rr.eastofealing-第31章

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！


ds　whipping　and　snapping。　Neville　caught　it　at　chest　height　and　pummelled　it　down　with　flailing　fists。　It　leapt　up　again　and　he　caught　at　a　scaled　throat；　crushing　his　hands　about　it　until　the　thumbs　met。　The　hell…hound　screamed　with　pain　as　Neville　dragged　it　from　its　clawed　feet　and　dashed　it　to　the　ground。　Roll　on　chucking…out　time；　thought　the　part…time　barman。　With　one　head　hanging　limply　but　others　still　on　the　snap；　the　fiend　was　on　him　once　more；　ripping　and　tearing；　its　foul　mouths　snapping；　brimstone　vapour　snorting　from　its　nostrils。
　The　two　bowled　over　again　and　again；　mighty　figures　locked　in　titanic　conflict。　The　nightmare　creature　and　the　all…but…naked　barman。　The　screams　and　cries　echoed　about　the　void；　the　echoes　doubling　and　redoubling；　adding　further　horror　to　a　scene　which　was　already　fearsome。
　Roll　over　and　die　for　your　country　Rover；　was　not　in　there。
　'I'm　not　doing　it；　John；　and　that's　the　end　of　the　matter。'　Pooley　clung　precariously　to　his　handlebar　perch　as　Pope　John　the　Umpteenth　freewheeled　down　a　deserted　corridor。　'I　am　not　a　Catholic　and　I　utterly　refuse　to　kiss　your　bloody　ring。　The　thing　came　out　of　a　Jamboree　bag　for　God's　sake。'
　'Let　me　convert　you；　Jim；　e　to　the　Mother　Church　before　it's　too　late。'
　'Let　me　down　from　here；　I　want　a　drink。'
　'Drink？'　Omally　tugged　on　the　brakes　and　sent　Jim　sprawling。　'Drink　did　I　hear　you　say；　my　son？'
　Pooley　looked　up　bitterly　from　the　deck。　Topes　don't　drink；'　he　said。　'Such　is　well…known。'
　'A　new　Papal　bull；'　his　Holiness　replied。
　'All　right　then；　but　no　ring…kissing；　it's　positively　indecent。'　Pooley　unearthed　the　hip…flask　and　the　two　plodded　on；　sharing　it　turn　and　turn　about。
　'It's　getting　bloody　cold；'　Pooley　observed；　patting　at　his　shirt…sleeves。　'And　the　pong's　getting　a　lot　stronger。'
　'What　do　you　expect？'　Omally　passed　him　back　the　hip…flask。　'Roses　round　the　door？'
　'Are　you　sure　we're　going　the　right　way？'
　'The　passage　is　going　down；　isn't　it？　Would　the　Pope　put　you　on　a　wrong　'n？'
　'Listen；　John；　I'm　not　too　sure　about　this　Pope　business。　I　thought　you　lads　had　to　be　elected。　White　smoke　up　the　chimney　or　the　like？'
　'As　last　Catholic；　I　have　the　casting　vote。　Please　don't　argue　about　religious　matters　with　me；　Jim。　If　you　let　me　convert　you　I'll　make　you　a　cardinal。'
　'Thanks；　but　no　thanks。　God；　it　stinks　down　here。　Couldn't　you　issue　another　Papal　bull　or　something？'
　Omally　halted　the　infidel　in　mid…step。　'Would　you　look　at　that？'　he　said；　pointing　forward。
　Ahead　of　them　loomed　a　great　door。　It　seemed　totally　out　of　context　with　all　they　had　yet　seen。　At　odds　with　the　bland　modernistic　corridors　they　had　passed　down　on　their　abortive　journey　of　escape。　It　rose　like　a　dark　hymn　in　praise　of　evil　pleasure；　and　hung　in　a　heavily…carved　portico　wrought　with　frescoed　reliefs。
　Omally　parked　his　bike；　and　the　two　men　tiptoed　forward。　The　hugeness　and　richness　of　the　thing　filled　all　vision。　It　was　a　work　of　titanic　splendour；　the　reliefs　exquisite；　carved　into　dark　pure　wood　of　extreme　age。
　'Fuck　me；'　said　John　Omally；　which　was　quite　unbeing　of　a　Pope。　'Would　you　look　at　that　holy　show？'
　'Unholy　show；　John。　That　is　disgusting。'
　'Yes；　though；　isn't　it？　And　that。'　Jim　followed　Omally's　pointing　finger。　'You'd　need　to　be　double…jointed。'
　'There's　something　inscribed　there；　John。　You　know　the　Latin；　what　does　it　say？'
　Omally　leant　forward　and　perused　the　inscription；　'Oh；'　said　he　at　length；　his　voice　having　all　the　fun　of　herpes　about　it；　'that　is　what　it　says。'
　'Exit　does　it　say？'
　Omally　turned　towards　the　grinning　idiot。　'Give　me　that　hip…flask；　you　are　a　fool。'
　'And　you　a　Pope。　Drink　your　own。'
　'Give　me　that　flask。'
