rl.thebourneidentity-第83部分

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　would　be　brief；　the　impact　of　the　message　startling；　the　threat　inherent。　It　was　time　for　the　start　of　the　second　shock　wave。　He　remained　motionless　and　let　her　pass　on　the　pavement；　her　heels　clicking　martially　on　the　pavement　The　street　was　not　crowded；　but　neither　was　it　deserted；　there　were　perhaps　a　half　dozen　people　on　the　block。　It　would　be　necessary　to　isolate　her；　then　steer　her　out　of　earshot　of　any　who　might　overhear　the　words；　for　they　were　words　that　no　messenger　would　risk　being　heard。　He　caught　up　with　her　no　more　than　thirty　feet　from　the　entrance　to　the　small　hotel；　he　slowed　his　pace　to　hers；　staying　at　her　side。
　'Get　in　touch　with　Lavier　right　away；'　he　said　in　French；　staring　straight　ahead。
　'Pardon？　What　did　you　say？　Who　are　you；　Monsieur？'
　'Don't　stop！　Keep　walking。　Past　the　entrance。'
　'You　know　where　I　live？'
　There's　very　little　we　don't　know。'
　'And　if　I　go　straight　inside？　There's　a　doorman。。。'
　'There's　also　Lavier；'　interrupted　Bourne。　'You'll　lose　your　job　and　you　won't　be　able　to　find　another　in　Saint…Honoree　And　I'm　afraid　that　will　be　the　least　of　your　problems。'　'Who　are　you？'
　'Not　your　enemy。〃　Jason　looked　at　her。　'Don't　make　me　one。'　'You。　The　American！　Janine。。。　Claude　Oreale！'　'Carlos；'　pleted　Bourne。
　'Carlos？　What　is　this　madness！　All　afternoon；　nothing　but　Carlos！　And　numbers！　Everyone　has　a　number　no　one's　ever　heard　of！　And　talk　of　traps　and　men　with　guns！　It's　crazy！'　'It's　happening。　Keep　walking。　Please！　For　your　own　sake。〃　She　did；　her　stride　less　sure；　her　body　stiffened；　a　rigid　marionette　uncertain　of　its　strings。　'Jacqueline　spoke　to　us；'　she　said；　her　voice　intense。　'She　told　us　it　was　all　insane；　that　it　…　you　…　were　out　to　ruin　Les　Classiques。　That　one　of　the　other　houses　must　have　paid　you　to　ruin　us　I'　'What　did　you　expect　her　to　say？'　'You　are　a　hired　provocateur＇　She　told　us　the　truth！'　'Did　she　also　tell　you　to　keep　your　mouth　shut？　Not　to　say　a　word　about　any　of　this　to　anyone？'　'Of　course　I'
　'Above　all；'　ran　on　Jason　as　if　he　had　not　heard　her；　'not　to　contact　the　police；　which　under　the　circumstances　would　be　the　most　logical　thing　in　the　world　to　do。　In　some　ways；　the　only　thing　to　do。'
　'Yes；　naturally。。'
　'Not　naturally；'　contradicted　Bourne。　'Look；　I'm　just　a　relay；　probably　not　much　higher　than　you。　I'm　not　here　to　convince　you；　I'm　here　to　deliver　a　message。　We　ran　a　test　on　Dolbert；　we　fed　her　false　information。'
　'Janine？。。。'　Monique　Brielle's　perplexity　was　pounded　by　mounting　confusion；　'The　things　she　said　were　incredible　I　As　incredible　as　Claude's　hysterical　screaming　…　the　things　he　said。　But　what　she　said　was　the　opposite　of　what　he　said。'
　'We　know；　it　was　done　intentionally。　She's　been　talking　to　Azur。'
　'The　House　of　Azur？'
　'Check　her　out　tomorrow。　Confront　her；〃
　'About　what？'
　'Just　do　it。　It　could　be　tied　in。'
　'With　what？'
　The　trap。　Azur　could　be　working　with　Interpol。'
　'Interpol？　Traps？　This　is　the　same　craziness！　Nobody　knows　what　you're　talking　about！'
