rl.thebourneultimatum-第97部分

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　〃Mo　and　I　will　take　a　taxi　out　to　your　place；　and　your　husband　and　I　will　drive　back　here。　We'll　call　you　after　lunch。〃
　〃What　about　that　driver　of　yours；　the　one　Casset　got　you？〃　asked　the　Chameleon；　his　eyes　cold；　inquiring。
　〃What　about　him？　He'll　be　paid　double　what　he　can　make　in　a　month　with　his　taxi　for　tonight；　and　after　he　drops　us　off　at　a　hotel；　he'll　disappear。　We　won't　see　him　again。〃
　〃Will　he　see　anyone　else？〃
　〃Not　if　he　wants　to　live　and　send　money　to　his　relatives　in　Algeria。　I　told　you；　Casset　cleared　him。　He's　granite。〃
　〃Tomorrow；　then；〃　said　Bourne　grimly；　looking　across　the　table　at　Marie　and　Morris　Panov。　〃After　we　leave　for　Paris；　you're　to　stay　out　at　Barbizon；　and　you're　not　to　leave　the　inn。　Do　you　both　understand　that？〃
　〃You　know；　David；〃　answered　Marie；　bristling　and　rigid　on　the　pine　banquette。　〃I'm　going　to　tell　you　something。　Mo　and　Alex　are　as　much　a　part　of　our　family　as　the　children；　so　I'll　say　it　in　front　of　them。　We　all；　all　of　us；　humor　you　and　in　some　ways　pamper　you　because　of　the　horrible　things　you　went　through。　But　you　cannot　and　you　will　not　order　us　around　as　if　we　were　inferior　beings　in　your　august　presence。　Do　you　understand　that？〃
　〃Loud　and　clear；　lady。　Then　maybe　you　should　go　back　to　the　States　so　you　won't　have　to　put　up　with　my　august　presence。〃　Jason　Bourne　rose　from　the　table；　pushing　the　chair　behind　him。　〃Tomorrow's　going　to　be　a　busy　day；　so　I　have　to　get　some　sleep…I　haven't　had　much　lately…and　a　better　man　than　any　of　us　here　once　told　me　that　rest　was　a　weapon。　I　believe　that。　。。。　I'll　be　in　the　car　for　two　minutes。　Take　your　choice。　I'm　sure　Alex　can　get　you　out　of　France。〃
　〃You　bastard；〃　whispered　Marie。
　〃So　be　it；〃　said　the　Chameleon；　walking　away。
　〃Go　to　him；〃　interjected　Panov　quickly。　〃You　know　what's　happening。〃
　〃I　can't　handle　it；　Mo！〃
　〃Don't　handle　it；　just　be　with　him。　You're　the　only　rope　he's　got。　You　don't　even　have　to　talk；　just　be　there。　With　him。〃
　〃He's　bee　the　killer　again。〃
　〃He'd　never　harm　you…〃
　〃Of　course　not；　I　know　that。〃
　〃Then　provide　him　with　that　link　to　David　Webb。　It　has　to　be　there；　Marie。〃
　〃Oh；　God；　I　love　him　so！〃　cried　the　wife；　rushing　to　her　feet　and　racing　after　her　husband…yet　not　her　husband。
　〃Was　that　the　right　advice；　Mo？〃　asked　Conklin。
　〃I　don't　know；　Alex。　I　just　don't　think　he　should　be　alone　with　his　nightmares；　none　of　us　should。　That's　not　psychiatry；　it's　just　mon　sense。〃
　〃Sometimes　you　sound　like　a　real　doctor；　you　know　that？〃
　The　Algerian　section　of　Paris　lies　between　the　tenth　and　eleventh　arrondissements；　barely　three　blocks；　where　the　low　buildings　are　Parisian　but　the　sounds　and　the　smells　are　Arabic。　The　insignia　of　the　high　church　small　but　emblazoned　in　gold　on　its　doors；　a　long　black　limousine　entered　this　ethnic　enclave。　It　stopped　in　front　of　a　wood…framed；　three…story　house；　where　an　old　priest　got　out　and　walked　to　the　door。　He　selected　a　name　on　the　mail　plate　and　pressed　the　button　that　rang　a　bell　on　the　second　floor。
　〃Oui？〃　said　the　metallic　voice　on　the　primitive　inter。
　〃I　am　a　messenger　from　the　American　embassy；〃　answered　the　visitor　in　religious　garb；　his　French　partially　ungrammatical　as　was　all　too　frequent　with　Americans。　〃I　can't　leave　my　vehicle；　but　we　have　an　urgent　message　for　you。〃