　'Well；　only　a　small　sip；　don't　want　your　judgement　being　impaired。'　Pooley　began　to　hiccup。
　Omally　guzzled　more　than　his　fair　share。　'It's　in　there；'　he　said；　wiping　his　chin　and　returning　the　flask　to　Pooley。
　'What　is？'　Jim　shook　the　flask　against　his　ear　and　gave　the　self…made　Pope　a　disparaging　look。
　'The　big　It；　you　damned　fool。'
　'Then　next　right　turn　and　on　your　bike。　We　don't　want　to　do　anything　silly　now；　do　we？'
　Omally　nodded　gloomily。　'We　must；　stick　your　tattooed　mitt　up　against　it。'
　'I　can　think　of　a　million　reasons　why　not。'
　'And　me。　For　the　Professor；　eh　Jim？'
　'For　the　Professor；　then。'　Jim　pressed　his　hand　to　the　door　and　it　moved　away　before　his　touch。
　Omally　took　up　his　bike；　and　the　two　men　stepped　cautiously　through　the　opening。
　'Oh；　bloody　hell；'　whispered　Jim。
　'Yes；　all　of　that。'
　They　stood　now　in　the　vestibule　of　what　was　surely　a　great　cathedral。　But　its　size　was　not　tailored　to　the　needs　of　man。　It　was　the　hall　of　giants。　The　two　stared　about　them　in　an　attempt　to　take　it　in。　It　was　simply　too　large。　The　scale　of　its　construction　sent　the　mind　reeling。　The　temperature　had　dropped　another　five　degrees　at　least；　yet　the　smell　was　ripe　as　a　rotten　corpse。
　'The　belly　of　the　beast；'　gasped　Pooley。　'Let's　go　back。　The　utter　cold；　the　feeling；　the　stench；　I　can't　stand　it。'
　'No；　Jim；　look；　there　it　is。'
　Ahead；　across　an　endless　expanse　of　shining　black　marble　floor；　spread　the　congregation；　row　upon　regimental　row。　Countless　figures　crouched　before　as　many　flickering　terminal　screens；　paying　obeisance　to　their　dark　master。　For　there；　towering　towards　eternity；　rising　acre　upon　vertical　acre；　spreading　away　in　every　direction；　was　the　mainframe　of　the　great　puter。　Billions　of　housed　microcircuits；　jet…black　boxes　stacked　one　upon　another　in　a　jagged　endless　wall。　Upon　giddy　stairways　and　catwalks；　minuscule　figures　moved　upon　its　face；　attending　to　its　needs。　Feeding　it；　pampering　it　with　knowledge；　gorging　its　insatiable　appetite。
　I　AM　LATEINOS；　I　AM　ROMIITH。
　The　Latin；　the　formula；　words　reduced　to　their　base　ponents；　stripped　of　their　flesh；　reduced　to　the　charred　black　dust　of　their　skeletons；　to　the　equations　which　were　the　music　of　the　spheres；　the　grand　high　opera　of　all　existence。　Omally　slumped　forward　on　to　his　knees。　'I　see　it；'　he　whispered　hoarsely；　his　eyes　starting　from　his　head。　'Now　I　understand。'
　'Then　bully　for　you；　John。　e　on　let's　get　out；　someone　will　see　us。'　Pooley　fanned　at　his　nose　and　rubbed　at　his　shirt…sleeves。
　'No；　no。　Don't　you　understand　what　it's　doing？　Why　it's　here？'
　'No。　Nor　why　I　should　be。'
　'It　is　what　the　Professor　told　us。'　Omally　struck　his　fist　to　his　temple。　'Numerology；　the　power　lies　in　the　numbers　themselves。　Can't　you　see　it？　This　whole　madhouse　is　the　product　of　mathematics。　Mankind　did　not　invent　mathematics　nor　discover　it。　No　the　science　of　mathematics　was　given　to　him　that　he　might　misuse　it　to　his　ruin。　That　he　might　eventually　create　all　this。'　Omally　spread　out　his　arms　to　enpass　the　world　they　now　inhabited。　'Don't　you　understand？'
　Jim　shook　his　head。　'Pissed　again；'　said　he。　'And　this　time　as　Pope。'
　Omally　continued；　his　voice　rising　in　pitch　as　the　revelation　struck　him　like　a　thunderbolt。　'The　machine　has　now　perfected　the　art。　It　has　mastered　the　science；　it　can　break　anything　down　to　its　mathematical　equivalent。　Once　it　has　the　formula　it　can　then　rebuild；　recreate　everything。　An　entire　brand　new　world　built　from　the　ashes　of　the　old；　enpassing　everything。'
　'But　all　it　does　is　churn　out　the　same　old　stuff　over　and　over　again。'
　Omally　clambered　to　his　feet　and　turned　upon　him。　'Yes；　you　damn　fool；　because　there　is　one　number　it　can　never　find。　It　found　the　number　of　a　man；　but　there　is　one　more　number；　one　more　equation　which　never　can　be　found。'
