Chapter 6 chapter Five

One thing was confirmed by poking around at the FTC's usual side: Albert Ambrewster, the commission's chairman, did suffer from stomach ulcers and high blood pressure; he was ordered by his doctor to leave the office whenever he felt unwell go home. So Alexander Conklin made it a point to call the Chairman after a very intemperate lunch (which was also an enquiry) to give him an "update" on the Gorgon crisis.As with the initial call (when Ambruster was in the shower), Conklin didn't say who he was, but told the horrified chairman that he would be in touch later today—either at the office or at home. .Contacts will identify themselves as "Cobra". (“Use all the old sensitive words you can think of,” said the Gospel of Saint Conklin.) At the same time, he ordered Ambrewster not to speak of the matter to anyone. . "This is an order from the Sixth Fleet!"

"Oh my God!" So Albert Ambrewster hired his own car and drove home anxiously.Things were yet to come that made the Chairman even more uncomfortable, though, because Jason Bourne was waiting for him. The driver held the open door, and the chairman struggled out of the limousine. "Good afternoon, Mr. Ambrewster." A stranger greeted him kindly. "Well, what's the matter?" Ambrewster responded immediately, looking very unsure. "I just said 'good afternoon.' My name is Simon. We met a few years ago at the White House reception for the Joint Chiefs of Staff—"

"I didn't attend that meeting." The chairman cut him off abruptly. "Oh?" The stranger raised his eyebrows.His voice was still kind, but clearly questionable. "Mr. Ambrewster?" The driver had already closed the door and turned to the chairman courteously, "You still need to—" "No, no," interrupted the driver again, Ambrewster, "you're all right—I don't need the car today . . . not tonight." "Then tomorrow morning is still the old time, sir?" "Yes, tomorrow—unless they tell you not to come. I'm not feeling well; you'll ask the office first then."

"Okay, sir." The driver raised his hand to touch his sun hat, and got into the front seat of the car again. "What a pity," said the stranger.The limousine started and drove away, and he was still standing there. "What? . . . Oh, it's you. I didn't even go to the White House for that damn reception!" "Maybe I'm mistaken—" "Yes, well, nice to meet you," replied Ambrewster eagerly and impatiently, walking quickly up the steps of his own house in Georgetown. "But I'm sure it was Admiral Burton who introduced us—"

"What?" The chairman turned around abruptly, "What did you just say?" "It's a waste of time," Jason Bourne continued, the friendliness in his voice and face gone. "I'm Cobra." "My God!...I'm not feeling well." Ambrewster repeated what he had just said in a hoarse voice, then suddenly raised his head and looked towards the front of his house, looking at the windows and the gate . "You'll be more uncomfortable if we don't talk," Byrne added, his eyes following the chairman's. "Shall we go up and talk? To your house?"

"No!" cried Ambrewster. "She's 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, 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 all the time." "I guess you mean your wife." "Women are all like that! They don't know when to keep their mouths shut."

"It sounds like they're eager to have someone to talk to." "What did you say……?" "My car is parked on the side of the block, how about going for a drive with me?" "Damn it, I better go for a spin. Let's stop at that pharmacy up ahead. They have my prescription in their records... who the hell are you?" "I told you," Bourne replied, "a cobra. A kind of snake." "Oh, dear!" whispered Albert Ambrewster. The pharmacist quickly filled the prescription, and Bourne drove quickly to a nearby bar.This is the place he had chosen an hour ago in case he needed it.The light in the bar is dim, there are shadows everywhere, the boxes are very private, and the partitions behind the seats are high, which can block the curious eyes of idlers when meeting.Circumstances mattered, because he had to look the chairman's eyes hard when he asked, while his own kept cold, harsh...aggressive.Delta is back and Bourne is back again; Jason Bourne is in complete control and David Webb has been put on the back burner.

"We have to protect ourselves," Cobra said calmly after the wine was served, "From a damage control point of view, this means we have to figure out that under the influence of Amitol, it will give each of us How dangerous it is." "What the hell are you talking about?" Ambrewster drank more than half of the glass of gin with tonic water in one gulp, frowning and covering his stomach. "Pharmaceuticals, chemicals, liquids that tell the truth." "what?!" "It's not like you play baseball," Byrne recalled Conklin's words. "You have to hold all the bases because we have no constitutional right in this 'league.'"

"Then who are you?" The chairman of the Federal Trade Commission hiccupped and raised the cup to his lips, his hands trembling. "A single-handed assassination team? If someone knew something, he would be there Killed by you in an alley?" "Don't be a fool. It's completely counterproductive and will only add fuel to the flames of those trying to find us and leave a trail—" "Then what are you going to say?" "Save our lives; and, of course, our reputations and our way of life." "You're such a cruel bastard. What's the cure?"

"Let's just take your situation as an assumption, how about it?... You have admitted yourself that your health is not very good. You can resign according to the doctor's order, and we will take care of you—Medusa will take care of you. Bourne used his imagination as much as possible, shuttled back and forth between reality and fantasy, and quickly searched for words that might be used in the Gospel of Saint Alexander, "You are famously rich, so we may be able to buy in your name." A villa, or an island in the Caribbean, where you live in complete safety. No one can find you; Make sure that the outcome does not cause harm, and even benefits. Such a thing is not impossible."

