pdouglas.thecodex-第67部分

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red　fabric。
　〃We　hope　for　your　sake；　Professor；　that　you　will　do　what　you've　promised。〃
　〃Don't　threaten　me。〃
　〃It　is　a　promise；　not　a　threat。〃
　Clyve　bowed。　〃Good　day；　gentlemen。〃
　
　66
　
　Seven　weeks　had　passed　since　Tom　and　his　two　brothers　had　gathered　at　the　gates　to　their　father's　estate…but　it　felt　like　a　lifetime。　They　had　finally　made　it。　They　had　reached　the　tomb。　〃Do　you　know　how　to　open　it？〃　asked　Philip。
　〃No。〃
　〃Father　must　have　figured　it　out；　because　he　robbed　the　tomb　once；〃　said　Vernon。
　Borabay　set　some　burning　torches　in　niches　in　the　rock　walls；　and　together　they　made　a　minute　inspection　of　the　tomb　door。　It　was　solid　stone；　set　into　a　doorway　squared　out　of　the　white　limestone　of　the　cliffs。　There　was　no　keyhole；　no　buttons　or　panels　or　hidden　levers。　Surrounding　the　tomb；　the　rest　of　the　rock　had　been　left　in　its　natural　state；　with　the　exception　of　a　number　of　holes　drilled　into　the　rock　on　either　side　of　the　door。　Tom　held　his　hand　over　one　and　felt　a　cool　flow　of　air…evidently　airholes　to　the　tomb。
　The　eastern　sky　brightened　with　a　predawn　light　as　they　examined　the　area　around　the　tomb。　They　rapped　on　the　door；　called；　hammered　and　pressed　and　tried　everything　to　open　it。　Nothing　worked。　An　hour　passed　and　the　door　remained　immovable。
　Finally　Tom　said；　〃This　isn't　working。　We　need　a　new　approach。〃
　They　retired　to　a　nearby　ledge。　The　stars　had　disappeared；　and　the　sky　was　brightening　behind　the　mountains。　It　was　a　stupendous　view　across　a　fantastical　wilderness　of　jagged　white　peaks；　like　teeth　rising　from　the　soft　green　palate　of　the　jungle。　〃If　we　take　a　look　at　one　of　those　broken　tomb　doors；〃　said　Tom；　〃maybe　we　can　figure　out　how　it　works。〃
　They　retraced　their　steps　and；　four　or　five　tombs　back；　came　to　a　broken　door。　It　had　cracked　down　the　middle；　and　one　part　had　fallen　outward。　Borabay　lit　another　brand；　then　hesitated　at　the　door。
　He　turned　to　Philip。　〃I　coward；〃　he　said；　handing　him　the　brand。　〃You　braver　than　me；　little　brother。　You　go。〃
　Philip　gave　Borabay　a　squeeze　on　the　shoulder　and　took　the　brand。　He　went　into　the　tomb。　Tom　and　Vernon　followed。
　It　was　not　a　large　space；　perhaps　eight　by　ten　feet。　In　the　center　was　a　raised　stone　platform。　On　the　platform　sat　a　mummy　bundle；　still　upright；　its　legs　drawn　up　to　its　chin；　its　arms　folded　in　its　lap。　Its　long　black　hair　was　braided　down　its　back；　and　the　dried　lips　were　drawn　back　from　its　teeth。　The　mouth　had　fallen　open；　and　an　object　had　dropped　out。　When　Tom　looked　more　closely　he　saw　it　was　a　piece　of　jade　carved　in　the　shape　of　a　chrysalis。　One　hand　of　the　mummy　held　a　polished　cylinder　of　wood　about　eighteen　inches　long；　decorated　with　glyphs。　Ranged　around　were　a　small　selection　of　grave　goods：　terracotta　figurines；　broken　pots；　some　carved　stone　tablets。
　Tom　knelt　down　and　examined　how　the　door　worked。　There　was　a　groove　in　the　stone　floor；　set　into　the　groove　were　polished　stone　rollers　on　which　the　door　rested。　They　were　loose；　and　Tom　picked　one　out　and　handed　it　to　Philip。　He　turned　it　over　in　his　hand。
　〃It's　a　simple　mechanism；〃　he　said。　〃You　get　the　door　rolling　and　it　opens　by　itself。　The　trick　is；　how　do　you　start　the　door　rolling？〃
　They　examined　it　all　around；　but　there　was　no　obvious　answer。　When　they　emerged　from　the　tomb　Borabay　was　waiting　for　them；　an　anxious　expression　on　his　face。
　〃What　find？〃
　〃Nothing；〃　said　Philip。
　Vernon　emerged　from　the　tomb　holding　the　cylinder　of　wood　that　the　mummy　had　been　clutching。　〃What's　this；　Borabay？〃
　〃Key　to　underworld。〃
　Vernon　smiled。　〃Interesting。〃　He　carried　it　back　along　the　passageway　to　their　father's　tomb。　〃Funny　that　the　stick　should　fit　so　perfectly　into　these　airholes；〃　said　Vernon；　shoving　the　stick　in　several　holes；　almost　losing　it　in　one。　〃You　can　feel　the　air　ing　out　of　these　holes。　See？〃　He　went　from　hole　to　hole；　testing　with　his　hand　the　flow　of　air　from　each　one。　Finally　he　stopped。　〃Here's　an　airhole　with　no　breeze　ing　out　of　it。〃
