rr.eastofealing-第24部分

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lle　slept　in　a　netherworld　of　force…fed　suppressants；　dreaming　escape　and　revenge。　The　old　gods　slept　also；　but　the　morning　of　the　magicians　was　not　far　from　the　dawning。
　'Things　are　certainly　not　what　they　used　to　be　in　Brentford；'　groaned　Jim　Pooley。
　The　allotments　being　something　of　a　parish　nature　reserve；　the　over…abundance　of　hearty　birdsong　tore　the　million…dollar　bum　and　his　Irish　panion　grudgingly　from　the　arms　of　good　old　munificent　Morpheus。　Jim　emerged　from　beneath　his　corrugated　iron　four…poster　and　grimaced　at　the　world　to　be。　He　shushed　at　the　feathered　choristers　and　counselled　silence。　'Before　I　was　rich；'　he　said；　tapping　at　his　skull　in　the　hope　of　restoring　some　order；　'before　I　was　rich；　I　rarely　took　up　a　night's　lodgings　upon　the　allotments。'
　A　woebegone　face　emerged　from　the　lean…to；　the　sight　silencing　the　birdies　in　a　manner　which　normally　it　would　have　taken　a　twelve…bore　to　do。　The　godforsaken　thing　that　was　John　Omally　was　far　better　kept　from　the　gaze　of　children　or　the　faint　of　heart。　'Morning；　Jim；'　said　he。
　Pooley　caught　sight　of　the　facial　devastation。　'Put　that　back　for　your　own　sake；'　he　advised。　'I　should　not　wish　to　e　to　close　quarters　with　an　article　such　as　that　until　far　starboard　of　breakfast　time。'
　Omally's　stomach　made　a　repulsive　sound。　'Now　breakfast　would　indeed　be　your　man；'　he　said；　taking　his　ravaged　features　back　into　the　darkness。　The　birdsong　welled　forth　anew。
　'Shut　up；'　bawled　Pooley；　clutching　his　skull。　The　birdies　put　the　proverbial　sock　in　it。
　'Shall　we　try　the　Professor　for　a　slice　or　two　of　toast？'　Jim　asked。
　'Definitely　not；'　a　voice　called　back　from　the　darkness。　'I　have　no　wish　to　see　that　good　gentleman　again。　Buy　me　back　my　introduction　please；　Jim。　I　will　owe　you。'
　'I　can　lend　you　a　quid；　John；　but　no　more。'
　'Let　us　go　round　and　impose　upon　Norman。　He　is　currently　at　a　disadvantage。　A　bit　of　pany　will　do　him　no　harm。'
　Pooley　rubbed　at　his　forehead　and　did　a　bit　of　hopeless　eye　focusing。　'All　right；'　he　said；　'but　if　he　starts　to　part　the　bacon　with　his　left　hand　then　I　am　having　it　away　on　my　toes。'
　Omally's　face　appeared　once　more　in　the　light。　This　time　it　had　been　translated　into　the　one　worn　by　his　normal　self。
　'You　have　remarkable　powers　of　recuperation；　John；'　said　Jim。
　'I　am　a　Dubliner。'
　'But　of　course。'
　The　two　men　tucked　in　their　respective　shirt…tails　and　strolled　as　best　they　could　over　the　allotments；　through　the　gates；　and　off　up　the　Albany　Road。　A　hundred　or　so　yards　behind　them　another　Pooley　and　Omally　fell　into　step　and　did　likewise。
　'You　were　saying　last　night；'　said　Jim；　as　they　reached　Moby　Dick　Terrace；　'although　I　should　not　broach　the　subject　so　early　in　the　morning；　something　about　reaching　a　decision？'
　'Oh　yes；'　John　thrust　out　his　chest　and　made　some　attempt　to　draw　in　breath。　'My　mind　is　made　up；　I　have　the　thing　figured。'
　'And　as　to　this　particular　plan。　Is　it　kosher　and　above　board　or　is　it　the　well…intentioned　codswallop　of　the　truly　banjoed？'
　'I　had　a　drink　on　me；　truly。　But　in　no　way　did　it　affect　my　reason。'
　Now　fifty　yards　behind；　the　other　Pooley　and　Omally　marched　purposefully　on　in　perfect　step；　their　faces　staring　ever　ahead。
　'So　tell　me　all　about　it　then；　John。'
　Omally　tapped　at　his　nose。　'All　in　good　time。　Let　us　get　some　brekky　under　our　belts　first。'