"That's a boring way of life, in my opinion," Ambruster said. "Just me and Wah-Wah-Wah-Wah all day? I'm afraid I'll end up strangling her." "It's not boring at all," continued Cobra. "The entertainment will continue. The guests you choose will be flown to wherever you are. There are other women: you choose, or let Those who know your tastes do it for you. Life is pretty much the same; there may be inconveniences, but there will be surprises. The point is you'll be protected from anyone else, so we— —the rest of us—are protected...but as I said, this option is only hypothetical at the moment. Frankly speaking, this option is necessary for me, because there is almost nothing I Don't know. I have to go in a few days. Before that, I have to decide who goes and who stays... How much do you know, Mr. Ambrewster?" "Of course I don't get involved in day-to-day affairs, I deal with global issues. Like everyone else, I get a monthly encrypted direct telegram from the Bank of Zurich listing the amount of deposits and the details of our upcoming control. company name—that’s all.” "Then you still haven't got a villa yet." "I don't want that shit. If I wanted it, I'd pay for it out of my own pocket. I've got like a hundred million in Zurich. Dollars." Bourne suppressed his shock and just stared at the chairman.He said: "If it were me, such a thing would not be said casually." "Who can I tell? Could it be those wow-wow-wow girls?" "How many other people do you know directly?" asked Cobra. "Barely anyone on the team, but they don't know me either. Hell, they don't know anyone... Now that we're on the subject, let's use you as an example. I've never heard of you. I It is estimated that you work for the board of directors, and others asked me to wait for you to find, but I don't know you." "I was hired for a very specific reason and my background is highly classified." "As I said just now, I guess—" "What about the 'Sixth Fleet'?" Bourne interjected, diverting the topic away from himself. "I see him now and then, but I don't think the two of us have spoken more than ten words. He's in the army and I'm a civilian—a civilian through and through." "You were not an ordinary person before, when it all started." "Damn, who says I'm not? Is it a soldier if I wear a uniform? I didn't become a soldier." "What about the two generals? One in Brussels and one in the Pentagon." "They are professional soldiers and have been in the army. I am not, and I have not continued to stay." "News leaks, rumors spread, we must be prepared for these things." Bourne said this almost aimlessly, and his eyes were looking around, "But we will never allow any rumors of military operations to come out. .” "You mean junta or something?" "Absolutely not!" Bourne replied.He stared at Ambrewster again. "This kind of thing will set off a tornado—" "Come on!" the chairman of the FTC interrupted angrily in a low voice, "The Sixth Fleet—as you call him—can only call the shots at home, and that's only because it's convenient. He was a brutish general with a great service record and was influential where we needed him, but only in Washington, not just anywhere!" "You know this, and I know it," Byrne said emphatically, to hide his confusion, "but there is a guy who has been under the protection plan for more than fifteen years, but he figured it out for himself. And it started in Saigon—the Saigon Command.” "Maybe it did start in Saigon, but it definitely didn't stop at that level. The little soldiers couldn't keep up, we all know that...but I see what you mean. Once the senior Pentagon generals and our People like that get connected and fanatics take to the streets and phony saints in Congress take advantage of it. All of a sudden, there's a dozen subcommittees convening." "We will never tolerate this kind of thing," Byrne added. "Agreed," Ambruster said. "What's the name of the bastard who figured it out? Do we have any idea now?" "Something, but not sure. He's been in touch with Langley, but we don't know at what level yet." "Langley? My God, we have someone over there. He can break the rules and find out the identity of this bastard!" "Deso?" "Cobra" said directly. "That's right," Ambrewster leaned forward. "There's not much you don't know. The relationship is hidden. What did Desso say?" "Nothing. We can't have access to him," Bourne replied, suddenly flustered, searching for a plausible answer.He's been David Webb for too long!Conklin was right, he couldn't think fast enough.And then the words came...partially true, dangerously true, but convincing; he couldn't be suspicious, "He feels like he's being watched, and we have to keep him