rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第6部分

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ll　his　calculations　were　correct。。。　Norman's　hand　hovered　over　the　console　and　it　trembled　not　a　little。　His　calculations　surely　were　correct；　weren't　they？
　Norman　took　down　a　clipboard　and　began　to　make　ticks　against　a　long　and　intricate　list；　which　had　been　built　up　over　many　months；　scribbled　in　variously　coloured　inks。　As　his　Biro　travelled　down　the　paper　Norman's　memory　travelled　with　it　through　those　long；　long　months　of　speculation；　theory；　planning　and　plotting；　of　begging；　borrowing；　and　building。　The　sleepless　nights；　the　trepidation　and　the　doubts。　Most　of　all　the　doubts。　What　if　it　all　came　to　nothing；　what　if　it　didn't　work？　He　had　damn　near　bankrupted　himself　over　this　one。　What　if　the　entire　concept　was　a　nonsense？
　Norman　sucked　upon　the　end　of　his　Biro。　No；　it　couldn't　be　wrong；　old　Albert　E　had　discontinued　his　researches　on　it　back　in　Nineteen　hundred　and　twenty…seven　but　the　essential　elements　were　still　sound；　it　had　to　be　correct。　Just　because　Einstein　had　bottled　out　at　the　last　moment　didn't　mean　it　couldn't　be　done。
　Norman　ticked　off　the　final　item　on　the　list。　It　was　all　there；　all　present　and　correct；　all　shipshape　and　Bristol　fashion；　all　just　waiting　for　the　off。　He　had　but　to　choose　two　areas　of　land　suitable　for　the　test。
　His　hand　did　a　little　more　hovering；　he；　like　certain　sportsmen　in　the　vicinity；　had　no　wish　to　draw　attention　to　his　project　before　its　pletion。　Caution　was　the　byword。　The　two　tracts　of　land；　one　local　and　one　in　the　area　of　the　object　he　sought；　would　have　to　be　unoccupied　at　the　present　time。
　The　latter　was　no　problem。　Norman　boldly　punched　in　the　coordinates　he　knew　so　well；　thirty　degrees　longitude；　thirty　degrees　latitude　and　the　minutiae　of　minutes。　But　as　to　a　local　site；　this　presented　some　difficulties。　It　was　his　aim　to　conduct　the　final　experiment　during　the　hours　of　darkness；　when　there　would　be　few　folk　about　to　interfere。　But　for　now；　a　little　test　run？
　Norman　snapped　his　fingers。　'Eurekas；'　he　whistled；　taking　up　a　Brentford　street　directory　and　thumbing　through　the　dog…eared　pages。　The　ideal　spot。　The　St　Mary's　Allotment。　The　day　being　hot；　all　those　dedicated　tillers　of　God's　good　earth　would　by　now　be　resting　their　leathern　elbows　upon　the　Swan's　bar　counter　and　lying　about　the　dimensions　of　their　marrows。
　Norman　punched　in　the　appropriate　coordinates　and　leant　back　in　his　chair；　waiting　for　the　power　to　build　up　sufficiently　for　transference　to　occur。　He　crossed　his　fingers；　lisped　what　words　he　knew　of　the　Latin　litany　and　pressed　a　blood…red　button　which　had　until　recently　been　the　property　of　the　local　fire　brigade。
　A　low　purring　rose　from　the　electronic　throat　of　the　machinery；　acpanied　by　a　pulse…like　beating。　The　lights　upon　the　console　sprang　into　redoubled　illumination　and　the　radio　valves　began　to　pulsate；　expanding　and　contracting　like　some　vertical　crop　of　transparent　onions。　The　little　bulbs　blinked　in　enigmatic　sequences；　passing　back　and　forwards　through　the　spectrum。　Norman　clapped　his　hands　together　and　bobbed　up　and　down　in　his　chair。　A　thick　blue　smoke　began　to　fill　the　room　as　the　humming　of　the　machinery　rose　several　octaves　into　an　ear…splitting　whine。　A　strange　pressure　made　itself　felt　in　the　kitchenette　as　if　the　gravitational　field　was　being　slowly　increased。
