rl.thebourneultimatum-第94部分

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　〃That's　the　other　one；　not　me；〃　protested　the　psychiatrist。　〃He's　the　one　without　a　foot。〃
　〃We　were　told　you'd　been　ill；　sir。〃
　〃Not　in　my　goddamned　legs。　。。。　Sorry；　young　man；　no　offense。　I　just　don't　like　flying　in　small　tubes　a　hundred　and　ten　miles　up　in　the　sky。　Not　too　many　astronauts　e　from　Tremont　Avenue　in　the　Bronx。〃
　〃Hey；　you're　kidding；　Doc！〃
　〃What？〃
　〃I'm　from　Garden　Street；　you　know；　across　from　the　zoo！　The　name's　Fleishman；　Morris　Fleishman。　Nice　to　meet　a　fellow　Bronxite。〃
　〃Morris？〃　said　Panov；　shaking　hands。　〃Morris　the　Marine？　I　should　have　had　a　talk　with　your　parents。　。。。　Stay　well；　Mo。　And　thank　you　for　your　concern。〃
　〃You　get　better；　Doc；　and　when　you　see　Tremont　Avenue　again；　give　it　my　best；　okay？〃
　〃I　will；　indeed；　Morris；〃　replied　Morris；　raising　his　hand　as　the　diplomatic　cart　shot　forward。
　Four　minutes　later；　escorted　by　the　driver；　Panov　entered　the　long　gray　corridor　that　was　the　immigration…free　access　to　France　for　government　functionaries　of　nations　accredited　by　the　Quai　d'Orsay。　They　walked　into　the　large　holding　lounge　where　men　and　women　were　gathered　in　small　groups；　conversing　quietly；　the　sounds　of　different　languages　filling　the　room。　Alarmed；　Mo　saw　that　Conklin　was　nowhere　in　sight；　he　turned　to　the　driver…escort　as　a　young　woman　dressed　in　the　neutral　uniform　of　a　hostess　approached。
　〃Docteur？〃　she　asked；　addressing　Panov。
　〃Yes；〃　replied　Mo；　surprised。　〃But　I'm　afraid　my　French　is　pretty　rusty　if　not　nonexistent。〃
　〃It's　of　no　matter；　sir。　Your　panion　requested　that　you　remain　here　until　he　returns。　It　will　be　no　more　than　a　few　minutes；　he　was　quite　sure。　。。。　Please；　sit　down。　May　I　bring　you　a　drink？〃
　〃Bourbon　with　ice；　if　you'd　be　so　kind；〃　answered　Panov；　lowering　himself　into　the　armchair。
　〃Certainly；　sir。〃　The　hostess　retreated　as　the　driver　placed　Mo's　suitcase　beside　him。
　〃I　have　to　get　back　to　my　vehicle；〃　said　the　diplomatic　escort。　〃You'll　be　fine　here。〃
　〃I　wonder　where　my　friend　went；〃　mused　Panov；　glancing　at　his　watch。
　〃Probably　to　an　outside　phone；　Doctor。　They　e　in　here；　get　messages　at　the　counters；　then　go　like　hell　into　the　terminal　to　find　public　pay　phones；　they　don't　like　the　ones　in　here。　The　Russkies　always　walk　the　fastest；　the　Arabs；　the　slowest。〃
　〃Must　be　their　respective　climates；〃　offered　the　psychiatrist；　smiling。
　〃Don't　bet　your　stethoscope　on　it。〃　The　driver　laughed　and　brought　his　hand　up　for　an　informal　salute。　〃Take　care；　sir；　and　get　some　rest。　You　look　tired。〃
　〃Thank　you；　young　man。　Good…bye。〃　I　am　tired；　thought　Panov　as　the　escort　disappeared　into　the　gray　corridor。　So　tired；　but　Alex　was　right。　If　he'd　flown　here　alone；　I　would　never　have　forgiven　him。　。。。　David！　We've　got　to　find　him！　The　damage　to　him　could　be　incalculable…none　of　them　understands。　With　a　single　act　his　fragile；　damaged　mind　could　regress　years…thirteen　years…to　where　he　was　a　functioning　killer；　and　for　him　nothing　else！　。。。　A　voice。　The　figure　above　was　talking　to　him。　〃I'm　sorry；　forgive　me。　。。。　Your　drink；　Doctor；〃　said　the　hostess　pleasantly。　〃I　debated　whether　to　wake　you；　but　then　you　moved　and　sounded　as　though　you　were　in　pain…〃
　〃No；　not　at　all；　my　dear。　Just　tired。〃
　〃I　understand；　sir。　Sudden　flights　can　be　so　exhausting；　and　if　they　are　long　and　unfortable；　even　worse。〃
