rl.thebourneultimatum-第95部分

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　The　Americans　went　out　on　the　platform；　the　dark…haired　man　did　the　same。　The　Americans　looked　around　for　a　taxi；　the　dark…haired　man　signaled　a　private　car。　A　driver　got　out　of　a　cab；　he　approached　Conklin　and　Panov；　speaking　quietly；　as　a　porter　arrived　with　their　luggage；　the　two　Americans　climbed　into　the　taxi。　The　stranger　who　followed　them　slipped　into　the　private　car　two　vehicles　behind　the　cab。
　〃Pazzo！〃　said　the　dark…haired　man　in　Italian　to　the　fashionably　dressed　middle…aged　woman　behind　the　wheel。　〃I　tell　you　it's　crazy！　For　three　days　we　wait；　all　ining　American　planes　watched；　and　we　are　about　to　give　up　when　that　fool　in　New　York　turns　out　to　be　right。　It's　them！　。。。　Here；　I'll　drive。　You　get　out　and　reach　our　people　over　there。　Tell　them　to　call　DeFazio；　instruct　him　to　go　to　his　other　favorite　restaurant　and　await　my　call　to　him。　He　is　not　to　leave　until　we　speak。〃
　〃Is　this　you；　old　man？〃　asked　the　hostess　in　the　diplomatic　lounge；　speaking　softly　into　the　telephone　at　her　counter。
　〃It　is　I；〃　replied　the　quavering　voice　at　the　other　end　of　the　line。　〃And　the　Angelus　rings　for　eternity　in　my　ears。〃
　〃It　is　you；　then。〃
　〃I　told　you　that；　so　get　on　with　it。〃
　〃The　list　we　were　given　last　week　included　a　slender　middle…aged　American　with　a　limp；　possibly　acpanied　by　a　doctor。　Is　this　correct？〃
　〃Correct！　And？〃
　〃They　have　passed　through。　I　used　the　title　'Doctor'　with　the　cripple's　panion　and　he　responded　to　it。〃
　〃Where　have　they　gone？　It's　vital　that　I　know！〃
　〃It　was　not　disclosed；　but　I　will　soon　learn　enough　for　you　to　find　out；　old　man。　The　porter　who　took　their　luggage　to　the　south　platform　will　get　the　description　and　the　license　of　the　car　that　meets　them。〃
　〃In　the　name　of　God；　call　me　back　with　the　information！〃
　Three　thousand　miles　from　Paris；　Louis　DeFazio　sat　alone　at　a　rear　table　in　Trafficante's　Clam　House　on　Prospect　Avenue　in　Brooklyn；　New　York。　He　finished　his　late　afternoon　lunch　of　vitello　tonnato　and　dabbed　his　lips　with　the　bright　red　napkin；　trying　to　look　his　usual　jovial；　if　patronizing；　self。　However；　if　the　truth　were　known；　it　was　all　he　could　do　to　stop　from　gnawing　on　the　napkin　rather　than　caressing　his　mouth　with　it。　Maledetto！　He　had　been　at　Trafficante's　for　nearly　two　hours…two　hours！　And　it　had　taken　him　forty…five　minutes　to　get　there　after　the　call　from　Garafola's　Pasta　Palace　in　Manhattan；　so　that　meant　it　was　actually　over　two　hours；　almost　three；　since　the　gumball　in　Paris；　France；　spotted　two　of　the　targets。　How　long　could　it　take　for　two　bersaglios　to　get　to　a　hotel　in　the　city　from　the　airport？　Like　three　hours？　Not　unless　the　Palermo　gumball　drove　to　London；　England；　which　was　not　out　of　the　question；　not　if　one　knew　Palermo。
　Still；　DeFazio　knew　he　had　been　right！　The　way　the　Jew　shrink　talked　under　the　needle　there　was　no　other　route　he　and　the　ex…spook　could　take　but　to　Paris　and　their　good　buddy；　the　fake　hit　man。　。。。　So　Nicolo　and　the　shrink　disappeared；　went　poof…zam；　so　what　the　fuck？　The　Jew　got　away　and　Nicky　would　do　time。　But　Nicolo　wouldn't　talk；　he　understood　that　bad　trouble；　like　a　knife　in　the　kidney；　was　waiting　for　him　wherever　he　went　if　he　did。　Besides；　Nicky　didn't　know　anything　so　specific　the　lawyers　couldn't　wipe　away　as　secondhand　horseshit　from　a　fifth…rate　horse's　ass。　And　the　shrink　only　knew　he　was　in　a　room　in　some　farmhouse；　if　he　could　even　remember　that。　He　never　saw　anybody　but　Nicolo　when　he　was　〃pass　mantis；〃　as　they　say。
