rl.thebourneidentity-第68部分

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　She　picked　up　the　phone　and　dialled。　Seven　seconds　after　she　reached　the　embassy　switchboard；　Dennis　Corbelier　was　on　the　line。　It　was　quarter　past　one　in　the　morning。
　'Christ　almighty；　where　are　you？'
　'You　were　expecting　me　to　call　then？'
　'I　was　hoping　to　hell　you　would！　This　place　is　in　an　uproar。　I've　been　waiting　here　since　five　o'clock　this　afternoon。'
　'So　was　Alan。　In　Ottawa。'
　'Alan　who？　What　are　you　talking　about？　Where　the　hell　are　you？'
　'First；　I　want　to　know　what　you　have　to　tell　me。'
　'Tell　you？'
　'You　have　a　message　for　me；　Dennis。　What　is　it？'
　'What　is　what？　What　message？〃
　Marie's　face　went　pale。　'I　didn't　kill　anyone　in　Zurich。　I　wouldn't。。。〃
　〃Then　for　God's　sake；'　interrupted　the　attache；　'get　in　here　I　We'll　give　you　all　the　protection　we　can。　No　one　can　touch　you　here！'
　'Dennis；　listen　to　me！　You've　been　waiting　there　for　my　call；　haven't　you？'
　'Yes；　of　course。'
　'Someone　told　you　to　wait；　isn't　that　true？'
　A　pause。　When　Corbelier　spoke；　his　voice　was　subdued。　'Yes；　he　did。　They　did。'
　'What　did　they　tell　you？'
　'That　you　need　our　help。　Very　badly。'
　Marie　resumed　breathing。　'And　they　want　to　help　us？'
　'By　us；'　replied　Corbelier；　'you're　saying　he's　with　you；　then？'
　Bourne's　face　was　next　to　hers；　his　head　angled　to　hear　Corbelier's　words。　He　nodded。
　'Yes；'　she　answered。　'We're　together；　but　he's　out　for　a　few　minutes。　It's　all　lies；　they　told　you　that；　didn't　they？'
　'All　they　said　was　that　you　had　to　be　found；　protected。　They　do　want　to　help　you；　they　want　to　send　a　car　for　you。　One　of　ours。　Diplomatic。'
　'Who　are　they？'
　'I　don't　know　them　by　name：　I　don't　have　to。　I　know　their　rank。'
　'Rank？'
　'Specialists；　FS…Five。　You　don't　get　much　higher　than　that'
　'You　trust　them？'
　'My　God；　yes！　They　reached　me　through　Ottawa。　Their　orders　came　from　Ottawa！'
　〃They're　at　the　embassy　now？'
　'No；　they're　out…posted。'　Corbelier　paused；　obviously　exasperated。　'Jesus　Christ；　Marie；　where　are　you？'
　Bourne　nodded　again；　she　spoke。
　'We're　at　the　Auberge　du　Coin　in　Montrouge。　Under　the　name　of　Briggs。'
　I'll　get　that　car　to　you　right　away。'
　'No；　Dennis！'　protested　Marie；　watching　Jason；　his　eyes　telling　her　to　follow　his　instructions。　'Send　one　in　the　morning。
　First　thing　in　the　morning　…　four　hours　from　now；　if　you　like。'
　'I　can't　do　that　I　For　your　own　sake。'
　'You　have　to；　you　don't　understand。　He　was　trapped　into　doing　something　and　he's　frightened：　he　wants　to　run。　If　he　knew　I　called　you；　he'd　be　running　now。　Give　me　time。　I　can　persuade　him　to　turn　himself　in。　Just　a　few　more　hours。　He's　confused；　but　underneath　he　knows　I'm　right。'　Marie　said　the　words　looking　at　Bourne。
　'What　kind　of　a　son　of　a　bitch　is　he？'
　'A　terrified　one；'　she　answered。　'One　who's　being　manipulated。　I　need　the　time。　Give　it　to　me。'
　'Marie；。。？'　Corbelier　stopped。　'All　right；　first　thing　in　the　morning。　Say。。。　six　o'clock。　And；　Marie；　they　want　to　help　you。　They　can　help　you。'
　'I　know。　Good　night'
　'Good　night
　Marie　hung　up。　'Now；　we'll　wait；'　Bourne　said。
