Chapter 4 third chapter

This is a network. As if nothing had changed, Jason Bourne thought.He knew his alter ego, the one named David Webb, was fading away.The taxi took him to an area northeast of Washington, also once beautiful but now dilapidated.Like the driver five years ago, today's driver is unwilling to stay and wait for him.He walked towards the old house along the overgrown stone road, and the thought in his mind was the same as when he first arrived here: this house is too old and dilapidated, and it needs to be repaired urgently.He rang the bell, thinking that Cactus might not be there anymore.He was still there; this old, thin Negro with a kind face and friendly eyes, standing by the door in exactly the same posture as he had been five years ago, his eyes still squeezed at him from under the green goggles.Even the first sentence Cactus said was not much different from the one he said five years ago.

"Jason, are the people in your car really ugly?" "I don't have a car, not even a taxi; people don't want to wait." "They must have heard too much of the nasty rumors spread by the fascist media. As for me, I have howitzers in my windows, just to let this friendly town know that I always like to persuade people. Come in, I am I always think of you. Why don't you call me, the old guy?" "Cactus, your number isn't listed in the Yellow Pages." "It must have been missed." Bourne entered the hall, and the old man closed the door. "Brother Rabbit, you have a lot of gray hair," Cactus looked at his friend, and said again, "Apart from this, you haven't changed much. There are a few wrinkles on your face, but it looks more like this." Have personality."

"I have a wife and two children, Uncle Remus. A boy and a girl." "I know. Morris will tell me about you, though he can't say where you are—I don't want to know where you are, Jason." Bourne blinked and shook his head slowly, "I still can't remember some things, Cactus. I forgot that you and Maurice are friends." "Oh, that good doctor calls me at least once a month and says, 'Cactus, you scoundrel, put on your Pierre Cardin suit and Gucci shoes and we'll go together Go eat.' So I'd be like, 'Where'd I get all this stuff, an old nigger?' And he'd be like, 'Maybe you've got a mall in the best part of town.'  … …That’s a bit of an exaggeration, so I’ll cut to the chase. I do have a few really nice little pieces of real estate in white areas, but I’ve always stayed away from those places.”

Both of them laughed.Bourne watched Cactus's swarthy face, and his kind black eyes. "I just remembered another thing. Thirteen years ago, in that hospital in Virginia . "Maurice understands that, Bunny Rabbit. When I made you something for a trip to Europe in a very unofficial capacity, I told Maurice: If you look at a face with a magnifying glass, Definitely get to know something about this face and this person too. Through the magnifying glass, I see that you seem to be missing something, so I want you to talk about these missing things; Maurice thinks this may not be a bad idea. . . . , the hour of confession is over. I gotta say, Jason, it's good to see you. But honestly, I wasn't happy to see you; you know what I mean?"

"I need your help, Cactus." "That's what makes me unhappy. You've been through enough, and you wouldn't be here if you weren't desperate to suffer more; from my professional point of view looking through a magnifying glass , this matter is not good for the face in front of me." "You must help me." "Then you'd better give me a damn good reason to stand up to our good doctor. Because I don't want to mess with something and make you worse and worse... your crimson hair Lovely wife, I've seen it a few times in the hospital - Bunny, she's a different woman, and you two must have amazing kids. So, you know, I can't get into anything that might hurt Their affairs. Forgive me, but your family is like a distant relative to me, and I have known each other for a long time; although we didn't mention the things back then, they are always in my heart. "

"It's because of them that I need your help." "Be clear, Jason." "The 'Jackal' is approaching. He found us in Hong Kong, and now he is targeting me and my family, my wife and children. Please help me." The old man's eyes under the green goggles opened wide, and anger flashed in the dilated pupils, "Does our good doctor know about this?" "He's a part of our operation. He may not approve of what I'm doing right now, but if he asks himself, he'll understand that it's all about Jackal and me. Help me, Cactus .”

In the shadow of the afternoon in the foyer, the old black man looked at the begging customer, "How is your health, brother rabbit?" He asked, "Are you still as strong as before?" "I run nearly ten kilometers every morning, and I lift weights at least twice a week, in the university gym—" "I didn't hear that. I don't want to know about any college or university." "Then you didn't hear." "Of course not. I must say, you seem to be in pretty good shape." "That's what I keep, Cactus," Bourne said softly. "Sometimes it's a phone ringing suddenly, or Mary coming home late; But I can't get in touch with her...sometimes it's a stranger who stops me on the street to ask directions, and then that feeling comes back - he's back. 'Jackal'. As long as he's alive, even if there's even a chance, I have to be prepared to deal with him, because he will not stop looking for me. But the irony is that the basis of his pursuit of me is only an assumption, which may not be correct. He thought I would recognize him, but I am not sure. It's not certain. I don't have any clear picture in my mind right now."

"Have you ever thought about passing this on to the Jackal?" "He's got eyeliner all over the place, and I think I'll put an ad in the Washington Post: 'Dear old pal Carlos: Dude, I have some news for you.'" "No kidding, Jason, it's not unimaginably difficult. Your friend Alexander can figure it out. He has a lame foot, but his head is unaffected. To put it elegantly, it would be As cunning as a snake." "It just goes to show that if he hasn't tried it, there must be a reason." "I think you're right...then let's get to work, Bunny Rabbit. What do you want to do?" Cactus led him through a wide archway and into a shabby, stuffed old room. Living room with old furniture and yellowed chair covers, towards a door in the back of the house, "My studio isn't as elegant as it used to be, but all the equipment is still there. You know, I'm pretty much semi-retired now Status. My financial advisors have come up with an awesome retirement plan with a lot of tax benefits, so it's not too stressful."

"You're just unbelievable," Byrne said. "I reckon some people might say that—guys who aren't in jail. What do you want to be?" "It's about the same as me. Of course it can't be the same as the things in Europe and Hong Kong. In fact, it's just a certificate." "The 'Chameleon' has another disguise. Himself." When the two walked to the door, Bourne stopped, "I forgot about that too. That's what they used to call me, right?" "'Chameleon'? . . . that's what it's called. And according to them, it's a good nickname. If six people ever met our lad Bourne, there would be six different descriptions. By the way, Bourne hasn't made up yet."

