rl.thebourneidentity-第111章

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　gun　very　much　in　evidence。
　'It　was　my　silence；　I　imagine；　and　the　fact　that　I　could　not　take　my　eyes　off　her　that　forced　her　to　acknowledge　me；　then　concentrate　on　me。　The　tension　between　us　had　grown　to　the　point　where　very　little　had　to　be　said　to　burst　the　floodgates；　and　…　God　help　me　…　I　said　it。　I　heard　myself　asking；　〃Why　did　you　do　it？〃　Then　the　accusation　became　plete。　I　called　her　my　whore；　the　whore　that　killed　my　son。
　'She　stared　at　me　for　several　moments；　her　eyes　breaking　away　once　to　glance　at　the　open　drawer　and　the　gun。。。　and　the　telephone。　I　stood　up；　the　embers　in　my　pipe　glowing；　loose。。。　chauffe　au　rouge。　She　spun　her　legs　off　the　bed。　put　both　hands　into　that　open　drawer；　and　took　out　the　gun。　I　did　not　stop　her；　instead　I　had　to　hear　the　words　from　her　own　lips；　hear　my　own　indictment　of　myself　as　well　as　hers。。。　What　I　heard　will　go　to　my　grave　with　me；　for　there　will　be　honour　left　my　person　and　the　person　of　my　son。　We　will　not　be　scorned　by　those　who've　given　less　than　we。　Never。'
　'General。。。'　Bourne　shook　his　head；　unable　to　think　clearly；　knowing　he　had　to　find　the　seconds　in　order　to　find　his　thoughts。　'General；　what　happened？　She　gave　you　my　name。　How？　You've　got　to　tell　me　that　Please。'
　'Willingly。　She　said　you　were　an　insignificant　gunman　who　wished　to　step　into　the　shoes　of　a　giant。　That　you　were　a　thief　from　Zurich；　a　man　your　own　people　disowned。'
　'Did　she　say　who　those　people　were？'
　'If　she　did　I　didn't　hear。　I　was　blind；　deaf；　my　rage　uncontrolled。　But　you　have　nothing　to　fear　from　me。　The　chapter　is　closed；　my　life　over　with　a　telephone　call。'
　'No！'　Jason　shouted。　'Don't　do　that　I　Not　now。'
　'I　must。'
　'Please！　Don't　settle　for　Carlos's　whore。　Get　Carlos！　Trap　Carlos！'
　'Reaping　scorn　on　my　name　from　lying　with　that　whore？　Manipulated　by　the　animal's　slut？'
　'Goddamn　you；　what　about　your　son！　Five　sticks　of　dynamite　on　rue　du　Bac！'
　'Leave　him　in　peace。　Leave　me　in　peace。　It's　over。〃
　'It's　not　over！　Listen　to　me！　Give　a　moment；　that's　all　I　ask。'　The　images　in　Jason's　mind　raced　furiously　across　his　eyes；　clashing；　supplanting　one　another。　But　these　images　had　meaning。　Purpose。　He　could　feel　Marie's　hand　on　his　arm；　gripping　him　firmly；　somehow　anchoring　his　body　to　a　mooring　of　reality。　'Did　anyone　hear　the　gunshot？'
　〃There　was　no　gunshot。　The　coup　de　gras　is　misunderstood　in　these　times。　I　prefer　its　original　intent　To　still　the　suffering　of　a　wounded　r。ade　or　a　respected　enemy。　It　is　not　used　for　a　whore。〃
　'What　do　you　mean？　You　said　you　killed　her。'
　'I　strangled　her；　forcing　her　eyes　to　look　into　mine　as　the　breath　went　out　of　her　body。'
　'She　had　your　gun　'Ineffective　when　one's　eyes　are　burning　from　the　loose　embers　of　a　pipe。　It's　immaterial　now；　she　might　have　won。'
　'She　did　win　if　you　let　it　stop　here！　Can't　you　see　that？　Carlos　wins！　She　broke　you！　And　you　didn't　have　the　brains　to　do　anything　but　choke　her　to　death！　You　talk　about　scorn！　You're　buying　it　all；　there's　nothing　left　but　scorn！'
　'Why　do　you　persist；　Monsieur　Bourne？'　asked　Villiers　wearily。　'I　expect　no　charity　from　you；　nor　from　anyone。　Simply　leave　me　alone。　I　accept　what　is。　You　acplish　nothing。'
　'I　will　if　I　can　get　you　to　listen　to　me！　Get　Carlos；　trap　Carlos　　How　many　times　do　I　have　to　say　it？　He's　the　one　you　want！　He　squares　it　all　for　you！　And　he's　the　one　I　need！　Without　him　I'm　dead。　We're　dead。　For　God's　sake；　listen　to　me！'
　'I　would　like　to　help　you；　but　there's　no　way　I　can。　Or　will；　if　you　like。'
　'There　is。'　The　images　came　into　focus！　He　knew　where　he　was；　where　he　was　going！　The　meaning　and　the　purpose　came　together。　'Reverse　the　trap！　Walk　away　from　it　untouched；　with　everything　you've　got　in　place！'
　'I　don't　understand。　How　is　that　possible？'
　'You　didn't　kill　your　wife。　7　did！'
　'Jason！'　Marie　screamed；　clutching　his　arm。
　'I　know　what　I'm　doing；'　said　Bourne。　'For　the　first　time；　I　really　know　what　I'm　doing。　It's　funny；　but　I　think　I've　known　it　from　the　beginning。'
