rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第10部分

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　of　some　great　conspiracy　to　confound　honest　golfers　and　put　them　off　their　game。'
　'I　suspect　that　it　goes　a　little　deeper　than　that；'　said　Jim；　'but　I　agree　that　it　does　nothing　to　enhance　the　play。　Perhaps　we　should　quit　the　allotment　now。　Move　on　to　pastures　new。　There　are　several　large　bombsites　down　near　the　docks　surrounded　by　high　walls。　I　know　of　a　secret　entrance　or　two。'
　'Never；'　said　Omally　boldly。　'I　have　had　enough　of　running。　If　we　do　not　make　our　stand　now；　the　bastards　will　eventually　drive　us　into　the　sea　and　I　care　little　for　the　prospect　of　underwater　golf。'
　'Cork　balls；'　said　Pooley。
　'I　beg　your　pardon？'
　Bitow　Bitow　Bitow　Bitow　Bitow　Whap。。。　'What？'　Nicholas　Roger　Raffles　Rathbone　turned　a　full　circle　upon　his　heel　and　drove　his　reddening　fists　down　on　to　the　console　of　the　Captain　Laser　Alien　Attack　Machine。　'You　bastard！'　he　said　earnestly。　'You　bloody　sneaked　an　extra　saucer　in　there。'　He　turned　towards　the　bar　where　Neville　stood；　his　ears　protected　by　cotton…wool　balls　and　his　hands　feverishly　at　work　with　the　polishing　cloth。　'Have　you　altered　this　machine？'　he　cried。
　'Get　stuffed；'　said　Neville。
　'I　know　the　sequences；'　Nick　continued　unabashed；　'thirty　shots；　then　a　big　saucer；　thirty…eight；　then　a　mother　ship。　Somebody　has　tampered　with　this　machine。'
　Neville　laid　down　his　polishing　cloth；　plucked　the　ineffective　cotton　plugs　from　his　ears　and　glowered　across　the　bar。　'No…one　has　touched　it；'　he　said；　his　words　forming　between　two　rows　of　teeth　which　were　showing　some　signs　of　wear。　'No…one　has　touched；　tampered　or　tinkered　with　it。　No　official　brewery　representative　has　ever　called　to　service　it。　No　engineers　came　to　polish　its　paintwork；　change　its　bulbs　or　fondle　its　inner　workings；　nor　even　to　empty　it　of　the　king's　ransom　it　must　by　now　contain。　It　seemingly　never　breaks　down；　nor　needs　any　maintenance；　it　runs　from　its　own　power　supply　and　is　a　law　unto　itself。　If　you　have　any　plaints　I　suggest　that　you　address　them　directly　to　the　machine。　With　any　luck　it　will　take　exception　to　your　manner　and　electrocute　you！'
　'Someone's　been　tampering；'　said　Nick；　delving　into　his　pockets　for　more　two…bob　bits；　'I　know　the　sequences。'
　The　part…time　barman　turned　away　in　disgust。　'Jim；'　he　said；　beckoning　across　the　counter　towards　Pooley；　'might　I　have　a　word　or　two　in　your　ear？'
　Pooley　hastened　from　his　chair；　favouring　the　possibility　of　a　free　drink。　'Your　servant；　bar　lord；'　said　he。
　'Jim；'　said　Neville；　gesturing　towards　the　hunched　back　of　the　green…haired　youth；　'Jim；　has　Omally　e　up　with　anything　yet　regarding　this　abomination？　I　am　at　my　wits'　end。　My　letter　of　resignation　is　folded　into　the　envelope　and　the　stamp　is　on。'
　Jim　chewed　upon　his　lip。　It　was　obvious　that　Neville　was　speaking　with　great　sincerity。　It　would　be　a　tragedy　indeed　if　Brentford　lost　the　best　part…time　barman　it　ever　had。　Especially　over　so　trivial　a　thing　as　a　gambling　machine。
　'In　truth；'　lied　Jim　with　great　conviction；　'Omally　and　I　have　spent　the　entirety　of　the　afternoon　discussing　this　very　matter。　We　were　doing　so　even　when　you　called　me　across。　We　are；　I　think；　nearing　a　solution。'
　'Ah；'　said　Neville；　brightening；　'it　is　good　to　know　that　there　are　still　friends　in　the　camp。　Have　this　one　on　the　house。'