　Norman　suddenly　realized　that　he　was　unable　to　raise　his　hands　from　the　console　or　his　feet　from　the　floor；　and　someone　or　something　was　apparently　lowering　two…hundredweight　sacks　of　cement　on　to　his　shoulders。　His　ears　popping　sickeningly；　he　gritted　his　gums　and　made　a　desperate　attempt　to　keep　his　eyelids　up。
　The　ghastly　whining　and　the　terrible　pressure　increased。　The　lights　grew　brighter　and　brighter　and　the　pulse　beat　ever　faster。　The　apparatus　was　beginning　to　vibrate；　window　panes　tumbled　from　their　dried…putty　housings　and　a　crack　swept　across　the　ceiling。　Beneath　closed　lids；　Norman's　eyes　were　thoroughly　crossed。　Without　grace　he　left　his　chair　and　travelled　downwards　at　great　speed　towards　the　linoleum。
　All　over　Brentford　electric　appliances　were　beginning　to　fail：　kettles　ceased　their　whistlings；　television　pictures　suddenly　shrank　to　the　size　of　matchboxes；　the　automated　beer　pumps　at　the　New　Inn　trickled　to　a　halt　in　mid…flow；　and　at　the　Swan　the　lights　went　out；　leaving　the　rear　section　of　the　saloon…bar　in　darkness　and　the　patrons　blindly　searching　for　their　pints。
　Omally　groaned。　'It　is　the　end　of　mankind　as　we　know　it；'　he　said。　'I　should　never　have　got　up　so　early　today。'
　Pooley；　who　had　had　carrots　the　night　before；　topped　up　his　pint　from　the　Irishman's　glass。　'Steady　on；　John；'　he　said　in　a　soothing　voice。　'It　is　a　power　cut；　nothing　more。　We　have　been　getting　them　more　or　less　every　Wednesday　afternoon　for　months　now。'
　'But　not　like　this。'
　Old　Pete's　dog　Chips　set　up　a　dismal　howl　which　was　unexpectedly　taken　up　by　Neville　the　part…time　barman。　'Look　at　it！　Look　at　it！'　he　wailed；　pointing　invisibly　in　the　darkness。　'Look　at　the　bloody　thing！'
　Bitow　Bitow　Bitow　Bitow　went　the　Captain　Laser　Alien　Attack　Machine；　scornfully　indifferent　to　the　whims　of　the　Southern　Electricity　Board；　or　anyone　else　for　that　matter。
　In　the　tiny　kitchenette　to　the　rear　of　the　corner　shop　there　was　a　sharp　and　deafening　twang；　and　a　great　bolt　of　lightning　burst　forth；　charring　the　walls　and　upturning　the　banks　of　pulsating　equipment。　There　followed　a　moment　or　two　of　very　extreme　silence。　Smoke　hung　heavily　in　the　air；　cables　swung　to　and　fro　like　smouldering　leander　vines　and　the　general　atmosphere　of　the　place　had　more　than　the　hint　of　the　charnel　house　about　it。
　At　length；　from　beneath　the　fallen　wreckage；　something　stirred。　Slowly；　and　with　much　coughing；　gasping　and　sighing；　a　blackened　toothless　figure　rose　painfully　to　his　feet。　He　now　lacked　not　only　his　upper　set　but　also　his　eyebrows　and　sported　a　fetching；　if　somewhat　bizarre；　charcoal　forelock。　He　kicked　away　the　debris　and　fumbled　about　amidst　the　heaps　of　burned…out　valves　and　twisted　gubbins。　'Ahs；'　he　said；　suddenly　wielding　a　smoke…veiled　gauge　into　view；　'success　I　thinks。'
　Something　had　e　through；　and　by　the　measurement　upon　that　gauge　it　was　a　relatively　substantial；　goodly　few　hundredweight　of　something。
　Norman　wiped　away　a　few　loose　eyelashes　with　a　grimy　knuckle；　satisfied　himself　that　there　was　no　immediate　danger　of　fire　and　sought　his　overcoat。
　Small　Dave　had　finished　his　midday　deliveries　and　was　taking　his　usual　short　cut　back　from　the　Butts　Estate　towards　the　Flying　Swan　for　a　well　deserved　pint　of　Large。　As　he　shuffled　across　the　allotment；　his　size　four　feet　kicking　up　little　dusty　explosions；　he　whistled　a　plaintive　lament；　the　title　of　which　he　had　long　forgotten。　He　had　not　travelled　twenty　yards　down　the　path；　however；　when　he　caught　sight　of　something　which　made　him　halt　in　mid…pace　and　doubt　that　sanity　which　so　many　had　previously　doubted　hi　him。