　But　Louis　DeFazio　knew　he　was　right。　And　because　he　was　right；　there　were　more　than　seven　million　big　ones　waiting　for　him　in　Paris。　Seven　million！　Holy　Christ！　He　could　give　the　Palermo　gumballs　in　Paris　more　than　they　ever　expected　and　still　walk　away　with　a　bundle。
　An　old　waiter　from　the　old　country；　an　uncle　of　Trafficante；　approached　the　table　and　Louis　held　his　breath。　〃There's　a　telephone　call　for　you；　Signor　DeFazio。〃
　As　was　usual；　the　capo　supremo　went　to　a　pay　phone　at　the　end　of　a　narrow　dark　corridor　outside　the　men's　room。　〃This　is　New　York；〃　said　DeFazio：
　〃This　is　Paris；　Signor　New　York。　This　is　also　pazzo！〃
　〃Where've　you　been？　You　pazzo　enough　to　drive　to　London；　England？　I've　been　waitin'　three　hours！〃
　〃Where　I've　been　is　on　a　number　of　unlit　country　roads；　which　is　important　only　to　my　nerves。　Where　I　am　now　is　crazy！〃
　〃So　where？〃
　〃I'm　using　a　gatekeeper's　telephone　for　which　I'm　paying　roughly　a　hundred　American　dollars　and　the　French　buffone　keeps　looking　through　the　window　to　see　that　I　don't　steal　anything…perhaps　his　lunch　pail；　who　knows？〃
　〃You　don't　sound　too　stupid　for　a　gumball。　So　what　gatekeeper's　what？　What　are　you　talking　about？〃
　〃I'm　at　a　cemetery　about　twenty…five　miles　from　Paris。　I　tell　you…〃
　〃A　cimitero？〃　interrupted　Louis。　〃What　the　hell　for？〃
　〃Because　your　two　acquaintances　drove　here　from　the　airport；　you　ignorante！　At　the　moment　there　is　a　burial　in　progress…a　night　burial　with　a　candlelight　procession　which　will　soon　be　drowned　out　by　rain…and　if　your　two　acquaintances　flew　over　here　to　attend　this　barbaric　ceremony；　then　the　air　in　America　is　filled　with　brain…damaging　pollutants！　We　did　not　bargain　for　this　sciocchezze；　New　York。　We　have　our　own　work　to　do。〃
　〃They　went　there　to　meet　the　big　cannoli；〃　said　DeFazio　quietly；　as　if　to　himself。　〃As　to　work；　gumball；　if　you　ever　want　to　work　with　us；　or　Philadelphia；　or　Chicago；　or　Los　Angeles　again；　you'll　do　what　I　tell　you。　You'll　also　be　terrifically　paid　for　it；　capisce？〃
　〃That　makes　more　sense；　I　admit。〃
　〃Stay　out　of　sight；　but　stay　with　them。　Find　out　where　they　go　and　who　they　see。　I'll　get　over　there　as　soon　as　I　can；　but　I　gotta　go　by　way　of　Canada　or　Mexico；　just　to　make　sure　no　one's　watching。　I'll　be　there　late　tomorrow　or　early　the　next　day。〃
　〃Ciao；〃　said　Paris。
　〃Omerta；〃　said　Louis　DeFazio。
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　The　hand…held　candles　flickered　in　the　night　drizzle　as　the　two　parallel　lines　of　mourners　walked　solemnly　behind　the　white　casket　borne　on　the　shoulders　of　six　men；　several　began　to　slip　on　the　increasingly　wet　gravel　of　the　cemetery's　path。　Flanking　the　procession　were　four　drummers；　two　on　each　side；　their　snare　drums　snapping　out　the　slow　cadence　of　the　death　march；　erratically　out　of　sequence　because　of　the　unexpected　rocks　and　the　unseen　flat　grave　markers　in　the　darkness　of　the　bordering　grass。　Shaking　his　head　slowly　in　bewilderment；　Morris　Panov　watched　the　strange　nocturnal　burial　rite；　relieved　to　see　Alex　Conklin　limping；　threading　his　way　between　the　tombstones　toward　their　meeting　ground。
　〃Any　sign　of　them？〃　asked　Alex。
　〃None；〃　replied　Panov。　〃I　gather　you　didn't　do　any　better。〃
　〃Worse。　I　got　stuck　with　a　lunatic。〃
　〃How？〃
