rr.eastofealing-第7部分

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。　He　was　making　more　than　a　three…course　meal　out　of　the　prospect　of　a　bit　of　spade　work　and　he　knew　it。　Hopefully；　a　few　digs　at　the　thing　and　it　would　simply　crumble　to　dust。　At　worst；　a　blow　or　two　from　the　pickaxe　would　hasten　the　action。　With　all　the　millions　to　be　made　from　Norman's　wheel　a　few　meagre　pennies　for　a　buried　bedframe　seemed　hardly　worth　the　candle。
　Pooley　slouched　through　the　allotment　gates　and　off　up　Albany　Road；　the　spade　raising　a　fine　shower　of　sparks　along　the　pavement　behind　him。　He　turned　into　Abaddon　Street　and　confronted　the　high　fence　of　planking　shielding　the　empty　bombsite。　With　a　heartfelt　sigh　Jim　slid　aside　the　hanging　board　which　camouflaged　the　secret　entrance；　and　climbed　through　the　gap；　backwards。
　An　ill…considered　move　upon　his　part。　With　a　sudden　strangled　cry　of　horror　Pooley　vanished　away　through　the　gap。　Omally's　spade　spun　away　from　his　fingers　and　tumbled　downwards　towards　oblivion。　By　the　happiest　of　chances　Jim　maintained　his　grip　upon　the　pickaxe；　whose　head　now　jammed　itself　firmly　across　the　gap。　Where　once　there　had　been　well…trodden　ground；　now　there　was　plete　and　utter　nothing。　The　bomb…site　had　simply　ceased　to　exist。　Jim　was　swinging　precariously　by　a　pickaxe　handle　over　the　sheer　edge　of　a　very　very　large　pit　indeed。　It　was　the　big　daddy　of　them　all；　and　as　Jim　turned　terrified　eyes　down　to　squint　between　his　dangling　feet；　he　had　the　distinct　impression　that　he　was　staring　into　the　black　void　of　space。
　'Help！'　wailed　Jim　Pooley；　who　was　never　slow　on　the　uptake　when　he　discovered　his　life　to　be　in　jeopardy。　'Fallen　man　here；　not　waving；　but　drowning。。。　HELP！'　Jim　swung　desperate　feet　towards　the　wall　of　the　chasm；　his　hobnails　scratched　and　scrabbled　at　the　sheer　cliff　face　but　failed　to　find　a　purchase。　'Oh　woe；'　said　Jim。　'Oh；　help！'
　A　sickening　report　above　drew　Jim's　attention。　It　seemed　that　the　elderly　head　of　Omally's　pickaxe　was　debating　as　to　whether　this　would　be　as　good　a　time　as　any　to　part　pany　with　its　similarly　aged　shaft。　'Oooooooh　noooo！'　shrieked　Jim　as　he　sank　a　couple　of　inches　nearer　to　kingdom…e。　Pooley　closed　his　eyes　and　made　what　preparations　he　could；　given　so　little　time；　to　meet　his　Maker。　Another　loud　crack　above　informed　Jim　that　the　pickaxe　had　made　up　his　mind。　The　handle　snapped　away　from　the　shaft　and　Jim　was　gone。
　Or　at　least　he　most　definitely　would　have　been；　had　not　a　pair　of　muscular　hands　caught　at　his　trailing　arms　and　drawn　him　aloft；　rending　away　his　tweedy　jacket　sleeves　from　both　armpits。　A　white…faced　and　gibbering　Jim　Pooley　was　dragged　out　through　the　gap　in　the　fencing　and　deposited　in　a　tangled　heap　upon　the　pavement。
　'You　are　trespassing；'　said　a　voice　somewhere　above　him。　'These　are　your　jacket　sleeves；　I　believe。'
　Jim　squinted　up　painfully　from　his　pavement　repose。　Above　him　stood　as　pleasant　a　looking　angel　of　deliverance　as　might　be　imagined。　He　was　tall　and　pale；　with　a　shock　of　black　hair　bed　away　behind　his　ears。　His　eyes　were　of　darkest　jet；　as　was　his　immaculate　one…piece　coverall　work　suit。　He　wore　a　pair　of　miniscule　headphones　which　he　now　pushed　back　from　his　ears。　Jim　could　hear　the　tinkling　of　fairy…like　music　issuing　from　them。
　'I　was　passing　and　I　heard　your　cries；'　the　young　man　explained。　'You　were　trespassing　you　know。'
　Jim　climbed　gracelessly　to　his　feet　and　patted　the　dust　from　what　was　left　of　his　jacket。　He　accepted　the　sleeves　from　the　young　man　and　stuffed　them　into　a　trouser　pocket。　'Sorry；'　said　he。　'I　had　no　idea。　My　thanks；　sir；　for　saving　my　life。'
　'It　is　no　matter；'　said　the　young　man。　'Had　you　fallen　you　might　have　damaged　some　valuable　equipment。'
　'Oh；　thanks　very　much。'
　'It　is　no　matter。　This　site　has　been　acquired　and　excavated　for　a　new　plex　to　be　built。　Lateinos　and　Romiith　Limited。'
　'Oh；　those　lads。'　Pooley　blew　on　to　the　scorched　palms　of　his　hands。　The　'Acquired　for　Lateinos　and　Romiith'　signs　had　been　blossoming　upon　all　manner　of　vacant　plots　in　Brentford　recently；　and　the　black…glazed　plexes　had　been　springing　up　overnight；　like　dark　mushrooms。　Exactly　who　Lateinos　and　Romiith　were；　nobody　actually　knew；　but　that　they　were　very　big　in　puters　was　hinted　at。　'Don't　let　the　marker　posts　on　your　allotment　fall　down；'　folks　said；　'or　the　buggers　will　stick　a　unit　on　it。'
