rl.thebourneultimatum-第79部分

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　〃I　admire　your　perspicacity　as　well　as　your　caution；〃　said　the　Jackal's　intermediary。
　〃The　bookcases　didn't　lie。　You're　a　learned　man。〃
　〃That's　neither　here　nor　there；　but　I　have　certain　credentials。　Appearances　can　be　a　liability　as　well　as　an　asset。　。。。　What　I　am　about　to　tell　you；　Mr。　Simon；　is　known　by　only　four　men　on　the　face　of　the　earth；　all　of　whom　speak　French　fluently。　How　you　wish　to　use　that　information　is　up　to　you。　However；　if　you　even　hint　at　Argenteuil；　I'll　know　it　instantly　and　you　will　never　leave　the　Pont…Royal　alive。〃
　〃The　contact　can　be　made　so　quickly？〃
　〃With　a　telephone　number。　But　you　will　not　place　the　call　for　at　least　an　hour　from　the　moment　we　part。　If　you　do；　again　I　will　know　it；　and　again　I　tell　you　you're　a　dead　man。〃
　〃An　hour。　Agreed。　。。。　Only　three　other　people　have　this　number？　Why　not　pick　one　you're　not　particularly　fond　of　so　I　might　peripherally　allude　to　him…if　it's　necessary。〃
　Santos　permitted　himself　a　small；　flat　smile。　〃Moscow；〃　he　said　softly。　〃High　up　in　Dzerzhinsky　Square。〃
　〃The　KGB？〃
　〃The　blackbird　is　building　a　cadre　in　Moscow；　always　Moscow；　it's　an　obsession　with　him。〃
　Ilich　Ramirez　Sanchez；　thought　Bourne。　Trained　at　Novgorod。　Dismissed　by　the　Komitet　as　a　maniac。　The　Jackal！
　〃I'll　bear　it　in　mind…if　it's　called　for。　The　number；　please？〃
　Santos　recited　it　twice　along　with　the　words　Bourne　was　to　say。　He　spoke　slowly；　obviously　impressed　that　Bourne　wrote　nothing　down。　〃Is　it　all　clear？〃
　〃Indelibly；　no　pencil　or　paper　required。　。。。　If　everything　goes　as　I　trust　it　will；　how　do　you　want　me　to　get　you　the　money？〃
　〃Phone　me；　you've　got　my　number。　I　will　leave　Argenteuil　and　e　to　you。　And　never　return　to　Argenteuil。〃
　〃Good　luck；　Santos。　Something　tells　me　you　deserve　it。〃
　〃No　one　more　so。　I　have　drunk　the　hemlock　far　too　many　times。〃
　〃Socrates；〃　said　Jason。
　〃Not　directly。　Plato's　dialogues；　to　be　precise。　Au　revoir。〃
　Santos　walked　away；　and　Bourne；　his　chest　pounding；　headed　back　to　the　Pont…Royal；　desperately　suppressing　his　desire　to　run。　A　running　man　is　an　object　of　curiosity；　a　target。　A　lesson　from　the　cantos　of　Jason　Bourne。
　〃Bernardine！〃　he　yelled；　racing　down　the　narrow；　deserted　hallway　to　his　room；　all　too　aware　of　the　open　door　and　the　old　man　seated　at　the　desk；　a　grenade　in　one　hand；　a　gun　in　the　other。　〃Put　the　hardware　away；　we've　hit　pay　dirt！〃
　〃Who's　paying？〃　asked　the　Deuxième　veteran　as　Jason　closed　the　door。
　〃I　am；〃　answered　Bourne。　〃If　this　works　out　the　way　I　think　it　will；　you　can　add　to　your　account　in　Geneva。〃
　〃I　do　not　do　what　I'm　doing　for　that；　my　friend。　It　has　never　been　a　consideration。〃
　〃I　know；　but　as　long　as　we're　passing　out　francs　like　we're　printing　them　in　the　garage；　why　shouldn't　you　get　a　fair　share？〃
　〃I　can't　argue　with　that；　either。〃
　〃An　hour；〃　announced　Jason。　〃Forty…three　minutes　now；　to　be　exact。〃
　〃For　what？〃
　〃To　find　out　if　it's　real；　actually　real。〃　Bourne　fell　on　the　bed；　his　arms　behind　his　head　on　the　pillow；　his　eyes　alive。　〃Write　this　down；　Fran？ois。〃　Jason　recited　the　telephone　number　given　him　by　Santos。　〃Buy；　bribe；　or　threaten　every　high…level　contact　you've　ever　had　in　the　Paris　telephone　service；　but　get　me　the　location　of　that　number。〃
　〃It's　not　such　an　expensive　request…〃