at a distance. We can't talk to him No contact at all unless he tells us to." "What's the matter?" The chairman held his glasses tightly in his hand, his eyes puffed out straight. "It was discovered in the Langley underground archives that Teegarden in Brussels had a fax access code to communicate directly with Desso, bypassing the usual secure communications." "Damn it, those little soldiers are stupid!" cried Ambruster, "give 'em a gold ribbon, and they'll be as excited as a bunch of first-time chicks, jumping around, what? New things to play with! . . . Faxes, access codes! Jesus, he must have dialed the wrong number and sent something to the NAACP." "Desso says he's trying to cover it up and he can get it over with. But now he can't ask around, especially in this area. He'll ask as quietly as possible and contact us if he finds anything, but We can't go find him." "Don't you think so? Some poor little soldier must have put us in danger. If it weren't for that jackass and his access code, we wouldn't have had any trouble. Everything would have worked out fine. " "But he does exist, and the problem—it should be said that the crisis—is not going away." Byrne said flatly. "I repeat, we must protect ourselves. Some of us must protect ourselves." Get away—at least for a while. It's for the good of all of us." The chairman of the Federal Trade Commission, who was sitting in the train seat, leaned back again, with a worried expression on his face. "Well, let me tell you something, Simon, whether that's your name or not. You're asking the wrong person. We're business people; For whatever reason, willing to work on a tiny government salary, but we are first and foremost businessmen with investments everywhere, and we are appointed, not elected, which means no one wants Be completely open about your financial situation. You see what I'm trying to say, don't you?" "I'm not sure." As soon as he said this, Bourne worried that he would lose control of the situation and lose this clue.I've been away for too long...and Albert Ambrewster is no fool.He did fluster a bit at first, but then he became calmer and thought more organized. "what do you want to say?" "Get rid of our little soldiers. Buy them villas, or some islands in the Caribbean, so that no one can find them. Give them a small yard and let them pretend to be kings in it." No; that's what they love to do." "Leave them alone?" Bourne tried his best to hide his shock. "You're right, and I agree. We'll be in big trouble if any word gets out about a high-ranking general. The headlines of 'Military-Industrial Complex' will be in the press, and the name translates to To live a little is tantamount to 'military and industrial collusion'." Ambruster leaned forward and leaned back against the table, "We don't need those guys anymore! Get them out of here." "This may cause an outcry—" "Impossible. The balls of those generals are in our hands!" "I'll have to think about it." "Nothing to think about. In six months, we'll have all the controls we need in Europe." Jason Bourne stared at the chairman of the FTC.what control?he thought to himself.For what reason?Why? "I'll take you home," he said. "I was on the phone with Mary," Conklin said from the CIA's garden apartment in Virginia. "She's at the hotel, not at your house." "How could this be?" Bourne was at a gas station outside Manassas, using a pay phone. "She didn't make it very clear...I think they were either eating lunch or taking a nap at that time - mothers are always confused at this time. I can hear your two little guys on the phone .Man, the little ones are making a lot of noise." "What did she say, Alexander?" "It looks like your brother-in-law is going to arrange this. She didn't go into details. It sounds like Mary the mother is a bit battered, but otherwise she's pretty normal, the same Mary I know and love—that is, Said, she just wants to know about your situation, and doesn't ask anything else." "That also means you told her I'm fine, right?" "Hell, of course. I said you were protected, in hiding, and studying a bunch of computer printouts. That's the truth, it's just edited." "John must have talked to her. She told him what happened, so John moved them all to his fancy bunker." "His what?" "You've never been to the Serenity Hotel, have you? Honestly, I can't even remember if you've been." "Panoff and I only saw the building plans and the store site; that was four years ago. We haven't been back since, at least not me, I wasn't invited." "I don't argue with you; we told you when the store opened that you're welcome whenever you come... Anyway, you know the hotel is on the