　〃A　light　was　on　in　the　gatehouse；　so　I　went　over　thinking　David　or　Marie　might　have　left　us　a　message。　There　was　a　clown　outside　who　kept　looking　into　a　window　and　said　he　was　the　watchman　and　did　I　want　to　rent　his　telephone。〃
　〃His　telephone？〃
　〃He　said　there　were　special　rates　for　the　night；　as　the　nearest　pay　phone　was　ten　kilometers　down　the　road。〃
　〃A　lunatic；〃　agreed　Panov。
　〃I　explained　that　I　was　looking　for　a　man　and　a　woman　I　was　to　meet　here　and　wondered　if　they'd　left　a　message。　There　was　no　message　but　there　was　the　telephone。　Two　hundred　francs…crazy。〃
　〃I　might　do　a　flourishing　business　in　Paris；〃　said　Mo；　smiling。　〃Did　he　by　any　chance　see　a　couple　wandering　around？〃
　〃I　asked　him　that　and　he　nodded　affirmative；　saying　there　were　dozens。　Then　he　pointed　to　that　candlelight　parade　over　there　before　going　back　to　his　goddamn　window。〃
　〃What　is　that　parade；　incidentally？〃
　〃I　asked　him　that；　too。　It's　a　religious　cult；　they　bury　their　dead　only　at　night。　He　thinks　they　may　be　gypsies。　He　said　that　while　blessing　himself。〃
　〃They're　going　to　be　wet　gypsies；〃　observed　Panov；　pulling　up　his　collar　as　the　drizzle　turned　into　rain。
　〃Christ；　why　didn't　I　think　of　it？〃　exclaimed　Conklin；　looking　over　his　shoulder。
　〃The　rain？〃　asked　the　bewildered　psychiatrist。
　〃No；　the　large　tomb　halfway　up　the　hill　beyond　the　gatehouse。　It's　where　it　happened！〃
　〃Where　you　tried　to…〃　Mo　did　not　finish　the　question；　he　did　not　have　to。
　〃Where　he　could　have　killed　me　but　didn't；〃　pleted　Alex。　〃e　on！〃
　The　two　Americans　retreated　down　the　gravel　path　past　the　gatehouse　and　into　the　darkness　of　the　rising　hill　of　grass　punctuated　by　white　gravestones　now　glistening　in　the　rain。　〃Easy；〃　cried　Panov；　out　of　breath。　〃You're　used　to　that　nonexistent　foot　of　yours；　but　I　haven't　quite　adjusted　to　my　pristine　body　having　been　raped　by　chemicals。〃
　〃Sorry。〃
　〃Mo！〃　shouted　a　woman's　voice　from　a　marble　portico　above。　The　figure　waved　her　arms　beneath　the　pillared；　overhanging　roof　of　a　grave　so　large　it　looked　like　a　minor　mausoleum。
　〃Marie？〃　yelled　Panov；　rushing　ahead　of　Conklin。
　〃That's　nice！〃　roared　Alex；　limping　with　difficulty　up　the　wet　slippery　grass。　〃You　hear　the　sound　of　a　female　and　suddenly　you're　unraped。　You　need　a　shrink；　you　phony！〃
　The　embraces　were　meant；　a　family　was　together。　While　Panov　and　Marie　spoke　quietly；　Jason　Bourne　took　Conklin　aside　to　the　edge　of　the　short　marble　roof；　the　rain　now　harsh。　The　former　candlelight　procession　below；　the　flickering　flames　now　gone；　was　half　scattered；　half　holding　its　position　by　a　gravesite。　〃I　didn't　mean　to　choose　this　place；　Alex；〃　said　Jason。　〃But　with　that　crowd　down　there　I　couldn't　think　of　another。〃
　〃Remember　the　gatehouse　and　that　wide　path　to　the　parking　lot？　。。。　You'd　won。　I　was　out　of　ammunition　and　you　could　have　blown　my　head　apart。〃
　〃You're　wrong；　how　many　times　have　I　told　you？　I　couldn't　have　killed　you。　It　was　in　your　eyes；　even　though　I　wasn't　able　to　see　them　clearly　I　knew　what　was　there。　Anger　and　confusion；　but；　above　all；　confusion。〃
　〃That's　never　been　a　reason　not　to　kill　a　man　who　tries　to　kill　you。〃
　〃It　is　if　you　can't　remember。　The　memory　may　be　gone　but　not　the　fragments；　not　the…well；　for　me　they　were　。。。　pulsating　images。　In　and　out；　in　and　out；　but　there。〃
　Conklin　looked　up　at　Bourne；　a　sad　grin　on　his　face。　〃The　pulsating　bit；〃　he　said。　〃That　was　Mo's　term。　You　stole　it。〃
　〃Probably；〃　said　Jason　as　both　men　in　unison　looked　back　at　Marie　and　Panov。　〃She's　talking　about　me；