　As　they　rounded　the　corner　into　Haling　Road　they　saw　Old　Pete　approaching；　cursing　and　swearing；　his　daily　paper　jammed　beneath　his　arm。　Young　Chips　followed；　marking　the　lampposts　for　his　own。　The　elder　hobbled　on；　and　as　he　caught　sight　of　John　and　Jim　he　grunted　a　half…hearted　'good　morning'。　As　they　all　but　drew　level　the　old　man　suddenly　dropped　his　paper　and　raised　his　stick。　He　stared　past　John　and　Jim　and　his　mouth　fell　open；　bringing　the　full　dental　horror　of　his　National　Healthers　into　hideous　prominence。　'G。。。　gawd；'　he　stammered；　'now　I　have　seen　it　all。'
　John　and　Jim　looked　at　one　another；　towards　the　gesturing　ancient；　and　finally　back　over　their　shoulders；　following　the　direction　of　his　confounded　gaze。　Bearing　down　upon　them　at　a　goodly　rate　of　knots　marched　their　perfect　doubles。　'Run　for　your　life！'　screamed　Omally。　Jim　was　already　under　starter's　orders。　The　two　tore　past　the　befuddled　ancient　and　his　similarly　bemused　pet　at　an　Olympic　pace。　Their　doubles　strode　on　in　unison；　hard　upon　the　retreating　heels。
　Old　Pete　turned　to　watch　the　curious　quartet　dwindle　into　the　distance。　He　stooped　crookedly　to　retrieve　his　fallen　paper　and　shook　his　old　head　in　wonder。　'I　am　certain　that　I　saw　that；'　he　told　Chips。　'Although　I　am　sure　it　will　pass。'
　Young　Chips　made　a　low　gummy　sort　of　growling　sound。　He　had　recently　bitten　a　postman's　leg　and　lost　several　of　his　favourite　teeth　for　his　pains。　He　just　wasn't　certain　about　anything　any　more。
　John　and　Jim　were　making　admirable　time　along　the　Haling　Road。　They　passed　Norman's　corner…shop；　the　Swan；　the　Princess　Vie；　and　drew　level　with　the　football　ground。　'Where　do　we　go？'　gasped　Pooley。　'There's　nowhere　to　run　to。'
　'Just　keep　running；　we've　got　to　lose　them。'　John　squinted　back　over　his　shoulders。　Himself　and　Jim　showed　no　signs　of　fatigue；　if　anything　they　looked　more　sprightly；　as　if　the　exercise　was　doing　them　good。　'Run；　man；　run！'
　Round　into　the　maze　of　back　streets　behind　the　football　ground　went　the　hunted　pair。　The　doubles　came　forward　at　the　jog；　staring　ever　ahead。　John　dragged　Pooley　into　an　alleyway。　'Along　here　and　keep　it　sprightly；'　he　urged。
　The　breathless　Jim　collapsed　into　a　convulsion　of　coughing；　hands　upon　knees。　'I　cannot　continue；'　he　croaked。　'Leave　me　here　to　die。'
　'And　die　you　surely　will。　Ahead；　man。'
　Omally　thrust　Pooley　forward；　the　sound　of　approaching　footfalls　echoing　in　his　ears。　Down　the　dustbin…crowded　alley　they　ran；　John　overturning　as　many　as　he　could　behind　him。　The　duplicates　crashed　along；　behind；　casting　the　toppled　bins　effortlessly　aside。　John　and　Jim　emerged　into　an　obscure　side…street　neither　of　them　could　put　a　name　to。　The　Lateinos　and　Romiith　puter　scan　which　observed　their　every　movement　had　it　well…catalogued　in　degree　and　minutes　to　a　fearful　number　of　decimal　places。
　'There　has　to　be　some　way　to　dodge　them；'　gasped　Pooley。
　'Keep　going；　damn　you。'
　The　duplicates　crashed　out　into　the　street　behind　them。
　Across　Brentford　ran　Pooley　and　Omally；　zigzagging　through　people's　back　gardens；　up　and　down　fire　escapes；　in　between　the　trees　of　the　Memorial　Park；　and　ever　onwards。　Behind　them　came　the　pounding　of　synchronized　feet；　never　letting　up　for　an　instant。
　'No　more；'　gulped　Jim；　when　the　two　had　shinned　with　difficulty　over　a　high　wall　and　dropped　down　into　no　safety　whatsoever　on　the　other　side。　'I　am　finished。'