　Pooley　sank　it　at　a　single　draught　and　strolled　back　to　his　seated　panion。
　'I　saw　that；'　said　Omally。　'What　have　you　just　talked　me　into？'
　'Nothing　much；'　said　Jim　nonchalantly。　'It　is　just　that　Neville　would　prefer　it　if　you　would　break　the　space　machine　now　rather　than　later。'
　Omally　controlled　himself　quite　remarkably。　'But　I　was　of　the　impression　that　the　thing　is　indestructable。　Do　you　not　feel　that　this　small　point　might　put　me　at　a　slight　disadvantage？'
　Pooley　nudged　his　panion　jovially　in　the　rib　area。　'e　now；'　he　said；　'this　should　provide　a　little　light　relief。　Take　your　mind　off　your　worries。　What　is　it　that　you　lads　from　the　old　country　say？　Do　it　for　the　crack；　that's　it；　isn't　it。　The　crack；　eh？'
　'The　crack？'　Omally　shook　his　head　in　wonder。　As　if　things　weren't　bad　enough。　He　scratched　at　the　stubble　of　his　chin；　which　through　the　day　had　grown　into　what　the　Navy　refer　to　as　a　full　set；　and　cast　a　thoughtful　eye　towards　the　video　machine。　'I　have　an　idea；'　he　said；　rising　from　his　seat。　'Perhaps　a　success　here　might　turn　the　tide　of　our　fortunes。　Give　me　a　florin。'　Pooley　began　to　pat　his　pockets。　'Give　me　the　florin；'　Omally　reiterated。　Pooley　paid　up。
　'Now；　e　Jim；'　said　the　Irishman；　'and　we　will　test　the　substance　of　this　rogue　apparatus。'
　Neville　the　part…time　barman　watched　the　silver　coin　change　hands　and　offered　up　a　silent　prayer　to　the　dark　and　pagan　deity　of　his　personal　preference。
　Nicholas　Roger　Raffles　Rathbone　had　a　pile　of　not　dissimilar　coins　of　the　realm　stacked　upon　the　chromium　roof　of　the　games　machine。　He　was　set　in　for　the　night。
　'Stand　aside；　laddy；'　said　Omally　in　an　authoritative　tone。　'My　friend　here　wishes　to　match　wits　with　these　extra…terrestrial　laddos。'
　'No　way；'　said　Nick；　turning　not　a　verdant　hair；　Tm　halfway　through　a　game　here。'
　Omally　leant　down　towards　the　youth　and　spoke　a　few　words　into　a　pointed；　tattooed　ear。　The　scourge　of　the　cosmic　mandos　stepped　aside。　'Be　my　guest；'　he　said　politely。　'I　will　explain　how　it　works。'
　'That　will　not　be　necessary；　thank　you；　off　you　go　then；　Jim。'
　Pooley　shook　his　head　vigorously。　'Not　me；'　he　said；　'these　things　give　out　dangerous　X…rays。　I'm　not　having　my　hair　fall　out　and　my　fingernails　drop　off。　No　thank　you。'
　Omally　patted　his　panion　on　the　shoulder。　'Jim；'　said　he；　'who　was　it　who　set　fire　to　my　pop…up　toaster？'
　Pooley　could　not　see　the　connection；　but　he　nodded　guiltily。　'It　was　me；'　he　said。
　'And　who　overwound　my　alarm　clock？'
　'Also　me。'
　'And　who　fiddled　with　the　tuner　on　the　wireless　set　which　had　given　me　good　and　trouble…free　listening　for　twenty　years？'
　Pooley　looked　away。　'Also　me；'　he　said　in　a　whisper。
　'And　who　borrowed　my　electric　razor　and。。。　'
　'I　didn't　know　you　weren't　supposed　to　use　soap　when　shaving　electric；'　Pooley　plained。
　'Who　was　it？'
　'Also　me。'
　'Then　you　will　understand　my　reasoning　that　if　there　is　one　man　capable　of　ruining；　whether　through　chance；　method　or　design；　any　piece　of　electrical　apparatus　with　only　the　minimum　of　tampering　then　that　person　is　you；　James　Pooley。'
　Jim　pushed　in　the　florin　and　the　video　screen　burst　into　colour。　'Lift　off；'　he　said。
　'You　have　to　use　the　thrust　booster　to　get　optimum　lift；'　said　Raffles　Rathbone；　prancing　on　his　toes　and　pointing　variously　at　the　throbbing　machine。　'Gauge　the　inclination　of　the　saucers；　if　you　count　to　three　and　fire　just　in　front　of　them　you　can　bring　them　down。　Every　third　one　is　worth　an　extra　hundred　points；　keep　to　the　right　and　they　can't。。。　'　His　voice　trailed　off　as　Omally　dealt　him　a　severe　blow　to　the　skull。
