bl.necroscope2-第89部分

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


erenko　had　finally　suggested　that　he　go　on　to　Kolomyya　and　try　again。
　Dolgikh　had　been　flown　from　Moscow　to　a　military　airport　in　Skala…podolskaya　where　he'd　been　required　to　sign　for　a　KGB　Fiat。　Now；　in　the　somewhat　battered　but　unobtrusive　car；　he　drove　to　Kolomyya　and　arrived　there　just　before　8。00　A。M。　Discreetly　checking　out　the　hotels；　it　was　a　case　of　third　time　lucky…and　also　unlucky。　They　had　put　up　at　the　Hotel　Carpatii；　but　they　had　been　up　and　on　their　way　again　by　7。30。　He　had　missed　them　by　half　an　hour。　The　proprietor　was　only　able　to　tell　him　that　before　leaving　they'd　inquired　the　address　of　the　town's　library　and　museum。
　Dolgikh　obtained　the　same　address　and　followed　after　them。　At　the　museum　he　found　the　curator；　a　bustling；　beaming　little　Russian　in　thick…lensed　spectacles；　in　the　act　of　opening　the　place　up。　Following　him　inside　the　old　cupolaed　building；　where　their　footsteps　echoed　in　musty　air；　Dolgikh　said；　〃Might　I　enquire　if　you've　had　three　men　in　to　see　you　this　morning？　I　was　supposed　to　meet　them　here；　but　as　you　see　I'm　late。〃
　〃They　were　fortunate　to　find　me　working　so　early；〃　the　other　replied。　〃And　luckier　still　that　I　let　them　in。　The　museum　doesn't　really　open　until　8。30；　you　see。　But　since　they　were　obviously　in　a　hurry。。。〃　He　smiled　and　shrugged。
　〃So　I've　missed　them　by。。。　how　much？〃　Dolgikh　put　on　a　disappointed　expression。
　The　curator　shrugged　again。　〃Oh；　ten　minutes；　maybe。　But　at　least　I　can　tell　you　where　they　went。〃
　
　〃I　would　be　very　grateful；　rade；〃　Dolgikh　told　him；　following　him　into　his　private　rooms。
　〃rade？〃　The　curator　glanced　at　him；　his　eyes　bright　and　seeming　to　bulge　behind　the　dense　glass　of　his　spectacles。　〃We　don't　hear　that　term　too　much　down　here　on　the　border；　so　to　speak。　Might　I　inquire　who　you　are？〃
　Dolgikh　presented　his　KGB　identification　and　said；　〃That　makes　it　official。　Now　then；　I've　no　more　time　to　waste。　So　if　you'll　just　tell　me　what　they　were　looking　for　and　where　they　went。　。
　The　curator　no　longer　beamed；　no　longer　seemed　happy。　〃Are　they　wanted；　those　men？〃
　〃No；　just　under　observation。〃
　〃A　shame。　They　seemed　pleasant　enough。〃
　〃One　can't　be　too　careful　these　days；〃　said　Dolgikh。　〃What　did　they　want？〃
　〃A　location。　They　sought　a　place　at　the　foot　of　the　mountains　called　Moupho　Aide　Ferenc　Yaborov。〃
　〃A　mouthful！〃　Dolgikh　mented。　〃And　you　told　them　where　to　find　it？〃
　〃No；〃　the　other　shook　his　head。　〃Only　where　it　used　to　be…and　even　then　I　can't　be　sure。　Look　here。〃　He　showed　Dolgikh　a　set　of　antique　maps　spread　on　a　table。　〃Not　accurate；　by　any　means。　The　oldest　is　about　four　hundred　and　fifty　years　old。　Copies；　obviously；　not　the　originals。　But　if　you　look　there〃…he　put　his　finger　on　one　of　the　maps…〃you'll　see　Kolomyya。　And　here　…；　〃Ferengi？〃
　The　curator　nodded。　〃One　of　the　three…English；　I　believe…seemed　to　know　exactly　where　to　look。　When　he　saw　that　ancient　name　on　the　map；　〃Ferengi〃；　he　grew　very　excited。　And　shortly　after　that　they　left。〃
　Dolgikh　nodded；　studied　the　old　map　very　carefully。　〃It's　west　of　here；〃　he　mused；　〃and　a　little　north。　Scale？〃
　
　〃Roughly　one　centimetre　to　five　kilometres。　But　as　I've　said；　the　accuracy　is　very　suspect。〃
　〃Something　less　than　seventy　kilometres；　then；〃　Dolgikh　frowned。　〃At　the　foot　of　the　mountains。　Do　you　have　a　modern　map？〃
　〃Oh；　yes；〃　the　curator　sighed。　〃If　you'll　just　e　this　way。。。〃
　
　Fifteen　miles　out　of　Kolomyya　a　new　highway；　still　under　construction；　sped　north　for　Ivano…Frankovsk；　its　tarmac　surface　making　for　a　smooth　ride。　Certainly　to　Krakovitch；　Quint　and　Gulharov　the　ride　was　a　delightful　respite；　following　in　the　wake　of　their　bumpy；　bruising　journey　from　Bucharest；　through　Romania　and　Moldavia。　To　the　west　rose　the　Carpathians；　dark；　forested　and　brooding　even　in　the　morning　sunlight；　while　to　the　east　the　plain　fell　gently　away　into　grey…green　distance　and　a　far；　hazy　horizon。
　Eighteen　miles　along　this　road；　in　the　direction　of　Ivano…Frankovsk；　they　passed　a　fork　off　to　the　left　which　inclined　upwards　directly　into　misty　foothills。　Quint　asked　Gulharov　to　slow　down　and　traced　a　line　on　a　rough　map　he'd　copied　at　the　museum。　〃That　could　be　our　best　route；〃　he　said。