beach; there's only one dirt road to get there, other than the water. .The road is full of rocks, and ordinary cars can’t even go back and forth. All the supplies are delivered by plane, or they are shipped by boat. There is nothing purchased in the city.” "The beach is still being patrolled," Conklin put in. "John isn't taking any chances." "That's why I sent them there. I'll call her later." "What's going on now?" said Conklin. "How about Ambrewster?" "Let's put it this way," Bourne replied, looking over the white plastic cover of the payphone booth above, "a guy with a hundred million dollars in a bank in Zurich said to me, Medusa—it's from Saigon Commander Ministry, the emphasis is on 'command', not civilians - the military people should be dumped because the Gorgon doesn't need them anymore. What does that mean?" "I don't believe it," the retired intelligence officer's low voice was full of doubts, "it's impossible for him to say that." "Yeah, that's what he said. He even called them little soldiers, and didn't sing them any praises. He attacked them as a bunch of gold-ribboned debutantes, what a novelty They all have to be played.” "Some members of the Senate Armed Services Committee would agree with that assessment," Conklin agreed. "And something else. I reminded him that the Gorgon originated from Saigon - from Saigon Command. His answer was very clear, saying that the organization did start in Saigon, but it definitely didn't stop at that level on, because—and these are his words—'the little soldiers can't keep up with the situation.'" "That's going to piss people off. Did he tell you why they couldn't keep up?" "No, I didn't ask. I should know the answer." "If only you knew. I'm getting more and more uncomfortable hearing what you're saying; this organization is huge and ugly...how does that $100 million come from?" "I told him that if we felt the need, Medusa could buy him a villa somewhere abroad where no one else could find him. He wasn't very interested in that and said that if he wanted a villa , will buy it out of his own pocket. He has 100 million in Zurich, in US dollars—I should have known that too.” "That's all? Only this little one hundred million?" "Not really. He told me that he, like everyone else, gets a monthly direct cable from the Zurich bank—encrypted—listing his deposits. Apparently, the sums keep growing." "Big, ugly, and growing," Conklin added. "What else? Not because I want to hear it. I'm terrified." "There are two more things, I hope your guts haven't completely blown away...Ambrose said that the telegram announcing the deposit amount also included a list of companies controlled by them." "What company? What is he talking about? . . . My God." "If I'd asked him then, my wife and kids would probably have had to go to a private funeral. The coffin wouldn't be seen because I'd already been dead." "There's one more thing you said just now. Tell me quickly." "Our famous FTC chairman says 'we' everywhere can get the military out because in six months 'we' will have all the control we need in Europe... Alexander, what kind of control? What exactly are we dealing with?" The call continued, but there was silence on the line, and Jason Bourne didn't interrupt.David Webb wanted to yell desperately, but there was no point in doing so; David didn't exist.Conklin finally spoke. "I don't think we're capable of dealing with this matter," his low voice could barely be heard on the phone, "it has to be reported, David. We can't hide things like this." "Damn it, it's not David you're talking to now!" Byrne didn't yell; Say yes; and I'll probably never say it. You see, field man, I don't owe anybody anything, especially those men in Washington who make up their minds. They've made my wife and I miserable. It's terrible, so I'm not going to budge when it comes to our lives, or the lives of our children! I'm going to use all the information I can get my hands on, for my one and only purpose: to elicit 'Woo Wolf' and get him out of there so we can crawl out of our own hell and get on with our lives... now that I know, that's the solution. Ambrewster was tough when he said it, maybe the guy really was tough, but Deep down he's scared. They're all scared; panic, as you say - and you're right. Introduce them to 'The Jackal', and offer to let the killer do the work, and it's an offer they can't refuse. With Working with such a wealthy and powerful client as Medusa, 'The Jackal' would also find it irresistible - he has the respect of international bigwigs, not just a bunch of human scum, or fanatics of the left and right ... get out of my way, for God's sake, don't get in my way!" "You're a threat, aren't you?" "Come on, Alexander. I don't want to talk like that." "But that's what you said just now. Thirteen years ago Paris was turned upside down, wasn't it? Now it's you're going to kill me because I'm a man with no memory of what we did to you and Marie what happened." "It's my family who are running for their lives!" David Weber roared.His voice was tense, his hairline was sweating, his eyes were full of tears, "They are thousands of kilometers away, hiding. There is no other way, because I can't risk them getting hurt!  … Yes Killed, Alexander, once the 'jackal' finds them, they are dead. This week they hide on the island, where will they go next week? Thousands of kilometers to escape? Even if they continue to escape, they can go again Where - where can we go? We know what we know, so we can't stop - he's chasing me; that goddamn filthy psycho is chasing me, and we never knew In all cases, it can be seen that he must be looking for maximum killing effect. His inflated ego drives him to do it, and he hunts my family members!  … Field man, don't let me Worrying about things I don't care about—I don't mind anything that doesn't concern Mary and the children—at least they owe me that." "I heard you," said Conklin, "I don't know if it was David or Jason Bourne, but I heard it. Well, I'll leave Paris upside down, but we have to move fast; I This time talking to Bourne. Who is the next target? Where are you?" "It's estimated to be ninety kilometers away from General Norman Swayne's house," Byrne replied. He took a deep breath, suppressed the momentary pain, and gradually regained his composure. "Did you call?" "Called two hours ago." "My code name is 'Cobra'?" "Isn't it good? It's a kind of snake." "That's what I told Ambrewster, and he didn't like it very much." "Swayne would probably be more upset. But I noticed something on the phone and couldn't tell what it was." "what you mean?" "I'm not sure, but I feel like he's taking orders from someone." "Someone from the Pentagon? Or Jonathan Jack Burton?" "Probably, but I don't know. Swayne was paralyzed with fright just now, but he faltered like a bystander, a character who was somewhat involved but not directly involved in the game. Some A few times he slipped it up and told me 'we have to think about it' and 'we have to talk it over'. With whom? We had a one-on-one call and I warned him as usual not to talk to anyone Bring it up. Perhaps his reaction was the same as the phony 'we' in the editorial, referring to the famous general's need to consult with himself. But I don't believe that explanation." "I don't believe it either," Bourne agreed. "I'm going to change. It's in the car." "what?" Bourne turned halfway inside the plastic cover of the payphone booth and looked around the gas station.He saw what he was looking for: a men's room at the side of the gas station. "You said Swayne lived on a ranch west of Manassas—" "Correction," Conklin interrupted, "he calls the place a farm, but his neighbors and his tax bills say it's a 110,000-square-meter estate. For a man from Neb It's not a bad place for a lower-middle-class Alaska professional soldier who married a hairdresser in Hawaii thirty years ago. It is said that this mansion was built on the back of a huge sum of money ten years ago. Bought by the estate, but the giver couldn't be tracked down; I couldn't find his unknown rich uncle at all. This made me curious. Swayne commanded the Army Quartermaster in Saigon, and also worked for May Dusha provides supplies... what does his manor have to do with your changing clothes?" "I want to look around. I'm going to go there at daylight, observe the situation from the side of the road, and then pay him a surprise visit after dark." "It should work fine, but why are you looking around?" "I love farms. They're open and they cover a lot of land; and I can't imagine why a professional soldier would invest in such a large piece of land and tie himself down when he knows he could be transferred anywhere in the world at any time?" "You think the same as I do. But I'm more interested in how I bought it than why. Your perspective might be more interesting." "Let's wait and see." "Be careful. He might have a siren on, and a dog or something." "I came prepared," Jason Bourne said. "I did some shopping after I left Georgetown." The summer sun was low in the western sky, and Bourne slowed the rental car and lowered the sun visor so that his eyes would not be dazzled by the yellow fireball.Soon the sun will set behind the Shenandoah mountains, and twilight will fall, heralding darkness to come.It was darkness that Jason Bourne