rr.eastofealing-第45部分

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out　of　wind　this　man。'
　'I　can　see　sod　all。　Get　off　there。'　A　hand　had　John　by　the　trouser　cuff。　He　squinted　down　in　horror　to　see　no　other　face　than　his　own；　leering　up。　Without　thought　or　feeling　he　tore　out　another　section　of　circuitry　and　thrust　it　down　into　the　snapping　mouth　which　sought　his　leg。　Sparks　blistered　the　visage；　and　the　thing　sank　away　into　the　darkness。
　Pooley　clung　to　a　further　staircase；　his　energy；　such　as　it　ever　was；　all　but　gone。　'About　making　me　a　Cardinal？'　he　gasped。
　The　Pope　followed　him　up。　'Bless　you；　my　son。　Popes　and　Cardinals　first。　Press　on。'
　The　two　thrust　blindly　onward；　there　was　nothing　left　to　do　but　climb。　The　metal　handrails　were　like　ice　and　their　hands　were　raw　from　the　clinging　cold　which　tore　at　the　flesh。　Their　attackers　poured　at　them　in　an　unceasing　horde。　They　called　to　them　in　voices　which　were　their　own；　jibing　and　threatening；　crying　out　explicit　details　of　the　fate　which　they　intended　for　them。
　'I'm　gone；'　said　Jim。　'I　can　climb　no　more；　leave　me　to　die。'
　Omally　fumbled　about　with　numb　and　bleeding　fingers。　'I　will　join　you；'　said　he。　'There　are　no　more　stairs。'　Pressed　back　against　the　icy　metal　of　the　mainframe　the　two　men　stood；　alone　and　trapped。　The　mob　surged　up　beneath　them；　swarming　over　the　catwalks　and　gantries。　There　was　finally　nowhere　left　to　run。
　'I　don't　want　to　die　here；'　said　Pooley；　his　voice　that　of　pitiful　defeat。　'I'm　not　supposed　to　be　here；　amongst　all　of　this。　This　isn't　true；　this　isn't　right。'
　Omally　clung　to　the　cold　hard　wall。　They　were　neither　of　them　supposed　to　be　here。　They　were　alone；　two　men；　leaning　now　as　in　a　time　long　past；　upon　the　parapet　of　the　canal　bridge；　above　the　oiled　water　of　the　old　Grand　Union。　They　looked　down　into　their　own　reflections　and　those　of　the　old　stars。　The　stars　always　had　much　to　say　to　drunken　men；　although　none　of　their　counsel　and　advice　was　ever　heeded　upon　the　cold；　cruel；　hangover…morning。　But　the　truths　lay　there。　For　ordinary　men；　the　truths　always　lay　there　upon　that　very　moment　before　falling　over。　It　was　there　at　that　instant　a　man　was　truly　himself。　The　truth　lay　in　that　netherworld　between　drunkenness　and　oblivion；　and　dwelt　where　no　sober　man　could　ever　grasp　it。　Only　the　drunken　taste　reality；　and　that　for　an　all…too…fleeting　moment。　Removed　from　all　sensible　thought　they　made　their　own　laws　and　moulded　futures　unthinkable　at　sunrise。　Ah　yes；　John　and　Jim　had　tasted　the　truth　upon　many　many　an　occasion。
　'I　see　the　light；'　shouted　Omally。
　Jim　craned　his　head。　Above　them　a　torch　beam　shone　down。
　'Get　a　move　on　lads；'　called　a　voice。　'You're　late　as　usual。'
　'Norman；'　called　Jim；　squinting　up　at　the　flashlight。　'Is　that　you？'
　'Sorry；　were　you　expecting　someone　else？'　Norman　stretched　down　an　arm　towards　them。　'A　stitch　in　time　never　won　fair　lady　you　know。　Get　a　move　on　will　you。'
　'At　the　hurry…up。'
　Omally　shouldered　Jim；　who　took　Norman's　hand　and　struggled　up　through　the　rooftop　opening。　The　screaming　swarm　beneath　were　hard　upon　the　Irishman's　heel；　he　stretched　up　his　hand　towards　Jim　and　Pooley　leant　down；　fingers　straining　to　reach。　Their　fingers　met；　but　with　a　cry　of　horror　Omally　was　gone。　The　screams　of　the　mob　welled　up　and　the　shouts　of　Omally　as　he　battered　down　at　the　creatures　engulfing　him　were　nothing　if　not　ungodly。　Their　fingers　met　again　and　Jim　drew　him　up　through　the　opening。
　'That　was　quite　close；'　said　John；　dusting　down　his　trousers。　'But　where　now？'
　Norman's　impossible　machine　was　parked　near　at　hand。　An　icy　wind　screamed　over　the　rooftop；　howling　and　moaning。　'This　way；'　cried　Norman。　With　tears　flying　from　their　eyes；　they　followed　the　shopkeeper。　Pooley　shielded　his　face　and　moved　with　difficulty；　the　gale　near　tearing　him　from　his　feet。