　〃The　road　has　a　barrier；〃　Krakovitch　pointed　out；　〃and　a　sign　forbidding　entry。　It's　disused；　a　dead　end。〃
　〃And　yet　I　sense　that's　the　way　to　go；〃　Quint　insisted。
　Krakovitch　could　feel　it　too：　something　inside　which　warned　that　this　was　not　the　way　to　go；　which　probably　meant　that　Quint　was　right　and　it　was。　〃There's　grave　danger　there；〃　he　said。
　〃Which　is　more　or　less　what　we　expected；〃　said　Quint。　〃It's　what　we're　here　for。〃
　〃Very　well。〃　Krakovitch　pursed　his　lips　and　nodded。　He　spoke　to　Gulharov；　but　the　latter　was　already　slowing　down。　Up　ahead　the　twin　lanes　narrowed　into　one　where　a　construction　gang　worked　to　widen　the　road。　A　steam　roller　flattened　smoking　tarmac　in　the　wake　of　a　tar　spraying　lorry。　Gulharov　turned　the　car　about…face　and；　at　Krakovitch's　mand；　brought　it　to　a　halt。
　Krakovitch　got　out；　went　to　find　the　ganger　and　speak　to　him。　Quint　called　after　him；　〃What's　up？〃
　〃Up？　Oh！　I　mean　to　see　if　these　people　know　anything　about　this　area。　Also；　perhaps　I　am　able　to　enlist　their　aid。　Remember；　when　we　find　what　we're　looking　for；　we　still　have　to　destroy　it！〃
　Quint　stayed　in　the　car　and　watched　Krakovitch　stride　towards　the　workmen　and　speak　to　them。　They　pointed　along　the　deserted　road　to　a　construction　shack。　Krakovitch　went　that　way。　Ten　minutes　later　he　came　back　with　a　bearded　giant　of　a　man　in　faded　overalls。
　〃This　is　Mikhail　Volkonsky；〃　he　said；　by　way　of　introduction。　Quint　and　Gulharov　nodded。　〃Apparently　you　are　right；　Carl；〃　Krakovitch　continued。　〃He　says　that　back　there；　up　in　the　mountains；　that's　the　place　of　the　gypsies。〃
　〃Da；　da！〃　Volkonsky　growled　and　nodded　his　concurrence。　He　pointed　westward。　Quint　got　out　of　the　car；　Gulharov　too。　They　looked　where　the　ganger　pointed。　〃Szgany！〃　Volkonsky　insisted。　〃Szgany　Ferengi！〃
　Beyond　the　foothills；　rising　out　of　the　thin　morning　mist；　the　blue　smoke　of　a　wood　fire　climbed　almost　vertically　into　the　still　air。　〃Their　camp；〃　said　Krakovitch。
　〃They。。。　they　still　e。〃　Quint　shook　his　head　in　disbelief。　〃They　still　e！〃
　〃Their　homage；〃　Krakovitch　nodded。
　〃What　now？〃　asked　Quint；　after　a　moment's　silence。
　〃Now　Mikhail　Volkonsky　will　show　us　the　place；〃　said　Krakovitch。　〃That　blocked　off　road　we　passed　back　there　goes　to　within　half　a　mile　of　the　castle's　site。　Volkonsky　has　actually　seen　the　place。〃
　All　three　searchers　got　back　into　the　car；　the　huge　foreman　with　them；　and　Gulharov　began　to　drive　back　the　way　they'd　e。
　Quint　asked；　〃But　where　does　the　road　go？〃
　〃Nowhere！〃　Krakovitch　answered。　〃It　was　meant　to　cut　through　the　mountains　to　the　railhead　at　Khust。　But　a　year　ago　the　pass　was　declared　unworkable　because　of　shale；　sliding　scree　and　badly　fractured　rock。　To　force　it　through　would　constitute　a　major　engineering　feat；　and　there'd　be　little　real　benefit　to　show　from　it。　As　an　alternative；　and　to　save　face；　the　road　will　be　driven　through　to　Ivano…Frankovsk　instead；　that　is；　the　existing　road　will　be　widened　and　improved。　All　on　this　side　of　the　mountains。　There　is　already　a　railway　route；　however　tortuous；　from　Ivano…Frankovsk　through　the　mountains。　As　for　the　fifteen　miles　of　new　road　already　built〃…he　shrugged…〃eventually　there　may　be　a　town　out　there；　industrial　sites。　It　won't　have　been　a　total　waste。　Very　little　is　wasted　in　the　Soviet　Union。〃
　Quint　smiled；　however　wryly。
　Krakovitch　saw　it；　said；　〃Yes；　I　know…dogma。　It's　a　disease　we　all　seem　to　catch　sooner　or　later。　Now　it　appears　I　have　it　too。　There　is　great　waste；　not　least　in　the　mass　of　words　from　which　we　build　our　excuses。　。
　Gulharov　stopped　the　car　at　the　new　road's　barrier；　Volkonsky　got　out；　swivelled　the　barrier　to　one　side；　waved　them　through。　They　picked　him　up　again　and　headed　up　into　the　mountains。
　No　one　noticed　the　battered　old　Fiat　parked　a　half…mile　down　the　road　back　towards　Kolomyya；　or　the　blue　exhaust　fumes　and　cloud　of　dust　as　it　rumbled　into　life　and　followed　in　their　tracks　。　。
　
　Guy　Roberts　had　eaten　two　British　Rail　breakfasts；　washed　down　with　pi