jherbert.sepulchre-第59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！


　　The　huge　knife　was　already　leaving　his　hand　as　the　next　bullet　tore　away　his　throat。
　　Shay　fell　back　against　the　stairs；　the　blade　imbedded　at　an　angle　in　his　stomach；　the　heavy　anorak　he　wore　no　protection　at　all。　His　vision　was　already　beginning　to　dim　as　he　turned　his　head　towards　the　man　below；　his　target；　the　Irishman　turned　traitor　whom　he　and　his　group　had　been　sent　to　assassinate　as　an　example　to　others　of　how　the　Organisation　always　avenged　themselves。　His　hand　wavered　as　he　raised　the　Webley　。38；　for　the　weapon　was　suddenly　very　heavy；　almost　too　heavy　to　lift。
　　Once　again　he　aimed　the　gun　at　Halloran。
　　　
　　　
　　　49　RETURN　TO　THE　DEATH　HUT
　　
　　'We　can't　waste　any　more　time　with　this　one；'　Mather　remarked。　'Find　another　point　of　entry？'　his　operative　suggested；　looking　up　from　his　kneeling　position　against　the　porch　wall。
　　'No　need；'　Mather　replied；　raising　a　hand　to　the　other　two　Shield　men　running　towards　them。　He　went　to　meet　them；　keeping　out　of　sight　of　the　main　doors　inside　the　porch　from　where　the　gunman　held　them　at　bay。　He　tightened　his　coat　collar　around　his　neck　against　the　drenching　rain。
　　'In　the　mood　for　target　practice；　Georgie？'　he　asked　when　the　two　men　reached　him。
　　'Always；　sir；'　came　the　answer；　as　all　three　moved　in　close　to　be　heard　over　the　storm。　'What's　the　problem？'
　　'We're　being　refused　admittance。　You　see　the　Mercedes　parked　in　line　with　the　porch？　You'll　have　a　clear　view　of　the　house　doorway　from　the　rear　passenger　seat；　or　at　least　you　can　see　some　of　it　in　the　darkness…our　friend　appears　to　have　switched　off　some　lights。　The　vehicle's　ours；　so　use　your　spare　key　if　it's　locked。'
　　'How　much　damage？'
　　'Just　hit　the　bugger。'　Mather　limped　away；　followed　by　the　second　operative　who　crouched　low　and　used　the　Mercedes　as　a　screen　to　reach　the　opposite　side　of　the　porch。　The　man　named　Georgie　doubled　over　also；　going　to　the　car　and　trying　the　doorhandle。　Halloran　must　have　left　it　in　one　hell　of　a　rush；　he　thought；　when　he　discovered　the　doors　were　unlocked。　The　keys　were　in　the　ignition。　Georgie　switched　on　the　system；　then　crawled　over　to　the　backseat　and　pressed　the　button　to　lower　the　passenger　window。　lie　raised　the　Browning；　keeping　it　clear　of　the　rain　that　spattered　in；　and　waited。
　　He　watched　as　the　operative　with　Mather　crawled　on　his　belly　into　the　tunnel；　keeping　to　the　shadow　of　one　wall。　The　Planner　reached　inside　with　his　cane　to　tap　the　floor；　hoping　to　attract　the　attention　of　their　quarry。
　　It　worked。　Georgie　squeezed　the　Browning's　trigger　as　flame　flashed　from　the　doorway　ahead。　All　he　heard　was　the　bark　of　his　own　weapon；　but　he　assumed　Phil；　inside　the　porch；　had　fired　at　the　same　time；　aiming　slightly　left　of　the　gunflash。　They　waited　a　few　seconds　then；　as　lightning　seared　and　thunder　shook　the　sky；　he　saw　Mather　rush　inside；　Phil　rising　to　acpany　him　to　the　doorway。　He　bundled　out　of　the　car；　taking　up　position　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　porch　to　his　other　colleague；　their　weapons　pointing　inwards　at　the　entrance。
　　Mather　pushed　the　door　back　further　and　flicked　the　Armalite　away　from　the　motionless　gunman　with　his　cane。　Soft　light　from　an　open　door　across　the　spacious　hall　and　from　the　landing　above　lit　the　area　and　Mather　breathed　a　sigh　of　relief　when　he　ascertained　that　no　one　else　guarded　the　main　doors。　Rushing　forward　like　that　so　soon　after　the　enemy　was　hit　had　been　a　calculated　risk；　but　it　had　saved　some　time。
