gns.cannibalcult-第4部分

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　talking　in　low　muttered　tones。　He　tried　to　make　out　what　they　were　saying　but　it　was　impossible；　a　harsh　nasal　voice　that　reminded　him　of　Quentin。　He　closed　his　eyes；　tried　to　work　out　what　had　happened。
　　
　　He'd　been　ill。　Or　had　he？　It　was　as　though　his　body　had　been　taken　over　by　。。。　something；　an　inner　force　dominating；　making　him　subservient　to　the　dark　powers。　He'd　lost　all　track　of　time。　It　could　have　been　hours　or　weeks　ago。
　　
　　A　movement；　somebody　ing　inside　the　screens。　Sabat　squinted　again；　saw　a　tall　angular　man　wearing　a　long　white　coat　and　spectacles　that　seemed　to　enlarge　his　frog…like　eyes；　approaching　the　bed；　bending　over　to　scrutinise　the　patient。　Sabat　had　no　reason　to　keep　his　eyes　shut　any　longer。　The　brightness　hurt　but　he　decided　it　was　time　he　found　out　what　was　going　on。
　　
　　'Ah；　Mr　Sabat！'　a　note　of　relief　in　the　doctor's　voice。　'You　have　decided　to　join　us　at　last。'
　　
　　'How　long　have　I　been　here？'　Sabat　grunted；　suddenly　realised　how　weak　he　felt；　even　his　own　voice　was　barely　recognisable。
　　
　　'Ten　days。'　The　other　consulted　a　chart；　pursed　his　lips　pensively。
　　
　　'Perhaps　you　wouldn't　mind　telling　me　what's　been　the　matter。'
　　
　　'You've　had　pneumonia^　the　eyes　flicked　back　on　to　Sabat；　an　expression　that　almost　reprimanded。　'Touch　and　go　for　a　week；　I'm　afraid。　We　moved　you　out　of　intensive　care　the　day　before　yesterday。　It　was　lucky　you　managed　to　telephone　for　help；　otherwise　I'm　afraid　you　would　not　have　made　it　through　the　night。　Fortunately　the　person　who　got　your　call　had　enough　monsense　to　realise　that　there　was　something　wrong　and　the　police　were　able　to　trace　the　number。'
　　
　　Sabat　tried　to　struggle　up　but　his　muscles　were　not　strong　enough。　With　a　curse　he　fell　back；　grimaced。　'How　much　longer　before　。。。'
　　
　　'Now　don't　you　get　any　ideas　about　going　anywhere；'　the　doctor　wagged　a　finger。　'You're　lucky　to　be　alive　and　you've　got　to　regain　your　strength。　It　will　take　weeks；　and　even　after　you　leave　here　you've　got　to　go　away　somewhere　for　a　nice　long　convalescence。'
　　
　　Sabat　groaned　inwardly；　let　his　eyes　remain　closed。　Laughter；　leering；　taunting。　Quentin　had　won　his　battle　of　the　dark　hours；　had　a　weakened　Mark　Sabat　at　his　mercy。　By　the　time　Sabat　was　strong　again　it　would　be　too　late…he　would　be　Quentin　reborn！
　　
　　He　felt　sleep　closing　in　on　him　again　and　vaguely　wondered　what　had　happened　to　Louis　Nevillon's　corpse。
　　
　　Sabat　had　made　his　way　across　the　Bernese　Oberland　in　easy　stages；　resting　for　days　sometimes　because　he　barely　had　the　strength　to　carry　on。　Once　he　had　tried　to　smoke　his　meerschaum　pipe；　but　his　lungs　had　rebelled　and　he　had　collapsed　in　a　fit　of　coughing。　Drifting；　the　night　hours　haunted　by　strange　dreams　that　were　either　forgotten　on　waking　or　else　had　no　meaning；　a　string　puppet　controlled　by　the　unknown。
　　
