rl.thebourneultimatum-第123章

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s　entrance。　From　inside　came　the　sound　of　erratic　gunfire；　sudden　bursts　acpanied　by　screams　of　panic；　followed　by　additional　bursts。　A　living　nightmare　of　terror　and　blood　was　taking　place　within　the　confines　of　a　once　bucolic　country　inn。　Bourne　got　to　his　feet；　Sergei　at　his　side；　running；　they　joined　the　other　surviving　Soviet　aide。　At　Jason's　nod；　the　Russians　pulled　back　the　doors　and　as　one　they　burst　inside。
　The　next　sixty　seconds　were　as　terrifying　as　the　shrieking　hell　depicted　by　Munch。　A　waiter　and　two　of　the　men　who　were　among　the　three　couples　were　dead；　the　waiter　and　one　man　sprawled　on　the　floor；　their　skulls　shattered；　what　was　left　of　their　faces　lying　in　blood；　the　third　man　was　splayed　back　in　the　banquette；　his　eyes　wide　and　glass…dead；　his　clothes　riddled　with　bullets；　rivulets　of　blood　rolling　down　the　fabric。　The　women　were　in　total　shock；　alternately　moaning　and　screaming　as　they　kept　trying　to　crawl　over　the　pine　walls　of　the　booth。　The　well…dressed　man　and　wife　from　the　Italian　embassy　were　nowhere　in　sight。
　Sergei　suddenly　rushed　forward；　his　weapon　on　auto　fire；　in　a　rear　corner　of　the　room　he　had　spotted　a　figure　whom　Bourne　had　not　seen。　The　stocking…faced　killer　sprang　out　of　the　shadows；　his　machine　swinging　into　position；　but　before　he　could　exercise　his　advantage；　the　Soviet　cut　him　down。　。。。　Another！　A　body　lurching　behind　the　short　counter　that　served　as　a　bar。　Was　it　the　Jackal？　Jason　pivoted　into　the　diagonal　wall；　crouching；　his　eyes　darting　into　every　recess　in　the　vicinity　of　the　wine　racks。　He　lunged　to　the　base　of　the　bar　as　the　second　Russian　backup；　assessing　the　situation；　ran　to　the　hysterical　women；　spinning　around；　his　gun　swinging　back　and　forth　protecting　them。　The　stocking…faced　head　shot　up　from　behind　the　counter；　his　weapon　surging　out　over　the　wood。　Bourne　sprang　to　his　feet；　gripping　the　hot　barrel　with　his　left　hand；　his　right　manding　the　AK…47；　he　fired　point…blank　into　the　terrorist's　contorted　face　beyond　the　silk。　It　was　not　Carlos。　Where　was　the　Jackal？
　〃In　there！〃　shouted　Sergei　as　if　he　had　heard　Jason's　furious　question。
　〃Where？〃
　〃Those　doors！〃
　It　was　the　country　restaurant's　kitchen。　Both　men　converged　on　the　swinging　doors。　Again　Bourne　nodded；　the　signal　for　them　to　crash　inside；　but　before　they　could　move；　both　were　partially　blown　back　by　an　explosion　from　within；　a　grenade　had　been　set　off；　with　fragments　of　metal　and　glass　embedded　in　the　doors。　The　smoke　billowed；　wafting　out　into　the　dining　room；　the　smell　was　acrid；　sickening。
　Silence。
　Jason　and　Sergei　once　more　approached　the　kitchen's　entrance；　and　once　again　they　were　stopped　by　a　second　sudden　explosion　followed　by　staccato　gunfire；　the　bullets　piercing　the　thin；　louvered　panels　of　the　swinging　doors。
　Silence。
　Standoff。
　Silence。
　It　was　too　much　for　the　furious；　impassioned　Chameleon。　He　cracked　the　bolt　of　his　AK…47；　pulled　the　selective　lever　and　then　the　trigger　for　auto　fire；　and　crashed　the　doors　open；　lunging　for　the　floor。
　Silence。
　Another　scene　from　another　hell。　A　section　of　the　outside　wall　had　been　blown　away；　the　obese　owner　and　his　chef；　still　wearing　his　toque；　were　dead；　corpses　pinned　against　the　lower　shelves　of　the　kitchen；　blood　streaming　across　and　down　the　wood。
　Bourne　slowly　rose　to　his　feet；　his　legs　in　agony；　every　nerve　in　his　body　frayed；　the　edge　of　hysteria　not　far　away。　As　if　in　a　trance；　he　looked　around　through　the　smoke　and　the　debris；　his　eyes　finally　settling　on　a　large；　ominous　fragment　of　brown　butcher's　paper　nailed　to　the　wall　with　a　heavy　cleaver。　He　approached　it　and；　yanking　out　the　cleaver；　read　the　words　printed　in　a　black　butcher's　pencil：
　The　trees　of　Tannenbaum　will　burn　and　children　will　be　the　kindling。　Sleep　well；　Jason　Bourne。
　The　mirrors　of　his　life　were　shattered　into　a　thousand　pieces　of　glass。　There　was　nothing　else　to　do　but　scream。
　
　31
　〃Stop　it；　David！〃
　〃My　God；　he's　insane；　Aleksei。　Sergei；　grab　him；　hold　him。　。。。　You；　help　Sergei！　Put　him　on　the　ground　so　I　can　talk　to　him。　We　must　leave　here　quickly！〃