　　Mather　pointed　at　the　slumped　figure　with　his　cane。　'Check　him；　then　send　one　of　the　others　after　me　while　you　search　upstairs。'　He　was　already　limping　across　the　hall　making　for　the　lit　doorway　as　he　gave　the　orders。
　　He　entered　a　corridor　at　the　end　of　which　was　a　door　swaying　with　the　draught　that　blew　in　from　outside；　rain　puddling　the　floor　beneath　it。　He　hurried　forward　glancing　into　other　open　doorways　as　he　passed。
　　From　ahead；　Mather　thought　he　heard　a　scuffling。
　　Palusinski　came　out　into　the　courtyard；　the　pounding　rain　wele　on　his　face　and　head；　even　though　huge　droplets　spattered　his　glasses　and　distorted　his　vision。　Lightning　pearled　everything　before　him；　dazzling　him　through　the　water…spots　on　his　lenses　so　that　he　blinked　rapidly。　Whipping　off　the　spectacles；　the　movement　acpanied　by　a　peal　of　thunder；　he　hurried　across　the　flagstones。　The　Pole　had　no　desire　to　find　his　way　through　Kline's　private　rooms　in　order　to　reach　the　main　doors　of　the　house：　this　way　was　more　direct　and　the　sooner　he　was　away　from　the　madness　inside　Neatly　the　better　he　would　like　it。　His　own　acute　sense　of　survival　told　him　some　kind　of　reckoning　was　at　hand　for　Kline　moj　Pan；　oh　Lord　and　Master！…and　he；　Janusz　Palusinski；　did　not　want　to　be　around　for　the　consequences。
　　But　as　he　passed　the　centre　fountain；　a　burning　liquid　sprayed　his　face。
　　When　he　stopped　to　brush　at　the　stinging　with　his　hand；　he　felt　a　stickiness　on　his　cheek。　He　could　feel　it　eating　into　his　skin。　He　peered　short…sightedly　at　the　fountain　and　there　seemed　to　be　shapes　contorting　from　the　stonework；　rising　from　the　brimming　basin；　writhing　among　the　ornamentation。
　　Palusinski　uttered　a　startled　cry　and　began　to　back　away。　Gowno！　This　couldn't　be！　The　fountain　was　a　dead　thing；　defunct；　slimed　and　blocked；　an　extinct　spring！　Yet　he　could　discern　a　bubbling　outflow　catching　reflections　from　window　lights　around　the　yard。　And　liquid　dribbled　sluggishly　from　the　carved　spouts　which；　in　their　decay；　resembled　gargoyles。　And　these　monsters　themselves　were　moving；　twisting　as　if　to　tear　themselves　free　from　the　stonework；　hatching　from　wombs　of　masonry；　spitting　their　bile　of　burning　substance；　the　whole　structure　gushing　unnatural　life。
　　Palusinski　slipped　as　he　turned　to　run；　his　knees　smacking　sickeningly　against　the　flagstones。　His　spectacles　flew　from　his　grasp；　one　lens　cobwebbing　fine　cracks　as　it　struck。
　　The　Pole　scrabbled　away　on　hands　and　knees；　too　much　in　haste　to　search　for　his　broken　glasses；　and　too　afraid　to　look　back　at　the　quivering　fountain。　He　sobbed　when　something　touched　his　leg；　a　curling　caress　that　somehow　scorched　even　though　there　was　no　firmness；　no　strength　in　its　grip。　He　pushed　himself　up；　moving　forward　all　the　time；　blundering　towards　the　open　doorway　on　the　other　side　of　the　courtyard　where　light　was　shining　outwards。
　　He　blinked　away　wetness。　There　was　someone　else　in　the　corridor；　limping　towards　him。　Palusinski　reacted　instinctively　and　with　his　natural　sense　of　self…preservation。　He　drew　out　the　metal　bar　he　always　carried　inside　his　coat　and　launched　himself　at　the　advancing　figure。
　　Mather　noted　the　crazed　wildness　in　the　other　man's　eyes；　and　saw　light　catching　the　shiny　weapon　being　raised；　ready　to　strike。　He　came　to　a　halt　and　pointed　his　cane　at　the　bald　man's　chest。
