moved　in　on　a　glass　table　in　a　town　called　Anderlecht　in　Belgium　and　the　name　printed　in　red　across　the　top。　〃Johnny！〃
　St。　Jacques　burst　through　the　bedroom　door　of　the　suite　he　had　built　for　himself　on　the　second　floor　of　Tranquility　Inn。　〃Christ；　what　is　it？〃
　Tears　streaming　down　her　face；　Marie　pointed　in　horror　at　the　set。　The　announcer　on　the　overseas　〃feed〃　was　speaking　in　the　monotonic　drone　peculiar　to　such　satellite　transmissions。
　〃。。。　as　if　a　bloodstained　savage　from　the　past　had　returned　to　terrorize　civilized　society。　The　infamous　killer；　Jason　Bourne；　second　only　to　Carlos　the　Jackal　in　the　assassin　for…hire　market；　has　claimed　responsibility　for　the　explosion　that　took　the　lives　of　General　James　Teagarten　and　his　panions。　Conflicting　reports　have　e　from　Washington　and　London　intelligence　circles　and　police　authorities。　Sources　in　Washington　claim　that　the　assassin　known　as　Jason　Bourne　was　hunted　down　and　killed　in　Hong　Kong　five　years　ago　in　a　joint　British…American　operation。　However；　spokesmen　for　both　the　Foreign　Office　and　British　intelligence　deny　any　knowledge　of　such　an　operation　and　say　that　a　joint　effort　as　was　described　is　highly　unlikely。　Still　other　sources；　these　from　Interpol's　headquarters　in　Paris；　have　stated　that　their　branch　in　Hong　Kong　knew　of　the　supposed　death　of　Jason　Bourne；　but　as　the　widely　circulated　reports　and　photographs　were　so　sketchy　and　unidentifiable；　they　did　not　give　much　credence　to　the　story。　They　assumed；　as　was　also　reported；　that　Bourne　disappeared　into　the　People's　Republic　of　China　for　a　last　contract　fatal　to　himself。　All　that's　clear　today　is　that　in　the　quaint　city　of　Anderlecht　in　Belgium；　General　James　Teagarten；　mander　of　NATO；　was　assassinated　and　someone　calling　himself　Jason　Bourne　has　taken　credit　for　killing　this　great　and　popular　soldier。　。。。　We　now　show　you　an　old　posite　photograph　from　Interpol's　files　produced　by　a　consensus　of　those　who　purportedly　had　seen　Bourne　at　close　range。　Remember；　this　is　a　posite；　the　features　put　together　separately　from　scores　of　other　photographs　and；　considering　the　killer's　reputation　for　changing　his　appearance；　probably　not　of　great　value。〃
　The　screen　was　suddenly　filled　with　the　face　of　a　man；　somewhat　irregular　and　lacking　definition。
　〃It's　not　David！〃　said　John　St。　Jacques。
　〃It　could　be；　Bro；〃　said　his　sister。
　〃And　now　to　other　news。　The　drought　that　has　plagued　large　areas　of　Ethiopia…〃
　〃Turn　that　goddamned　thing　off！〃　shouted　Marie；　lurching　out　of　the　chair　and　heading　for　the　telephone　as　her　brother　switched　off　the　set。　〃Whe