jherbert.sepulchre-第52节

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　to　have　no　purpose：　its　walls　were　bare　and　there　were　no　casks　or　ornaments　within。　It　was　merely　an　isolated　chamber；　one　that　was　reached　by　crouching　low　along　a　lengthy　corridor　which　had　many　turns　and　dips。
　　The　pulse　had　e　as　he　had　stood　in　that　soulless　room；　and　this　time　it　was　as　though　he　had　really　heard　the　sound。　The　walls　themselves　had　seemed　to　tremble。　Startled；　he　had　swung　his　lamp　around　and　the　light　had　caused　a　shadow　on　one　wall。　He　moved　closer　to　inspect　the　shadow　and　found　a　mud　brick　jutting　out　a　fraction　from　its　neighbours。　He　had　used　the　trowel　he　carried；　standard　equipment　along　with　brushes　for　the　diggers；　to　cut　round　the　brick　and　ease　it　from　the　wall。　The　stench　of　released　gases　sent　him　reeling　backwards。
　　He　approached　again　more　cautiously；　and　the　smell　was　still　strong　but　less　of　a　shock。　Other　mud　bricks　easily　came　loose　and　soon　a　passageway　was　exposed。　A　dreadful　fear　had　overe　him　then　and　he　had　almost　run　from　that　place。　But　a　curious　fascination　stayed　him。
　　He　crawled　into　the　narrow　passage；　holding　the　lamp　before　his　face。
　　The　passage　led　downwards；　so　steeply　at　certain　points　that　he　had　to　use　his　strength　to　prevent　himself　tumbling　forward。
　　Before　long　it　opened　out　into　a　wide　circular　chamber；　at　the　centre　of　which　was　a　gaping　hole；　an　open　pit。　Around　the　opening　lay　human　bones；　their　rotting　robes　those　of　high　priests　and　priestesses。　Resting　against　the　walls　were　clay　tablets　of　cuneiform　writing；　wedge…shaped　signs　that　represented　words　or　syllables。　He　trod　carefully　to　the　edge　of　the　pit　and　stared　dawn　at　the　blackness。　That　was　when　his　fear　became　too　much　to　bear；　for　something　was　urging　him　to　descend；　an　inner　pulsion　inviting　him　to　leap。
　　And　the　mind…sound　was　a　sound；　disgorging　from　the　pit。
　　THUD…UP　He　had　fled。
　　Despite　his　terror；　he　had　resealed　the　opening　to　the　secret　passageway；　using　dirt　from　the　floor　to　cover　the　cracks　（not　that　the　room　was　of　any　interest　to　Sir　Leonard　and　his　team　of　archaeologists；　who　had　treasures　in　abundance　to　drool　aver　without　bothering　with　empty　chambers）。　This　discovery　would　be　his　alone。
　　Four　days　went　by　before　he　gained　enough　courage　to　venture　down　to　that　pit　again；　four　days　of　nagging　agitation　and　four　nights　of　feverish　nightmares。　He　knew　he　would　go　back；　the　difficulty　was　finding　the　will　to　do　so。
　　He　waited　until　evening　once　more　when　all　digging　had　stopped；　only　a　few　guards　that　he；　himself；　had　helped　organise　left　on　duty　above　ground。　This　time　he　returned　to　the　pit　with　rope　and　stanchion　。　。　。
　　。　。　。　Kline　wailed　as　he　slept　and　Khayed　and　Daoud　leaned　over　him　anxiously　。　。　。