　　Palusinski　sneered　at　the　other's　ineffectual　weapon；　realising　there　was　nothing　to　fear　in　this　old　man　confronting　him；　the　only　real　terror　being　out　there　in　the　courtyard　and　the　underground　chamber　he　had　just　left。　He　grabbed　the　end　of　the　cane　and　pulled　it　towards　himself；　sure　that　it　would　be　easy　to　wrench　it　from　the　frail　grasp。　The　metal　bar　had　reached　its　zenith；　was　trembling　in　his　hand；　ready　to　plunge　downwards　against　the　man's　skull。　He　barely　heard　the　faint　click。
　　Mather　had　pressed　the　tiny　button　in　the　cane's　handle　and　the　wooden　casing　slid　from　the　long；　slender　blade；　his　would…be　assailant　unsheathing　the　sword　himself。　The　Shield　Planner　took　no　chances；　for　he　could　see　the　murder　in　this　wildman's　eyes。
　　He　lunged　forward；　the　sword　piercing　the　bald　man's　chest；　melting　through；　entering　his　heart　and　still　not　stopping。
　　Palusinski　looked　in　surprise　at　the　other　man。　The　pain　only　came　when　the　sword　was　swiftly　withdrawn。
　　He　sank　to　the　floor；　a　casual　gesture　as　if　he　merely　wanted　to　rest　for　a　moment。　Janusz　Palusinski　lay　down　and；　as　his　mind　wandered　towards　death；　he　felt　he　was　among　other　recumbent　bodies。　He　was　no　longer　inside　the　corridor　of　the　house；　but　in　the　dimly　lit　but　a　long；　long　way　from　there；　and　a　long　time　ago。
　　Those　skeletal　forms　around　him　were　sitting　up　and　grinning　their　wele；　for　they　had　been　waiting　many　years。　One　even　crawled　over　to　touch　the　young　Janusz's　face　with　bony　fingers。　Janusz　lay　there；　unable　to　move；　and　he　wondered　why　unseen　hands　were　pulling　at　his　clothing。　And　he　wondered　why　there　was　no　pain　when　teeth　gnawed　into　his　plump　belly。
　　No；　there　was　no　pain　at　all。
　　Just　the　nightmare　that　he　knew　would　go　on　forever　。　。　。
　　　
　　　
　　　50　SHADOWS　AND　IMAGININGS
　　
　　Halloran　remained　perfectly　still；　staring　up　into　the　eyes　of　the　dying　gunman。
　　The　weapon　wavered　in　the　air；　trying　to　home　in　on　its　target。　But　the　exertion　was　too　much；　and　too　late。　Danny　Shay　rolled　onto　his　side　to　make　one　last　determined　effort；　but　the　gun　was　far　too　heavy　for　someone　with　only　seconds　to　live。　For　a　moment　his　arm　hung　over　the　stairway；　the　weapon　loose　in　his　grip。　Then　Shay's　eyes　closed　and　he　knew　he　would　never　open　them　again。
　　'Dear　God　。　。　。'　he　began；　the　plea　cut　short　when　even　his　voice　lost　its　strength。
　　He　toppled　from　the　stairs　onto　the　damp　floor；　his　landing　relaxed；　for　he　was　already　dead。
　　Wind　tearing　in　from　the　passageway　above　ruffled　Halloran's　hair。　The　light　stirred；　juddered；　many　of　the　candle　flames　snuffed　by　the　breeze　so　that　shadows　stole　forward　from　the　alcoves。　The　ancient　worshippers　watched　on；　stone　eyes　dispassionate。　And　there　seemed　to　be　other　onlookers　within　those　darkened　arches；　but　these　were　forms　of　no　substance；　observers　that　could　never　be　defined　by　light　for　they　were　of　the　imagination　even　though　they　existed　outside　the　mind。　Halloran　was　intensely　aware　of　their　watching。
　　He　turned　towards　the　altar　where　the　bloated　corpse　continued　to　pump　blood。　Cora　had　moved　away；　her　shoulders　soaked　a　deep　red；　she　looked　imploringly　at　Halloran；　as　if　silently　begging　him　to　take　her　away　from　this　madness。　When　she　saw　the　coldness　in　him；　Cora　became　inert。
　　Halloran　would　not　allow　emotion　to　hold　sway。　Not　for　the　moment。　He　was　confused；　uncertain　of　his　feelings　for　Cora。　She　had　tou