"The old memories are gradually coming back, Cactus." "God Almighty, I hope these memories don't come back. But if they do come back, you must remember them all... Come to my magic house." Three hours and twenty minutes later, the magic was done.David Webb, a scholar of oriental studies who played the role of killer Jason Bourne for three years, now has two other aliases, and the passports, driver's licenses, and voter registration cards used to prove these two identities are also Everything is available.Because taxis wouldn't pick up people in the Cactus "lands," an unemployed neighbor (who had several heavy gold chains around his neck and wrists) drove his brand-new Cadillac to the Cactus customers delivered to downtown Washington.

Byrne found a pay phone in Garfinkel's, dialed Conklin, Virginia, gave him both aliases, and chose one to use at the Mayflower.If the hotel's summer rooms were too tight, Conklin would resort to official means and get a room through hotel management.In addition, Langley will use the "40" order to provide Bourne with the materials he needs as much as possible, and send them to his room as soon as possible.It is estimated that this will take at least another three hours, and there are no guarantees on the delivery time and the authenticity of the materials.Conklin reconfirmed the situation with the CIA via another direct line, while Bourne figured he'd have two more of the three hours to run errands before heading to the hotel anyway.He's got some outfits to match; Chameleon is getting back into shape. "Steven Desso told me he'd get the computer running and do a cross search between our data, Army databases, and Navy intelligence," Conklin said, picking up the phone again. "Can Peter Holland help?" busy; he's the president's old buddy." "Old man? That's a strange word coming out of your mouth." "He came in on the honor of the old chap." "Oh? ... Thanks for the explanation, Alexander. How are you doing? Any progress?" Conkrington stopped.When he spoke again, there was a hint of fear in his calm voice; although he restrained his emotions, the fear could still be heard, "Let's put it this way... I was a little caught off guard by what I discovered .I've been out of this circle for too long. Jason - I'm sorry...David." "The first title is correct. Have you discussed with anyone—" "Don't mention your name!" The retired intelligence officer quickly interrupted him with a firm tone. "I see." "You can't understand," Conklin retorted, "I can't figure it out either. I will keep in touch with you." After these mysterious words, Conklin hung up the phone abruptly. Bourne put down the phone slowly, his brows furrowed with concern.The way Conklin talks now is an exaggeration, and it's not his style to think or act in that way.Calmness is synonymous with him, and understatement is his personality.Whatever he discovered, it must have been deeply disturbing to him...so intense was the anxiety that Byrne felt that Conklin seemed to have lost both his own secrecy and the people who worked with him. believe.If he hadn't, he would have been a little clearer and more candid just now; yet, for some reason Bourne could not fathom, Conklin would not bring up Medusa, or talk of the two decades he had stripped away. Any situation discovered after layers of deception...is this possible? Time is running out!It's no use pondering this, it's not something to think about now.Bourne looked around the huge department store while thinking.Conklin doesn't just keep his word, he takes his promise more than his life - as long as the other party is not his enemy.Bourne suppressed a wry smile, thinking of Paris for thirteen years with some regret.He had seen another side of Conklin too.Had it not been for the tombstones in the cemetery outside Rambouillet, he might have died at the hands of his dear friend.That was then, not now.Conklin said he would "keep in touch."He sure will.Before that, "Chameleon" has to get a few layers of camouflage.A complete outfit from inside to outside, from underwear to outerwear.There must be absolutely no markings of any laundromat or dry cleaner to be found; nor shall there be a trace of a chemical that would indicate the detergent or liquid that is commonly used in a certain area—not a trace.He has given too much.If he had to kill for David's family... oh my!It's for my family! ...He will never be burdened by killing a person or a few people.There are no rules about where he's going; innocent people are likely to be killed in the fight