gns.thedruidconnection-第25部分

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been　done　to　protect　him。　The　Hirschlanden　Warrior　of　L'lmpernal　had　given　his　word；　but　would　it　be　enough？　How　many　other　druids　were　there　who　might　be　blinded　by　the　desire　for　vengeance　on　the　mortals　who　had　destroyed　Alena　that　they　ignored　the　bargain？
　　
　　Sabat　pushed　it　all　from　his　mind　and　accelerated；　had　the　Daimler's　speedometer　flickering　on　80。　At　this　moment　he　was　powerless　to　protect　his　colleague。　All　his　efforts　must　be　concentrated　on　a　dangerous　nocturnal　mission　which　was　already　in　progress。　He　had　an　unscheduled　appointment　with　Bishop　Boyce　before　dawn　broke！
　　
　　
　　　CHAPTER　FOURTEEN
　　　
　　THE　BISHOP'S　palace　was　in　total　darkness；　just　as　Sabat　had　hoped　and　expected　it　would　be。　He　wondered　whether　it　might　not　have　been　easier　to　have　tricked　Boyce　into　acpanying　him　to　Stonehenge　on　the　morrow。　It　was　too　risky；　though。　The　bishop　might　have　somehow　collaborated　with　Hurst　in　the　meantime　and　then　Lola　would　not　have　been　able　to　get　them　both　there。　There　was　only　one　way　to　be　sure　…　to　transport　Bishop　Boyce　there　physically！
　　
　　Sabat　parked　the　Daimler；　went　the　remaining　three　hundred　yards　on　foot。　In　his　dark　clothing　he　became　just　another　flickering　shadow；　moving　through　the　night　as　silently　as　a　prowling　cougar。
　　
　　The　Close。　A　tranquil　backwater　in　a　busy　city；　the　impressive　cathedral　dominating；　its　extensive　lawns　neatly　mown　and　fringed　with　towering　chestnuts；　the　same　trees　which　might　have　sheltered　Bishop　Avenson　on　his　way　to　munion　on　a　rainy　morning　two　and　a　half　centuries　ago。
　　
　　Sabat　paused；　breathed　in　the　atmosphere。　It　was　difficult　to　believe　that　in　this　place　lived　the　spider　that　had　spun　its　web　of　evil　and　corruption。　His　lips　tightened　and　he　remembered　briefly　his　own　days　in　holy　orders；　a　certain　dean　who　had　terrorised　not　only　the　residents　of　the　close　but　many　of　the　townspeople　with　his　dominant；　cantankerous　personality；　made　life　for　the　choirboys　intolerable。　So　Sabat　had　left；　joined　the　SAS；　learned　to　kill　in　unarmed　bat；　and　often　in　his　own　imagination　his　foe　had　been　that　same　dean。　The　dean　had　died　a　couple　of　years　or　so　ago　from　old　ago　but　Sabat's　hatred　for　him　had　lived　on。
　　
　　Sabat　forced　himself　back　to　the　present；　slid　inside　the　palace　gates。　It　seemed　incredible　that　only　twenty…four　hours　ago　he　had　been　breaking　into　Stone's　house；　like　a　re…run　of　an　old　film。　It　could　get　boring；　make　you　careless；　and　then　you　slipped　up。　There　must　be　no　mistakes　for　too　many　lives　depended　upon　this　night's　work。
　　
　　Alert　again；　listening　to　every　sound。　Somewhere　an　owl　hooted　mournfully　and　his　scalp　tingled。　It　reminded　him　of　that　time　when　the　blood　hunters　were　gathering　in　the　concrete　jungle；　massing　for　all…out　carnage　led　by　Lilith；　Goddess　of　Darkness。*　This　time　the　danger　was　even　greater。
　　
　　The　palace　window；　if　anything；　afforded　easier　access　than　the　more　modern　one　in　Walter　Stone's　house　had　done。　Sabat　swung　himself　over　the　sill；　dropped　into　a　wide　hallway。　He　crouched　there；　deliberately　regulating　his　breathing　and　allowing　his　eyesight　time　to　adjust　to　the　semi…gloom　of　a　building　which　was　never　fully　dark　because　of　the　streetlamps　in　the　Close　outside。
　　