　'Silence；'　he　said；　'Jim　knows　what　he's　doing。'
　'I　don't；'　wailed　Jim；　wildly　pressing　buttons　and　joggling　the　joy　stick。
　'You're　not　here　to　win；　Jim；　only　to　break　it。'
　'Break　it？'　Raffles　Rathbone　renewed　his　frenzied　dance。　'Break　the　machine？　Oh；　barman；　barman；　there　is　sabotage　going　on　here；　do　something；　do　something。'
　Neville　smiled　benevolently　at　the　dancing　youth。　'There　is　nothing　I　can　do；'　he　said。　'All　the　patrons　have　a　right　to　play　the　machine。　Don't　be　so　selfish。'
　'Selfish？　This　is　a　conspiracy；　I　shall　phone　the　brewery。'
　John　Omally；　a　man　to　whom　the　word　tolerance　meant　about　as　much　as　the　rules　of　backgammon；　snatched　up　the　squirming　malcontent　by　his　badge…covered　lapels　and　held　him　high　at　arms'　length。　'We　don't　want　to　go　threatening　the　management　now　do　we？'　he　asked。
　'Ooh；　I　got　one；'　said　Pooley　suddenly。　'Blew　him　right　out　of　the　sky。　And　there　goes　another；　Bitow。　There's　a　knack　to　it　you　see。'
　Omally　let　the　dangling　lad　fall　from　his　grasp。　'Any　sign　of　damage　yet？'　he　asked。
　'I'm　damaging　their　invasion　fleet；　look　that's　a　hundred　points；　got　the　mother　ship；　you　score　double　for　that。'
　Omally　looked　on　in　wonder。　'e　now；　Jim；'　he　implored；　'try　harder；　apply　a　little　more　force。'
　'I　am；　I　am；　there；　took　one　straight　out；　you　duck　away　to　the　side　then；　they　can't　get　you　there。'
　'That's　it；'　said　the　fallen　Raffles　Rathbone。　'Count　five　from　the　last　saucer　across　and　the　scout　ship　es　straight；　down；　you　can　get　five　hundred　for　him。'
　A　look　of　dire　perplexity　appeared　upon　Omally's　ruddy　face。　'Jim；'　he　said　earnestly；　'what　is　happening　here；　Jim？'
　'Nice　one；'　said　Raffles　Rathbone；　'when　you　get　up　to　one　thousand　points　you　get　an　extra　man。　There；　you　got　it。'
　'No　sweat；'　said　Jim　Pooley。
　Omally　turned　away　from　the　machine　and　stalked　over　to　the　bar。　Neville　met　his　approach　with　a　face　like　thunder。　'What　is　all　this？'　the　part…time　barman　demanded。　'Treachery；　is　it？'
　Omally　shook　…his　head　ferociously；　his　honour　was　at　stake　here。　'Psychology；'　he　informed　Neville。
　'Oh；　psychology　is　it；　well　silly　old　me；　I　could　have　sworn　that　he　was　enjoying　himself。'
　Omally　smiled　a　sickly　smile　and　tapped　his　nose。　'Leave　it　to　Jim；'　he　counselled。　'He　knows　what　he's　doing。　Wins　over　the　machine's　confidence；　probes　its　defences；　finds　the　weak　spot　and　Bitov！'
　'Bitow；'　said　Neville　giving　the　Irishman　what　is　universally　known　as　the　old　fisheye。　'Bitow　it　had　better　be。'
　Omally　grinned　unconvincingly　and　ordered　another　pint。
　Bitow　Bitow　Bitow　Bitow　Whap。。。　'What？'
　'Aha；'　yelled　Raffles　Rathbone；　'forgot　to　tell　you　about　their　strike　ships。　They　got　you　that　time。　Care　for　a　game　of　doubles？'
　'Certainly；'　said　Jim；　'last　to　ten　thousand　gets　the　beer　in。'
　'You're　on；'　said　the　lad。
　Omally　hid　his　head　in　his　hands　and　groaned。
　At　ten…thirty　Neville　called　time；　just　to　see　what　might　happen。　As　ever　the　response　was　minimal。　A　few　lingering　tourists；　up　to　enjoy　the　tours　around　the　derelict　gasworks；　upped　and　had　it　away　in　search　of　their　coaches；　which　had　left　an　hour　before。　But　by　the　local　colour　the　cry　was　unheeded　as　ever。　John　Omally；　whose　face　was　now　contorted　into　an　expression　which　would　have　put　the　wind　up　Rondo　Hatton；　sat　upon　his　barstool　sipping　at　the　fourth　pin