　〃I'll　be　right　down；〃　said　the　French　Algerian　driver　recruited　by　Charles　Casset　in　Washington。　Three　minutes　later　the　man　emerged　from　the　building　and　walked　out　on　the　short　narrow　pavement。　〃What　are　you　dressed　like　that　for？〃　he　asked　the　messenger　who　stood　by　the　large　automobile；　covering　the　insignia　on　the　rear　door。
　〃I'm　the　Catholic　chaplain；　my　son。　Our　military　chargé　d'affaires　would　like　a　word　with　you。〃　He　opened　the　door。
　〃I'll　do　many　things　for　you　people；〃　laughed　the　driver　as　he　bent　down　to　look　inside　the　limousine；　〃but　being　drafted　into　your　army　isn't　one　of　them。　。。。　Yes；　sir；　what　can　I　do　for　you？〃
　〃Where　did　you　take　our　people？〃　asked　the　shadowed　figure　in　the　backseat；　his　features　in　darkness。
　〃What　people？〃　said　the　Algerian；　sudden　concern　in　his　voice。
　〃The　two　you　picked　up　at　the　airport　several　hours　ago。　The　cripple　and　his　friend。〃
　〃If　you're　from　the　embassy　and　they　want　you　to　know；　they'll　call　and　tell　you；　won't　they？〃
　〃You'll　tell　me！〃　A　third；　powerfully　built　man　in　a　chauffeur's　uniform　appeared　from　behind　the　trunk　of　the　car。　He　walked　rapidly　forward；　raising　his　arm　and　crashing　a　thick　ugly　blackjack　down　on　the　Algerian's　skull。　He　shoved　his　victim　inside；　the　old　man　in　the　guise　of　a　chaplain　climbed　in　behind　him；　pulling　the　door　shut　as　the　chauffeur　ran　around　the　hood　to　the　front　seat。　The　limousine　raced　away　down　the　street。
　An　hour　later　on　the　deserted　rue　Houdon；　a　block　from　Place　Pigalle；　the　Algerian's　bruised　and　bleeding　corpse　was　disgorged　from　the　large　automobile。　Inside；　the　figure　in　shadows　addressed　his　aged；　personally　ordained　priest。
　〃Get　your　car　and　remain　outside　the　cripple's　hotel。　Stay　awake；　for　you'll　be　relieved　in　the　morning　and　can　rest　all　day。　Report　any　movements　and　go　where　he　goes。　Don't　fail　me。〃
　〃Never；　monseigneur。〃
　Dimitri　Krupkin　was　not　a　tall　man　but　he　appeared　taller　than　he　was；　nor　was　he　particularly　heavy　yet　he　seemed　to　possess　a　much　fuller　figure　than　he　carried。　He　had　a　pleasant　if　somewhat　fleshy　face　and　a　generous　head　held　erect；　his　full　eyebrows　and　well…groomed　pepper…and…salt　hair　and　chin　beard　bined　attractively　with　alert　blue　eyes　and　a　seemingly　perpetual　smile；　defining　a　man　who　enjoyed　his　life　and　his　work；　an　intellect　behind　both。　At　the　moment　he　was　seated　in　a　booth；　facing　the　rear　wall；　in　the　all　but　empty　country　restaurant　in　Epernon　staring　across　the　table　at　Alex　Conklin；　who　sat　beside　the　unidentified　Bourne　and　had　just　explained　that　he　no　longer　drank　alcohol。
　〃The　world　is　ing　to　an　end！〃　exclaimed　the　Russian　in　heavily　accented　English。　〃You　see　what　happens　to　a　good　man　in　the　self…indulgent　West？　Shame　on　your　parents。　They　should　have　stayed　with　us。〃
　〃I　don't　think　you　want　to　pare　the　rates　of　alcoholism　in　our　two　countries。〃
　〃Not　for　a　wager　of　money；〃　said　Krupkin；　grinning。　〃Speaking　of　money；　my　dear　old　enemy；　how　and　where　am　I　to　be　paid　according　to　our　agreement　last　night　on　the　telephone？〃
　〃How　and　where　do　you　want　to　be　paid？〃　asked　Jason。
　〃Ah　ha；　you　are　my　benefactor；　sir？〃
　〃I'll　be　paying　you；　yes。〃
　〃Hold　it！〃　whispered　Conklin；　his　attention　drawn　to　the　restaurant's　entrance。　He　leaned　toward　the　open　side　of　the　booth；　his　hand　on　his　forehead；　then　quickly　moved　back　as　a　couple　were　shown　to　a　table　in　the　corner　to　the　left　of　the　door。
　〃What　is　it？〃　asked　Bourne。
　〃I　don't　know　。。。　I'm　not　sure。〃