　〃Yes；　it　is；〃　countered　Bourne。　〃He's　got　it　guarded；　inviolate；　he　wouldn't　do　it　any　other　way。　Only　four　people　in　his　entire　network　have　it。〃
　〃Then；　perhaps；　we　do　not　go　high…level；　but；　instead；　far　lower　to　the　ground；　underground　actually。　Into　the　tunnels　of　the　telephone　service　beneath　the　streets。〃
　Jason　snapped　his　head　over　at　Bernardine。　〃I　hadn't　thought　of　that。〃
　〃Why　should　you？　You　are　not　Deuxième。　The　technicians　are　the　source；　not　the　bureaucrats　behind　the　desks。　。。。　I　know　several。　I　will　find　one　and　give　him　a　quiet　call　at　home　later　tonight…〃
　〃Tonight？〃　broke　in　Bourne；　raising　himself　off　the　bed。
　〃It　will　cost　a　thousand　francs　or　so；　but　you'll　get　the　location　of　the　telephone。〃
　〃I　can't　wait　until　later　tonight。〃
　〃Then　you　add　a　risk　by　trying　to　reach　such　a　man　at　work。　These　men　are　monitored；　no　one　trusts　anyone　in　the　telephone　service。　It's　the　Socialists'　paradox：　Give　its　laboring　forces　responsibility　but　no　individual　authority。〃
　〃Hold　it！〃　said　Jason　from　the　bed。　〃You　have　the　home　phone　numbers；　right？〃
　〃They're　in　the　book；　yes。　These　people　don't　keep　private　listings。〃
　〃Have　someone's　wife　call。　An　emergency。　Someone's　got　to　get　home。〃
　Bernardine　nodded　his　head。　〃Not　bad；　my　friend。　Not　bad　at　all。〃
　The　minutes　turned　into　quarter　hours　as　the　retired　Deuxième　officer　went　to　work；　unctuously；　with　promises　of　reward　for　the　wives　of　telephone　technicians；　if　they　would　do　what　he　asked　them　to　do。　Two　hung　up　on　him；　three　turned　him　down　with　epithets　born　of　the　suspicious　Paris　curbsides；　but　the　sixth；　amid　obscenities；　declared；　〃Why　not？〃　As　long　as　the　rodent　she　had　married　understood　that　the　money　was　hers。
　The　hour　was　over；　and　Jason　left　the　hotel；　walking　slowly；　deliberately；　down　the　pavement；　crossing　four　streets　until　he　saw　a　public　phone　on　the　Quai　Voltaire　by　the　Seine。　A　blanket　of　darkness　was　slowly　floating　down　over　Paris；　the　boats　on　the　river　and　the　bridges　dotted　with　lights。　As　he　approached　the　red　kiosk　he　breathed　steadily；　inhaling　deeply；　exercising　a　control　over　himself　that　he　never　thought　possible。　He　was　about　to　place　the　most　important　phone　call　of　his　life；　but　he　could　not　let　the　Jackal　know　that；　if；　indeed；　it　was　the　Jackal。　He　went　inside；　inserted　the　coin　and　dialed。
　〃Yes？〃　It　was　a　woman's　voice；　the　French　oui　sharp　and　harsh。　A　Parisienne。
　〃Blackbirds　circle　in　the　sky；〃　said　Bourne；　repeating　Santos's　words　in　French。　〃They　make　a　great　deal　of　noise；　all　but　one。　He　is　silent。〃
　〃Where　do　you　call　from？〃
　〃Here　in　Paris；　but　I　am　not　from　Paris。〃
　〃From　where；　then？〃
　〃Where　the　winters　are　far　colder；〃　answered　Jason；　feeling　the　moisture　on　his　hairline。　Control。　Control！　〃It　is　urgent　that　I　reach　a　blackbird。〃
　The　line　was　suddenly　filled　with　silence；　a　sonic　void；　and　Bourne　stopped　breathing。　Then　came　the　voice；　low；　steady；　and　as　hollow　as　the　previous　silence。　〃We　speak　to　a　Muscovite？〃
　The　Jackal！　It　was　the　Jackal！　The　smooth；　swift　French　could　not　hide　the　Latino　trace。　〃I　did　not　say　that；〃　answered　Bourne；　his　own　French　dialect　was　one　he　employed　frequently；　with　the　guttural　tinge　of　Gascony。　〃I　merely　said　the　winters　were　colder　than　Paris。〃
　〃Who　is　this？〃