　Pare　Monceau　was　quiet；　the　street　deserted；　a　few　porch　lights　shimmering　in　the　cold；　mistlike　rain；　all　the　windows　along　the　row　of　neat；　expensive　houses　dark；　except　for　the　residence　of　Andrel　Francois　Villiers；　legend　of　St　Cyr　and　Normandy；　member　of　France's　National　Assembly。。。　wife　killer。　The　front　windows　above　and　to　the　left　of　the　porch　glowed　dimly。　It　was　the　bedroom　wherein　the　master　of　the　house　had　killed　the　mistress　of　the　house；　where　a　memory…ridden　old　soldier　had　choked　the　life　out　of　an　assassin's　whore。
　Villiers　had　agreed　to　nothing；　he　had　been　too　stunned　to　answer。　But　Jason　had　driven　home　his　theme；　hammered　the　message　with　such　repeated　emphasis　that　the　words　had　echoed　over　the　telephone。　Get　Carlos！　Don't　settle　for　the　killer's　whore！　Get　the　man　who　killed　your　son！　Who　put　five　sticks　of　dynamite　in　a　car　on　rue　du　Bac　and　took　the　last　of　the　Villiers　line。　He's　the　one　you　want！　Get　him！
　Get　Carlos。　Trap　Carlos；　Cain　is　for　Charlie　and　Delta　is　for　Cain。　It　was　so　clear　to　him。　There　was　no　other　way。　At　the　end；　it　was　the　beginning　…　as　the　beginning　bad　been　revealed　to　him。　To　survive　he　had　to　bring　in　the　assassin；　if　he　failed；　he　was　a　dead　man。　And　there　would　be　no　life　for　Marie　St　Jacques。　She　would　be　destroyed；　imprisoned；　perhaps　killed；　for　an　act　of　faith　that　became　an　act　of　love。　Cain's　mark　was　on　her；　embarrassment　avoided　with　her　removal。　She　was　a　phial　of　nitroglycerine　balanced　on　a　high　wire　in　the　centre　of　an　unknown　ammunition　depot。　Use　a　net　Remove　her。　A　bullet　in　the　head　neutralizes　the　explosives　in　her　mind。　She　cannot　be　heard！
　There　was　so　much　Villiers　had　to　understand；　and　so　little　time　to　explain；　the　explanation　itself　limited　both　by　a　memory　that　did　not　exist　and　the　current　state　of　the　old　soldier's　mind。　A　delicate　balance　had　to　be　found　in　the　telling；　parameters　established　as　to　time　and　the　general's　immediate　contributions。　Jason　understood；　he　was　asking　a　man　who　held　his　honour　above　all　things　to　lie　to　the　world。　For　Villiers　to　do　that；　the　objective　had　to　be　monumentally　honourable。
　Get　Carlos！
　There　was　a　second；　ground…floor　entrance　to　the　general's　home；　to　the　right　of　the　steps；　beyond　a　gate；　where　deliveries　were　made　to　the　downstairs　kitchen。　Villiers　had　agreed　to　leave　the　gate　and　the　door　unlatched。　Bourne　had　not　bothered　to　tell　the　old　soldier　that　it　did　not　matter；　that　he　would　get　inside　in　any　event；　a　degree　of　damage　intrinsic　to　his　strategy。　But　first　there　was　the　risk　that　Villiers's　house　was　being　watched；　there　being　good　reasons　for　Carlos　to　do　so；　and　equally　good　reasons　not　to　do　so。　All　things　considered；　the　assassin　might　decide　to　stay　as　far　away　from　Angelique　Villiers　as　possible；　taking　no　chance　that　one　of　his　men　could　be　picked　up；　thus　proving　his　connection；　the　Pare　Monceau　connection。　On　the　other　hand；　the　dead　Angelique　was　his　cousin　and　lover。。。　the　only　person　on　earth　he　cares　about。　Philippe　d'Anjou。
　D'Anjou！　Of　course　there'd　be　someone　watching　…　or　two　or　ten！　If　d'Anjou　had　got　out　of　France；　Carlos　could　assume　the　worst；　if　the　man　from　Medusa　had　not；　the　assassin　would　know　the　worst。　The　colonial　would　be　broken；　every　word　exchanged　with　Cain　revealed。　Where？　Where　were　Carlos's　men？　Strangely　enough；　thought　Jason；　if　there　was　no　one　posted　in　Pare　Monceau　on　this　particular　night；　his　entire　strategy　was　worthless。
　It　was　not；　they　were　there。　In　a　saloon　car　…　the　same　car　that　had　raced　through　the　gates　of　the　Louvre　twelve　hours　ago；　the　same　two　men　…　killers　who　were　the　backups　of　killers。　The　car　was　fifty　feet　down　the　street　on　the　left…hand　side；　with　a　clear　view　of　Villiers's　house。　But　were　those　two　men　slumped　down　in　the　seat；　their　eyes　awake　and　alert；　all　that　were　there？　Bourne　could　not　tell；　vehicles　lined　the　kerbs　on　both　sides　of　the　street。　He　crouched　in　the　shadows　of　the　corner　building；　diagonally　across　from　the　two　men　in　the　stationary　saloon。　He　knew　what　had　to　be　done；　but　he　was　not　sure　how　to　do　it。　He　needed　a　diversion；　alarming　enough　to　attract　Carlos's　soldiers；　visible　enough　to　flush　out　any　others　who　might　be　conce