longed for, his friend and assistant, in which he could move swiftly.His firm feet, alert hands, and arms acted as sensors, alerting him to all obstacles in nature.The jungle had welcomed him before; the jungle knew that this man was an intruder, but respected it, and used the jungle as if it were part of itself.His feeling of the jungle is not fear but trust, because the jungle protects him and allows him to use it for his mission (whatever it is); he is one with the jungle-he will also be with Norman. The dense jungles on both sides of General Swayne's estate blend into one. The main building of the manor is set back, at least two rugby fields away from the country road.A fence separated the entrance on the right and the exit on the left, both of which had iron gates, and each connected to a long driveway, which was basically an elongated U-shaped turn.The places next to the two openings are full of tall trees and bushes, which are equivalent to the natural extension of the fence to the left and right sides.The place is so heavily guarded that there are only sentry boxes at the entrance and exit. His thoughts went back to the east, to the wild bird sanctuary in the east.There he set a trap and caught a killer posing as "Jason Bourne".There was a watchtower there, and there were teams of men with guns patrolling the dense forest... and that madman, the butcher who controlled a bunch of killers, the fake "Jason Bourne" was one of them The most powerful character.He crept into that deadly preserve and brought down a small convoy of trucks and cars - all the tires he'd stabbed through with a knife; the next thing he did was kill every patrol in the Jingshan Forest Finally, he found a clearing in the woods where the torch was lit, and there was the ecstatic madman and his gang of madmen.Can he do the same today?Bourne thought as he drove slowly past Swayne's estate for the third time, taking into account all the details he could see.Five years later in the East, thirteen years later in Paris?He tries to assess the reality of the situation.He is no longer the young man he was in Paris, nor the man in his prime in Hong Kong and Macau.He is fifty years old now, he can feel it at this age, and he can feel the changes brought about by each age.He can't think about it all the time.There were many other things to consider, and General Norman Swayne's 110,000-square-meter manor was not a virgin forest in the reserve. However, he still drove the car out of the country road and into a mess of long grass and leaves as he did in the wild forest in the suburbs.He got out of the car and covered it with broken branches.The rapidly falling darkness can help him completely disguise himself, and he can also start to act in the darkness.He had changed in the men's room at the gas station: black pants, a tight black long-sleeved jumper; black platform sneakers with deep patterns on the soles.This is his overalls.Spread out on the floor is his equipment, bought after leaving Georgetown.There is a long-bladed hunting knife in a sheath that he wears in his belt; a double-barrelled CO2 air pistol in a nylon holster on his shoulder can shoot tranquilizer darts silently against incoming animals, such as bulldogs. ; two signal torches for drivers to use when their car breaks down, which can attract or deter other motorists; a pair of 8×10 Zeiss Ikon binoculars, which are attached to the trousers with Velcro ; a penlight; rawhide straps; and finally a pair of small wire cutters that can be pocketed in case there is barbed wire on the estate.The equipment (along with the automatic pistol provided by the CIA) was either on his belt or hidden in his clothing.As darkness fell, Jason Bourne walked into the woods. A white wave in the ocean crashes over a coral reef, seemingly suspended in mid-air; the deep blue waters of the Caribbean Sea form the backdrop for the wave.It is almost dusk, and the long sunset is coming soon; at this time, Tranquility Island is bathed in the ever-changing colors of the tropics. The orange-red sunset sinks little by little unconsciously, and the shadows on the island also follow. keep changing.There is a long and narrow beach between the huge natural dams made of coral reefs on the island. The three hills not far above the beach are covered with rocks. The tourist building of Tranquility Hotel seems to be excavated directly from the rocks.Two rows of pink villas with balconies and bright red terracotta roofs extend from the hotel's central building.The massive circular building in the center is built of heavy rock and thick glass.The houses, all overlooking the water, are connected by a white concrete path lined with low-cut bushes and floor lamps.Wears a yellow guayabera shirt, a loose, comfortable four-pocket shirt with pleats on the chest.Waiters wheeled roll-away room service tables up and down the road, delivering drinks, ice and antipasto crepes to Serenity's guests.Most of the guests sat on the balcony of their respective villas, savoring the end of the day in the Caribbean Sea.