rr.eastofealing-第35节

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he　form　of　a　giant；　clad　in　robes　of　crimson　and　seated　upon　a　great　throne；　carved　with　the　gilded　heads　of　bulls。　Golden　banners；　each　emblazoned　with　similar　motifs；　fluttered　above　and　five　hooded；　stunted　figures　cowered　at　his　feet　in　attitudes　of　supplication。　The　crimson　giant　raised　and　lowered　his　hand　in　mechanical　benediction；　and　it　appeared　that　for　a　moment　he　raised　his　eyes；　twin　blood　bowls　of　fire；　towards　the　men　in　the　rooftop　bower；　and　stared　into　their　very　souls。
　'Him；'　said　Omally。
　'And　there。'　Jim　pointed　vigorously。　'Look　at　that；　look　at　that。'
　As　the　throned　float　moved　beyond　the　range　of　vision；　another　rose　up　behind　it。　Here；　a　legion　of　men　climbed　one　upon　another；　pointing　towards　the　sky。　They　were　identical　in　appearance；　each　resembling　to　a　tee　the　young　Jack　Palance：　the　Cereans。
　To　either　side　of　the　floats　marched　a　legion　of　men；　women；　and　children。　Familiar　faces；　now　alien　and　unknown；　their　faces　wore　determined　expressions　and　each　marched　in　step；　raising　his　or　her　own　banner。　Each　illuminated　with　eighteen　vertical　lines；　placed　in　three　rows　of　six。　The　number　of　the　beast；　for　it　is　the　number　of　a　man。　Professor　Slobe　pointed　towards　the　image。　Away　in　the　distance；　far　greater　shapes　were　looming　into　view；　things　so　dark　and　loathsome；　that　even　there；　upon　the　flat　white　marble　surface；　their　ghost　images　exuded　a　sense　of　eldritch　horror　which　stunned　the　senses。
　'Switch　it　off；'　Omally　demanded。　'There　is　too　much　madness　here。'
　'One　more　small　thing　you　must　see；　John。'　Professor　Slobe　adjusted　the　apparatus　and　the　image　of　the　Lateinos　and　Romiith　building　drew　a　black　shroud　across　the　table…top。　The　old　man　cranked　the　mechanism　and　enlarged　an　area　at　the　base　of　the　building。　'Now　look　carefully；　did　you　see　that？'
　His　guests　blinked　and　squinted　at　the　image。　'I　saw　something；'　said　Jim；　'but　what？'
　'Look　harder。'
　'Yes；　I　see　it。'　It　was　but　a　fleeting　movement；　a　single　figure　detached　himself　from　the　throng；　pressed　his　hand　to　a　section　of　the　wall　and　was　instantly　swallowed　up　into　the　building　to　vanish　without　trace。
　'I　was　at　a　loss　to　find　a　means　of　gaining　entry；'　the　Professor　explained；　'but　Holmes　reasoned　the　thing　through　and　deduced　their　method。'
　'If　it's　a　lock　then　I　shall　pick　it。'
　'Not　on　this　occasion；　John。　But　one　of　us　here　has　the　key　in　his　hand　even　now。'
　'Oh　no；'　said　Jim；　thrusting　his　tattooed　hand　into　his　pocket。　'Not　this　boy；　not　in　there。'
　'You　have　the　right　of　admission；　Jim；　right　there　in　the　palm　of　your　hand。'
　'No；　no；　no。'　Pooley　shook　his　head　vigorously；　'An　eight　a。m。　appointment　with　Albert　Pierrepoint　I　should　much　prefer。'
　'In　my　mind；　only　one　course　of　action　lies　open。　Unless　we　can　penetrate　the　building　and　apply　the　proverbial　spanner　to　the　puter's　works；　all　will　be　irretrievably　lost。　We　cannot　think　to　destroy　the　dark　God　himself。　But　if　his　temple　is　cast　down　and　his　worshippers　annihilated；　then　he　must　withdraw　once　more；　into　the　place　of　forever　night　from　whence　he　has　emerged。'　Professor　Slobe　re…cranked　the　mechanism　and　the　room　fell　into　darkness。