　'I　don't　know　what　you're　proving。　Of　course　he'll　call　the　FS…Fives；　and　of　course　they'll　show　up　here。　What　do　you　expect？　He　as　much　as　admitted　what　he　was　going　to　do；　what　he　thinks　he　has　to　do。'
　'And　these　diplomatic　FS…Fives　are　the　ones　sending　us　the　message？'
　'My　guess　is　they'll　take　us　to　whoever　is。　Or　if　those　sending　it　are　too　far　away；　they'll　put　us　in　touch　with　them。　I've　never　been　surer　of　anything　in　my　professional　life。'
　Bourne　looked　at　her。　'I　hope　you're　right；　because　it's　your　whole　life　that　concerns　me。　If　the　evidence　against　you　in　Zurich　isn't　part　of　any　message；　if　it　was　put　there　by　experts　to　find　me　…　if　the　Zurich　police　believe　it　…　then　I'm　that　terrified　man　you　spoke　about　to　Corbelier。　No　one　wants　you　to　be　right　more　than　I　do。　But　I　don't　think　you　are。'
　At　three　minutes　past　two；　the　lights　in　the　motel　corridor　flickered　and　went　out；　leaving　the　long　hallway　in　relative　darkness；　the　spill　from　the　stairwell　the　only　source　of　illumination。　Bourne　stood　by　the　door　of　their　room；　pistol　in　hand；　the　lights　turned　off；　watching　the　corridor　through　a　crack　between　the　door's　edge　and　the　frame。　Marie　was　behind　him；　peering　over　his　shoulder；　neither　spoke。
　The　footsteps　were　muffled；　but　there。　Distinct；　deliberate；　two　sets　of　shoes　cautiously　climbing　the　staircase。　In　seconds；　the　figures　of　two　men　could　be　seen　emerging　out　of　the　dim　light。　Marie　gasped　involuntarily；　Jason　reached　over　his　shoulder；　his　hand　gripping　her　mouth　harshly。　He　understood；　she　had　recognized　one　of　the　two　men；　a　man　she　had　seen　only　once　before。　In　Zurich's　Steppdeckstrasse；　minutes　before　another　had　ordered　her　execution。　It　was　the　blond　man　they　had　sent　up　to　Bourne's　room；　the　expendable　scout　brought　now　to　Paris　to　spot　the　target　he　had　missed。　In　his　left　hand　was　a　small　pencil　light；　in　his　right　a　long…barrelled　gun；　swollen　by　a　silencer。
　His　panion　was　shorter；　more　pact；　his　walk　not　unlike　an　animal's　tread；　shoulders　and　waist　moving　fluidly　with　his　legs。　The　lapels　of　his　overcoat　were　pulled　up；　his　head　covered　by　a　narrow…brimmed　hat；　shading　his　unseen　face。　Bourne　stared　at　this　man；　there　was　something　familiar　about　him；　about　the　figure；　the　walk；　the　way　he　carried　his　head。　What　was　it？　What　was　it？　He　knew　him。
　But　there　was　not　time　to　think　about　it；　the　two　men　were　approaching　the　door　of　the　room　reserved　in　the　name　of　Mr　and　Mrs　Briggs。　The　blond　man　held　his　pencil　light　on　the　numbers；　then　swept　the　beam　down　towards　the　knob　and　the　lock。
　What　followed　was　mesmerising　in　its　efficiency。　The　stocky　man　held　a　ring　of　keys　in　his　right　hand；　placing　it　under　the　beam　of　light；　his　fingers　selecting　a　specific　key。　In　his　left　hand　he　gripped　a　weapon；　its　shape　in　the　spill　revealing　an　out…sized　silencer　for　a　heavy…calibred　automatic；　not　unlike　the　powerful　German　Sternlicht　Luger　favoured　by　the　Gestapo　in　World　War　Two。　It　could　cut　through　webbed　steel　and　concrete；　its　sound　no　more　than　a　romantic　cough；　ideal　for　taking　enemies　of　the　state　at　night　in　quiet　neighbourhoods；　nearby　residents　unaware　of　any　disturbances；　only　of　disappearance　in　the　morning。