　〃You　touched　on　all　three　points；　miss；〃　agreed　Panov；　taking　his　drink。　〃Thank　you。〃
　〃You　are　American；　of　course。〃
　〃How　could　you　tell？　I'm　not　wearing　cowboy　boots　or　a　Hawaiian　shirt。〃
　The　woman　laughed　charmingly。　〃I　know　the　driver　who　brought　you　in　here。　He's　American　security；　and　quite　nice；　very　attractive。〃
　〃Security？　You　mean　like　in　'police'？〃
　〃Oh；　very　much　so；　but　we　never　use　the　word。　。。。　Oh；　here's　your　panion　ing　back　inside。〃　The　hostess　lowered　her　voice。　〃May　I　ask　quickly；　Doctor？　Does　he　require　a　wheelchair？〃
　〃Good　heavens；　no。　He's　walked　like　that　for　years。〃
　〃Very　well。　Enjoy　your　stay　in　Paris；　sir。〃　The　woman　left　as　Alex；　limping；　weaved　around　several　groups　of　chattering　Europeans　to　the　chair　next　to　Panov。　He　sat　down　and　leaned　forward　awkwardly　in　the　soft　leather。　He　was　obviously　disturbed。
　〃What's　the　matter？〃　asked　Mo。
　〃I　just　talked　to　Charlie　Casset　in　Washington。〃
　〃He's　the　one　you　like；　the　one　you　trust；　isn't　he？〃
　〃He's　the　best　there　is　when　he　has　personal　access；　or；　at　least；　human　intelligence。　When　he　can　see　and　hear　and　look　for　himself；　and　not　simply　read　words　on　paper　or　a　puter　screen　without　asking　questions。〃
　〃Are　you；　perchance；　moving　into　my　territory　again；　Doctor　Conklin？〃
　〃I　accused　David　of　that　last　week　and　I'll　tell　you　what　he　told　me。　It's　a　free　country；　and　your　training　notwithstanding；　you　don't　have　a　franchise　on　mon　sense。〃
　〃Mea　culpa；〃　agreed　Panov；　nodding。　〃I　gather　your　friend　did　something　you　don't　approve　of。〃
　〃He　did　something　he　wouldn't　approve　of　if　he　had　more　information　on　whom　he　did　it　with。〃
　〃That　sounds　positively　Freudian；　even　medically　imprudent。〃
　〃Both　are　part　of　it；　I　guess。　He　made　an　outside　unsanctioned　deal　with　a　man　named　Dimitri　Krupkin　at　the　Russian　embassy　here　in　Paris。　We'll　be　working　with　the　local　KGB…you；　me；　Bourne　and　Marie…if　and　when　we　find　them。　Hopefully；　in　Rambouillet　in　an　hour　or　so。〃
　〃What　are　you　saying？〃　asked　Mo；　astonished　and　barely　audible。
　〃Long　story；　short　time。　Moscow　wants　the　Jackal's　head；　the　rest　of　him　separated　from　it。　Washington　can't　feed　us　or　protect　us；　so　the　Soviets　will　act　as　our　temporary　paterfamilias　if　we　find　ourselves　in　a　bind。〃
　Panov　frowned；　then　shook　his　head　as　though　absorbing　very　strange　information；　then　spoke。　〃I　suppose　it's　not　your　run…of…the…mill　development；　but　there's　a　certain　logic；　even　fort；　to　it。〃
　〃On　paper；　Mo；〃　said　Conklin。　〃Not　with　Dimitri　Krupkin。　I　know　him。　Charlie　doesn't。〃
　〃Oh？　He's　one　of　the　evil　people？〃
　〃Kruppie　evil？　No；　not　really…〃
　〃Kruppie？〃
　〃We　go　way　back　as　young　hustlers　to　Istanbul　in　the　late　sixties　and　Athens　after　that；　then　Amsterdam　later。　。。。　Krupkin's　not　malevolent；　and　he　works　like　a　son　of　a　bitch　for　Moscow　with　a　damn　good　second…rate　mind；　better　than　eighty　percent　of　the　clowns　in　our　business；　but　he's　got　a　problem。　He's　fundamentally　on　the　wrong　side；　in　the　wrong　society。　His　parents　should　have　e　over　with　mine　when　the　Bolsheviks　took　the　throne。〃
　〃I　forget。　Your　family　was　Russian。〃
　〃Speaking　the　language　helps　with　Kruppie。　I　can　nail　his　nuances。　He's　the　quintessential　capitalist。　Like　the　economic　ministers　in　Beijing；　he　doesn't　just　like　money；　he's　obsessed　with　it…and　everything　that　goes　with　it。　Out　of　sight　and　out　of　sanction；　he　could　be　bought。〃
　〃You　mean　by　the　Jackal？〃
