oat； and his shoes were wrapped in canvas to avoid footprints。〃
A terrorist's information is clearly not proof； but neither should it always be disregarded。 Especially when it concerns a master assassin； known to be a scholar of deception； who has made an admission that so astonishingly corroborates an unknown unpublished statement about a moment of national crisis never investigated。 That； indeed； must be taken seriously。 As so many others associated … even remotely … with the tragic events in Dallas； 'Burlap Billy' was found dead several days later from an overdose of drugs。 He was known to be an old man drunk consistently on cheap wine； he was never known to use narcotics。 He could not afford them。
Was 'Carlos' the man on the grassy knoll？ What an extraordinary beginning for an extraordinary career！ If Dallas really was his 'operation' how many millions of dollars must have been funnelled to him？ Certainly more than enough to establish a network of informers and soldiers that is a corporate world unto itself。
The myth has too much substance； Carlos may well be a monster of flesh and too much blood。
Marie put down the magazine。 'What's the game？！
'Are you finished？' Jason turned from the window。
'Yes。'
'I gather a lot of statements were made。 Theory； suppositions； equations。'
'Equations？'
'If something happened here and there was an effect over there； a relationship existed。'
'You mean connections；' said Marie。
'All right； connections。 It's all there； isn't it？'
To a degree； you could say that。 It's hardly a legal brief； there's a lot of speculation； rumour； and second…hand information。'
〃There are facts； however。'
'Data。'
'Good。 Data。 That's fine。'
'What's the game？〃 Marie repeated。
'It's got a simple title。 It's called 〃Trap〃。'
Trap who？'
'Me。' Bourne sat forward。 'I want you to ask me questions。 Anything that's in there。 A phrase； the name of a city； a rumour； a fragment of。。。 data。 Anything。 Let's hear what my responses are。 My blind responses。'
'Darling； that's no proof of。。。'
'Do it！' ordered Jason。
'All right。' Marie raised the issue of Time。 'Beirut；' she said。
'Embassy；' he answered。 'CIA station head posing as an attach。 Gunned down in the street Three hundred thousand dollars。'
Marie looked at him。 'I remember；' she began。
'I don't！' interrupted Jason。 'Go on。'
She returned his gaze； then went back to the magazine。 'Baader…Meinhof。'
'Stuttgart Regensburg。 Munich。 Two kills and a kidnapping； Bander accreditation。 Fees from。。。' Bourne stopped； then whispered in astonishment； 'U。 S。 sources。 Detroit。。。 Wilmington； Delaware。'
'Jason； what are。。。？'
'Go on。 Please。'
'The name； Sanchez。'
'The name is Ilyich Ramirez Sanchez；' he replied。 'He is。。。 Carlos。'
'Why the Ilyich？'
Bourne paused； his eyes wandering。 'I don't know。！
'It's Russian； not Spanish。 Was his mother Russian？'
'No。。。 yes。 His mother。 It had to be his mother。。。 I think。 I'm not sure。'
'Novgorod。'
'Espionage pound。 munications； cyphers； frequency traffic。 Sanchez is a graduate。'
'Jason； you read that here！'
'I did not read it！ Please。 Keep going！'
Marie's eye swept back to the top of the article。 Tehran。'
'Eight kills。 Divided accreditation … Khomeini and PLO。 Fee； two million。 Source： South…west Soviet sector。'
'Paris；' said Marie quickly。
'All contracts will be processed through Paris。'
'What contracts？'
'The contracts。。。 Kills。'
'Whose kills？ Whose contracts？'
'Sanchez's。。。 Carlos's。'
'Carlos？ Then they're Carlos's contracts； his kills。 They have nothing to do with you。'
'Carlos's contracts；' said Bourne； as if in a daze。 'Nothing to do with。。。 me；' he repeated； barely above a whisper。
'You just said it； Jason。 None of this has anything to do with you！'
'No！ That's not true！' Bourne shouted； lunging up from the chair； holding his place； staring down at her。 'Our contracts；' he added quietly。
'You don't know what you're saying！'
'I'm responding！ Blindly！ It's why I had to e to Paris！' He spun round and walked to the window； gripping the frame。