　〃Someone　who　is　considered　by　someone　who　knows　you　sufficiently　impressive　to　be　given　this　number　along　with　the　proper　words　to　go　with　it。　I　can　offer　you　the　contract　of　your　career；　of　your　life。　The　fee　is　immaterial…name　your　own…but　those　who　pay　are　among　the　most　powerful　men　in　the　United　States。　They　control　much　of　American　industry；　as　well　as　that　country's　financial　institutions；　and　have　direct　access　to　the　nerve　centers　of　the　government。〃
　〃This　is　also　a　very　strange　call。　Very　unorthodox。〃
　〃If　you're　not　interested；　I'll　forget　this　number　and　go　elsewhere。　I'm　merely　the　broker。　A　simple　yes　or　no　will　suffice。〃
　〃I　do　not　mit　to　things　I　know　nothing　about；　to　people　I　never　heard　of。〃
　〃You'd　recognize　their　positions；　if　I　were　at　liberty　to　reveal　them；　believe　that。　However；　I'm　not　seeking　a　mitment；　only　your　interest　at　this　point。　If　the　answer　is　yes；　I　can　reveal　more。　If　it's　no；　well；　I　tried；　but　am　forced　to　go　elsewhere。　The　newspapers　say　he　was　in　Brussels　only　yesterday。　I'll　find　him。〃　There　was　a　short；　sharp　intake　of　breath　at　the　mention　of　Brussels　and　the　unspoken　Jason　Bourne。　〃Yes　or　no；　blackbird？〃
　Silence。　Finally　the　Jackal　spoke。　〃Call　me　back　in　two　hours；〃　he　ordered；　hanging　up　the　phone。
　It　was　done！　Jason　leaned　against　the　pay　phone；　the　sweat　pouring　down　his　face　and　breaking　out　on　his　neck。　The　Pont…Royal。　He　had　to　get　back　to　Bernardine！
　〃It　was　Carlos！〃　he　announced；　closing　the　door　and　crossing　directly　to　the　bedside　phone　while　taking　Santos's　card　out　of　his　pocket。　He　dialed；　in　seconds；　he　spoke。　〃The　bird's　confirmed；〃　he　said。　〃Give　me　a　name；　any　name。〃　The　pause　was　brief。　〃I've　got　it。　The　merchandise　will　be　left　with　the　concierge。　It'll　be　locked　and　taped；　count　it　and　send　my　passports　back　to　me。　Have　your　best　boy　pick　everything　up　and　call　off　the　dogs。　They　could　lead　a　blackbird　to　you。〃　Jason　hung　up　and　turned　to　Bernardine。
　〃The　telephone　number　is　in　the　fifteenth　arrondissement；〃　said　the　Deuxième　veteran。　〃Our　man　knew　that；　or　at　least　assumed　it　when　I　gave　it　to　him。〃
　〃What's　he　going　to　do？〃
　〃Go　back　into　the　tunnels　and　refine　things　further。〃
　〃Will　he　call　us　here？〃
　〃Fortunately；　he　drives　a　motorbike。　He　said　he　would　be　back　at　work　in　ten　minutes　or　so　and　reach　us　by　this　room　number　within　the　hour。〃
　〃Perfect！〃
　〃Not　entirely。　He　wants　five　thousand　francs。〃
　〃He　could　have　asked　ten　times　that。　。。。　What's　'within　the　hour'？　How　long　before　he　calls？〃
　〃You　were　gone　perhaps　thirty；　thirty…five　minutes；　and　he　reached　me　shortly　after　you　left。　I'd　say　within　the　next　half　hour。〃
　The　telephone　rang。　Twenty　seconds　later　they　had　an　address　on　the　boulevard　Lefebvre。
　〃I'm　leaving；〃　said　Jason　Bourne；　taking　Bernardine's　automatic　off　the　desk　and　putting　two　grenades　in　his　pocket。　〃Do　you　mind？〃
　〃Be　my　guest；〃　replied　the　Deuxième；　reaching　under　his　jacket　and　removing　a　second　weapon　from　his　belt。　〃Pickpockets　so　abound　in　Paris　one　should　always　carry　a　backup。　。。。　But　what　for？〃
　〃I've　got　at　least　a　couple　of　hours　and　I　want　to　look　around。〃
　〃Alone？〃
　〃How　else？　If　we　call　for　support；　I　risk　being　gunned　down　or　spending　the　rest　of　my　life　in　jail　for　an　assassination　in　Belgium　I　had　nothing　to　do　with。〃
　Former　judge　of　the　first　circuit　court　in　Boston；　the　once　Honorable　Brendan　Patrick　Prefontaine；　watched　the　weeping；　disconsolate　Randolph　Gates　as　he　sat　forward　on　the　couch　at　the　Ritz…Carlton　hotel；　his　face　in　his　widespread　hands。
　〃Oh；　good　Christ；　how　the　mighty　fall　with　such　a　thud　of　finality；〃　observed　Brendan；　pouring　himself　a