rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第22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！


ctly　defined。　It　was　immediately　recognizable　as　the　heavenly　constellation　of　Ursa　Major；　better　known　to　friend　and　foe　alike　as　The　Plough。
　'What　are　they？'　Omally　asked；　squinting　at　the　crucified　map。
　'It's　the　pubs；'　said　Pooley　in　a　quavering　voice。　'Every　house　owned　by　this　brewery。'
　Omally　marked　them　off。　It　was　true。　All　seven　of　the　brewery　pubs　lay　in　the　positions　of　the　septentriones：　the　New　Inn；　the　Princess　Royal；　The　Four　Horsemen；　and　the　rest。　And　yes；　sure　as　sure；　there　it　was；　there　could　be　no　mistake：　at　the　point　which　marked　Polaris；　the　North　Star　hi　Ursa　Minor　…　the　Flying　Swan。　'God's　teeth；'　said　John　Omally。
　'Let　the　buggers　land　then；'　said　Jim。　'I　am　not　for　destroying　every　decent　drinking…house　in　Brentford。'
　'I　am　behind　you　there；　friend；'　said　John；　'but　what　can　it　mean？　The　Swan　at　the　very　hub；　what　can　it　mean？'
　'I　shudder　to　think。'
　'Roll　the　map　up；'　said　John；　'we　must　tell　the　Professor　at　once。'
　Pooley；　who　still　had　upon　his　person　the　price　of　several　more　pints；　was　reticent　and　suggested　that　perhaps　there　was　no　immediate　rush。　The　Professor　could　hardly　have　expected　them　to　solve　the　thing　so　swiftly。　Perhaps　a　celebration　pint　or　two　was　called　for。
　'A　sound　idea；'　said　Omally　heartily。　'In　fact；　as　you　have　done　so　well；　I　suggest　that　we　dispense　with　pints　and　go　immediately　on　to　shorts！'
　'A　fine　idea；'　said　Jim；　'I　will　get　a　couple　of　gold　ones　in。'　Thus　saying　he　rose　from　his　seat　and　made　for　the　bar。　Quite　a　crush　had　now　developed；　and　even　Pooley's　practised　elbows　were　hard　put　to　it　to　gain　him　a　favourable　position。　As　he　stood；　waggling　his　pound　note　and　trying　to　make　himself　heard；　Jim　suddenly　felt　a　most　unpleasant　chill　running　up　his　spine。　Pooley；　taking　this　to　be　some　after…effect　of　his　discovery；　shuddered　briefly　and　tried　to　make　himself　heard。　He　found　to　his　horror　that　his　voice　had　suddenly　deserted　him。　And　it　was　then　that　he　noticed　for　the　first　time　that　there　was　a　strong　smell　of　creosote　in　the　air。　Pooley　clutched　at　his　throat　and　gagged　violently。　As　he　did　so　a　firm　and　unyielding　hand　caught　his　elbow；　and　held　it　in　a　vicelike　grip。
　Jim　turned　towards　his　tormentor　and　found　himself　staring　into　a　face　which　only　a　mother　could　love。　There　was　more　than　a　touch　of　the　Orient　about　it；　slightly　tanned；　the　cheekbones　high　and　prominent；　and　the　eyes　slightly　luminescent。　It　was　a　face　in　fact　which　bore　an　uncanny　resemblance　to　a　young　Jack　Palance。　The　figure　was　dressed　in　an　immaculate　black　suit　and　had　about　him　the　feeling　of　impossible　cleanliness。
　These　details　Pooley's　brain　took　in；　but　it　was　somewhat　later　before　he　was　actually　able　to　relate　them　verbally。　For　the　present　the　awful　clone　of　the　legendary　Hollywood　star　was　steering　the　muted　Jim　through　the　crowd　and　towards　the　Swan's　door。
　Pooley；　realizing　that　the　fate　which　lay　in　store　for　him；　if　not　actually　worse　than　death　itself；　was　probably　none　other　than　the　very　same　thing；　began　to　struggle　for　all　he　was　worth。　He　swung　around　upon　his　kidnapper　and　with　deadly　accuracy　kneed　him　in　the　groin。　Had　he　known　anything　whatever　about　Cerean　anatomy；　however；　he　would　have　gone　immediately　for　the　left　armpit。　As　it　was；　his　blow　did　little　other　than　damage　one　of　the　Cerean's　sinuses。