between the two sides.To die is to die.David Webb would vehemently object, but Jason Bourne didn't give a shit.He's been through it; he knows the statistics of accidental casualties, but Weber doesn't know anything about it. Mary, I will definitely stop him!I promise you, I will make him disappear from your lives forever.I'm going to fight "Jackal" with all my might and turn him into a corpse.I will keep him from touching you again - you will be free. Oh god, who am I?Morris, help me! ... No, Maurice, don't you help me!I am the role I have to play.I'm cold and getting colder.Soon I'll be ice...clear, transparent ice, so cold, so pure, that no one will notice it wherever it moves.Don't you see, Maurice--and you, Mary--I must!I have to let David go.I can no longer let him follow me. Mary, forgive me; doctor, you must forgive me, but I am thinking of facts.A fact that must now be faced.I'm not an idiot and I'm not deluding myself.You all want me to remove Jason Bourne from your life forever, to let him escape into the endless void, but what I must do now is the exact opposite.David had to go, at least for a while. Don't bother me with these thoughts!I have work to do. Damn, where's the men's department?Once he's done shopping (all in cash, with as many different clerks as possible), he'll find a men's room and change out every piece of clothing he's wearing.After this he would walk the streets of Washington until he found a hidden manhole cover. "Chameleon" is also back. At seven thirty-five in the evening, Byrne put down the single-sided razor blade in his hand.He removed all the tags from the assortment of new clothes and hung them in the closet as soon as they were finished, except for the shirts, which he ironed in the bathroom to get rid of the new smell.He walked over to the table on the other side of the room, where the room service man had placed a bottle of scotch, a bottle of soda, and a small bucket of ice.He stopped as he passed the desk where the telephone was. He wanted so badly to call Mary on the island, but he knew he couldn't make the call himself, not from the hotel room.The safe arrival of her and the children was the most important thing, and he was already reassured about that; he had just reached John St. James from another pay phone at Garfunkel's. "Hey, David, they're so tired! They've been on the Big Island for nearly four hours before the weather cleared up. If you want to talk to my sister, I'll wake her up. But she just But fell asleep after Alison." "No, I'll call later. John, tell her I'm fine and take care of them for me." "No problem, buddy. Now you tell me what's going on. How are you doing?" "I told you, I'm fine." "Yes, of course you can say that, and she can say that too. But Mary is not only my only sister, she is my favorite sister. I can't hide her shock." "So, you have to take good care of her." "I still have to talk to her." "Take it easy, John." Bourne poured himself a glass of wine, thinking that for a split second he was David Webb again.He doesn't like it, it doesn't feel good.However, Jason Bourne returned an hour after the call.He told the Mayflower receptionist that he had reserved a room, and the hotel called for the night manager. "Ah, Mr. Simon," said the manager, welcoming him warmly, "I heard that you came to Washington to protest the heavy taxation of the government on business travel and entertainment. God's blessing, according to some people. Then Helping politicians will ruin us all! There are no double rooms in the hotel, so we have taken the liberty of giving you a suite; of course, we will not charge you any extra." All this happened more than two hours ago.Since then he has been cutting labels, ironing shirts, and softening the rubber soles of shoes on hotel windowsills.Bourne, glass in hand, sat in a chair staring blankly at the wall, with nothing to do but wait and think. A few minutes later, a light knock on the door ended his wait.Bourne walked briskly across the room, opened the door, and let in the driver who had picked him up at the airport earlier.The CIA agent was carrying a briefcase, which he handed to Bourne. "Everything was in there, a gun, a box of ammunition." "thanks." "Do you want to see it?" "I'm going to watch it all night." "It's almost eight o'clock," the agent said. "Your line will be in touch around eleven o'clock. This will give you time to get ready." "My 'upline'...?" "He's your upline, isn't he?" "Yes, of course," Bourne replied softly, "I forgot the title. Thank you." After the