　　Eventually　he　came　to　Interlaken；　that　small　township　between　Lake　Thun　and　Lake　Brienz；　a　tourist　attraction　since　the　early　nineteenth　century；　standing　on　a　lush　strip　of　flat　land　amidst　the　towering　snow…capped　mountains。　The　air　was　keen；　seemed　to　scour　his　lungs；　the　sunshine　warm　even　for　late　April。　A　land　of　beauty。　He　stared　up　at　the　dark　green　forests　that　clothed　the　mountains　and　shuddered。　So　familiar；　right　across　the　Oberland；　into　Austria　and　Germany；　the　kind　of　terrain　across　which　he　had　hunted　down　Quentin。　And　now　Quentin　lived　again。
　　
　　He　booked　in　at　the　Jungfrau　Hotel；　experienced　an　acute　embarrassment　at　having　to　seek　out　a　porter　to　carry　his　suitcases　up　to　his　room；　an　old　man　who　wheezed　harder　than　himself　and　muttered　his　plaints　in　a　form　of　bastard　German。
　　
　　Sabat　sank　into　an　armchair　after　the　old　man　had　left；　stared　out　of　the　wide　French　windows　across　the　balcony；　and　watched　the　evening　shadows　beginning　to　creep　across　the　mountains。　Maybe　he　should　not　have　e　here　after　all；　instead　travelled　to　the　south　of　France；　maybe　further。　But　it　made　no　difference。　Wherever　he　went　he　could　not　escape；　for　he　carried　his　brother　with　him。　If　the　dark　forces　which　controlled　his　destiny　manded　him　then　he　would　obey。　The　sooner　he　got　used　to　being　Quentin；　the　better。　He　wasn't　interested　in　Louis　Nevillon；　why　should　he　be？　He　had　no　plans；　he　had　all　the　money　he　needed。　When　he　felt　stronger　he　would　enjoy　himself。　Until　then　he　must　bide　his　time。
　　
　　It　was　more　than　two　decades　since　Sabat　had　last　been　up　the　Jungfrau。　His　previous　visit　had　been　an　excursion　during　a　school　skiing　holiday　but　nothing　seemed　to　have　changed。　The　same　route　because　there　was　none　other；　a　virgin　mountain　conquered　by　a　railway　that　climbed　up　towards　the　heavens　through　a　mountain　wilderness　of　ice　and　snow。　On　from　Wengen；　through　Wengernalp　and　up　to　Kleine　Scheidegg　where　you　changed　trains　for　the　last　lap　of　the　breathtaking　heady　trip。　A　smaller　train　now；　a　tunnel　through　the　Eiger　and　the　Monch；　and　at　Eigerward　you　looked　down　on　Lake　Thun　as　a　pagan　god　might　survey　his　domain　and　felt　slightly　dizzy。
　　
　　Finally；　the　Jungfraujoch　terminus；　an　underground　station　where　you　first　began　to　feel　the　odd　wave　or　two　of　dizziness　and　it　was　difficult　to　believe　that　you　were　almost　10；000　feet　up　in　the　mountains。　Sabat　passed　a　hand　across　his　eyes；　held　on　to　a　seat　to　support　himself。　And　that　was　when　he　first　saw　Madeleine　Gaufridi！
　　
　　She　could　not　have　been　more　than　eighteen；　he　decided。　Long　dark　hair；　eyes　that　met　his　and　held　his　gaze。　She　might　have　been　a　prefect　helping　to　organise　a　school　holiday　trip；　except　that　she　was　on　her　own。　A　tight…fitting　sweater　beneath　an　unbuttoned　duffle…coat　displayed　curves　that　had　not　yet　reached　maturity　and　were　all　the　more　sensuous　for　that　suggestion　of　virginity。
　　
　　Sabat　dispelled　his　dizziness；　smiled。
　　
　　'You　are　going　up　to　the　Ice　Palace；　monsieur？'　her　voice　was　lilting；　seductive；　a　trace　of　a　French　accent。
　　
　　Sabat　nodded。　'It　is　one　of　the　most　spectacular　views　in　the　world。　I　came　here　once　。。。　a　few　years　ago。'
　　