　〃Who　came　in；　Aleksei？〃
　〃That's　just　it；　I　think　I　should　know　him　but　I　don't。〃
　〃Where　is　he　seated？　In　a　booth？〃
　〃No；　a　table。　In　the　corner　beyond　the　bar。　He's　with　a　woman。〃
　Krupkin　moved　to　the　edge　of　his　seat；　took　out　his　billfold　and　removed　from　its　recess　a　small　mirror　the　size　and　thickness　of　a　credit　card。　Cupping　it　in　both　hands；　he　cautiously　angled　the　glass　in　front　of　him。　〃You　must　be　addicted　to　the　society　pages　of　the　Paris　tabloids；〃　said　the　Russian；　chuckling　as　he　replaced　the　mirror　and　returned　the　billfold　to　his　jacket　pocket。　〃He's　with　the　Italian　embassy；　that's　his　wife。　Paolo　and　Davinia　something…or…other；　with　pretensions　to　nobility；　I　believe。　Strictly　corpo　diplomatico　on　the　protocol　level。　They　dress　up　a　party　quite　nicely　and　they're　obviously　stinking　rich。〃
　〃I　don't　travel　in　those　circles；　but　I've　seen　him　somewhere　before。〃
　〃Of　course　you　have。　He　looks　like　every　middle…aged　Italian　screen　star　or　any　one　of　those　vineyard　owners　who　extol　the　virtues　of　the　Chianti　Classico　on　television　mercials。〃
　〃Maybe　you're　right。〃
　〃I　am。〃　Krupkin　turned　to　Bourne。　〃I　shall　write　out　the　name　of　a　bank　and　the　number　of　an　account　in　Geneva。〃　The　Soviet　reached　into　his　pocket　for　a　pen　as　he　pulled　a　paper　napkin　in　front　of　him。　He　was　not　able　to　use　either；　for　a　man　in　his　early　thirties；　dressed　in　a　tight…fitting　suit；　walked　rapidly　up　to　the　table。
　〃What　is　it；　Sergei？〃　asked　Krupkin。
　〃Not　you；　sir；〃　replied　the　Soviet　aide。　〃Him；〃　he　added；　nodding　at　Bourne。
　〃What　is　it？〃　repeated　Jason。
　〃You　have　been　followed。　At　first　we　were　not　sure；　for　it　is　an　old　man　with　a　urinary　problem。　He　rapidly　left　the　car　twice　to　relieve　himself；　but　once　settled　he　used　the　car　telephone　and　squinted　through　the　windscreen　to　read　the　name　of　the　restaurant。　That　was　barely　minutes　ago。〃
　〃How　do　you　know　he　was　following　me？〃
　〃Because　he　arrived　shortly　after　you　did；　and　we　were　here　a　half　hour　before　that　securing　the　area。〃
　〃Securing　the　area！〃　erupted　Conklin；　looking　at　Krupkin。　〃I　thought　this　conference　was　strictly　between　us。〃
　〃Dear　Aleksei；　benevolent　Aleksei；　who　would　save　me　from　myself。　Can　you　really　believe　I'd　meet　with　you　without　considering　my　own　protection。　Not　you　personally；　old　friend；　but　your　aggressors　in　Washington。　Can　you　imagine？　A　deputy　director　of　the　CIA　negotiates　with　me　over　a　man　he　pretends　to　think　I　do　not　know。　A　rank　amateur　ploy。〃
　〃Goddamn　you；　I　never　told　him！〃
　〃Oh；　dear　me；　then　the　error's　mine。　I　apologize；　Aleksei。〃
　〃Don't；〃　interrupted　Jason　firmly。　〃That　old　man's　from　the　Jackal…〃
　〃Carlos！〃　cried　Krupkin；　his　face　flushed；　his　alert　blue　eyes　now　intense；　angry。　〃The　Jackal's　after　you；　Aleksei？〃
　〃No；　him；〃　answered　Conklin。　〃Your　benefactor。〃
　〃Good　God！　With　what　we've　picked　up；　it's　all　falling　into　place。　So　I　have　the　distinct　honor　to　meet　the　infamous　Jason　Bourne。　A　great　pleasure；　sir！　We　have　the　same　objective　where　Carlos　is　concerned；　do　we　not？〃
　〃If　your　men　are　any　good；　we　may　reach　that　objective　before　the　next　hour's　up。　e　on！　Let's　get　out　of　here　and　use　the　back　way；　the　kitchen；　a　window；　whatever。　He's　found　me　and　you　can　bet　your　ass　he's　ing　out　here　for　me。　Only　he　doesn't　know　we　know　that。　Let's　go！〃
　As　the　three　men　rose　from　the　table　Krupkin　gave　instructions　to　his　aide。　〃Have　the　car　brought　around　to　the　rear；