　'Oh　doom；'　said　Jim　Pooley。　'Oh　doom　and　desolaoooow！　Let　go　there；　John。'
　'We　must　make　our　move　now。'　Professor　Slobe's　voice　echoed　in　the　void。　'There　is　no　more　time；　e　at　once。'　He　opened　the　door　and　the　wan　light　from　the　stairs　entered　the　strange　roof　chamber。
　'But　we　cannot　go　outside；'　said　Omally。　'One　step　out　of　this　house　and　good　night。'
　'Have　no　fear；　I　have　taken　the　matter　into　consideration。'　Professor　Slobe　led　the　two　lost　souls　back　to　his　study。　'You　are　not　going　to　like　this；　John；'　said　he；　as　he　opened　the　desk　drawer。
　'That　should　create　no　immediate　problem。　I　have　liked　nothing　thus　far。'
　'So　be　it。'　Professor　Slobe　drew　out　a　number　of　items；　which　had　very　much　the　appearance　of　being　metallic　balaclava　helmets；　and　laid　them　on　the　table。
　'Superman　outfits；'　said　Pooley；　very　impressed。　'I　should　have　realized；　Professor；　you　are　one　of　the　Justice　League　of　America。'
　'Silence；　Pooley。'
　'Sorry；　John。'
　'As　ludicrous　as　these　items　at　first　must　appear；　they　may　well　be　our　salvation。　As　you　are　no　doubt　now　aware；　the　Lateinos　and　Romiith　puter　scan　cannot　penetrate　lead。　Hopefully；　these　lead…foil　helmets　will　shield　our　brain　patterns　from　the　machine's　detection　and　allow　us　to　move　about　unmolested。'
　'Size　seven　and　a　half；'　said　Jim。　'But　I　can　fit　into　a　seven　at　a　push。'
　'Good　man。　As　an　extra　precaution；　if　each　of　you　could　slip　another　piece　of　foil　into　your　breast　pocket　then　your　heartbeat　should　be　similarly　concealed。　No　doubt　the　infra…red　image　produced　by　body　heat　will　still　register；　but　the　result　should　be　somewhat　confused。　〃Will　not　pute〃；　I　believe　the　expression　to　be。'
　'Bravo。'　Omally　slipped　on　his　helmet　without　hesitation。
　'Very　Richard　the　Lionheart；'　chuckled　Pooley。
　'A　fine　man；'　said　Professor　Slobe。　'I　knew　him　well。'
　The　three　men；　now　decked　out　in　their　ludicrous　headgear；　slipped　through　the　Professor's　French　windows　and　out　into　the　garden。　At　times　one　has　to　swallow　quite　a　lot　for　a　quiet　life　in　Brentford。
　Above　the　wall　the　titanic　floats　filled　the　street。　As　one　by　one　the　balaclava'd　goodguys　eased　their　way　into　the　swaying　crowd；　each　held　his　breath　and　did　a　fair　bit　of　praying。　Professor　Slobe　plucked　at　Omally's　sleeve。　'Follow　me。'　The　marching　horde　plodded　onward。　The　floats　dwarfed　both　street　and　sky。　Jim　peered　about　him；　he　was　walking　in　a　dream。　The　men　and　women　to　either　side　of　him；　each　wearing　their　pair　of　minuscule　headphones；　were　unreal。　And　that　he　knew　to　be　true　in　every　sense　of　the　word。　At　close　hand；　the　floats　appeared　shabby　and　ill…constructed；　a　mish…mash　of　texture　and　hue　ing　together　as　if；　and　no　doubt　it　was　exactly　thus；　programmed　to　create　an　overall　effect。　No　hand　of　man　had　been　at　work　here。　Like　all　else　it　was　a　sick　parody；　a　sham；　and　nothing　more。　The　bolted　wheel　near　at　hand　turned　in　faulty　circles　grinding　the　tarmac；　untrue。　But　it　was　hypnotic；　its　unreality　drew　the　eye　and　held　it　there。　'e　on；　Jim。'　Omally　tugged　at　Pooley's　sleeve。　'You're　falling　behind　again。'