　Pooley　was　nearing　the　end　of　the　bar　counter　by　now　and　the　Swan's　doorway　was　perilously　close。　His　mouth　opened　and　closed；　paying　silent　tribute　to　Edvard　Munch's　most　famous　painting。　The　patrons　of　the　Swan；　it　appeared；　cared　little　for　Pooley's　plight　and　paid　him　not　the　slightest　heed。
　At　the　end　of　the　bar　stood　Neville；　staring　into　space。　Pooley　made　one　single…handed　and　desperate　grab　towards　his　bar　apron。　Even　in　a　blind　panic　he　knew　better　than　to　go　for　the　tie。　That　being　the　first　thing　a　drunk　ever　goes　for；　and　Neville　being　the　professional　he　was；　the　part…time　barman　always　wore　a　clip…on。　Pooley　caught　the　apron　and　the　oute　was　not　a　pleasant　thing　to　behold。
　Neville's　genitalia；　which　were　correctly　placed　for　a　man　of　Earth；　were　suddenly　drawn　into　violent　and　painful　contact　with　the　tap　spout　of　one　of　the　Swan's　finest　traditional　hand…drawn　ales。
　'Aaaaaaaaagh！'　went　Neville　the　part…time　barman；　the　searing　agony　suddenly　reviving　him　from　his　vertical　catalepsy。
　The　sound　reverberated　about　the　bar；　silencing　every　conversation　and　turning　every　head。　Omally；　startled　by　the　cry；　leapt　from　his　seat；　and　glimpsed　Pooley's　dire　predicament。
　The　Cerean　tugged　once　again　upon　Pooley's　elbow；　and　Jim；　who　would　not　have　released　his　grip　for　all　the　Lapsang　Souchong　south　of　the　Yellow　River；　dragged　the　barman　forward　for　a　second　time。
　'Aaaaaaaaagh！'　the　part…time　barman　reiterated；　as　his　cobblers　smote　the　beer　engine　anew。　All　thoughts　of　darts　teams　and　barred　captains　were　suddenly　driven　from　his　head　and　he　howled　in　pain　and　did　his　utmost　to　free　himself　of　Pooley's　maniacal　hold。
　The　Swan's　patrons；　momentarily　stunned　by　the　first　cry；　were　emboldened　by　the　second。　Tempers　had　been　growing　more　and　more　frayed　during　the　evening　and　this　altercation　offered　a　fine　opportunity　for　giving　vent　to　pent…up　emotions。　The　crowd　began　to　advance　upon　the　threesome；　and　Omally　was　in　the　vanguard。　With　a　Gaelic　cry　which　would　surely　have　put　the　wind　up　King　Billy　himself；　Omally　made　a　grab　at　the　Cerean。
　The　darkly…clad　figure　shook　him　off　as　if　he　were　but　a　speck　of　dandruff　upon　his　finely…tailored　shoulder。　Omally　tumbled　to　the　deck；　cursing　and　spitting。　Several　members　of　the　Swan's　drinking　elite　laid　powerful　hold　upon　Pooley；　with　the　result　that　Neville；　who　was　rapidly　giving　up　all　thoughts　of　potential　parenthood；　found　his　good　eye　crossing　once　more。
　The　ensuing　melee　was　notable　for　many　things；　not　least　the　extraordinary　display　of　divided　loyalties。　One　faction　was　definitely　pro…Neville；　being　firmly　of　the　belief　that　Pooley　had　attacked　the　barman；　and　that　the　man　in　black　was　attempting　to　restrain　him。　Another　took　it　that　Neville；　whose　behaviour　that　evening　had　not　exactly　been　exemplary；　had　gone　for　Pooley；　and　that　the　man　in　black　was　one　of　the　brewery's　dark　forces；　assisting　in　that　loyal　patron's　expulsion　from　the　Swan。　A　third；　which　counted　but　one　in　its　number；　and　this　a　son　of　Eire；　was　of　an　entirely　different　opinion　altogether。
　It　must　be　stated　that　other　factions　existed　also。　These　were　formed　either　from　fellows　who　felt　that　now　was　as　good　a　time　as　any　to　end　some　personal　vendetta；　or　from　those　who　by　their　very　natures　necessarily　misinterpret　any　given　situation。　Their　participation　was　notable　mainly　for　its　enthusiastic　and　seemingly　indiscriminate　violence。