　　He　knew　she　was　going　to　acpany　him　into　the　elevator　for　the　final　trip　to　the　summit。　He　felt　heady　again；　but　it　was　not　because　they　were　ascending　in　excess　of　11；000　feet。　He　was　also　aware　of　the　beginnings　of　an　erection。
　　
　　Scenic　views　that　made　you　want　to　hang　back；　clutch　at　some　immovable　object；　for　this　very　hotel　was　surely　defying　all　the　laws　of　gravity；　suspended　atop　a　frozen　glacier；　a　kind　of　plateau　on　the　one　side　where　teams　of　husky　dogs　pulled　sleds　through　the　powdery　snow。
　　
　　'Let's　go　out　on　to　the　terrace。'　She　took　his　hand　and　he　found　himself　being　led　through　sets　of　double　glass　doors　that　acted　as　a　kind　of　airlock；　kept　the　freezing　atmosphere　at　bay　for　the　benefit　of　those　who　preferred　to　stay　indoors。　The　cold　scoured　Sabat's　tender　lungs；　had　him　clutching　at　the　girl　in　a　bout　of　coughing。
　　
　　'You've　been　ill；　haven't　you？'　There　was　genuine　concern　in　her　tone；　and　those　large　dark　eyes　were　fixed　on　him　again。　'What's　been　the　matter　with　you？'
　　
　　'Pneumonia；'　he　smiled。　'But　don't　worry；　the　fresh　air's　supposed　to　do　me　good。　The　doc　said　it'll　either　cure　or　kill。〃
　　
　　'That　would　be　a　terrible　pity；'　she　squeezed　his　hand。　'By　the　way；　my　name's　Madeleine　Gaufridi。'　She　smiled；　hesitated；　mutely　asking　'what's　yours？'
　　
　　'Sabat；'　he　breathed　in　deeply　and　did　not　cough　this　time。　'Mark　Sabat。　I've　e　to　Switzerland　to　convalesce。'　A　voice　inside　him　whispered　'Liar；　you're　Quentin'。　He　tried　to　ignore　it。　'I'm　staying　at　the　Jungfrau　Hotel　in　Interlaken。'　'I　haven't；。。　got　fixed　up　yet；'　a　sudden　note　of　loneliness；　her　eyes　dropping。　'I　only　just　arrived　in　Interlaken。'
　　
　　For　some　reason　he　held　back　on　the　questions　he　wanted　to　ask。　Like：　where'd　you　get　twenty　quid　to　squander　on　a　tourist　excursion　like　this　when　you　don't　look　like　you've　got　ten　francs　in　your　pocket？　and　how　e　you're　running　around　on　your　own　when　there's　wolves　like　me　on　the　prowl？　His　erection　was　suddenly　at　full　stretch；　unfortable；　unfamiliar　after　the　weeks　of　frailty　and　limpness。　'Well；　seeing　as　we're　both　on　our　own　maybe　we'd　better　stick　together。'
　　
　　'I'd　like　that；'　she　held　on　to　his　hand　and　he　noted　that　she　was　apparently　admiring　the　panoramic　scenery。　He　stole　a　sideways　glance　at　her。　Maybe　she　was　older　than　she　seemed；　a　virgin　facade　deliberately　put　on　to　blend　in　with　a　virgin　land。
　　
　　'Let's　go　inside；'　her　teeth　chattered　as　she　spoke。　'It's　very　cold　out　here。'　Perfect　English；　just　that　same　faint　trace　of　a　French　accent。　Possibly　she　was　fresh　from　some　finishing　school。　He'd　find　out　in　due　course；　there　was　no　rush。
　　
　　The　warmth　of　the　Ice　Palace　was　weling；　had　Sabat　realising　that　he　still　had　a　long　way　to　go　to　full　fitness。　A　few　weeks　ago　he　would　have　found　it　unbearably　stuffy　in　here。
　　
　　I'll　get　some　wine。'　He　escorted　her　to　a　table；　wished　that　his　hardness　would　subside　for　a　while。　She　hadn't　given　any　sign　that　she　had　noticed　it。　Probably　she　was　too　innocent。　One　minute　she　gave　that　impression；　the　next　she　seemed　advanced　for