　'Go　on　then；　have　your　spasm。'
　'The　soul。　That's　what　the　old　man　was　trying　to　tell　us。　Don't　you　see　it；　Jim？'
　'I　see　that；'　said　Pooley；　pointing　away　over　John's　shoulder。　'But　I　don't　believe　it。'
　Omally　turned　to　catch　sight　of　a　gaunt　angular　figure　clad　in　the　shredded　remnants　of　a　tweed　suit；　who　was　stealing　purposefully　towards　them。
　'The　Saints　be　praised。'
　'Holmes；'　gasped　Pooley。　'But　how。。。　？　It　cannot　be。'
　'You　can't　keep　a　good　man　down。'
　Sherlock　Holmes　gestured　towards　them。　'e；'　he　mouthed。
　Jim　put　his　hand　to　Omally's　arm。　'What　if　he　starts　clearing　his　throat？'
　Omally　shrugged　helplessly。　'e　on；　Jim；'　he　said；　trundling　Marchant　towards　the　skulking　detective。
　Holmes　drew　them　into　the　shadows。　There　in　the　half…light　his　face　seemed　drawn　and　haggard；　although　a　fierce　vitality　shone　in　his　eyes。　'Then　only　we　three　remain。'　It　was　a　statement　rather　than　a　question。　Omally　nodded　slowly。　'And　do　you　know　what　must　be　done？'
　'We　do　not。'
　'Then　I　shall　tell　you；　but　quickly；　for　we　have　little　or　no　time。　We　are　going　to　poison　it；'　said　Sherlock　Holmes。　'We　are　going　to　feed　it　with　death。'　The　cold　determination　of　his　words　and　the　authority　with　which　he　spoke　to　them　seemed　absolute。
　'Poison　it？'　said　Jim。　'But　how？'
　Holmes　drew　out　a　sheaf　of　papers　from　his　pocket；　even　in　the　semi…darkness　the　Professor's　distinctive　Gothic　penmanship　was　instantly　recognizable。　'Feed　it　with　death。　The　Professor　formulated　the　final　equation。　He　knew　that　he　might　not　survive　so　he　entrusted　a　copy　to　me。　What　he　began　so　must　we　finish。'
　'Hear；　hear。'
　'puters　are　the　products　of　diseased　minds；　but　they　will　react　only　to　precise　stimuli。　Feed　them　gibberish　and　you　will　not　confuse　them。　But　feed　them　with　correctly…coded　instructions　and　they　will　react　and　function　accordingly；　in　their　own　unholy　madness。　Professor　Slobe　formulated　the　final　programme。　It　will　direct　the　machine　to　reverse　its　functions；　leading　ultimately　to　its　own　destruction。　This　programme　will　override　any　failsafe　mechanism　the　machine　has。　I　must；　however；　gain　access　to　one　of　the　terminals。'
　'And　how　do　you　propose　to　do　that？'　Jim　enquired　as　he　slyly　drained　the　last　drop　from　his　hip…flask。　'They　all　seem　a　little　busy　at　present。'
　Sherlock　Holmes　drew　out　his　gun。　'This　is　a　Forty…four　Magnum；　biggest。。。'
　'Yes；　we　are　well　aware　of　that。　It　might；　however；　attract　a　little　too　much　attention。'
　'My　own　thoughts　entirely。　I　was　wondering；　therefore；　if　you　two　gentlemen　might　be　prevailed　upon　to　create　some　kind　of　diversion。'
　'Oh　yes？'　said　Pope　John。　'What；　such　as　drawing　the　demonic　horde　down　about　our　ears　whilst　you　punch　figures　into　a　puter　terminal？'
　Holmes　nodded　grimly。　'Something　like　that。　I　will　require　at　least　six　clear　minutes。　I　know　I　am　asking　a　lot。'
　'You　are　asking　everything。'
　Holmes　had　no　answer　to　make。
　John　stared　hard　into　the　face　of　Jim　Pooley。
　The　other　shrugged。　'What　the　heck？'　said　he。
　'What　indeed？'　Omally　climbed　on　to　his　bike。　'Room　for　one　more　up　front。'
　Jim　smiled　broadly　and　tore　off　his　metallic　balaclava。　'Then　we　won't　be　needing　these　any　more。'
　'No；'　said　John；　removing　his　own。　'I　think　not。'　Raising　his　hand　in　a　farewell　salute　he　applied　his　foot　to　the　pedal。　'Up　the　Rebels。'
　'God　for　Harry；'　chorused　Pooley；　as　the　two　launched　forward　across　the　floor；　bound　for　destiny　upon　the　worn　wheels　of　Marchant　the　Wonder　Bike。
　A　strange　vibration　swept　up　the　mainframe　of　the　great　puter。　The　figures　moving　upon　its　face　stiffened；　frozen　solid。　Diamond…tipped　lights　began　to　flicker　and　flash；　forming　into　sequences；　columns；　and　star…shapes；