随着阴影变得越来越明显，另外一些人也不动声色地出现在沙滩和伸出水面的长码头上。这些人既不是游客，也不是服务人员；他们是带枪的警卫，每个人都身穿深褐色的热带制服，而且系着皮带的腰间同样不动声色地吊着一把MAC10冲锋枪。每个警卫制服外套的另一侧都挂着一副8×10的蔡司依康双筒望远镜，他们不停地用它来扫视暗处。宁静酒店的主人打定了主意，要让这个地方宁静得名副其实。 在最靠近主建筑和附属玻璃餐厅的那栋别墅里，硕大的圆形阳台上有位身子虚弱的老妇人坐在轮椅里。她细细品味着那杯一九七八年的卡尔邦女庄园葡萄酒，沉醉在落日的美景之中。她心不在焉地碰了碰染得不纯的红色头发的刘海，侧耳倾听着。她听到自己的男人在屋里和护士说话，然后就是他不那么有力的脚步声——他出来陪她了。 “我的天，”她用法语说，“我可要喝个烂醉了！” “那有什么不行？”“胡狼”的信使反问道，“这儿正是让人喝醉的好地方。现在我看着眼前的这一切，都还有点不敢相信呢。” “你还是不肯告诉我，那位大人为什么要派你——派我们俩过来？” “我已经告诉你了，我只是个信使而已。” “我可不相信。” “你就信吧。这件事对他很重要，但跟我们一点关系都没有。好好享受吧，我的小可爱。” “你只要有什么事不肯明说，就会这么叫我。” “那你根据经验也能知道，这个问题就不该问嘛。对不对？” “不是这样，亲爱的。我就要死了——” “咱们别再说这个了！” “但不管怎样它毕竟是事实；你没法为我阻挡它。我倒不担心我自己；你知道，那时候痛苦就结束啦。但我担心你。米歇尔，你总也碰不上好的境遇，——不，不对，你现在是让·皮埃尔，这我可不能忘记……但是，我还是有点担心。这么漂亮的地方，这么高级的住处，这么多的关注。亲爱的，我觉得你会为此付出可怕的代价。” "Why did you say that?" “这一切都好尊贵。太尊贵了。有点不对头。” “你担心得太多了。” “不是，是你太容易自欺欺人。我弟弟克洛德老是说，你从大人那里得到的东西太多了。总有一天账单会送到你面前。” “你弟弟克洛德是个好老头儿，但他脑袋可不太好使。出于这个原因，大人交给他的都是些最无足轻重的任务。你要是派他到蒙巴纳斯取份文件，他能跑到马赛去，还搞不懂自己怎么会跑到那儿去的。”别墅里的电话铃响了，打断了“胡狼”信使的话。He turned around. “咱们的那位新朋友会接的。”他说。 “她是个怪人，”老妇人加了一句，“我不信任她。” “她为那位大人工作。” "real?" “我没来得及告诉你，她会转达大人的指令。” 身穿制服、浅褐色头发在脑后紧紧挽成一个圆髻的护士出现在门廊里。“先生，是巴黎打来的。”她说道。她低低的声音显得很轻描淡写，但那双大大的灰眼睛里却含着一种话音里听不出的紧迫。 “谢谢你。”“胡狼”的信使走进房间，跟着护士来到电话旁。她拿起话筒递给了他。“我是让·皮埃尔·方丹。” “祝福你，神的孩子。”几千公里之外的那个声音说道，“一切都还满意吧？” “好得无法形容，”老头回答说，“这一切都……太尊贵了，我们简直不配消受。” “通过你的行动就配得上。” “愿为您效劳。” “要为我效劳，就得遵照那个女人给你的命令。严格按照命令行事，不能有一丝一毫的偏差，明白吗？” "certainly." “祝福你。”咔嗒一响，话音就断了。 方丹转过身要和护士说话，但她不在他旁边。她走到了房间的另一头，正在开桌子抽屉上的锁。他走到她身旁，眼睛被抽屉里的东西吸引住了。里面并排放着一副手套，一把手枪，枪管上旋着圆筒形的消声器，还有一把刀锋收起的折叠式剃刀。 “你的工具都在这儿。”那女的递过钥匙，用一双毫无生气和表情的灰眼睛紧紧盯住他，“目标住在我们这排别墅的最后一栋。你这样的老头儿为保持循环通畅经常会出去遛弯，所以你就在那条小路上多走走，搞清楚地形，然后把他们杀掉。办事的时候戴上手套，照着脑壳开枪。必须打在脑袋上。然后把几个人的喉咙都割断——” “天啊！那两个孩子也得这样？” “命令就是这样的。” “这太残忍了！” “你想让我转达这句评语么？” 方丹向阳台门望去，看了看坐在轮椅上的女人，“不，当然不想。” “我看也是……还有最后一条指令。你得用鲜血——谁的血最方便就用谁的——在墙上写下这几个字：'杰森·伯恩，胡狼的弟兄。'” “我的天啊……我会被抓到的，肯定。” “那就得看你自己了。去下手的时候跟我说一下。我会赌咒发誓说，你这位伟大的法兰西战士当时一直待在别墅里。” “时候？……是什么时候？这事要在什么时候办？” “现在起三十六个小时之内。” "and then?" “你们可以一直待在这里，等到你的女人死掉为止。” 9 布伦丹·帕特里克·皮埃尔·普里方丹又大吃了一惊。尽管他没有预订房间，宁静酒店的前台却把他当成名人来对待；他刚订下一栋别墅，没过多久就被告知他已经有了一栋，人家还问他从巴黎飞来一路是否顺利。混乱持续了几分钟，宁静酒店的服务员想询问老板却找不着人；他不在自己的住处，酒店的其他地方也看不到他的踪影。到了最后，服务员只好半带沮丧半带恳求地摊开双手，前任法官则被带到了他的住处：那是一座漂亮的小房子，俯瞰着加勒比海。他在偶然之中（完全不是有意为之）摸错了衣袋，把一张五十美元的钞票递给了前台经理，感谢他殷勤接待。普里方丹立时变成了一位不可小觑的人物；打响指的声音此起彼伏，召唤服务生的铃铛被急急拍响。这位令人迷惑的陌生来客突然间乘水上飞机从蒙塞特拉飞来，对他的服务无论怎么周到都不为过……他的名字把宁静酒店前台的所有人都搞糊涂了。有可能出现这样的巧合吗？……不过直辖总督——保险起见，就算弄错了也没事。赶快给他弄座别墅。 等他安顿下来、把便服放进衣橱和柜子，荒唐的事情仍在继续。一瓶冰镇的一九七八年卡尔邦女庄园葡萄酒、一捧刚刚采摘的鲜花和一盒比利时白丽人巧克力送到了他的别墅，结果一个晕头转向的客房服务侍者又跑回来把巧克力拿走了，道歉说巧克力应该送到路这头的另一座别墅去——不是路这头就是路那头。 法官换上百慕大短裤，看到自己那双难看的瘦腿不禁直皱眉，然后又穿上一件样式低调、带佩斯利涡旋纹图案的运动衫。再穿上白色的便鞋，戴上白布帽子，他的热带装扮就齐了；天很快就会黑下来，他想去散散步。这么做有好几个理由。 “我知道让·皮埃尔·方丹是谁，”在前台后面看登记表的约翰·圣雅各说，“他就是总督办公室打电话让我关照的人。但这个BP普里方丹又是谁？” “是一位著名的法官，来自美国，”一口英国腔的高个儿黑人副经理宣称，“我叔叔，就是移民局的副局长，大概两小时之前从机场那边给我打了电话。真不巧，刚才发生混乱的时候我在楼上，不过我们的人处理得挺好。” “法官？”宁静酒店的老板问道。副经理碰了碰约翰的胳膊肘，示意他离前台和服务员远一点。两个人走到了一旁，“你叔叔怎么说的？” “与我们这两位贵客有关的事情，一定要绝对掩秘。” “客人的事当然要保密啊。他这话是什么意思？” “我叔叔非常谨慎，不过他透露说，他看到那位尊敬的法官去了岛际航空公司的柜台，买了一张票。他还破例透露了一句：他知道自己的判断是对的。那位法官和法国二战英雄有亲戚关系，他们希望私下会面，商讨极为重要的事宜。” “如果是这样，这位尊敬的法官为什么没有提前订房？” “看来有两个可能的解释，先生。据我叔叔说，他们本打算在机场会面，但直辖总督召集了一队人来欢迎，这样他们就见不成了。” “第二种可能性呢？” “也许是法官自己在马萨诸塞州波士顿的工作人员出了点差错。据我叔叔说，当时法官就他手下的法律职员简单谈了几句，说他们老是出错；他还说那帮家伙如果在他的护照上弄出了差错，他就要让他们全体飞过来道歉。” “如此看来，美国法官的薪水比加拿大法官可要高得多。这家伙真走运，我们还有空房。” “现在是夏季，先生。这几个月我们通常都有空房。” “不用你来提醒我……好吧，我们这儿住着两位有亲戚关系的著名人物，他们想私下会面，但却把事情搞得非常复杂。也许你可以给法官打个电话，告诉他方丹住在哪一座别墅。还是叫普里方丹？见鬼，管他叫什么呢。” “先生，这个想法我说给叔叔听了，他坚决反对。他说我们什么都不要做，什么都不要言语。据我叔叔讲，伟大的人物全都有秘密；我叔叔可不想让别人揭破他这番杰出的推断，除非是当事者本人。” "What does it mean?" “如果有人给法官打这个电话，他就会知道透露信息的肯定是我叔叔——蒙塞特拉机场移民局的副局长。” “我的天，你爱怎么办就怎么办好了，我还有别的事要操心……顺便告诉你，我把路上和海滩上的警卫增加了一倍。” “那我们的人手会很紧张的，先生。” “我从别墅的小路上抽了几个人过去。酒店住着些什么人我知道，可我不知道还有谁想摸进来。” “我们是不是会碰到什么麻烦，先生？” 约翰看了看副经理，“现在不会，”他说，“我刚才一直在外头，检查了酒馆周围和海滩的每一寸地方。对了，我住在二十号别墅，跟我姐和孩子们一起。” 二战时期法国抵抗军的英雄让·皮埃尔·方丹缓步走上混凝土小路，朝路顶头的那一栋临海别墅走去。这座别墅和其他的房子差不多，也是粉红色水泥抹灰的墙壁，屋顶上铺着红色的瓦片，但别墅周围的草坪要大一些，草坪边上的灌木丛也更高更密。住在这里的宾客应该是首相、总统、外长、国务卿之类的人物；这些具有崇高国际地位的绅士淑女，到这个与世隔绝的小岛上来是为了尽情享受，寻求一份平静。 方丹走到小路的尽头，那里砌起了一堵一米多高的白色水泥抹灰围墙，再往上就是杂草丛生、无法逾越的山壁，一直向下延伸到海岸线。围墙本身向两边伸展开去，环绕着别墅阳台下方的山丘，它既是一道分界线，也是一重保护。二十号别墅的入口是一扇漆成粉红色的锻铁大门，用螺栓固定在墙壁上。透过铁门的栏杆，老头能看到一个穿着游泳裤的孩子在草地上跑来跑去。没过多久，一个女人出现在别墅敞开的前门口。 “快点儿，杰米！”她喊道，“该吃晚饭啦。” “妈咪，艾莉森吃过了吗？” “吃饱啦，睡着啦，亲爱的。她不会冲哥哥大喊大叫的。” “我还是更喜欢我们的那座房子。妈咪，我们为什么不能回到自己的房子里去？” “因为约翰舅舅想让我们住在这里啊……杰米，船也在这儿呢。他可以带你去钓鱼啊，出海啊，就像去年四月放春假的时候那样。” “以前我们住的是自己的房子。” “是啊，不过那时爸爸跟我们在一起——” “我们坐着卡车到处跑，可好玩了！” “吃饭啦，杰米。