visitor left, Bourne hurried to the desk with his briefcase.He opened the bag, taking out the automatic pistol and the box of ammunition first, and then picked up a stack of computer printouts in file folders, which must have consisted of hundreds of pages.Hidden among these innumerable sheets was a name that connected a man or woman with Carlos the Jackal.The printout contained information on every current guest at the hotel, including those who had checked out within the last twenty-four hours.Each printout was accompanied by all the other information that could be gleaned from the CIA, Army Intelligence, and Naval Intelligence databases.For more than a dozen possible reasons, this approach may not be useful, but it is a start.The hunt has begun.Eight hundred kilometers to the south, there was another knock on the door of another hotel room in another suite on the third floor of the Ritz-Carlton Hotel in Boston.In the suite, the extremely tall male resident hurried out of the bedroom.He is nearly 1.9 meters tall, and his tailored striped suit makes him look even more imposing.The circle of gray hair above his sideburns was combed perfectly, and his bald head looked like a cardinal anointed with holy oil. No matter the king, prince, or people who pretended to be on the throne, he had to obey his wisdom. Determination——There is no doubt that when he shows his wisdom, his sharp eyes like a falcon and his voice like a prophet are indispensable.Although the appearance of him rushing outside reveals an anxiety that people can take advantage of, it does not detract from his image at all.He was an important, powerful figure, and he knew that.Everything about him was very different from the older man he opened the door to let in.There was nothing dignified about this small, scrawny, elderly visitor; on the contrary, he was a total loser. "Come in. Come on! Have you got the situation?" "Oh, of course, of course," replied the gray-faced old man.His rumpled suit and unruly shirt collar had seen his day, perhaps a decade earlier. "You look really dignified, Randolph," he said in a weak voice, looking at the owner and looking around the luxurious suite. "This place is also dignified, worthy of such a famous professor." "Please tell me about it," insisted Dr. Randolph Gates of Harvard University.He is an expert in antitrust law and serves as a well-paid consultant to numerous industries. "Oh, my old friend, just give me a break. It's been a long time since I've been near a hotel suite, let alone lived in one... Well, how much we've changed over the years. I often Can read your news, and saw you on TV. Randolph, you are so--so knowledgeable, that's the word to describe it. But that's not enough, you have to use what I just said-- 'Noble', this is your demeanor. Noble and learned. You are so tall and majestic." "You know what, you could have been in the same position as me," Gates interrupted impatiently, "unlucky, you have to take shortcuts where there are no shortcuts." "Oh, there are plenty of shortcuts. I just took the wrong path." "I reckon you're not doing very well—" "No 'guessing,' Randolph, you know it all. Even if the spies you sent didn't report it, you'd know it." "I just wanted to find you." "Yeah, that's what you said on the phone, and that's what I was told by a lot of people on the street - people asked them a lot of questions, but it didn't matter where my flat was - if that counted as a flat .” "I have to find out if you are still capable. You can't blame me for that." "My God, of course not. Considering what you've asked me to do, it's no surprise—what I think you've asked me to do." "Just as a secret messenger, that's all. Surely you won't object to money." "Against?" said the visitor, trembling and shrieking. "Let me tell you, Randolph; if you're disbarred at thirty or thirty-five, you can still get along; but if Get your license revoked at fifty, have a trial in the national media, and be sentenced to jail, and you'll be shocked to find that you've lost all of your paths—even if you're an educated man .you've become something to hide from; and I've never been very good at selling anything but being smart.By the way, I've proven that over the past two decades.Alger Heath He's better than me at selling greeting cards." "I don't have time for reminiscence. Please tell me about it." "Oh, of course, of course . . . First, someone handed me the money at the corner of Federal Street and Dartmouth Street, and of course I wrote down the name and details you gave on