　Pooley　struggled　on。　Ahead；　the　Lateinos　and　Romiith　building　dwarfed　all　beneath　its　black　shadow。　The　sky　was　dark　with　tumbling　clouds；　strange　images　weaved　and　flowed　beyond　the　mysterious　glittering　walls；　shimmering　over　the　roof…tops。　Even　now　something　terrible　was　occurring　beyond　the　boundaries　of　the　borough。
　The　awful　procession　turned　out　of　the　Butts　and　up　into　Moby　Dick　Terrace。　Professor　Slobe　drew　his　followers　aside　from　the　throng　and　the　helmeted　duo　scuttled　after　him。　'Make　haste　now。'
　The　Lateinos　and　Romiith　building　filled　the　eastern　skyline。　Jim　noted　with　increasing　gloom　that　an　entire　terrace　of　houses　had　gone；　overwhelmed　by　the　pitiless　structure　which　reared　into　the　darkling　sky。
　On　a　roadside　bench　ahead　an　old　man　sat　with　his　dog。
　'Good　day；　lads；'　said　Old　Pete；　as　the　strangely…clad　threesome　passed　him　by　at　close　quarters。　'Fair　old　do　this　year；　isn't　it？'
　'Bloody　marvellous；'　Pooley　replied。　'Hope　to　see　you　later　for　one　in　the　Swan　if　all　goes　well。'
　Old　Pete　cleared　his　throat　with　a　curiously　mechanical　coughing　sound。　'Look　out　for　yourself；'　said　he。
　The　three　men　continued　their　journey　at　the　Jog…
　'Stop　here　now；'　said　Professor　Slobe；　as　they　came　finally　to　the　corner　of　the　street。　'I　am　expecting　somebody。'
　'A　friend　I　hope。'
　'That　would　be　nice；'　said　Jim；　with　a　little　more　flippancy　than　the　situation　warranted。　'Organizer　of　the　Festival　raffle　is　it？　Or　chairman　of　the　float　mittee？'
　Omally　took　what　he　considered　to　be　one　of　the　last　opportunities　left　to　him　to　welt　Jim　about　the　head。　'Oow　ouch！'　he　said；　clutching　at　a　throbbing　fist。　Pooley　smiled　sweetly。　'How　much　do　you　want　for　the　copyright　of　this　helmet？'　he　asked　the　Professor。
　'Leave　it　out；　you　two。　Here　he　es。'
　Along　the　deserted　pavement；　weaving　with　great　difficulty；　came　an　all　too　familiar　figure；　clad　in　grey　shopkeeper's　overall　and　trilby　hat。　But　what　was　this　that　the　clone　shopkeeper　rode　upon　his　precarious　journey？　Could　this　be　that　creaking　vestige　of　a　more　glorious　age；　now　black　and　pitted　and　sorely　taken　with　the　rest？　Surely　we　have　seen　these　perished　hand…grips　before？　Marvelled　at　the　coil…spring　saddle　and　oil…bath　chainguard？　The　stymied　Sturmey　Archer　Three…speed　and　the　tungsten…carbide　lamp？　Yes；　there　can　be　no　doubt；　it　is　that　noted　iron　stallion；　that　prince　of　pedaldom；　squeaking　and　plaining　beneath　the　weight　of　its　alien　rider；　it　can　be　no　other。　Let　men　take　note　and　ladies　beware：　Marchant　the　wonder　bike；　it　is　he。
　'Get　off　my　bleeding　bicycle；'　yelled　John　Omally。
　Norman　the　Second　leapt　down　from　his　borrowed　mount　with　some　alacrity。　Not；　however；　with　sufficient　alertness　to　avoid　the　sneaky　pedal　which　had　been　awaiting　its　chance　to　drive　in　deep。　Norman's　right　trouser　cuff　vanished　into　the　oil…bath　and　the　automated　shopman　bit　the　dust。
　'Bastard；'　squealed　the　mechanical　man。　'I'll　do　for　you。'
　'Nice　one；　Marchant；'　said　John；