　　。　。　。　and　fearfully；　his　limbs　trembling　so　badly　that　lee　almoyt　lost　his　grip；　lowered　himself　over　the　edge　of　the　pit。　He　descended　slowly；　drawn　by　an　allure　he　could　not　prehend；　his　lamp　dangling　below　him；　attached　to　his　waist　by　thick　string。　He　was　aware　that　something　evil　awaited　him；　something　ancient　and　cruel；　for　his　dreams　over　the　past　few　nights　had　revealed　that　at　least　to　him；　although　no　images；　no　visions　of　what　it　was；　were　presented。　For　in　his　sleep　he　had　tasted　the　joys　of　carnality；　had　been　seduced　by　the　delights　of　depravity；　had　been　pleasured　by　the　thrill　of　vileness。　The　dreams　had　promised　that　those　glories　would　be　his　if　。　。　。　if　。　。　。　if　。　。　。　he　would　but　claim　them。　And　to　claim　them；　he　would　have　to　descend　the　pit。
　　THUD…UP！
　　The　pulse　was　thunderous；　reverberating　around　the　shaft；　causing　a　tremor；　dislodging　dust。　His　grip　on　the　rope　slipped　and　he　plunged。
　　But　not　far。
　　For　the　pit　was　not　deep　at　all。　Its　very　blackness　had　created　that　illusion。
　　His　legs　buckled　and　he　crashed　onto　his　back；　the　lamp　toppling　over；　fortunately　still　burning。　Without　pause　to　regather　his　breath；　he　reached　out　and　righted　the　lamp　lest　he　be　cast　into　plete　darkness。　Only　then　did　he　suck　in　the　foul　air　and　feel　the　pain　of　his　jarred　body。
　　He　pushed　himself　into　a　sitting　position；　his　back　against　the　crumbling　wall；　his　chest　heaving；　his　eyes　wide　and　frightened。
　　Opposite　was　a　niche。　A　square　hole　that　was　no　more　than　two　foot　high；　cleverly　concealed　in　shadow　so　that　no　one　above　would　ever　realise　it　was　there。
　　It　was　some　time　before　he　was　able　to　crawl　towards　the　niche。
　　The　lamp　revealed　a　closed　receptacle　of　some　kind　inside；　its　surface　dulled　by　centuries　of　dust。　He　brushed　shivery　fingers　across　the　front　and　felt　metal；　bumps　and　ridges　that　might　have　been　symbols　were　embossed　on　what　must　have　been　a　door；　for　set　in　one　side　was　a　small　projection　that　served　as　a　handle。
　　He　stared。　He　did　not　want　to　open　it。　He　knew　he　was　going　to。
　　His　hand　shook　so　violently　he　could　barely　grasp　the　handle。　Squeezing　his　fingers　tight　around　it；　he　tugged。
　　The　door　opened　easily。
　　And　his　scream　threatened　to　bring　the　walls　of　the　pit　down　on　him。　。　。
　　。　。　。　Kline's　scream　caused　Khayed　and　Daoud　to　leap　away　from　the　bed　in　surprise。　They　quickly　ran　forward　again　and　babbled　soothing　words　to　their　master；　assuring　him　it　was　only　a　nightmare；　that　he　was　safe　under　their　watchful　protection；　nothing　would　harm　him　while　they　lived　and　breathed。
　　He　looked　from　one　to　the　other；　his　face　a　cracked　mask　of　seams　and　ruptures。　Suddenly　he　understand。　'He's　dying；'　Kline　rasped。
　　　
　　　
　　　35　THE　WAITING　GAME
　　
　　He　watched　the　Granada　cruise　by；　its　headlights　brightening　both　sides　of　the　narrow　road。　Keeping　low　and　pulling　aside　minimum　foliage　so　that　he　could　observe　but　not　be　seen；　he　checked　that　there　were　still　only　two　occupants　in　the　patrol　car。　When　it　was　gone；　he　stood　and　held　up　his　wristwatch；　waiting　a　moment　or　two　for　the　moon　to　re…appear　from　behind　rolling　clouds。　Just　under　twenty　minutes　this　time。　The　driver　varied　his　speed　during　the　circuit　around　the　estate　so　that　there　was　never　a　regular　time　interval　between　certain　points。　The　driver　of　the　second　patrol　car　did　the　same。