　The　shorter　man　inserted　the　key；　turned　it　silently；　then　lowered　the　barrel　of　the　gun　to　the　lock。　Three　rapid　coughs　acpanied　three　flashes　of　light；　the　wood　surrounding　any　bolts　shattered。　The　door　fell　free；　the　two　killers　rushed　inside。
　There　were　two　beats　of　silence；　then　an　eruption　of　muffled　gunfire；　spits　and　white　flashes　from　the　darkness。　The　door　was　slammed　shut；　it　would　not　stay　closed；　falling　back　as　louder　sounds　of　thrashing　and　collision　came　from　within　the　room。　Finally；　a　light　was　found；　it　was　snapped　on　briefly；　then　shot　out　in　fury；　a　lamp　sent　crashing　to　the　floor；　glass　shattering。　A　cry　of　frenzy　exploded　from　the　throat　of　an　infuriated　man。
　The　two　killers　rushed　out；　weapons　levelled；　prepared　for　a　trap；　bewildered　that　there　was　none。　They　reached　the　staircase　and　raced　down　as　a　door　to　the　right　of　the　invaded　room　opened。　A　blinking　guest　peered　out；　then　shrugged　and　went　back　inside。　Silence　returned　to　the　darkened　hallway。　Bourne　held　his　place；　his　arm　around　Marie　St　Jacques。　She　was　trembling；　her　head　pressed　into　his　chest；　sobbing　quietly；　hysterically　in　disbelief。　He　let　the　minutes　pass；　until　the　trembling　subsided　and　deep　breaths　replaced　the　sobs。　He　could　not　wait　any　longer；　she　had　to　see　for　herself。　See　pletely；　the　impression　indelible；　she　had　to　finally　understand。　I　am　Cain。　I　am　death。　'e　on；'　he　whispered。
　He　led　her　out　into　the　hall；　guiding　her　firmly　towards　the　room　that　was　now　his　ultimate　proof。　He　pushed　the　broken　door　open　and　they　walked　inside。
　She　stood　motionless；　both　repelled　and　hypnotized　by　the　sight　In　an　open　doorway　on　the　right　was　the　dim　silhouette　of　a　figure；　the　light　behind　it　so　muted　only　the　outline　could　be　seen；　and　only　when　the　eyes　adjusted　to　the　strange　admixture　of　darkness　and　glow。　It　was　the　figure　of　a　woman　in　a　long　gown；　the　fabric　moving　gently　in　the　breeze　of　an　open　window。
　Window。　Straight　ahead　was　a　second　figure；　barely　visible　but　there；　its　shape　an　obscure　blot　indistinctly　outlined　by　the　wash　of　light　from　the　distant　highway。　Again；　it　seemed　to　move；　brief；　spastic　flutterings　of　cloth　…　of　arms。
　'Oh；　God；'　said　Marie；　frozen。　Turn　on　the　lights；　Jason。'
　'None　of　them　work；'　he　replied。　Only　two　table　lamps；　they　found　one。　He　walked　across　the　room　cautiously　and　reached　the　lamp　he　was　looking　for；　it　was　on　the　floor　against　the　wall。　He　knelt　down　and　turned　it　on；　Marie　shuddered。
　Strung　across　the　bathroom　door；　held　in　place　by　threads　torn　from　a　curtain；　was　her　long　dress；　rippling　from　an　unseen　source　of　wind。　It　was　riddled　with　bullet　holes。
　'Against　the　far　window；　Bourne's　shirt　and　trousers　had　been　tacked　to　the　frame；　the　panes　by　both　sleeves　smashed；　the　breeze　rushing　in；　causing　the　fabric　to　move　up　and　down。　The　white　cloth　of　the　shirt　was　punctured　in　a　half…dozen　places；　a　diagonal　line　of　bullets　across　the　chest。
　'There's　your　me