jherbert.sepulchre-第30部分

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the　priest's　authority　was　irrefutable；　his　word　law；　his　temple　the　court；　his　judgement　final　。　。　。　Halloran　checked　himself。　It　wasn't　the　time　for　such　reflection…he　needed　to　be　alert；　aware　of　what　was　going　on　around　him　at　the　present　moment；　not　having　his　thoughts　wandering　around　the　past。　That　was　happening　too　much　of　late。
　　Adding　further　to　the　day's　discord　was　the　news　that　Dieter　Stuhr　had　disappeared。　Mather　had　rung　Halloran　before　lunch　to　inform　him　that　Shield's　Organiser　couldn't　be　located；　but　everything　at　his　apartment　appeared　to　be　in　order。　Key　members　of　Shield　had　been　recalled　to　the　office　to　try　and　track　him　down；　and　Gerald　Snaith　had　decided　it　was　far　too　soon　to　involve　the　police。　Besides；　out　of　keeping　though　it　might　be　for　the　German；　there　might　just　be　a　rational　explanation　for　his　absence。　Mother　would　ring　Halloran　the　moment　he　had　more　information。
　　He　was　before　the　lodge；　a　building　of　similar　but　darker　stone　to　Neath　itself；　its　grey…slated　roof　full　of　holes；　windows　dulled　by　grime。　It　looked　unlived　in。　Yet　someone　inside　had　somehow　allowed　him　to　open　the　front　gates　（he'd　had　a　better　chance　to　examine　the　lock　and　still　hadn't　detected　any　electronic　device　installed　within）；　for　on　first　try　the　gates　wouldn't　budge。　He　studied　the　lodge　a　while　longer　before　leaving　the　road　and　walking　the　short　track　up　to　the　frontdoor。　The　best　he　got　when　he　stretched　a　hand　to　the　rusted　bell　was　a　dull　clunk。　He　rapped　on　the　wood。
　　There　were　no　sounds　from　inside　the　house。　No　one　came　to　open　the　door。
　　He　knocked　louder；　then　tried　the　handle；　it　was　as　though　the　door　were　solid　to　the　stone　itself；　for　it　did　not　even　jar　in　its　frame。　Halloran　stepped　back　to　look　up　at　the　first　floor　windows　and　saw　nothing　through　the　smeared　glass。　He　walked　back　to　the　edge　of　the　rutted　road　for　a　better　view；　but　the　angle　merely　rendered　the　windows　an　opaque　black。　He　took　one　more　backward　step。
　　Halloran　was　suddenly　cold；　as　if　he'd　stepped　into　a　pocket　of　wintry　air。　He　was　being　observed。
　　Such　an　awareness　was　not　unusual　for　him　…experience　in　his　particular　profession　brought　with　it　a　certain　sensitivity　towards　prying；　unseen　eyes　…yet　never　before　had　the　sensing　been　so　acute　for　him。　The　coldness；　he　realised；　was　due　to　the　crawling　sensation　of　his　own　skin；　as　if　it　was　undulating　in　small　ridges。　He　shifted　his　jacket　to　his　other　arm　so　that　his　gun　hand　was　free。
　　Nothing　stirred　inside　the　lodge。　At　least；　not　as　far　as　he　could　tell。　But　the　urge　to　run　from　there；　to　put　as　much　distance　between　himself　and　that　uninviting　abode；　was　immense。　A　whisper；　whose　source　was　somewhere　deep　in　his　own　mind；　cautioned　him　against　further　investigation。　Irrational；　he　told　himself。　Are　you　sure？　his　sub…conscious　taunted。
　　He　raised　a　hand　to　his　forehead　as　if　to　dispel　further　insinuations　that　had　gathered；　warnings　that　something　nasty；　something　unclean；　was　waiting　for　him　inside　the　lodge…house；　and　that　contained　within　its　walls　were　secrets　that　should　remain　secrets；　but　physical　action　was　useless　against　the　tenacity　of　the　psyche。　The　thoughts　continued。
　　Halloran　almost　sagged　under　their　force。　He　willed　their　dispersion　and　it　was　only　gradually　that　his　mind　became　calmer；　that　his　own　consciousness　became　dominant。
　　For　those　other　thoughts　had　not　been　his。　He　was　certain　they　had　not　originated　from　some　sub…level　of　his　own　mind；　but　had　been　implanted　by　another。　He　turned　his　head；　searching　the　woods　behind；　the　roadway　leading　to　Neath。　Kline。　Those　thoughts　had　been　Kline's。　He　had　the　gift：　Kline　had　shown　him　that　very　morning。　But　the　psychic　was　still　at　the　main　house。　Or　should　have　been。　Again　Halloran　scanned　the　area　around　him。　Did　distance　bother　someone　like　Kline；　could　ideas　be　directed　no　matter　how　far　away　the　recipient？　Or　was　Felix　Kline　inside　the　lodge？
　　The　coldness　was　still　with　him　and　Halloran　slipped　his　jacket　back　on。　He　took　a　step　towards　the　building。