　　The　man　sank　into　the　undergrowth；　making　his　way　back　through　the　thick　woods；　only　bringing　out　a　flashlight　when　he　was　well　clear　of　the　road。　Soon　he　arrived　at　a　lane；　one　that　eventually　joined　the　route　he　had　been　watching；　he　continued　his　journey　away　from　the　estate。
　　Two　vehicles　were　waiting　in　a　picnickers'　clearing　a　few　hundred　yards　on；　their　occupants　sitting　in　darkness。　He　flashed　his　torch　twice；　then　switched　off　before　climbing　into　the　back　seat　of　the　first　car。
　　'Well？'　the　passenger　in　the　front　said。
　　'Two　patrols。　Professionals；　as　you'd　expect。　We　could　easy　take　them　out；　though。'
　　'Shouldn't　be　any　need。'
　　'No。　It'll　be　no　problem　to　get　into　the　place。　We　only　have　to　wait　for　them　to　pass；　then　make　our　move　when　they're　out　of　sight。　The　fence'll　be　easy。'
　　'We'll　wait　awhiles；　give　them　time　to　settle　in　for　the　night。'
　　'It's　been　a　time　ing；　Danny。'　His　expression　couldn't　be　seen；　but　the　man　in　the　front　was　smiling。　'It　has　that；'　he　said；　the　softness　of　his　accent　hardened　by　the　intent　of　his　words。　'But　all　the　sweeter　for　it。'
　　　
　　　
　　　36　A　ROOM　OF　MEMORIES
　　
　　Halloran　's　senses　reeled。
　　It　wasn't　a　room　he　was　standing　in　but　a　kaleidoscope　of　memories。　They　spun　before　him；　some　merging　so　that　yesterday　mixed　with　yesteryear；　experiences　of　childhood　confused　with　those　of　later　times；　scenes　superimposed　upon　others。　It　was　as　if　screens　or　veils　fluttered　in　front　of　him…he　thought　of　the　veils　he　and　Kline　had　passed　through　together　in　the　dream　of　last　night…thin；　transparent　layers；　older　images　on　those　new。
　　He　turned；　ready　to　run　from　there；　but　the　doorway　was　no　longer　behind　him。　Instead　there　were　more　visions；　closing　around　him；　the　colours　vivid　and　fresh；　the　details　perfectly　defined；　as　though　they　were　being　lived　at　that　moment。
　　Slowly　some　began　to　dominate　the　others；　dispersing　weaker　memories…less　significant　memories…to　the　peripheries　of　his　mind。
　　He　saw　himself　slicing　the　tendons　behind　the　black　tracker's　knee；　the　man　a　volunteer　of　South　Africa's　Special　Service　Brigade　who　would　have　followed　Halloran　and　his　small　raiding　band　of　ANCs　back　across　the　border　to　their　camp；　later　to　lead　his　own　forces　there；　had　he　not　been　put　out　of　action。　Fading　in　over　this　was　the　church；　moonlight　through　the　high　stained…glass　windows　revealing　the　three　boys　creeping　along　the　centre　aisle；　Liam　hugging　the　dead　cat　wrapped　in　old　rags　to　his　chest；　its　body　mangled；　opened　by　the　wheels　of　a　speeding　car；　the　other　two　boys　giggling　nervously　as　he　approached　the　altar　and　reached　up　to　the　tabernacle；　opening　its　gilt　door；　pushing　the　bloodied　corpse　inside；　running　for　their　lives；　laughing　and　piss…scared　of　the　consequences。　He　whirled。　Now　he　was　with　the　girl；　Cora；　taking　her　forcibly；　ignoring　her　struggles；　her　protests；　thrusting　into　her　until　she　submitted；　wanted　him；　her　lust　as　intense　as　his；　the　rape　no　longer　so；　being　a　mutual　desire　which　had　to　be　satiated。　And　here　he　was　with　his　father；　and　Dadda　was　being　torn　apart　by　bullets；　his　eyes　bulging　with