　'Lavier　knows。　Get　in　touch　with　her　right　away。'　They　approached　the　end　of　the　block；　Jason　touched　her　arm。　'I'll　leave　you　here　at　the　corner。　Go　back　to　your　hotel　and　call　Jacqueline。　Tell　her　it's　far　more　serious　than　we　thought。　Everything's　falling　apart　Worst　of　all；　someone　has　turned。　Not　Dolbert；　not　one　of　the　sales　people　but　someone　more　highly　placed。　Someone　who　knows　everything。'
　〃Turned？　What　does　that　mean？'
　There's　a　traitor　in　Les　Classiques。　Tell　her　to　be　careful。　Of　everyone。　If　she　isn't；　it　could　be　the　end　for　all　of　us。'　Bourne　released　her　arm；　then　stepped　off　the　kerb　and　crossed　the　street　On　the　other　side；　he　spotted　a　recessed　doorway　and　quickly　stepped　inside。
　He　inched　his　face　to　the　edge；　and　peered　out；　looking　back　at　the　corner。　Monique　Brielle　was　halfway　down　the　block；　rushing　towards　the　entrance　of　the　small　hotel。　The　first　panic　of　the　second　shock　wave　had　begun。　It　was　time　to　call　Marie。
　'I'm　worried；　Jason。　It's　tearing　him　apart　He　nearly　broke　down　on　the　phone。　What　happens　when　he　looks　at　her？　What　must　he　be　feeling；　thinking？'
　'He'll　handle　it；'　said　Bourne；　watching　the　traffic　on　the　Champs　Sly　sees　from　inside　the　glass　telephone　box；　wishing　he　felt　more　confident　about　Andrel　Villiers。　'If　he　doesn't；　I've　killed　him。　I　don't　want　it　on　my　bead；　but　that's　what　I'll　have　done。　I　should　have　shut　my　goddamn　mouth　and　taken　her　myself。'
　'You　couldn't　have　done　that。　You　saw　d'Anjou　on　the　steps；　you　couldn't　have　gone　inside。'
　'I　could　have　thought　of　something。　As　we've　agreed；　I'm　resourceful　…　more　than　I　like　to　think　about'
　'But　you　are　doing　something！　You're　creating　panic；　forcing　those　who　carry　out　Carlos's　orders　to　show　themselves。　Someone's　got　to　stop　the　panic；　and　even　you　said　you　didn't　think　Jacqueline　Lavier　was　high　enough。　Jason；　you'll　see　someone　and　you'll　know。　You'll　get　him　I　You　will！'
　'I　hope　so；　Christ；　I　hope　so！　I　know　exactly　what　I'm　doing；　but　every　now　and　then。。。'　Bourne　stopped。　He　hated　saying　it；　but　he　had　to　…　he　had　to　say　it　to　her。　〃I　get　confused。　It's　as　if　I'm　split　down　the　goddamn　middle；　one　part　of　me　saying　〃Save　yourself〃；　the　other　part。。。　God　help　me。。。　telling　me　to　〃Get　Carlos〃。'
　'It's　what　you've　been　doing　from　the　beginning；　isn't　it？'　said　Marie　softly。
　'I　don't　care　about　Carlos！'　shouted　Jason；　wiping　away　the　sweat　that　had　broken　out　on　his　hairline；　aware；　too；　that　he　was　cold。　'It's　driving　me　crazy；'　he　added；　not　sure　whether　he　had　said　the　words　out　loud　or　to　himself。　'Darling；　e　back。'
　'What？'　Bourne　looked　at　the　telephone；　again　not　sure　whether　he　had　heard　spoken　words；　or　whether　he　had　wanted　to　hear　them；　and　so　they　were　there。　It　was　happening　again。　Things　were　and　they　were　not。　The　sky　was　dark　outside；　out…side　a　telephone　box　on　the　Champs　Sly　sees。　It　had　once　been　bright；　so　bright；　so　blinding。　And　hot；　not　cold。　With　screeching　birds　and　screaming　streaks　of　metal。。。　'Jason！'　'What？'
　'e　back。　Darling；　please　e　back。'　'Why？'
　'You're　tired。　You　need　rest。'