the phone." "Write it down?" Gates asked sharply. "I burned the note as soon as I took it to heart - the tough situation did teach me a few things. I found a technician at the phone company, your generosity - sorry - my generosity He was overjoyed by the gift. He passed the information on to a disgusting private eye who was a complete scumbag, Randolph. Considering the methods he used...he should really imitate my ingenuity. " "Come on," interrupted the eminent legal scholar, "just the facts, no judgments." "Evaluations often contain closely related facts, Professor. You must know that." "If it's gathering evidence for a case, I'll ask for your opinion. I don't have time now. What did that man find?" "Based on what you've told me—a woman who was out alone with her children (how many were unclear), and an underpaid phone company technician, that is, by area code and phone number One range down from the first three digits, and the immoral scumbag is at work; he is paid by the hour and charges are horribly high. To my amazement, he is productive. In fact , I still have a little bit of legal savvy left, and maybe the two of us can establish a secret, verbal partnership." "Damn it, what did he find out?" "Well, as I said earlier, his hourly rate is unbelievably high. I mean, it's so high that it's already encroaching on my own well-deserved employment deposit. So I think we should talk about it What do you think about tariff adjustment?” "Who the hell do you think you are? I sent you three thousand dollars! Five hundred for the phone mechanic, fifteen for that poor snooping, self-proclaimed private eye—" "That's only because he can't stay in the police station and pay, Randolph. Like me, he's gone, but he's a good job. We're talking about price, Or should I leave now?" The majestic bald law professor was furious, glaring at the gray-faced old man in front of him, this disqualified and discredited lawyer, "How dare you do this?" "My God, Randolph, it seems you really trust your media? Well, old conceited friend, let me tell you how dare I do this. I read it in the newspapers and on TV. To interpret complex legal issues with mysterious and mysterious interpretations, and to attack every legitimate decree made in the domestic courts in the past thirty years; What it's like to eat a piece of meat you don't want - a life you didn't expect and couldn't afford to feed. My shallow friend, you are the favorite of the reactionary industrial tycoons, and you want to force ordinary citizens to live in A country where privacy is abolished, where free thought is censored, where the rich get richer and where the poorest of us have to give up even the right to give birth to new life in order to survive. You preach Uninspired, old-fashioned notions, just to perpetuate yourself as a dissident brilliance - but you can only bring disaster. Shall I go on, Randolph Dr. Gates? You need a loser to do your dirty work for you, and frankly, I think you've got the wrong guy." "How...how dare you do that?" The bewildered professor repeated what he had just said, with a frantic expression, and at the same time strode solemnly towards the window, "I don't need to listen to what you say." "Of course you don't need it, Randolph. But you were one of the kids in my class when I was an associate professor in law school—you were one of the best kids, but not the brightest— Did you dare to listen obediently then? So I suggest you listen carefully now." "What the hell do you want?" Gates growled, turning from the window. "It's about what you want, isn't it? You let me work out the situation, and there's too little to pay. The situation is important to you, isn't it?" "I have to get this situation right." "Back then, you were nervous before every exam—" "Shut up! I've already paid the money. I want you to tell me the situation." "Then I'll have to ask for more money. Whoever pays you is sure to be able to afford it." "I won't give you a dime!" "Then I'm leaving." "Don't!... Add five hundred, that's all." "Five thousand, or I'll leave." "absurd!" "Then we'll see you in twenty years—" "Okay...well, five thousand is five thousand." "Well, Randolph, you can't hide it. That's why I say you're not the smartest, just a smart-talking guy, and I think we've seen enough of that kind of guy by now, and we're not Enough listening... 