That's what the game is all about；' he continued。 'We're not looking for a lie； we're looking for the truth； remember？ Maybe we've found it； maybe the game revealed it。'
This is no valid test！ It's a painful exercise in incidental recollection。 If a magazine like Time printed this； it would have been picked up by half the newspapers in the world。 You could have read it anywhere！'
The fact is I retained it。'
'Not entirely。 You didn't know where the Ilyich came from； that Carlos's father was a munist attorney in Venezuela。 They're salient points； I'd think。 You didn't mention a thing about the Cubans。 If you had； it would have led to the most shocking speculation written here。 You didn't say a word about it！'
'What are you talking about？'
'Dallas；' she said。 'November； 1963。'
'Kennedy；' replied Bourne。
That's it？ Kennedy？'
'It happened then。' Jason stood motionless。
'It did； but that's not what I'm looking for。'
'I know；' said Bourne； his voice once again flat； as if speaking in a vacuum。 'A grassy knoll。。。 Burlap Billy。'
'You read this！'
'No。'
Then you heard it before； read it before''
That's possible； but it's not relevant； is it？'
'Stop it； Jason！'
Those words again。 I wish I could。'
'What are you trying to tell me？ You're Carlos！
'God； no。 Carlos wants to kill me； and I don't speak Russian； I know that。'
Then what？
'What I said at the beginning。 The game。 The game is called 〃trap…the…soldier〃。'
'A soldier？'
'Yes。 One who defected from Carlos。 It's the only explanation； the only reason I know what I know。 In all things。'
'Why do you say defect？'
'Because he does want to kill me。 He has to； he thinks I know as much about him as anyone alive。'
Marie had been crouching on the bed； she swung her legs
over the side； her hands at her sides。 That's a result of defecting。 What about the cause！ If it's true； then you did it； became。。。 became。。。' She stopped。
'All things considered； it's a little late to look for a moral position；' said Bourne； seeing the pain of acknowledgement on the face of the woman he loved。 'I could think of several reasons； clichйs。 How about a falling out among thieves。。。 killers。'
'Meaningless！' cried Marie。 There's not a shred of evidence！'
There's buckets of it and you know it。 I could have sold out to a higher bidder； or stolen huge sums of money from the fees。 Either would explain the account in Zurich。〃 He stopped briefly； looking at the wall above the bed； feeling； not seeing。 'Either would explain Howard Leland； Marseilles； Beirut； Stuttgart。。。 Munich。 Everything。 All the unremembered facts that want to e out。 And one especially。 Why I avoided his name； why I never mentioned him。 I'm frightened。 I'm afraid of him。'
The moment passed in silence； more was spoken of than fear。 Marie nodded。 'I'm sure you believe that；' she said； 'and in a way I wish it were true。 But I don't think it is。 You want to believe it because it supports what you just said。 It gives you an answer。。。 an identity。 It may not be the identity you want； but God knows it's better than wandering blindly through that awful labyrinth you face every day。 Anything would be； I guess。〃 She paused。 'And I wish it were true because then we wouldn't be here。'
'What？'
'That's the inconsistency； darling。 The number or symbol that doesn't fit in your equation。 If you were what you say you were； and afraid of Carlos … and heaven knows you should be … Paris would be the last place on earth you'd feel pelled to go to。 We'd be somewhere else； you said it yourself。 You'd run away； you'd take the money from Zurich and disappear。 But you're not doing that； instead； you're walking right back into Carlos's den。 That's not a man who's either afraid or guilty。'
There isn't anything else。 I came to Paris to find out； it's as simple as that。！
Then run away。 We'll have the money in the morning； there's nothing stopping you … us。 That's simple； too。' Marie watched him closely。
Jason looked at her； then turned away。 He walked to the
bureau and poured himself a drink。 There's still Treadstone to co