　　The　hall　was　oak…panelled　with　a　high　ornate　ceiling；　and　decorated　with　innumerable　oil　paintings　of　men　with　smug　faces　and　long　white　hair。　Bishops　dating　back　to　the　beginning　of　the　fifteenth　century。　Surely　the　infamous　Avenson　was　here；　Sabat　smiled　to　himself；　but　he　had　no　time　to　examine　the　name…plates　on　each　frame。　A　wide　oak　staircase　stood　at　the　far　end。　Doubtless　even　bishops　went　upstairs　to　bed；　Sabat　concluded　as　he　began　to　mount　them。
　　
　　There　was　a　huge　landing　directly　above　the　hall；　a　polished　floor　graced　with　a　single　strip　of　frayed　carpet　which　ran　the　whole　length。　At　least　ten　doors　led　off　from　each　side。
　　
　　Sabat　paused；　wondered　idly　how　you　recognised　a　bishop's　bedroom　by　its　door。　You　didn't；　to　find　it　was　a　matter　of　elimination。
　　
　　He　took　his　time；　listened　carefully　at　each　door　before　slowly　turning　the　knob；　easing　the　door　open　a　fraction；　peering　through　the　crack　into　the　darkened　room　beyond。　Six　unused　bedrooms；　one　linen　and　store…room；　and　a　long　leather　book…lined　reference　library　which　had　three　doors。　Sabat　checked　his　impatience；　began　the　return　journey　on　the　opposite　side　of　the　landing。
　　
　　Three　doors　along　he　found　the　room　for　which　he　was　searching；　Bishop　Boyce's　sleeping　quarters！
　　
　　Sabat　listened；　heard　the　heavy　rhythmic　breathing　and　then　eased　himself　into　the　room；　closed　the　door　softly　behind　him。　His　keen　eyesight　made　out　the　huge　outline　of　an　ornate　four…poster　bed；　the　curtains　partly　drawn。　He　smiled。　The　conceited　bastard　believed　in　carrying　on　in　the　tradition　of　his　predecessors。　Maybe　he　wore　a　nightcap　and　nightshirt　just　to　add　to　his　fantasy！
　　
　　The　ex…SAS　man　knew　that　he　had　to　make　Boyce　walk　out　of　here　on　his　own　two　feet。　He　could　easily　and　silently　have　rendered　the　other　unconscious　but　there　was　no　way　he　could　carry　a　man　that　size　and　weight　out　of　here　without　being　spotted。
　　
　　Sabat　tip…toed　towards　the　bed；　tried　to　see　in　through　the　partly…open　curtains。　It　was　too　dark　to　make　out　anything　other　than　a　huge　bulk　that　rose　and　fell　steadily　with　a　bronchial　wheezing　sound；　snuffling　like　a　nocturnal　fox　searching　dustbins　for　edible　refuse。
　　
　　A　light…pull　touched　Sabat's　face　like　some　huge　spider　dangling　from　the　ceiling　on　its　web。　His　fingers　gripped　the　cord　whilst　his　other　hand　eased　the　…38　out　of　its　pocket　holster。　The　gun　was　loaded　and　he　would　use　it　if　he　had　to；　praying　that　the　Hirschlanden　Warrior　would　understand。
　　
　　Then　in　one　blinding　instant　the　closeted　bedquarters　were　flooded　with　light。　Sabat　saw　the　heavily　jowled　face；　mouth　wide　like　some　huge；　red　sandstone　cavern；　the　wart　on　the　thick　lower　lip　sprouting　wisps　of　hair。
　　
　　'Wha　。　。　。　wha　。　。　。　what　。。。　is　。。。　it？'　Bishop　Boyce　struggled　to　surface　from　a　deep　slumber　and　Sabat　winced　as　he　caught　the　full　force　of　stale　whisky　fumes。　'Who　。　。　。　what's　going　on？'
　　
　　'Shh！　It's　me；　Bishop。　Sabat！'
　　
　　'Sabot？　Boyce　heaved　himself　up　on　to　his　elbows；　his　huge　eyes　flickering　open　in　bewilderment。　'What　the　。。。　deuce　are　you　doing　in　my　bedroom；　Sabat？　And　what　d'you　mean　by　ing　here　at　this　time　of　night　and　。　。　。　'
　　
　　'You　and　I　are　going　for　a　nice　long　ride　in　my　car；'　Sabat　held　the　pistol　up；　let　the　barrel　waver　vaguely　in　the　direction　of　the　other's　chest。　'Now；　don't　make　a　sound　and　get　dressed　as　quickly　as　you　can。'
　　
　　That　。　。　。　that's　a　。　。　。　gun！'　the　bishop　swallowed。
　　