　Young　Chips；　who　could　smell　a　nigger　in　a　woodpile　even　with　his　nose　bandaged；　set　immediately　to　work　upon　the　Cerean's　ankles。
　Pooley　had　by　now；　under　the　welter　of　blows；　lost　hold　upon　Neville's　apron；　and；　as　the　part…time　barman　lapsed　from　consciousness　and　sank　gracefully　behind　the　bar；　found　himself　being　borne　once　more　towards　the　doorway。　Towards　the　very　doorway；　in　fact；　where　John　Omally　now　stood；　brandishing　a　beer　bottle。
　'Leave　hold；'　roared　the　Irishman。　Pooley's　mouth　opened　and　closed　and　a　lip　reader　would　have　covered　his　eyes　at　the　obscenity。
　The　Cerean　squared　up　to　the　obstacle　in　his　path　and　raised　his　left　hand　to　strike。　Omally　swung　his　bottle　and；　it　must　be　reasoned；　more　from　luck　than　judgement；　struck　the　villain　a　devastating　blow　to　the　left　armpit。
　As　he　lost　his　grip　upon　Pooley；　several　of　the　pro…Neville　brigade　fell　upon　the　barman's　attacker　with　relish。
　The　Cerean　staggered　towards　Omally；　who；　having　the　advantage　of　fighting　upon　home　territory；　stepped　nimbly　aside　and　tripped　him　through　the　Swan's　open　doorway　and　into　the　street。
　Outside；　parked　close　to　the　kerb；　stood　an　automobile　that　was　a　collector's　dream。　It　was　ink…black　and　gleaming；　a　showroom　piece。　The　handbook　had　it　down　as　a　nineteen…fifty…eight　Cadillac　Sedan；　the　deluxe　model。　In　the　driving　seat　sat　a　man　of　average　height；　wearing　an　immaculate　black　suit。　He　bore　an　uncanny　resemblance　to　a　young　Jack　Palance　and　favoured　a　creosote　aftershave。　It　took　him　but　a　moment　to　leave　the　car　and　gain　the　pavement；　but　by　then　the　chaos　of　flailing　fists　which　now　filled　the　Swan　was　spilling　into　the　street。
　The　pro…Pooley　faction；　who　knew　a　brewery　henchman　when　they　saw　one；　and　who　were　currently　occupied　in　assaulting　the　one　who　was　rolling　about　clutching　at　his　armpit；　saw　another　quarry　and　wasted　little　time　in　taking　the　opportunity　to　vent　their　spleen。
　Archie　Karachi；　who　ran　the　Star　of　Bombay　Curry　Garden　next　door　to　the　Swan；　was　a　man　who　knew　a　race　riot　when　he　saw　one。　Thrusting　a　vindaloo…stained　digit　into　his　telephone　dial；　he　rang　out　a　rapid　nine；　nine；　nine。　Being　also　a　man　of　few　words；　and　most　of　those　Hindi；　his　message　was　succinct　and　to　the　point。　'Bloody　big　riot　in　Swan；'　he　bawled　above　the　ever　increasing　din；　'many　men　injured；　many　dead。'
　The　blue　serge　lads　of　the　Brentford　nick　were　not　long　in　responding　to　this　alarm　call。　With　the　station　grossly　over…manned；　as　befits　a　district　with　a　low　crime　rate；　what　they　craved　was　a　bit　of　real　police　action。　A　bit　of　truncheon…wielding；　collarbone…breaking；　down　to　the　cells　for　a　bit　of　summary　justice；　real　police　action。　Within　minutes；　several　squad　cars　and　a　meat　wagon　were　haring　along　the　wrong　side　of　Brentford　High　Street；　through　the　red　lights；　and　up　the　down　lane　of　the　one…way　system；　bound　for　the　Flying　Swan。　Within　the　wheel…screeching　vehicles　constables　were　belting　on　flak　jackets；　tinkering　with　the　fittings　of　their　riot　shields；　and　drumming　CS　gas　canisters　into　their　open　left　palms　with　increasing　vigour。
　What　had　started　out　as　a　localized　punch…up；　had　now　developed　into　wholesale　slaughter。　The　numbers　involved　in　the　mêlée　had　been　swelled　significantly　by　the　arrival　of　a　gang　of　yobbos　from　the　flatblocks　opposite。　Those　crop…headed　aficionados　of　the　steely　toecap　had　been　met　head　on　by　the　students　of　the　Brentford　Temple　of　Dimac　Martial　Arts　Society；　who　had　been　＇warming＇