　The　sweat　ran　freely　into　Omally's　eyes　as　he　tore　off　his　jacket　and　flung　it　aside。　'Not　me；'　said　he。　'I'm　not　giving　in　to　some　clockwork　copy；　not　while　I　still　draw　breath。'
　With　a　great　rending　of　brick　and　mortar；　a　section　；　of　the　wall　collapsed　about　them　as　the　two　duplicates　applied　their　bined　force。
　'Run；　Jim。'
　'I'll　race　you。'
　Along　the　cobbled　way　towards　Old　Brentford　Docks　staggered　John　and　Jim；　their　last　reserves　of　stamina　all　but　drained　away。　Their　hobnails　sparked　and　clattered　upon　the　cobbles　and　behind　them　in　perfect　unison　their　soulless　pursuers　were　to　be　heard　click…clacking　at　an　easy　pace。　John　pulled　Jim　into　one　of　the　disused　warehouses。　As　he　did　so；　their　infra…red　images　unaccountably　vanished　from　the　screen　of　the　Lateinos　and　Romiith　puter。　They　ducked　away　behind　a　stack　of　abandoned　loading　pallets　and　shrank　into　the　darkness；　hearts　pounding。　From　without；　the　sound　of　approaching　footsteps　drew　nearer；　then　suddenly　ceased。　'Quiet　now；'　whispered　Omally；　ramming　his　hands　over　Pooley's　convulsing　cherry…red　face。　Jim　gasped　for　breath　and　sank　down　on　to　his　bum　with　a　dull　thud。　Omally　ssshed　him　into　silence；　his　finger　upon　his　lips。　The　sound　of　slow；　steady　footfalls　reached　their　ears。　'Stay　quiet。'
　The　duplicates　moved　about　the　building；　uncertain　of　which　way　to　go；　they　tested　the　air　with　their　sophisticated　nasal　sensory　apparatus；　in　the　hope　of　catching　the　scent　of　their　quarries；　but　the　ozone　of　the　old　dock　drew　the　kipper　over　their　tracks。　Jim　Pooley　drew　a　fistful　of　sweat　from　his　brow　and　spattered　it　on　to　the　dusty　floor　of　the　old　warehouse。　He　looked　towards　John；　who　shrugged　in　the　darkness。　Long；　painful　minutes　passed。　Jim　folded　his　jacket　across　his　chest　to　muffle　the　sound　of　his　deafening　heartbeat。　Omally　slunk　to　and　fro　seeking　an　exit　or　a　reason　or　an　anything。　Outside；　the　duplicates　stealthily　encircled　the　building；　sniffing　and　peering。　The　Omally　gestured　to　the　yawning　doorway。　The　Pooley　nodded。　The　duplicates　entered　the　warehouse。　Omally　saw　their　shadows　spread　across　the　floor　and　flattened　himself　on　to　the　deck。　The　two　came　slowly　forward；　scanning　the　way　before　them。　Circuits　meshed　and　weaved　in　their　mechanized　brains；　drawing　in　the　data；　and　processing　it　in　the　twinkling　of　a　plastic　eyelid。
　From　behind　the　stack　of　pallets　a　very　foolish　voice　indeed　said　suddenly；　'Well；　I　think　we've　outrun　them；　John。　Care　for　a　tailor…made？'
　Omally's　eyes　widened　in　horror　as　he　watched　the　two　heads；　one　his　own　and　the　other　that　of　his　dearest　friend；　swivel　upon　their　frictionless　bearings；　and　swing　in　the　direction　of　the　sound。　He　gestured　towards　Jim；　whose　face　could　just　be　seen　grinning　from　behind　the　stack　of　pallets。　'e；　e。'
　The　robot　Pooley　leapt　forward　and　grasped　the　obstruction　barring　his　way。　He　tore　the　stack　apart　with　a　single　movement；　sending　them　smashing　to　all　sides。
　Jim　looked　up　white　and　trembling　and　saw　death　staring　him　right　between　the　eyes。　'Help；　John；'　he　squealed；　cowering　back　against　the　wall。　'Do　something。'
　Grinning　like　a　gargoyle；　the　robot　slowly　withdrew　from　the　pocket　of　his　brand　new　suit；　a　small　wicked…looking　black　instrument　with　two　extendable　electrodes。　With　a　flick　of　the　thumb　he　armed　the　mechanism　and　sent　sparks　crackling　about　the　tips　of　the　rods。
　Omally　floundered　about　seeking　a　suitable　weapon；　his　hand　closed　over　a　length　of　iron　conduit。　'Up　the　rebels；'　he　c