　Small　Dave　took　off　his　cap　and　wiped　it　across　his　eyes。　Was　this　a　mirage；　he　wondered；　or　was　he　seeing　things？　Something　overlarge　and　definitely　out　of　place　was　grazing　amongst　his　cabbages。　It　was　a　foul　and　scruffy…looking　something　of　bulky　proportion　and　it　was　emitting　dismal　grumbling　sounds　between　great　munches　upon　his　prize…winning　Pringlea　antiscorbutica。
　Dave　screwed　up　his　eyes。　Could　this　be　the　Sasquatch　perhaps？　Or　the　Surrey　Puma？　Possibly　it　was　the　giant　feral　torn；　which；　legend　held；　stalked　the　allotments　by　night。　The　postman　drew　cautiously　nearer；　keeping　even　lower　to　the　ground　than　cruel　fate　had　naturally　decreed。　Ahead　of　him　the　creature's　outline　became　more　clearly　defined　and　Small　Dave　knew　that　at　least　he　was　staring　upon　a　beast　of　a　known　genus。　Although　this　gave　him　little　in　the　way　of　consolation。
　The　thing　was　of　the　genus　Camelus　bactrianus。　It　was　a　camel！
　Small　Dave's　thoughts　all　became　a　little　confused　at　this　moment。　He　was　never　very　good　when　it　came　to　a　confrontation　with　the　unexpected。　Arriving　with　a　six…inch　letter　to　discover　a　five…inch　letter…box　was　enough　to　set　him　foaming　at　the　mouth。　Now；　a　camel　on　the　allotment；　a　camel　that　was　eating　his　precious　cabbages；　that　was　a　something　quite　in　a　class　by　itself。
　Dave's　first　thought；　naturally　enough；　was　that　the　thing　should　be　driven　off　without　delay。　His　second　was　that　it　was　a　very　large　camel　and　that　as　a　species　camels　are　notoriously　malevolent　creatures；　who　do　not　take　kindly　to　interference　during　meal　times。　His　third　was　that　they　are　also　valuable　and　there　would　no　doubt　be　a　handsome　reward　for　anyone　who　should　return　a　stray。
　His　fourth；　fifth；　sixth　and　seventh　thoughts　were　loosely　concerned　with　circuses；　Romany　showmen　who　were　apt　to　snatch　dwarves　away　for　side…shows；　an　old　Tod　Browning　movie　he　had　once　seen；　and　the　rising　cost　of　cabbages。
　Small　Dave's　lower　lip　began　to　tremble　and　a　look　of　plete　imbecility　spread　over　his　gnomish　countenance。　He　dithered　a　moment　or　two　not　knowing　what　to　do；　flapped　his　hands　up　and　down　as　if　in　an　attempt　to　gain　flight；　gave　a　great　cry　of　despair；　took　to　his　heels　and　finally　ran　screaming　from　the　allotment。
　He　had　not　been　gone　but　a　moment　or　two　when　a　soot…besmirched　head　arose　from　behind　a　nearby　water…butt。　Apart　from　its　lack　of　teeth　and　eyebrows；　it　bore　a　striking　resemblance　to　Sir　Lawrence　Olivier　in　his　famous　portrayal　of　Othello。
　A　broad　and　slightly　lunatic　smile　cleft　the　blackened　face　in　two　and　a　wicked　chuckle　rose　in　the　throat　of　the　watcher。
　'Success　indeed；'　whistled　Norman；　rubbing　his　hands　together　and　dancing　out　from　his　hiding　place。　With　a　quick　glance　about　to　assure　himself　that　he　was　now　alone；　he　skipped　over　to　the　cabbage…chewing　camel　and　snatched　up　its　trailing　halter　line。　'Huts；　huts；'　he　said。　'Imshees　yallahs。'　With　hardly　the　slightest　degree　of　persuasion　and　little　or　no　force　at　all；　Norman　led　the　surprisingly　docile　brute　away。
　From　behind　Soap　Distant's　padlocked　shed；　yet　another　figure　now　emerged。　This　one　wore　a　grey　coverall　suit；　was　of　average　height；　with　a　slightly　tanned　plexion　and　high　cheek…bones。　He　looked　for　all　the　world　like　a　young　Jack　Palance。　Through　oval　amber　eyes　he　watched　the　shopkeeper　and　his　a