10,000, Dr. Gates, or I'll pick a lively bar and sit down." "You can't do that." "Of course I can. Now I'm a secret counsel. Ten thousand dollars. How are you going to pay it? I'm afraid you don't have that much on you, so how are you - for the circumstances - going to secure the debt?" " "I promise you that--" "Come on, Randolph." "Well, I'll send the money to Fifth Bank, Boston, in the morning. A check in your name." "That's very kind of you. But in case the people above you have an idea and don't want me to have access to this money, please tell them that there is an unknown person, an old friend who was on the street with me, who In my hand I held a letter detailing everything that had happened between the two of us. In the event of any accident to me, this letter would be sent to the Attorney General of Massachusetts and required Receipt." "You are delusional. Please tell me." "Well, then you should know that you've got yourself involved in an extremely sensitive government operation, and that's the basics...Anyone in an emergency going from one place to another will probably do as much as possible Take the fastest transport, so our poor detective went to Logan Airport, but I don't know what he pretended to be. Anyway, he managed to get it between 6:30 and 10 yesterday morning. Passenger manifests for every plane leaving Boston. You recall, this time frame fits the criteria you described to me - 'departed early in the morning'." "and then?" "Be patient, Randolph. You told me not to write anything down, so I have to tell you step by step. Where did I get?" "Passenger list." "Oh, yes. According to the dastardly detective, eleven unaccompanied children were registered on the various flights, along with eight women with children, two of whom were nuns. One of the eight women In the story, two nuns are going to California with nine orphans, and the identities of the other six women are here." The old man reached into his pocket and fumbled for a piece of paper with typewriting on it, "Obviously, this is not I wrote it down. I don't have a typewriter because I can't type; this paper is from our dastardly detective." "Give it to me!" Gates ordered.He hurried forward and held out his hand. "No problem," said the disbarred seventy-year-old lawyer, handing the paper to his former student. "It won't be of much use to you, I'm afraid, though," he added. "Our sleazy detective has them all out, for no other reason than to prolong his hours. These six women and you The matter to be investigated has nothing to do with it, and it is completely unnecessary for him to exclude them; besides, he has already found out the real situation at that time." "What?" Gates asked, taking his attention away from the paper. "What happened?" "Well, neither Despicable Detective nor I will write about it anywhere. The first clue came from the morning flight planner at Pan Am. He told our poor detective that yesterday he met Got into a lot of trouble and a big name politician, or a guy who is as annoying as a politician. Our planner was only a few minutes into the job, and this guy asked him for diapers. You know, airline diapers Comes in different sizes and is still locked with the contingency stockpile?" "What the hell are you trying to tell me?" "The shops at the airport are all closed, they don't open until seven in the morning." "So what?" "Someone forgot something in the rush. It was a woman traveling alone, with a five-year-old and a baby, leaving Boston on a private jet. She was on the runway closest to the Pan Am short-haul counter. .The planner complied with the passenger's request, and the mother thanked him herself. You know, he was a new father and knew about diaper sizes. He took three packs of different sizes—" "My God, can you just get to the point, Judge?" "Judge?" The gray-faced old man opened his eyes wide. "Thank you, Randolph. I haven't been called that for years, except by my friends in various taverns. I guess it's because of the Extraordinary temperament." "Because I'm reminded of all the gossip, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah blah!" "Impatience has always been your weakness. I think it's because other people's opinions interfere with your conclusions and irritate you... But our mean major can see it when he meets a rotten apple- Apple A bug had already come out of it and spat at him. So he hurried to the console at Logan Airport, where he found an off-duty air traffic controller. After a little favor, he had the controller check yesterday morning's航班安排。刚才说的那架喷气机在电脑上显示为'四○'。卑鄙上尉大吃一惊地得知，这意味着飞行是由政府批准的，而且是最高机密。没有乘客名单，没有机上任何一个人的名字，只给出了飞行路线安排，以避开商用航班。还有一个目的地。” “是哪里？” “蒙塞特拉，布莱克本。” “那是什么鬼地方？” “加勒比海蒙塞特拉岛上的布莱克本机场。” “他们去了那儿？就这些？” “不尽然。