　　'Sure　it　is。　A　？38　could　blow　half　your　head　off　from　this　range；　Bishop！'
　　
　　'I'll　call　the　police。　I'll　have　you　locked　up！'　Blustering；　his　voice　a　croak；　the　lower　lip　trembling　so　that　the　hairy　wart　bobbed　up　and　down。　And；　to　Sabat's　disappointment；　he　noticed　that　the　other　wore　pyjamas；　lime　green　ones　that　were　almost　transparent；　showing　the　rolls　of　fat　that　lay　beneath。
　　
　　'Maybe　you　wouldn't　really　like　to　call　the　police；　because　if　you　did　I　might　give　them　some　very　interesting　information。　I　had　a　chat　to　Walter　Stone　before　he　。。。　died；'　Sabat　lied。　'And　right　now　I've　just　e　from　Darren　Hurst's　house。'
　　
　　'What's　。　。　。　what's　your　game？'　Bishop　Boyce's　plexion　had　gained　a　sickly　pallor　in　the　yellow　electric　light。　'I　suppose　it's　money　you're　after；　Sabat。'
　　
　　'Not　exactly；　although　cash　is　always　wele；'　Sabat　laughed　softly。　'Really；　you've　only　got　yourself　to　blame　for　this；　Bishop；　because　it　was　you　who　called　me　in　on　the　case；　paid　me　to　find　out　what　was　going　on。　Which　I　did。　And　that's　why　I'm　here　now。'
　　
　　'You're　behind　all　this！'　the　other's　gaze　was　fixed　on　the　barrel　of　the　pistol；　edging　away　as　far　as　the　confines　of　the　four…poster　would　allow。　'It　was　you　all　along；　Sabat。　You　mitted　those　murders　and　。　。　。　'
　　
　　'No；'　Sabat　replied。　'I　didn't　kill　anybody；　at　least　not　in　the　way　you　mean；　Boyce。　In　fact；　there　are　certain；　er；　people；　for　want　of　a　better　explanation；　who　would　like　me　dead　right　now。　But　you're　missing　the　point。　I'm　here　because。　I　found　out　what　was　behind　it　all；　what　had　caused　the　psychic　disturbance　at　St　Monica's。　You're　the　biggest　fucking　hypocrite　I've　met　in　many　a　year　and　I'd　be　doing　your　Church　a　big　favour　if　I　blasted　your　brains　all　over　the　wall　behind　you。　Which　I　might　just　do　if　you　cause　me　any　trouble。　Anyway；　I　haven't　time　to　stand　here　all　night　telling　you　what　a　bastard　you　are。　We've　got　a　long　journey　ahead　of　us。'
　　
　　'Where　to？'
　　
　　'Wiltshire。　Darren　Hurst　will　be　driving　down　to　meet　us　there　tomorrow　night；　I　guess　your　luck　has　run　out；　Boyce。　Your　corrupt　deal　might　fall　through　and　you　might　also　get　a　…38　slug　in　the　back　of　your　head　if　you　try　to　run　out　on　me。　Now；　get　dressed　and　let's　get　moving。　It　can't　be　far　off　dawn　and　the　fewer　people　who　see　us；　the　better！'
　　
　　Bishop　Boyce　was　trembling　violently　as　he　attempted　to　dress；　fingers　fumbling　with　buttons；　having　great　difficulty　getting　his　legs　into　a　pair　of　wide　grey　flannel　trousers。　Sabat　made　no　attempt　to　help　him；　watching　hawk…like；　the　barrel　of　the　？38　steady。　In　some　ways　he　would　have　weled　the　easy　way　out　but　he　had　to　account　to　the　Oke　Priests　if　Kent　was　to　have　his　sanity　restored　to　him。
　　
　　Dawn　was　just　beginning　to　streak　the　eastern　sky　as　they　emerged　from　the　palace。　Sabat　kept　close　behind　the　bishop；　the　pistol　gripped　in　his　pocket。　All　the　same；　Boyce　would　neither　run　for　it　nor　try　to　attract　attention。　He　was　a　very　frightened　man　and　he　was　puzzled　about　why　they　were…going　to　Wiltshire。　He　was　unlikely　to　give　any　trouble。
　　
　　It　was　fully　light　by　the　time　they　arrived　back　at　the　curate's　house。　Sabat　pulled　the　Daimler　to　a　halt；　killed　the　engine。　His　features　were　etched　with　lines；　almost　pallid　with　tiredness；　he　had　to　call　upon　his　last　reserves　of　energy　to　keep　going。
　　
　　'Don't　try　anything；'　he　warned　the　bishop。　'Now；　le