　'Well　again；　my　thanks；'　said　Jim。　'I　suppose　you　didn't　see　anything　of　an　old　bedframe　while　your　lads　were　doing　the　excavations？'
　'Bedframe？'　The　young　man　suddenly　looked　very　suspicious　indeed。
　'Well；　never　mind。　Listen；　if　you　are　ever　in　the　Swan　I　would　be　glad　to　stand　you　a　pint　or　two。　Not　only　did　you　save　my　life　but　you　saved　me　a　good　deal　of　unnecessary　labour。'　Pooley　made　as　to　doff　his　cap；　but　it　was　now　many　hundreds　of　feet　beneath　his　reach。　Cursing　silently　at　Omally；　he　said；　'Thank　you；　then；　and　farewell。'　Snatching　up　Omally's　pickaxe　head；　he　shambled　away　down　Abaddon　Street　leaving　the　young　man　staring　after　him　wearing　a　more　than　baffled　expression。
　Jim　thought　it　best　to　return　Omally's　axe…head　at　once　to　his　allotment　shed　before　any　more　harm　could　e　to　it。　He　also　thought　it　best　not　to　mention　the　matter　of　the　spade；　which　having　been　one　of　Omally's　latest　acquisitions　was　something　of　a　favourite　with　him。　Possibly　then；　it　would　be　a　good　idea　to　slip　around　to　Norman's　and　stick　his　nose　once　more　against　the　kitchenette　window。
　As　Jim　came　striding　over　the　allotment　ground；　pickaxe　head　over　shoulder　and　'Whistle　while　you　Work'　doing　that　very　thing　from　between　his　lips；　he　was　more　than　a　little　surprised　to　discover　Omally　in　his　shirt…sleeves；　bent　over　the　zinc　water…butt；　dabbing　at　his　tender　places。　'John？'　said　Jim。
　Omally　looked　up　fearfully　at　the　sounds　of　Jim's　approach。　His　right　eye　appeared　to　have　a　Victoria　plum　growing　out　of　it。　'Jim；'　said　John。
　'You　have　been　in　a　fight。'
　'Astute　as　ever　I　see。'
　'Outnumbered？　How　many　of　them；　three；　four？'
　'Just　the　one。'
　'Not　from　around　these　parts　then。　Circus　strongman　was　it？　Sumo　wrestler？　Surely　not。。。'　Pooley　crossed　himself；　'Count　Dante　himself？'
　'Close；'　said　Omally；　feeling　at　his　jaw；　which　had　developed　a　most　alarming　click。　'Corner…shopkeeper；　actually。'
　Pooley　hastily　secreted　the　pickaxe　head　behind　his　back；　turned　over　a　handy　bucket；　and　sat　upon　it。　'Not　Norman？　You　jest；　surely？'
　'Look　at　my　shirt…collar。'　Omally　waggled　the　frayed　relic　which　now　hung　over　his　shoulder；　college　scarf　fashion。
　'Aren't　they　supposed　to　be　sewn　on　all　the　way　round？'
　'I　will　punish　him　severely　for　this。'
　'You　fancy　your　chances　at　a　rematch　then？'
　Omally　shook　his　head　painfully　and　whistled。　'Not　I。　Certainly　the　man　has　been　personally　schooled　in　the　brutal；　maiming；　disfiguring　art　of　Dimac　by　none　other　than　that　very　Grand　Master　of　the　craft　to　whom　you　formerly　alluded。'
　'Gosh；'　said　Jim。
　'I　will　have　him　down　from　a　distance　when　he　es　out　to　take　in　his　milk　tomorrow。'
　'The　half…brick？'
　'Nothing　less。　I　feel　that　we　can　forget　all　about　ever…spinning　wheels　for　the　time　being。　Still　all　is　not　yet　lost。　How　did　you　fare　with　the　bed？'　Omally　peered　over　Jim's　shoulder。　'Got　it　locked　away　somewhere　safe　then？'
　Pooley　scraped　his　heels　in　the　dust。
　'What　have　you　done　with　the　bed；　Jim；　and　where　are　the　sleeves　of　your　jacket？'
　'Ah；'　said　Jim；　'ah　now。'
　
　7
　Norman　sat　in　his　kitchenette；　dismally　regarding　the　slim　brass　wheel　spinning　once　more　upon　its　table…top　mountings。　Over　in　the　corner　alcove　his　other　self　sat　lifeless　and　staring；　a　gaping　hole　in　its　chest。　Norman　swung　his　leg　over　the　kitchen　chair　and　leaned　his　arms　upon　its　worm…eaten　back。　The　first　run　had　not　been　altogether　a　roaring　success。　If　Omally's　bike　had　not　chosen　to　intervene　and　trip　the　robot　into　the　street；　there　seemed　little　doubt　that　it　would　have　killed　Omally　there　and　then；　merely　to　retrieve　the　tobacco　from　his　pocket。
　Norman　chewed　upon　his　lip。　It　was　a　regular　Frankenstein's　monster；　that　one。　Not　what　he'd　had　in　mind　at　all。　Placid　pseudo…shopkeeper　he　wanted；　not　psychotic　android　on　the　rampage。　He　would　have　to　disconnect　all　the　Dimac　circuits　and　pep　up　the　old　goodwill…to…man