据卑鄙下士说——我必须承认，他的后续工作做得不错——从那个机场再换乘小型飞机，可以飞往距蒙塞特拉岛不远的十来个小外岛。” "that's it?" “就这些，教授。考虑到刚才提到的那架飞机被政府列为'四○'——顺便说一句，这个细节我在致检察长的信中也提到了——我觉得挣这一万块完全理所应当。” “你这个混蛋醉鬼——” “你又错了，伦道夫，”法官打断了他，“嗜酒如命，那是当然，但我很少喝醉。我停留在清醒的边缘。酒是让我活下去的理由之一。瞧，我在自己的认知范围里总能找到乐趣——说实话，这可多亏了像你这样的人。” “快给我滚出去。”教授恶狠狠地说。 “你难道都不打算请我喝一杯吗？纵容一下我这个可怕的坏习惯？……天哪，那边起码放着六七瓶原封不动的酒呢。” “拿一瓶，走人。” “谢谢你，我看我是得拿。”老法官走到墙边的樱桃木桌前，桌上的两个银盘里摆着好几种威士忌，还有一瓶白兰地。“让我来瞧瞧，”他一边说，一边拿起几条白布餐巾包住两瓶酒，然后又包了一瓶，“我如果把这些东西紧紧夹在胳膊底下，别人还以为我是拿了一堆衣服去送洗呢。” “你能不能快一点？！” “你能不能帮我开一下门？要是我拨弄把手的时候把一瓶酒掉在地上，那我可得懊悔死了。酒瓶子要是摔碎了，对你的形象也没什么好处。据我所知，你好像从来都不喝酒吧？” “滚出去！”盖茨给老头开了门，厉声说。 “谢谢你，伦道夫，”法官迈进走廊，转过身说，“别忘了早晨波士顿第五银行的那张支票。一万五。” “一万五……？” “我向你保证，如果给检察长知道——即便他只知道你跟我打过交道，你能想像他会怎么说吗？再见了，律师。” 伦道夫·盖茨砰地摔上门奔进卧室，来到床边的电话机前。卧室里稍小的封闭空间让他觉得宽心，因为身处其间的他不至于暴露在别人的审视之下；在大一些的场所，这种审视的目光总是在所难免——卧室的空间更隐秘，更私人，也不太容易被侵入。必须要打的这个电话让他紧张得要命，连活动抽板上如何拨打海外长途的说明都看不懂了。情急之下，他拨通了接线员。 “我想往巴黎打个长途。”他说道。 6 长沙发前的咖啡桌上铺满了电脑打印件，伯恩仔细研究着从中得出的结果，疲劳的双眼熬得直发痛。他弓着腰坐在那儿，已经分析了将近四个小时。他一心只想着五月花酒店里通向“胡狼”的那个关联，忘了时间，也忘了自己的“上线”这时候该来找他了。 第一组材料他暂且搁到了一边，那里头全是外国人，分别来自英国、意大利、瑞典、西德、日本和韩国。每个人都曾受到广泛的调查，以确保他们的证件真实有效，而他们入境的商业或个人理由也能被充分证实。国务院和中央情报局做了不少准备工作，每个外国人在职业与个人方面至少有五个担保者，都是信誉良好的个人或公司；所有人都与华盛顿地区的这类个人和公司保持着长期联系；没有任何人因作出虚假或值得怀疑的陈述而被记录在案。如果“胡狼”的人在他们中间——这很有可能——伯恩还需要更多的信息才能对名单进行提炼，仅凭面前的这叠打印稿还远远不够。也许这一组人还有必要重新研究，但这会儿他必须往下看。时间太少了！ 在剩下的大约五百名美国住客之中，二百一十二人在一个或几个情报部门的资料库中有记录，大部分都是因为他们和政府有生意往来。但是，七十八人的原始文件上有不良评价。其中三十一人的问题与国内收入署有关，这意味着他们有销毁或伪造经济记录的嫌疑，而且（或许是）在瑞士或开曼岛拥有银行账户，以逃避税收。这些无名小卒根本就微不足道，只不过是一帮富有却不太聪明的窃贼；再者说，这样的“信使”在卡洛斯眼中，就像是避之惟恐不及的麻风病人。 这样还剩下四十七个可能。这些男人和女人（其中十一对看来是夫妻）在欧洲有广泛的关系，主要是和一些科技公司，以及相关的核工业与航天工业。他们都处于情报部门的密切关注之下，因为他们可能向东欧集团的掮客出售过机密信息，也就等于是卖给了莫斯科。在这四十七名可能对象之中，有十二个人最近去过苏联——这一打人都可以勾掉。对国家安全委员会（亦称克格勃）来说，“胡狼”比教皇还要讨厌。伊里奇·拉米雷斯·桑切斯，也就是后来的杀手卡洛斯，曾经在苏联诺夫哥罗德的美国基地受训。在那个地方，街道旁遍布着美国的加油站、杂货店、时装店和汉堡王快餐厅，每个人说的都是口音各异的美式或英式英语——禁止用俄语——只有通过美国基地的培训科目，才能够参加下一阶段的渗透者训练。“胡狼”确实通过了培训，但克格勃后来发现，这位委内瑞拉革命青年碰到任何不合意的事都只有一种解决办法：用暴力手段将其消灭。这种做法，连手段残忍的格别乌的继任者们都无法接受。桑切斯被驱逐出境，“胡狼”卡洛斯随之诞生。去过苏联的十二个人不用再考虑了，那个杀手不可能跟他们联系，因为苏联情报部门的所有分支机构仍然在奉行一条命令：一旦追踪到卡洛斯，就毙掉他。诺夫哥罗德的秘密，要不惜一切代价去保护。 这样一来，可能的对象被缩小到了三十五人，酒店登记表显示其中有九对夫妇、四个单身女人，还有十三个单身男人。从数据库中打印出的原始文件，详细描述了导致每一个人得到不良评价的事实与猜测。实际上，文件中的猜测远远多于事实，而且猜测的依据往往是仇家或竞争对手带着敌意的评论。不过，这其中的每一个人都要仔细研究，哪怕有许多家伙很令人厌恶；因为这些信息中可能含有一个字、一个词、一个地点，或者是一个举动，而那就是通向卡洛斯的关联。 骤然响起的电话铃分散了伯恩的注意力。听到这刺耳、扰人的响声，他眨了眨眼，仿佛是要确定声音来自何处。随即，他从沙发上一跃而起，奔向桌子，在铃响第三声时拿起了电话。 "Hey?" “我是亚历山大。我在楼下呢，从街上打过来的。” “你上来吗？” “我可不会从那个大堂上来。我跟今天下午临时雇来的一个门卫说好了，从酒店工作人员的入口走。” “你要把所有的垒都守住，对吧？” “我想守的垒多着呢，这几个还远远不够，”亚历山大·康克林答道，“这可不是平时打棒球。过几分钟见。我只敲一声。” 挂上电话，伯恩坐回长沙发和打印件跟前，取出三份引起他注意的材料。这并不是说材料中有任何让人联想到“胡狼”的东西，因为它们根本引不起这种联想；相反，他关注的倒是一些看似随意的数据，它们或许能将这三个表面上毫不相干的人联系在一起。从这三个美国人的护照来看，八个月以前他们都曾飞抵费城国际机场，日期相隔不到六天。二女一男，两个女的分别从马拉喀什和里斯本飞来，男的则来自西柏林。一个女的是室内设计师，去那座摩洛哥古城是要搜集素材；另一个女的是大通银行国外部的经理；男的是麦克唐纳道格拉斯公司的航空工程师，暂时借调给空军服务。这三个人显然差异极大，从事的职业也截然不同，他们怎么会在相差不到一周的时间内来到同一座城市？Is it a coincidence?完全有这个可能；但美国境内有那么多国际机场——纽约、芝加哥、洛杉矶、迈阿密这几处机场的旅客最多——这样的巧合似乎不太可能发生在费城国际机场。还有一件更为奇怪、也更不可能的事：八个月之后，同样的三个人又在同一时间，住在华盛顿的同一家酒店。伯恩心想，不知道亚历山大听到这个情况会怎么说。 “我正在调这三个人的档案。”亚历山大·康克林一屁股坐进长沙发和打印件对面的那把扶手椅。 "You already know?" “这不难分析。当然，用电脑来搜索就更容易了。” “你就不能在材料里头夹张纸条？我从八点起就一直在玩命地看这些东西。” “我起初没发现它——他们——到了九点钟之后才看出来。而且我不想从弗吉尼亚给你打电话。” “又出现了别的情况，是不是？”伯恩坐到沙发上，又一次急切地倾过了身子。 “没错，而且还糟得要命。” “梅杜莎？” “比我想的还要糟。更糟的是，我竟然没想到它会这么糟。” “你这话好拗口。” “不是拗口，是挠心，”退休情报官反驳说，“我该从哪儿说起？……五角大楼采办部门？联邦贸易委员会？咱们在伦敦的大使？还是北约的总司令？” “我的天……！” “哦，还有一个更厉害的。参谋长联席会议的主席怎么样？” “天哪，这是个什么组织啊？五大臣原指英王查理二世统治时期由五名大臣组成的小集团，后多用来表示政界上层中的阴谋组织。么？” “这名字太学究了，大学者博士。你得往共谋那方面想；深藏不露、掩人耳目的共谋，经过这么多年以后这种关系仍未断绝，仍在继续进行。他们身在高层，而且彼此保持着联络。为什么？” “他们的目的是什么？有什么目标？” “我刚才说的就是这个。应该说是我提出的问题。” “这肯定是有原因的！” “想想他们的动机；这一点我刚才也说到了。动机可能很简单，只是为了掩盖过去的罪恶。这不正是我们想要寻找的东西吗？一帮子前梅杜莎成员，一想到自己的过去要被大白于天下，就会跑进山里躲起来。” “那么，就是出于这个动机。” “不对，不是的。我告诉你，这可是圣人亚历山大的直觉在寻找合适的词句。他们的反应太直接、太激烈了，那种惊惶仿佛是因为眼下的事，而不是二十年前。” “你把我搞糊涂了。” “我自己也糊涂了。有些事和我们预想的不一样，我他妈的可再也不想出错了。但这并不是错误。今天早上你说这可能是个网络，我还觉得你的想法太荒唐。我认为，我们也许能找出那么几个高层人物，他们不想被自己二十年前所做的事闹得身败名裂，或者真的是不愿意让政府因此陷入窘境；我们可以利用他们，迫使他们出于群体的畏惧心理，照着我们的吩咐去行事，去说话。但这个情况不一样。它与现在有关，而且我不明白是为什么。这不仅仅是畏惧，而是恐慌；他们都要被吓疯了……我们误打误撞地发现了一些事情，伯恩先生。照你那位阔朋友卡克特斯爱说的老式滑稽表演语言，'一句话，这事儿太大，咱俩估计都扛不下。'” “在我看来，什么事都大不过'胡狼'！我才不管呢。其他的事都见鬼去吧。” “我站在你这一边，而且会一直坚持到底。我只是想让你知道我的想法……我们之间向来都是毫无保留，大卫，除了那一段短暂而极其糟糕的插曲。” “近来我更喜欢别人叫我杰森。” “是，我知道，”康克林打断了他，“我不喜欢你这个样子，但我能理解。” "real?" “真的，”康克林点点头闭上双眼，轻声说道，“要是能改变这种状态，我什么都愿意干，可我改变不了。” “那就听我说。用你那蛇一般狡猾的脑袋——顺便说一句，这是卡克特斯的形容——编造出一个你所能想到的最严峻的事态，再把那帮混球逼到另一个墙角里；他们除非一字不差地遵从你的指示，否则就不可能毫发无损地脱身。你得命令他们闭上嘴巴，等你打电话来吩咐他们该和谁联系、该说些什么。” 亚历山大·康克林打量着他这位曾深受创伤的朋友，心里充满了歉疚和担忧。“有一个事态可能很合适，我觉得找不到比它更好的了，”康克林轻声说，“我决不会再出错，不能在这个方面出错。我需要了解更多的情况。” 伯恩合上双手，恼怒地搓起手掌来，显得有些泄气。他盯着散放在面前的打印件，皱起眉，拧着脸，下颌的肌肉直跳。才过了几秒钟，他好像又突然间变得消极了。伯恩在沙发上往后一靠，像康克林那样轻声说，“好吧，你会得到所需的情况。用不了多久。” “怎么弄啊？” “我去弄。我去给你搞情况。我得知道他们的姓名、住址、日程、保安措施、最爱去的饭店、不良的习惯——如果他们有这种习惯的话。