　　And　the　thoughts　intruded　once　more；　stabbing　at　him；　bringing　with　them　not　only　fear　but　a　curious　reluctance　to　discover　what　was　inside　the　old　house。　He　remained　where　he　was。
　　Halloran　could　see　no　one　at　the　windows；　but　he　sensed　a　presence　beyond　those　walls。　He　had　lost　the　inclination　to　enter　the　house；　though；　no　longer　wanting　to　find　out　who　the　occupant　was。　Not　at　the　moment。　He'd　return　when　he　was　。　。　。　prepared。
　　Halloran　backed　away。
　　With　a　last　lingering　look；　he　turned　from　the　lodge　and　began　the　long　trek　to　the　main　house　where　earlier　he　had　decided　to　leave　the　Mercedes；　preferring　to　make　the　journey　to　the　estate's　entrance　on　foot。　Too　much　could　be　missed　when　viewed　from　a　moving　car　and　Halloran　had　wanted　to　get　the　'eel　of　the　surrounds；　with　particular　regard　to　the　private　roadway　which　was　a　natural　place　for　an　ambush；　safe　from　public　gate；　out　of　sight　from　anyone　in　Neath　itself。　Now；　with　the　evening　gloom　taking　a　firmer　hold　and　the　unease　left　by　the　uninvited　thoughts；　Halloran　regretted　his　decision。　At　once　he　berated　himself；　a　little　astonished　by　his　own　trepidation。　But　then；　as　he'd　already　acknowledged；　it　had　been　an　odd　day。
　　In　the　stillness　around　him　his　footsteps　seemed　louder　than　normal。　Ahead　the　road　narrowed；　trees　on　opposite　sides　linking　leafy　arms　to　form　a　tunnel。　It　was　twilight　inside　that　tunnel。
　　He　was　too　warm　suddenly；　the　air　almost　too　heavy　to　breathe。　The　clouds　were　swollen　and　dark　and　he　relished　the　idea　of　rain；　or　even　a　storm。　But　it　was　as　though　the　dampness　was　scaled　into　the　masses　above。　He　walked　on；　at　irregular　intervals　glancing　from　left　to　right；　occasionally　checking　the　road　behind。　All　was　quiet。　The　lodge…house　was　a　distant　image；　rendered　small　and　impotent。　The　road　in　front　of　him　had　begun　to　curve；　no　exit　visible　inside　the　tunnel。
　　A　stirring　of　ferns　by　the　roadside；　no　more　than　a　transient　breeze。　；A　faint　crash　further　within；　merely　a　dead　or　broken　branch　shed　from　a　tree。
　　Light　faded　as　he　passed　beneath　the　canopy　of　leaves。　It　was　cooler；　although　not　much；　and　Halloran　quickened　his　pace。　The　more　he　progressed；　the　dimmer　became　the　light。　Soon　it　was　as　though　night　had　fallen　prematurely。　His　senses　sharpened　and　he　allowed　his　vision　to　wander；　never　focusing　on　any　particular　section　of　forest　for　too　long；　constantly　shifting　his　attention　from　one　dark　area　to　another。
　　At　first　he　thought　he　had　imagined　the　snuffling；　for　it　had　been　barely　audible　over　the　sound　of　his　own　footsteps；　but　then　it　came　again。　He　stopped　to　listen。　Nothing　now。　And　that　in　itself　was　unusual；　for　the　woods　were　always　full　of　noises　of　some　kind；　small　scufflings；　the　flapping　of　wings；　an　owl　settling　in　for　the　night's　vigil。　Over　many　years　he　had　learned　to　discern　nature's　disturbances　from　those　that　might　originate　from　stealthy　humans；　the　difference　being　that　animal　or　natural　noises　generally　continued　even　if　for　no　more　than　a　second　or　two；　whereas　those　caused　by　humans…be　they　hiding　or　stalking　prey　…had　a　tendency　to　cease　immediately。
　　He　resumed　his　journey；　the　tension　in　his　stride　indicating　an　extra　alertness。　Keeping　his　steps　as　quiet　as　possible；　Halloran　moved　into　the　curve　of　the　tunnel。　A　rustling　to　his　right；　a　definite　movement。　He　carried　on　walking；　a　hand　reaching　under　his　jacket　to　the　butt　of　the　Browning。　More　movement；　something　keeping　pace　with　him。　He　began　to　suspect　what　that　something　might　be。
　　He　had　assumed　that　the　dogs　were　controlled　during　the　daytime　and　allowed　to　run　free　at　night。　Perhaps　it　was　at　dusk　that　their　keeper　set　them　loose　on　their　own。
　　Snuffling　noises　again；　and　then　a　louder　rustling　through　the　undergrowth　as　though　the　animals　were　hurrying　to　get　ahead　of　him。　Initially　the　sounds　had　e　from　some　distance　inside　the　woodland；　but　now　they　were　drawing　close；　as　if　the　dogs　were　cutting　in　at　an　angle。　Halloran　deliberately　maintained　his　own　steady　pace。
　　For　one　brief　moment　he　caught　sight　of　a　shadow　loping　through　the　trees；　low　to　the　ground。　It　was　followed　by　another；