　〃I　saw　him　bought　in　Athens　by　Greek　developers　selling　additional　airstrips　to　Washington　when　they　knew　the　munists　were　going　to　throw　us　out。　They　paid　him　to　shut　up。　Then　I　watched　him　broker　diamonds　in　Amsterdam　between　the　merchants　on　the　Nieuwmarkt　and　the　dacha…elite　in　Moscow。　We　had　drinks　one　night　in　the　Kattengat　and　I　asked　him；　'Kruppie；　what　the　fuck　are　you　doing？'　You　know　what　he　said？　He　said　in　clothes　I　couldn't　afford；　'Aleksei；　I'll　do　everything　I　can　to　outsmart　you；　to　help　the　supreme　Soviet　to　gain　world　dominance；　but　in　the　meantime；　if　you'd　like　a　holiday；　I　have　a　lovely　house　on　the　lake　in　Geneva。'　That's　what　he　said；　Mo。〃
　〃He's　remarkable。　Of　course；　you　told　your　friend　Casset　all　this…〃
　〃Of　course　I　didn't；〃　broke　in　Conklin。
　〃Good　God；　why　not？〃
　〃Because　Krupkin　obviously　never　told　Charlie　that　he　knew　me。　Casset　may　have　the　deal；　but　I'm　dealing。〃
　〃With　what？　How？〃
　〃David…Jason…has　over　five　million　in　the　Caymans。　With　only　a　spit　of　that　amount　I'll　turn　Kruppie　so　he'll　be　working　only　for　us；　if　we　need　him　or　want　him　to。〃
　〃Which　means　you　don't　trust　Casset。〃
　〃Not　so；〃　said　Alex。　〃I　trust　Charlie　with　my　life。　It's　just　that　I'm　not　sure　I　want　it　in　his　hands。　He　and　Peter　Holland　have　their　priorities　and　we　have　ours。　Theirs　is　Medusa；　ours　are　David　and　Marie。〃
　〃Messieurs？〃　The　hostess　returned　and　addressed　Conklin。　〃Your　car　has　arrived；　sir。　It　is　on　the　south　platform。〃
　〃You're　sure　it's　for　me？〃　asked　Alex。
　〃Forgive　me；　monsieur；　but　the　attendant　said　a　Mr。　Smith　had　a　difficult　leg。〃
　〃He's　certainly　right　about　that。〃
　〃I've　called　a　porter　to　carry　your　luggage；　messieurs。　It's　a　rather　long　walk。　He'll　meet　you　on　the　platform。〃
　〃Thanks　very　much。〃　Conklin　got　to　his　feet　and　reached　into　his　pocket；　pulling　out　money。
　〃Pardon；　monsieur；〃　interrupted　the　hostess。　〃We　are　not　permitted　to　accept　gratuities。〃
　〃That's　right。　I　forgot。　。。。　My　suitcase　is　behind　your　counter；　isn't　it？〃
　〃Where　your　escort　left　it；　sir。　Along　with　the　doctor's；　it　will　be　at　the　platform　within　minutes。〃
　〃Thanks　again；〃　said　Alex。　〃Sorry　about　the　tip。〃
　〃We　are　well　paid；　sir；　but　thank　you　for　the　thought。〃
　As　they　walked　to　the　door　that　led　into　the　main　terminal　of　Orly　Airport；　Conklin　turned　to　Panov。　〃How　did　she　know　you　were　a　doctor？〃　he　asked。　〃You　soliciting　couch　business？〃
　〃Hardly。　The　muting　would　be　a　bit　strenuous。〃
　〃Then　how？　I　never　said　anything　about　your　being　a　doctor。〃
　〃She　knows　the　security　escort　who　brought　me　into　the　lounge。　In　fact；　I　think　she　knows　him　quite　well。　She　said　in　that　delectable　French　accent　of　hers　that　he　was　'verry　attractiefe。'　〃
　Looking　up　at　the　signs　in　the　crowded　terminal；　they　started　toward　the　south　platform。
　What　neither　of　them　saw　was　a　distinguished…looking　olive…skinned　man　with　wavy　black　hair　and　large　dark　eyes　walk　quickly　out　of　the　diplomatic　lounge；　his　steady　gaze　directed　at　the　two　Americans。　He　crossed　to　the　wall；　rushing　past　the　crowds　until　he　was　diagonally　in　front　of　Conklin　and　Panov　near　the　taxi　platform。　Then；　squinting；　as　if　unsure；　he　removed　a　small　photograph　from　his　pocket　and　kept　glancing　at　it　as　he　raised　his　eyes　and　looked　up　at　the　departing　passengers　from　the　United　States。　The　photograph　was　of　Dr。　Morris　Panov；　dressed　in　a　white　hospital　gown；　a　glazed；　unearthly　expression　on　his　face。
　The　Americans　went　out　on　the　platform；