快点进来吧。” 母子俩走进了别墅。方丹想到“胡狼”的命令，想到自己发誓要执行的血腥杀人任务，脸上的肌肉不禁抽搐起来。随后他又想起那孩子说的话。妈咪，我们为什么不能回到自己的房子里去？……以前我们住的是自己的房子。还有母亲的回答：因为约翰舅舅想让我们住在这里啊……是啊，不过那时爸爸跟我们在一起。 他刚才偷听到的这短短几句对话，可能有好多种解释，但方丹察觉出警报的速度比绝大多数人都要快，因为这东西在他的生活中本来就无处不在。如今他觉察到了一个警报；出于这一原因，老头子就要在深夜多走几趟，以“保持循环通畅”。 他从围墙下转过身，沿着混凝土小路往回走。一心想着事情的他差点就撞上了另一个客人。此人的年纪最起码也和他差不多，戴着一顶傻里傻气的小白帽，穿着双白鞋。 “请原谅。”陌生人说着往旁边跨了一步，给方丹让路。 “抱歉，先生！”法兰西英雄有点尴尬，下意识地冒出了自己的母语，“Jeregrette——我该请你原谅。” “哦？”陌生人听到这几句话之后眼睛一下子睁大了，就好像他认出了什么，又急忙隐藏起来，“不用不用。” “抱歉，先生，我们有没有见过？” “恐怕没有。”戴着傻气白帽子的老头回答说，“不过我们都听到消息了。酒店的客人里有一位伟大的法兰西英雄。” “真是不好意思。那只不过是战争中的偶然事件，当时我们都年轻得很。我叫方丹。让·皮埃尔·方丹。” “我叫……帕特里克。布伦丹·帕特里克——” “认识你很高兴，先生。”两个人握了握手，“这地方可真漂亮，对吧？” “实在是太美了。”方丹心想，这个陌生人似乎又在端详自己，但奇怪的是，他的眼神总不和自己长时间接触。“那好吧，我得接着走了。”穿着一双崭新白鞋的老年客人又说道，“医生的吩咐。” “我也一样，”让·皮埃尔说话时故意用了法语，这显然对陌生人产生了影响，“当医生的总爱指手画脚，不是吗？” “一点没错。”长着一双瘦腿的老头唯唯答道。他点点头，做了个挥手的样子，转过身沿着小路快步走去。 方丹一动不动地站在那儿，看着那个渐渐远去的身影。他在等待，心里知道接下来会发生什么。as expected.那个老头停住了，慢慢转过身来。两人的目光远远地交汇在一起；这就够了。让·皮埃尔微微一笑，沿着混凝土小径继续朝自己的别墅走去。 他想，这又是一个警报，而且要致命得多。因为有三件事是明摆着的：第一，这个头戴傻气白帽子的老年客人会说法语；第二，此人知道“让·皮埃尔·方丹”其实另有身份——是被别人派到蒙塞特拉岛来的；第三……他的眼睛里有“胡狼”的印记。我的天啊，大人的行事手段岂不正是这样？ !安排刺杀行动、确保任务完成，然后清除一切有形的踪迹，让人无法追查出他行动时采取的手段，尤其是他那支秘密的老人军团。难怪护士说，等他执行过命令之后，他们俩就可以待在这个人间天堂，直到他的女人死去——不管怎么讲这也是个模棱两可的说法。 “胡狼”的慷慨大方其实并没有表面上那么高贵；他女人的死期，还有他自己的死期，都已经安排好了。 约翰·圣雅各在办公室拿起电话，“喂？” “先生，他们已经见面了！”前台副经理激动地说。 “谁见面了？” “伟人和他的亲戚啊，那位来自马萨诸塞州波士顿的名人。我本想马上给你打电话的，但刚才出了点乱子，有一盒比利时的白丽人巧克力——” "What the hell are you talking about?" “先生，几分钟之前我从窗户里看到他们了。他们在小路上说话来着。我那位尊敬的副局长叔叔说的一点儿也不错！” "OK." “直辖总督办公室会非常高兴的，我觉得我们肯定能得到表彰。当然了，还有我那位了不起的叔叔。” “皆大欢喜，”约翰有点不耐烦，“这下咱们用不着再为他们操心了，对吧？” “眼下我觉得是不用了，先生……不过，这会儿尊敬的法官正在小路上急匆匆地往回走呢。我看他是要进来。” “我估计他不会来咬你；很可能是想向你表示感谢。不管他怎么说你都照办就是了。巴斯特尔那边有风暴过来，万一电话断了，我们还需要直辖总督府施加影响呢。” “先生，我会亲自为他提供所需的任何服务！” “那也得有个度，可别去替他刷牙。” 布伦丹·普里方丹匆匆穿过大门，走进用玻璃墙围起的圆形大堂。他等到法国老头拐进第一栋别墅才改变了方向，径直朝主建筑走来。他不得不迅速思考问题——过去三十年来他曾经无数次这样做，而且往往是边逃边想——为某些显而易见的可能性找出合情合理的解释，同时也要顾及其他不那么明显的可能。他刚犯了一个无可避免但却十分愚蠢的错误。无可避免，是因为他没准备在宁静酒店前台留下假名，万一他们要看证件就会穿帮；愚蠢，是因为他向那位法兰西英雄报的是假名……其实，也不算愚蠢；他们俩的姓太相似了，可能会造成不必要的麻烦，影响他此次蒙塞特拉岛之行的目的。他的目的很简单，就是敲诈——他要搞清楚是什么让伦道夫·盖茨害怕成那样，以至于拱手送出了一万五千美元；探听到实情之后，也许他还能再多弄点钱。不对，愚蠢是因为他没有事先采取防范措施，这会儿他就要去补救。他朝前台走去，那儿站着个瘦高个子的职员。 “晚上好，先生，”酒店职员简直就像是在喊话，法官不由得四下张望了一番，暗自庆幸大堂里没几个客人，“无论能为您帮什么忙，我都会做到最好，您尽管放心！” “小伙子，你声音轻一点我就放心了。” “那我就窃窃私语。”职员的声音低得都听不见了。 "What did you say?" “我能帮您什么忙？”那人拖长了声音贼兮兮地说。 “你轻点声说话就行了，好不好？” “没问题。我感到非常荣幸。” "yes?" "of course." “很好，”普里方丹说，“我想请你帮个忙——” “什么都行！” "Hush!" “哦，当然当然。” “跟许多上了年纪的人一样，我常常会忘事。这一点你能理解，对吧？” “我觉得，像您这么睿智的人什么事都不会忘的。” “啊？……算了。我现在是微服私行，你明白我的意思吧？” “再清楚不过了，先生。” “我登记时用的是自己的名字，普里方丹——” “没错没错，”职员插嘴说，“我知道。” “我搞错了。我跟办公室和要找我的那些人说过，让他们报'帕特里克先生'的名字，就是我的中间名。这个无伤大雅的小花招能让我休息得好一点，我太需要休息了。” “我能理解。”职员在柜台上凑过身来，一副推心置腹的样子。 "real?" “那当然。要是别人知道您这样的著名人士是敝店的住客，您可能就休息不成了。和另一位客人一样，您也需要绝对的'掩秘'！您请放心，我完全理解。” “掩秘？哦，我的天……” “我会亲自把登记表改过来，法官。” “法官……？我可从来没说过我是个法官啊。” 那人尴尬的脸上泛起了一丝不太明显的红色，“我说漏嘴了，先生，不过这完全是因为我太想为您效劳。” “还有别的原因——别的人。” “先生，我向您发誓，除了宁静酒店的老板，这儿再没有别人知道您此次旅行是严加保密的，”职员又在柜台上凑了过来，低声说道，“一切都是绝对的'掩秘'！” “天啊，机场的那个混蛋——” “就是我那位敏锐的叔叔，”职员没理会普里方丹的低声嘀咕，充耳不闻地接着往下说，“他交代得非常清楚：能接待两位需要绝对私密的著名人士，是我们的荣幸。您知道，他给我打电话的时候就是这么说的——” “好了，好了，小伙子，我现在明白了，也很感谢你所做的一切。确保把我的名字改成帕特里克就行；这里要是有任何人问起我，你就报这个名字。我们彼此都能理解吧？” “简直是明察秋毫，尊敬的法官！” “我可不希望这样。” 四分钟之后，忙得不亦乐乎的副经理接起了振响的电话。“前台。”他把声音拖得老长，简直就像是牧师在祈求赐福。 “我是十一号别墅的方丹先生。” “您好，先生。我很荣幸……我们……每个人都很荣幸！” “谢谢。不知道你能不能帮我个忙。大概一刻钟之前，我在小路上遇见了一位风度翩翩的美国人，他年纪和我差不多，戴着一顶白色的便帽。我想哪天邀他来参加餐前聚会，可刚才我好像没听清他的名字。” 副经理心想，这是在考验他了。伟大的人物不仅有秘密，而且还总是不放心那些替他们保守秘密的人。“从您的描述来看，我觉得您遇见的是那位极有风度的帕特里克先生。” “啊，对了，就是这个名字。其实这是个爱尔兰名字，不过他是美国人，对吧？” “是一位非常博学的美国人，先生。他来自马萨诸塞州的波士顿。他住在十四号别墅，是您西边的第三座。您直接拨七一四就行。” “好的，非常感谢。要是你见到帕特里克先生，我希望你什么也别提。你知道，我妻子身体不舒服，只有在她感觉比较好的时候我才能发出邀请。” “尊敬的先生，我什么也不会提的，除非您另有吩咐。在有关您和博学的帕特里克先生的事情上，我们会一字不差地遵守直辖总督的秘密指示。” “真的？这很值得称赞……再见。” 副经理放下电话时心想：成功了！伟大的人物都能领会微妙之处；而他刚才运用的微妙手段，连他那位了不起的叔叔都会赞赏。他不仅立刻报出了帕特里克这个名字，更重要的是，他还用“博学”这个词传达出了一个学者的特点——或者说一位法官的品质。最后，他还表明自己决不会吐露任何情况，除非得到直辖总督的指示。通过这些微妙的手段，他巧妙地使自己跻身于伟大人物的秘密圈子之中。这种经历紧张得叫人透不过气来，他得赶快给叔叔打电话，分享他们共同取得的胜利。 方丹坐在床沿，电话听筒虽然搁在座机上，却没离开过他的手。他凝望着外头阳台上他的女人。她坐在轮椅之中侧面朝着他，那杯酒搁在轮椅旁的小桌子上；病痛让她的头勾了起来……痛苦！这个可怕的世界到处都是痛苦！这些痛苦之中也有不少是由他造成的，对此他心知肚明，也并不指望自己能得到宽恕。但他的女人不该遭到报应。合同上从来就不包括这一项。没错，他自己的命当然是早就交出去了，但她的命可没有。她那虚弱的身体只要一息尚存，就不能这样送命。不，大人。I do not accept!合同不是这样的！ 如此看来，“胡狼”的老人军团现在已经扩展到了美国——这是意料之中的。出于这样或那样的原因，一个头戴傻气白帽子的爱尔兰裔美国佬、一个博学多识的人物，也拜倒在恐怖分子卡洛斯的门下，此人就是要送他们俩上路的刽子手。这个人在仔细端详他，还假装不会说法语，可他的眼睛里带着“胡狼”的印记。在有关您和博学的帕特里克先生的事情上，我们会一字不差地遵循直辖总督的指示。给直辖总督下指示的，就是那个身在巴黎的死神。 十年前，在他为大人效力五载并取得卓著成果之后，他得到了巴黎以北九公里处阿让特伊的一个电话号码。除非碰到极为紧急的情况，否则绝对不能使用这个号码。以前这个号码他只打过一次，不过现在他又要打了。他仔细查看了国际长途代码，拿起听筒开始拨号。将近两分钟之后，有人接起了电话。 “'战士之心'。”一个平板的男声说道，背景中有军乐传来。 “我必须和黑鸟联系，”方丹用法语说，“我的身份是巴黎五号。” “假如你的要求能得到满足，这只黑鸟该怎么和你联系？” “我在加勒比海。”方丹报出了地区代码、电话号码和十一号别墅的分机号。他挂断电话，沮丧地坐在床边。内心深处他知道，也许他和他女人在人世的时光只剩下这最后几个钟头了。如果真是这样，他和他女人就能见到自己的上帝，道出真相。他杀过人，这一点毫无疑问；可是他伤害或杀害过的，全都是曾对别人犯下更大罪行的人——只有少数几个例外：这些人可以称作无辜的旁观者，他们给卷进了交火或爆炸之中。生命都是痛苦的，《圣经》难道不是这么教导