　It　was　all　the　two　Russian　aides　could　do　to　wrestle　the　screaming　Bourne　to　the　grass。　He　had　raced　out　through　the　exploded　hole　in　the　wall；　running　into　the　high　grass　in　a　futile　attempt　to　find　the　Jackal；　firing　his　AK…47　into　the　field　beyond　until　his　magazine　was　empty。　Sergei　and　the　surviving　backup　had　rushed　in　after　him；　the　former　ripping　the　weapon　out　of　Jason's　hands；　together　leading　the　hysterical　man　back　to　the　rear　of　the　mutilated　country　inn；　where　Alex　and　Krupkin　were　waiting　for　them。　Forcibly；　their　charge　in　a　sweating；　erratically　breathing　trance；　the　five　men　walked　rapidly　to　the　front　of　the　restaurant；　there　the　uncontrollable　hysteria　again　seized　the　Chameleon。
　The　Jackal's　van　was　gone。　Carlos　had　reversed　his　line　of　flight　and　escaped　and　Jason　Bourne　had　gone　mad。
　〃Hold　him！〃　roared　Krupkin；　kneeling　beside　Jason　as　the　two　aides　pinned　Bourne　to　the　ground。　The　KGB　officer　reached　down　and　spread　his　hand　across　the　American's　face；　gouging　his　cheeks　with　thumb　and　forefinger；　forcing　Treadstone　Seventy…one　to　look　at　him。　〃I'll　say　this　once；　Mr。　Bourne；　and　if　it　doesn't　sink　in；　you　may　stay　here　by　yourself　and　take　the　consequences！　But　we　must　leave。　If　you　get　hold　of　yourself；　we'll　be　in　touch　with　the　proper　officials　of　your　government　within　the　hour　from　Paris。　I've　read　the　warning　to　you　and　I　can　assure　you　your　own　people　are　capable　of　protecting　your　family…as　your　family　was　explained　to　me　by　Aleksei。　But　you；　yourself；　must　be　part　of　that　munication。　You　can　bee　rational；　Mr。　Bourne；　or　you　can　go　to　hell。　Which　will　it　be？〃
　The　Chameleon；　straining　against　the　knees　pinning　him　to　the　ground；　exhaled　as　if　it　were　his　final　breath。　His　eyes　came　into　focus　and　he　said；　〃Get　these　bastards　off　me。〃
　〃One　of　those　bastards　saved　your　life；〃　said　Conklin。
　〃And　I　saved　one　of　theirs。　So　be　it。〃
　The　armor…plated　Citro？n　sped　down　the　country　road　toward　the　Paris　highway。　On　the　scrambled　cellular　telephone；　Krupkin　ordered　a　team　to　Epernon　for　the　immediate　removal　of　what　was　left　of　the　Russian　backup　vehicle。　The　body　of　the　slain　man　had　been　placed　carefully　in　the　Citro？n's　trunk；　and　the　official　Soviet　ment；　if　asked　for；　was　one　of　noninvolvement：　Two　lower…level　diplomatic　staff　had　gone　out　for　a　country　lunch　when　the　massacre　occurred。　Several　killers　were　in　stocking　masks；　the　others　barely　seen　as　the　staff　members　escaped　through　a　back　door；　running　for　their　lives。　When　it　was　over　they　returned　to　the　restaurant；　covering　the　victims；　trying　to　calm　the　hysterical　women　and　the　lone　surviving　man。　They　had　called　their　superiors　to　report　the　hideous　incident　and　were　instructed　to　inform　the　local　police　and　return　at　once　to　the　embassy。　Soviet　interests　could　not　be　jeopardized　by　the　accidental　presence　at　the　scene　of　an　act　of　French　criminality。
　〃It　sounds　so　Russian；〃　Krupkin　said。
　〃Will　anyone　believe　it？〃　Alex　wondered。
　〃It　doesn't　matter；〃　answered　the　Soviet。　〃Epernon　reeks　of　a　Jackal　reprisal。　The　blown…apart　old　man；　two　subordinate　terrorists　in　stocking　masks…the　Sыreté　knows　the　signs。　If　we　were　involved；　we　were　on　the　correct　side；　so　they　won't　pursue　our　presence。〃
　Bourne　sat　silently　by　the　window。　Krupkin　was　beside　him　with　Conklin　in　the　jump　seat　in　front　of　the　Russian。　Jason　broke　his　angry　silence；　taking　his　eyes　off　the　rushing　scenery　and　slamming　his　fist　on　the　armrest。　〃Oh；　Christ；　the　kids！〃　he　shouted。　〃How　could　that　bastard　have　learned　about　the　Tannenbaum　house？〃
　〃Forgive　me；　Mr。　Bourne；〃　broke　in　Krupkin　gently。　〃I　realize　it's　far　easier　for　me　to　say　than　for　you　to　accept；　but　very　soon　now　you'll　be　in　touch　with　Washington。　I　know　something　about　the　Agency's　ability　to　protect　its　own；　and　I　guarantee　you　it's　maddeningly　effective。〃
　〃It　can't　be　so　goddamned　great　if　Carlos　can　penetrate　this　far！〃
　〃Perhaps　he　didn't；〃　said　the　Soviet。　〃Perhaps　he　had　another　source。〃
　〃There　weren't　any。〃
　〃One　never　knows；　sir。〃
　They　sped　through　the　streets　of　Paris　in　the　blinding　afternoon　sun　as　the　pedestrians　swel