　The　sky　above　was　black　and　starless。　The　blank　vista　of　the　rooftop　seemed　to　stretch　towards　impossible　extremes　in　every　direction。　Beyond；　in　the　vertical　seas　which　girded　the　borough；　strange　images　burst　and　sparkled　projecting　themselves　as　if　on　three　vast　screens。　But　the　panorama　was　shrinking；　the　streets　still　dimly　visible　below　were　diminishing。　The　building　was　shuddering　beneath　them；　rising　like　a　lift　in　a　shaft。　Its　distant　edges　were　being　ever　more　distant。　The　building　was　duplicating　itself。　Time　had　run　out；　Holmes　had　not　been　successful；　the　Professor's　programme　had　failed。
　'The　Millennium！'　cried　Norman；　as　he　forced　himself　into　the　driving　seat。　'Hurry！'
　Pooley　clung　to　the　handrail　of　the　time　machine。　The　duplicates　were　pouring　through　the　roof　opening；　a　screaming　mass　tumbling　towards　them　through　the　smashing　firmament。
　'This　helicopter　will　never　fly；'　Jim　told　the　shopkeeper。
　'You　have　lost　the　last　of　your　marbles。'
　'All　aboard　now。'　Omally　did　just　that；　as　the　satanic　horde　engulfed　them。
　Norman　turned　the　ignition　key　and　engaged　reverse。
　
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　Neville；　the　new　part…time　barman；　pushed　the　two　brimming　pints　of　Large　across　the　polished　counter…top　and　chalked　the　difference　on　to　Pooley's　slate；　a　mistake　he　would　soon；　through　experience；　e　to　rectify。　He　studied　the　two　men　who　now　sat　before　him。　The　sudden　change　in　them　was　dramatic；　it　was　as　if　they　had　aged　by　twenty　years；　literally　overnight。　And　the　state　of　them；　their　clothes　hung　in　ribbons。　Evidently　they　had　taken　work　in　the　building　profession　and　experienced　a　hard　morning's　graft。
　The　two　men　stared　beyond　his　crisp　right　shoulder　as　if　not　noticing　him。　Their　eyes　seemed　glued　to　the　brewery　calendar　which　hung　unobtrusively　amongst　the　Spanish　souvenirs。　Yet　there　was　nothing　strange　to　be　seen　in　it。　A　simple　cardboard　rectangle　with　the　brewery's　name　surmounting　an　out　of　register　colour　print　of　Constable's　'Haywain'　and　the　hanging　tab：　June　6　1969。　What　could　they　see　in　it？
　As　if　suddenly　aware　of　the　barman's　scrutiny；　the　two　men　drew　themselves　away　to　a　side…table；　glasses　in　hand。
　Omally　studied　his　pint。　'And　so；　what　do　you　propose　we　do　now？'　he　asked。
　Pooley　sucked　beer　froth　from　his　upper　lip　and　made　smacking　sounds。　It　really　did　taste　better　back　in　those　days。　He　tapped　at　his　nose。　'I　have　a　plan；'　said　he。
　'Oh　yes？'　Omally's　voice　lacked　enthusiasm。
　'Indeed。　Don't　you　understand？　We've　been　given　another　chance　to　stop　it　all。　At　this　moment；　the　Professor　toils　amongst　his　books　and　Holmes　lies　sleeping　in　his　mausoleum。　Norman　chats；　no　doubt；　with　Leonardo　da　Vinci。　Or　has。　I　can't　be　certain　exactly　how　it　all　works。'
　'So　what　do　you　intend　to　do？'
　'Down　a　few　more　pints　for　a　first　off。　Drink　up；　John；　you　haven't　touched　yours。'
　'I　am　not　thirsty。　Don't　you　understand？　We　are　in　an　even　worse　position　now　than　ever　we　were。　We　know　what　is　to　e；　but　we　can　do　nothing　whatever　to　stop　it。　We　know　that　it　cannot　be　stopped。'
　'Oh　fish；'　said　Jim　Pooley。　Delving　into　his　trouser　pocket　he　drew　out　a　bulging　drawstring　pouch。　'Didn't　know　I　had　these；　did　you？'　he　asked；　weighing　it　in　his　hand。　'Pooley's　ace　in　the　hole。'
　Omally　extended　his　hand　but　Jim　held　the　thing　beyond　reach。　'No　touching；'　he　said。　'All　mine；　but　you　can　have　a　peep。'　He　loosened　the　neck　of　the　pouch　and　held　it　tantalizingly　apart。
　Omally　peered　forward。　'Diamonds；'　he　gasped。　'A　king's　ransom。'
　'I　should　say　at　the　very　least。　I　was　going　to　have　some　cufflinks　made　up；　but　in　all　the　excitement　I　pletely　forgot。　I　have　no　doubt　they　are　synthetic；　but　nobody　in　this　day　and　age　is　going　to　know　that。'
　'So　what　do　you　intend　to　do　with　them？'
　'I　am　going　to　bee　a　philanthropist；'　said　Jim。　'I　am　going　to　build　a　church。'
　'A　church？'
　'A　cathedral。　And　do　you　know　where　I'm　going　to　build　it？'
　Omally　nodded　slowly。　'On　the　bombsite。'
　'Exactly。　No　dirty　big　satanic　buildings　are　going　to　e　springing　up　from　consecrated　soil。　What　do　you　think；　brilliant；　eh？'
　Omally　leant　back　in　his　seat；　his　head　nodding　rhythmically。　'Brilliant；　you　almost　cracked　it。'
　'I　don't　know　about　almost。'
　'I　do。'　Omally's　eyes　flickered　up　towards　Jim's。　His　hand　moved　towards　his　trouser　pocket　wherein　rested　a　small　black　box；　attached　to　which　were　a　pair　of　wicked…looking　rods。　John　Omally　cleared　his　throa