　'I　have　to　reach　Trignon。　Pierre　Trignon。　He's　the　bookkeeper。'
　'Do　it　tomorrow。　It　can　wait　until　tomorrow。〃　'No。　Tomorrow's　for　the　captains。'　What　was　he　saying？　Captains。　Troops。　Figures　colliding　in　panic。　But　it　was　the　way；　the　only　way。　The　chameleon　was　a。。。　provocateur。
　'Listen　to　me；'　said　Marie；　her　voice　insistent。　'Something's　happening　to　you。　It's　happened　before；　we　both　know　that；　my　darling。　And　when　it　does；　you　have　got　to　stop；　we　know　that；　too。　e　back　to　the　hotel。　Please。'
　Bourne　closed　his　eyes；　the　sweat　was　drying　and　the　sounds　of　the　traffic　outside　the　box　replaced　the　screeching　in　his　ears。　He　could　see　the　stars　in　the　cold　night　sky；　no　more　blinding　sunlight；　no　more　unbearable　heat。　It　had　passed；　whatever　it　was。　'I'm　all　right。　Really；　I'm　okay　now。　A　couple　of　bad　moments；　that's　all。'
　'Jason？'　Marie　spoke　slowly；　forcing　him　to　listen。　'What　caused　them？'
　'I　don't　know；'
　'You　just　saw　the　Brielle　woman。　Did　she　say　something　to　you？　Something　that　made　you　think　of　something　else？'
　'I'm　not　sure。　I　was　too　busy　figuring　out　what　to　say　myself。'
　'　darling！'
　Bourne　closed　his　eyes；　trying　to　remember。　Had　there　been　something？　Something　spoken　casually　or　so　rapidly　that　it　was　lost　at　the　moment　'She　called　me　a　provocateur'　said　Jason；　not　understanding　why　the　word　came　back　to　him。　'But　then；　that's　what　I　am；　aren't　I？　That's　what　I'm　doing。'
　'Yes；'　agreed　Marie。
　'I've　got　to　get　going；'　continued　Bourne。　'Trignon's　place　is　only　a　couple　of　blocks　from　here。　I　want　to　reach　him　before　ten。'
　'Be　careful。'　Marie　spoke　as　if　her　thoughts　were　elsewhere。
　'I　will。　I　love　you。'
　'I　believe　in　you；　said　Marie　St　Jacques。
　The　street　was　quiet；　the　block；　that　odd　mixture　of　shops　and　flats　indigenous　to　the　centre　of　Paris；　bustling　with　activity　during　the　day；　deserted　at　night。
　Jason　reached　the　small　apartment　house　listed　in　the　telephone　directory　as　Pierre　Trignon's　residence。　He　climbed　the　steps　and　walked　into　the　neat；　dimly　lit　foyer。　A　row　of　brass　letterboxes　was　on　the　right；　each　one　above　a　small　spoked　circle　through　which　a　caller　raised　his　voice　loud　enough　to　identify　himself。　Jason　ran　his　finger　along　the　printed　names　below　the　slots。　M。　Pierre　Trignon。　App。　42。　He　pushed　the　tiny　black　button　twice；　ten　seconds　later　there　was　a　crackling　of　static。
　'Oui？'
　'Monsieur　Trignon；　s'il　vous　plait？'
　'Id。'
　'Telegramme；　monsieur。　Je　ne　laisse　pas　ma　bicyclette。'
　'Telegramme？　Pour　minit？'
　Pierre　Trignon　was　not　a　man　who　often　received　telegrams；　it　was　in　his　astonished　tone。　The　rest　of　his　words　were　barely　distinguishable；　but　a　female　voice　in　the　background　registered　shock；　equating　a　telegram　with　all　manner　of　horrendous　disasters。
　Bourne　waited　outside　the　frosted　glass　door　that　led　to　the　apartment　house　interior。　In　seconds　he　heard　the　rapid　clatter　of　footsteps　growing　louder　as　someone　…　obviously　Ninon　came　rushing　down　the　staircase。　The　door　swung　open；　concealing　Jason；　a　balding；　heavyset　man；　unnecessary　braces　creasing　the　flesh　beneath　a　bulging　white　shirt；