叫你的小伙子们开动起来。今晚要干活。如果有必要，就得整晚地干。” “你以为你能把那几个人怎么样？”康克林喊道，他虚弱的身体在扶手椅上猛地向前一倾，“冲到他们家里去？在吃开胃点心和主菜的间隙用麻醉针扎他们的屁股？” “后一个办法我倒是没想到，”伯恩冷冷地一笑，回答说，“你的想像力可真了不起。” “你可是个疯子！……对不起，我不是那个意思——” “这有什么关系？”伯恩温和地打断了他，“我又没和你大谈东方的朝代和宫廷阴谋。你们都知道我的精神状态和记忆情况，所以你提起心理健康的话题也没什么不合适的。”伯恩停顿了一下，然后慢慢把身子往前倾，说道，“但我要告诉你一件事，亚历山大。我的记忆也许还没有完全恢复，但我头脑中由你和'踏脚石'塑造的那一部分可都在。我在香港和澳门等地证明了这一点，而且我还会再次证明它。我必须这样。如果我不这么做，就什么都没有了……现在，把你知道的情况告诉我。你提到的几个人肯定就在华盛顿。五角大楼供给部还是供应部来着……” “采办部，”康克林纠正道，“这个部门管辖的范围要广得多，也有钱得多；管事的是个将军，名叫诺曼·斯韦恩。还有安布鲁斯特，联邦贸易委员会的头儿；还有伯顿，他在——” “在参谋长联席会议当主席，”伯恩接上了后半句，“海军上将杰克·伯顿，绰号'猛击'，第六舰队指挥官。” “正是此人。以前他是中国南海上的灾难，如今成了高级军官之中的最高将领。” “我再说一遍，”伯恩说，“让你的小伙子们开动起来。不管你需要什么，彼得·霍兰都能帮上忙。这几个人的所有情况都得查清楚。” "I can't do it." "what?" “费城这三个人的档案我可以拿到，因为他们是目前五月花行动的一部分——和'胡狼'有关。咱们那五个——眼下是五个——梅杜莎的继承人我还不能去查。” “我的天，为什么？你必须查啊。我们不能浪费时间！” “要是我们俩都死了，时间又有什么意义？对玛莉和孩子们又能有什么帮助？” “你这到底是在说什么？” “我说的是我为什么会迟到。我为什么不愿从弗吉尼亚给你打电话。我为什么找到了查尔斯·卡塞特，让他到维也纳的那个别墅小区去接我；还有，为什么在他赶到之前，我都不确定自己能不能活着来这儿。” “搞外勤的，你得说清楚点。” “好吧，我会的……追踪前梅杜莎成员的事我没有跟任何人说过——只有你知我知，此外谁也不知道。” “我还担心呢。今天下午我们通电话的时候，你搞得可有点悬。考虑到你所处的地方和使用的设备，实在是太悬了。” “房间和设备都没问题。卡塞特后来告诉我，无论那地方要发生什么事情，中情局都不想留下任何可以追查的记录，这是你所能得到的最好保证。没有窃听器，没有电话监听，什么都没有。相信我，听到这话之后我的呼吸都轻松了许多。” “那到底是什么问题？你干吗要停手？” “因为在进一步深入梅杜莎的领地之前，我必须先摸清另一位将军的情况……菲利普·阿特金森，驻伦敦大使馆那位无可挑剔的上流白人阶层大使，他说得很明白。他在慌乱之中揭开了另外两个人的真面目：杰克·伯顿，还有布鲁塞尔的詹姆斯·蒂加登。” "So what?" “他说，万一当年西贡的事有任何败露，蒂加登可以摆平中情局——因为他和兰利最高层的关系很铁。” "anything else?" “'最高层'是华盛顿对最高级别安全措施的委婉称呼，如果是在兰利，这个词指的就是中央情报局局长……也就是彼得·霍兰。” “你今天早晨跟我说，霍兰要是见到梅杜莎的任何一个人，都会毫不犹豫地把他废掉。” “嘴上随便怎么说都行。但他真会下手吗？” 大西洋对岸，在巴黎市的老郊区、塞纳河畔的讷伊镇，一个身穿破旧深色西装的老头步履蹒跚地走上了一条混凝土铺成的小路。小路通向一座教堂的入口，它建于十六世纪，名叫圣体堂。上方的塔楼里响起了第一遍三钟经的钟声，老人在清晨的阳光下停住脚步，在自己的胸前划了十字，朝着天空低声念颂起来。 “主的天使向玛利亚报喜。”他用右手向石头拱门上方浅浮雕的耶稣受难像献了一个飞吻，然后拾级而上，穿过教堂巨大的正门，发现有两个身穿长袍的牧师鄙夷地瞧了瞧他。抱歉啊，把你们阔气的地盘给弄脏了，你们这帮抠抠搜搜的势力鬼，他边想边点起一根蜡烛放到祷告架上，但基督说得很清楚，他更恩宠的是我，而不是你们。“温柔的人有福了，因为他们必承受地土”——承受还没给你们偷掉的那一部分。 老头沿着中央走道小心地移步向前，右手依次抓住一排排长椅的靠背来保持平衡，左手则摸索着自己尺寸太大的衣领边缘，然后往下滑到领带上，确保打的结没有散开。他的女人现在身子太弱，几乎都系不动那根该死的布条，但她还是跟过去一样，坚持要在他出门工作之前把他的仪容最后拾掇一番。她依然是个好女人，回忆起四十多年前她对着袖口链扣臭骂的情景，他们俩都笑了——那件衬衫给她浆得太硬。那个晚上是很久以前的事了，她想让他显得官僚派头十足，因为他带着个公文包，要前往一个爱拉皮条的党卫军准将的司令部——公文包被他落在了那里，后来炸掉了半个街区。二十年之后一个冬日的下午，她发现他那件偷来的昂贵大衣披在他肩膀上怎么也不服帖，当时他正准备去抢劫马德莱娜街上的路易九世银行，经营者是一个颇有教养却不知感激的前抵抗组织成员；那家伙竟然不肯贷款给他。那都是些美好的日子；随之而来的则是糟糕的日子和糟糕的身体状况，日子也因此变得更糟；说实话，那种生活简直就是一贫如洗。直到后来一个人出现；这个陌生男人向他发出了奇怪的召唤，还带来了一份更为奇怪的口头契约。在那之后，尊严以金钱的形式回到了他们身边：他们能吃上像样的食物，喝到还过得去的酒，穿上合体的衣服，他的女人也再一次美丽起来。最重要的是，他们能请得起医生，让他女人的病情好转一些。今天他穿的西服和衬衣是从壁橱里头翻出来的。在许多方面，他和他的女人就像是一个乡间旅行剧团里的演员。他们有许多套服装，用来搭配各种各样的角色。这就是他们的正事……今天是正事。今天早晨，三钟经钟声响起的时候，是正事。 老头朝着圣十字架笨拙地屈膝行了半礼，然后在祭坛前第六排长椅的第一个座位前跪下来，两眼盯着手表。两分半钟后，他抬起头，尽量不引人注意地扫视着四周。他减退的视力已经适应了教堂里昏暗的光线；虽然看得不是特别清晰，但也足够了。分散在教堂各处的朝拜者不超过二十个人，他们大都在祈祷，另外几个人则凝视着祭坛上巨大的金色耶稣受难像，陷入了沉思。但他要找的并不是这些人；就在那时他看见了自己寻找的目标，知道一切都在按计划进行。一个身穿黑色教士服的牧师走下最左边的那条过道，消失在半圆形壁龛暗红色的帘幕之后。 老头又看着自己的手表，因为此刻最为关键的就是把握好时间；那位大人的行事风格向来如此。“胡狼”的风格向来如此。又过了两分钟，年老的信使摇摇晃晃地从长椅前站起来，侧身走进过道，撑着一把老骨头尽量屈了屈膝，然后迈开不灵便的腿脚，一步一步地走向左首的第二间忏悔室。他掀起帘幕，走了进去。 “主的天使。”他跪到地上低声说。过去十五年来，这句话他已经重复过几百次了。 “主的天使，神的孩子。”隐藏在黑色格子饰板之后的人答道。这句祝福伴随着一阵急促的咳嗽，“最近还好吗？” “挺好的，多亏了一位不知名的朋友……我的朋友。” “你的女人呢？医生怎么说？” “有些情况医生没告诉她，却跟我说了，多亏上帝慈悲。尽管我也是在苟延残喘，看来我活得会比她长。她身上那种消耗性的疾病正在扩散。” “代我转达慰问。她还有多长时间？” “一个月吧，最多不超过两个月。很快她就会卧床不起……我们之间的契约很快也就要失效了。” "Why do you say that?" “您无需再为我承担任何义务，这一点我完全理解。您对我们一直都很好，我也存了一点钱，而且我也没什么需要。坦白地说，想到将要面对的事，我感觉累极了——” “你这个可恶的、忘恩负义的家伙！”忏悔屏后的声音低语道，“我在你身上费了多少心血，作了多少承诺？！” "what did you say?" “你愿不愿意为我而死？” “当然愿意，那是我们的契约啊。” “那么，反过来说，你也得为我而活！” “如果您要我活，我自然会活下去。我只是想让您知道，很快我就不再是您的负担了。找个人取代我很容易。” “不要妄加揣测，永远不要这样揣测我！”怒火随着一阵空咳猛然爆发出来。这咳嗽似乎证实了巴黎暗巷中流传的谣言：“胡狼”自己也得病了，也许还是致命的疾病。 “您就是我们的生命，是我们的尊严。我怎么会去揣测您呢？” “你刚才就是这么干的……不管怎么说，我给你安排了一个任务，让你的女人走得轻松一些，你也会好受点。是到一个好地方去度假，你们两个一起去。证件和钱你到老地方去取。” “我能问一下吗，我们要去哪里？” “加勒比海的蒙塞特拉岛。等你到了那儿的布莱克本机场，就会得到指令。要分毫不差地照着指令做。” “当然……我能不能再问一下，我的目标是什么？” “找到一位母亲和两个孩子，跟他们混熟。” "and then?" “杀掉他们。” 布伦丹·普里方丹，马萨诸塞州第一巡回法庭的前任联邦法官，口袋里揣着一万五千美元走出了斯库尔街上的波士顿第五银行。对于一个三十年来始终一贫如洗的人来说，这样的经历难免有点让人头晕。出狱之后，他身上的钱几乎从来就没有超过五十美元。今天是个非常特别的日子。 但还不仅仅是非常特别而已，也非常令人不安，因为当初他狮子大开口的时候，压根就没想到伦道夫·盖茨会如数付钱。盖茨这么做等于犯下了一个极大的错误；这位知名律师付出的巨款改变了此事的严重性。他已经从一个冷酷无情（但不致伤人性命）的贪婪角色，转变成了一个可能非常致命的人物。普里方丹根本不知道那女人和孩子是什么人，也不知道他们和盖茨“勋爵”伦道夫先生有何瓜葛，但无论这身份和关系究竟如何，花花公子伦道夫对他们绝对没安好心。 像盖茨这样无可指摘、天神似的法律界人物，把一笔数额惊人的巨款付给布伦丹·帕特里克·皮埃尔·普里方丹这么个被吊销了执照、名誉扫地、轻易就能拒绝的“混蛋”醉鬼，绝不是因为盖茨的灵魂可以和天使媲美，相反，那个灵魂肯定跟魔鬼的门徒一样龌龊不堪。既然这是明摆着的事，再多了解一点情况对“混蛋”来说也许更有利可图。正如那句陈词滥调所说，一知半解，最为危险——相对于掌握着少量宝贵信息的人而言，旁观者对这句话的理解往往更为准确，在他们带有倾向性的眼光中，这微不足道的一点儿信息似乎被放大了许多倍。今天的一万五，说不定会变成明天的五万——如果“混蛋”飞往蒙塞特拉岛，开始打探情况的话。 再者说，法官心想——他身上的爱尔兰血统在偷偷发笑，而法国的那部分血统兴奋得简直要造反了——他已经有许多年没去度假了。天啊，他完全可以借这个假期来保持身心平衡；谁能想到他会在不受到强制的情况下，暂时放下坑蒙拐骗的营生？ 布伦丹·帕特里克·皮埃尔·普里方丹招了辆出租车（他至少有十年没这么干过了，除非碰到喝得烂醉的时候），吩咐狐疑的司机把他送到法纳尔厅的路易斯男装店。 “老头，你有没有钞票啊？” “当然有，小伙子。足够你理个发、再去治治你脸上的青春美丽痘。快跑起来，宾虚！我赶时间。” 衣服是从架子