　He　inserted　the　stick。　It　went　in　about　fourteen　inches　and　stopped；　leaving　four　inches　exposed。　Vernon　picked　up　a　heavy；　smooth　rock。　He　handed　it　to　Philip。
　〃You　do　the　honors。　Whack　the　end　of　the　stick。〃
　Philip　took　the　rock。　〃What　makes　you　think　this'll　work？〃
　〃A　wild　guess；　that's　all。〃
　Philip　hefted　the　rock；　braced　himself；　drew　back　his　arm；　and　brought　the　rock　down　hard　against　the　protruding　end　of　the　stick。　There　was　a　chunk　as　he　drove　the　stick　into　the　hole；　and　then　silence。
　Nothing　happened。　Philip　examined　the　hole。　The　wooden　dowel　had　gone　all　the　way　in　and　stuck。
　〃Damn　it！〃　Philip　cried；　losing　his　temper。　He　rushed　at　the　tomb　door　and　gave　it　a　savage　kick。　〃Open　up；　damn　you！〃
　A　sudden　grinding　noise　filled　the　air；　the　ground　vibrated；　and　the　stone　door　began　to　slide　open。　A　dark　crack　appeared　and　gradually　widened　as　the　door　moved　in　the　groove　along　its　stone　rollers；　In　a　moment；　with　a　clunk；　it　came　to　a　halt。
　The　tomb　was　open。
　They　all　waited；　staring　into　the　yawning　black　rectangle。　The　sun　was　just　breaking　over　the　distant　mountains；　pouring　golden　light　across　the　rocks；　at　an　angle　too　oblique　to　penetrate　into　the　tomb　itself；　which　remained　in　utter　blackness。　They　stood　without　moving；　paralyzed；　too　afraid　to　speak　or　call　out。　A　pestilential　cloud　of　corruption…the　stench　of　death…came　drifting　out　of　the　tomb。
　
　67
　
　Marcus　Aurelius　Hauser　waited　in　the　pleasing　dawn　light；　his　finger　stroking　the　blunt　trigger　of　his　Steyr　AUG。　The　weapon　was　perhaps　the　most　familiar　object　he　knew　besides　his　own　body；　and　he　never　felt　quite　normal　without　it。　The　metal　barrel；　warmed　from　constant　contact；　felt　almost　alive；　and　the　plastic　stock；　polished　by　his　own　hands　for　years；　was　as　smooth　as　a　woman's　thigh。
　Hauser　had　tucked　himself　into　a　fortable　niche　along　the　trail　that　led　down　the　cliff。　While　he　couldn't　actually　see　the　Broadbents　from　his　vantage　point　on　the　trail　above；　he　knew　they　were　below　and　would　have　to　e　back　the　same　way。　They　had　done　exactly　what　he　hoped。　They　had　led　him　to　old　Max's　tomb。　And　not　just　one　tomb；　but　a　whole　necropolis。　Unbelievable。　He　would　have　found　this　trail　eventually；　but　it　might　have　taken　a　long　time。
　The　Broadbents　had　now　served　their　purpose。　There　was　no　rush；　the　light　was　not　high　enough；　and　he　wanted　to　give　them　plenty　of　time　to　get　fortable；　to　relax；　to　assume　they　were　safe。　And　he；　Hauser；　wanted　to　think　this　op　through。　One　of　the　great　lessons　he　had　learned　in　Vietnam　was　patience。　That　was　how　the　Viet　Cong　had　won　the　war…they　were　more　patient。
　He　gazed　around　with　delight。　The　necropolis　was　stupendous；　a　thousand　tombs　filled　with　grave　goods；　a　tree　laden　with　fruit　ripe　for　the　plucking。　Not　to　mention　all　the　valuable　antiquities；　stelae；　statuary；　reliefs；　and　other　treasures　in　the　White　City　itself。　On　top　of　that；　there　was　the　half　billion　dollars'　worth　of　art　and　antiquities　in　Broadbent's　tomb。　He　would　bring　the　Codex　out　with　some　of　the　lighter　stuff　and　finance　his　return　with　the　proceeds。　Yes；　he　would　definitely　be　back。　There　were　billions　to　be　made　in　the　White　City。　Billions。
　He　felt　into　his　musette　bag；　fondled　a　cigar；　and　with　regret　allowed　it　to　remain　undisturbed。　It　would　not　do　for　them　to　smell　cigar　smoke。
　One　had　to　make　certain　sacrifices。
　
　68
　
　The　four　brothers　stood　rooted　to　the　ground；　staring　into　the　rectangle　of　darkness。　They　could　not　move；　they　could　not　speak。　The　seconds　ticked　on　into　minutes　as　the　flow　of　foul　air　ebbed。　No　one　made　a　move　to　go　inside　the　tomb。　No　one　wanted　to　see　what　horror　lay　within。
　And　then　there　was　a　sound：　a　cough。　And　another：　the　shuffle　of　a　foot。
　They　were　paralyzed；　mute　with　anticipation。
　Another　shuffle。　Tom　knew　it　then：　Their　father　was　alive。　He　was　ing　out　of　the　tomb。　Still　Tom　could　not　move；　and　neither　could　the　others。　Just　as　the　tension　became　unbearable；　in　the　center　of　the　black　rectangle；　a　ghostly　face　began　to　materialize。　Another　shambling　step；　and　now　an　apparition　appeared　in　the　gloom。　Another　step　brought　the　figure　into　reality。
　He　was　almost　more　horrifying　than　a　cor