rr.eastofealing-第24部分

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ever　heard　of　such　a　thing？'　He　smirked　towards　his　assistant；　who　tittered　behind　her　hand　and　turned　up　her　eyes。
　'Oh　don't　they；　though？'　snarled　Old　Pete；　grinding　upon　his　dentures　and　rapping　his　Penang…lawyer　upon　the　Plexiglas　screen。　'Well；　we'll　see　about　that。'　With　Chips　hard　on　his　down…at…heels；　the　ancient　departed　the　sub…post　office；　walking　for　once　without　the　aid　of　his　stick。
　Ahead；　where　once　had　been　only　bombsite　land；　the　Lateinos　and　Romiith　building　rose　above　Brentford；　a　dark　and　accusing　finger　pointing　towards　the　enclosed　triangle　of　grey…troubled　sky。　Sixty…six　floors　of　black　lustreless　glass；　swallowing　up　the　light。　Within　its　cruel　and　jagged　shadow　magnolias　wilted　in　their　window…boxes　and　synthetic　gold…top　became　doorstep　cheese。　It　was　not　a　thing　of　beauty　but　there　was　a　terrible　quality　of　a　joyless　for　ever　about　it。　High　upon　the　uppermost　ramparts；　amid　the　clouds；　tiny　figures　came　and　went；　moving　at　a　furious　pace；　striving　to　increase　its　height。　Never　had　there　been　a　Babel　tower　more　fit　for　the　tumbling；　nor　a　fogey　more　willing　to　take　on　the　task。
　Old　Pete　rounded　the　corner　into　Abaddon　Street　and　glowered　up　at　the　sheer　glass　monolith。　'Progress；'　he　spat；　rattling　his　ill…fitting　dentures。　'A　pox　on　it　all。'　His　bold　stride　suddenly　became　a　hobble　once　more　as　he　passed　into　the　bleak　shadow　of　the　imperious　building　and　sought　the　entrance。　A　faceless　wall　met　his　limited　vision。　Another　painful　hundred　yards；　a　further　corner；　and　another　blank　wall　of　featureless　glass。　'Damned　odd；'　wheezed　the　ancient　to　his　dog　as　he　plodded　onwards　once　more。　The　entrance　to　the　building　could　only　be　in　the　High　Street。　To　Old　Pete's　utter　disgust　and　still　increasing　fury；　it　was　not。
　He　now　stood　leaning　upon　his　cane　beneath　the　night…black　structure；　puffing　and　blowing　and　cursing　loudly　whenever　he　could　draw　sufficient　breath。　There　was　simply　no　way　in　or　out　of　the　building；　not　a　doorway；　not　an　entrance；　not　a　letter…box　or　a　nameplate；　nothing。　Young　Chips　cocked　his　furry　head　upon　one　side　and　peered　up　at　his　ancient　master。　The　old　boy　suddenly　looked　very　fragile　indeed。　The　snow…capped　head　shook　and　shivered；　and　beneath　the　frayed　cuffs　of　his　one　suit；　the　gnarled　and　knobby　hands　with　their　blue　street…maps　of　veins　knotted　and　reknotted　themselves　into　feeble　fists。　'We'll　get　to　the　bottom　of　this；'　snarled　Old　Pete；　still　undefeated。　Once　more　raising　his　stick　and　this　time　striking　at　the　dead…black　wall　towering　towards　infinity。　The　blow　did　not　elicit　a　sound　and　this　raised　the　ancient's　fury　to　cardiac　arrest　level。　Pummelling　for　all　he　was　worth　he　retraced　his　steps　and　staggered　back　towards　Abaddon　Street。
　As　the　aged　loon　lurched　along；　raining　blows　upon　the　opaque　glass；　a　hidden　probe；　shielded　from　his　vision；　moved　with　him；　scanning　his　every　movement。　Digesting　and　cataloguing　the　minutiae　that　made　up　Old　Pete。　Through　an　advanced　form　of　electro…carbon　dating　it　penetrated　the　bone　rings　of　his　skull　and　accurately　calculated　his　age　to　five　decimal　places。　Its　spectroscopic　intensifiers　analysed　the　soil　samples　beneath　his　fingernails　and　generated　graphs　which　were　no　matters　for　jest。　Fluoroscopes　X…rayed　his　lower　gut　and　ruminated　upon　the　half…digested　lunchtime　pork　pies；　which　contained　no　traces　of　pork　whatever。　The　probe　swept　into　the　fabric　of　his　wartime　shirt；　illuminating　a　thousand　hidden　laundry　marks　and　cross…indexed　them。　It　moved　down　to　his　underpants　and　hurriedly　retraced　its　metaphorical　footsteps　to　areas　above　belt…level。　It　checked　out　the　tweed　of　his　jacket；　measured　the　angles　of　the　lapels　and；　through　numerous　esoteric　calculations；　tracked　down　the　suit's　manufacture　to　a　Wednesday　in　a　long　hot　summer　prior　to　the　Great　War。　The　puter　banks　gulped　it　all　down　and　gorged　themselves　upon　the　feast　of　data；　gurgled　with　delight　and　dug　in　ever　more　deeply　in　search　of　further　toothsome　morsels。　They　entered　secretly　into　his　head　and　chewed　upon　his　brain　cells；　ravenously　seeking　the　possibility　of　electron　particle　variabilities　in　the　codex　of　his　cerebellum。
　Within　。666　of　a　second　they　had　done　with　their　main　course　and　were　seeking　a　mangey…looking　half…terrier　for　afters。　The　read…out　which　followed；　had　it　been　broadcast　in　standard　five…point　lettering；　would　have　formed　an　equation　sufficient　to　engirdle　the　Earth　several　times　around。　Summing　up；　the　puter　pronounced　Old　Pete　a　harmless　loony　and　no　threat　to　security。　It　did；　however；　suggest　that　certain　discrepancies　existed　regarding　multiple　payment　of　pensions　in　the　past　and　that　the　data　relating　to　this　would　require　a　prolonged　period　to　assess　accurately。　It　refused　to　ment　on　Young　Chips；　offering　only　a　cryptic　remark　that　the　wearing　of　flea　collars　should　be　made　pulsory。
　Old　Pete　finally　gave　up　his　unequeal　struggle　and　limped　off　down　the　street　effing　and　blinding　for　all　he　was　worth。　Young　Chips　lifted　his　furry　leg　contemptuously　on　to　the　dull　black…glass　wall　and　skipped　off　after　his　master。　The　Lateinos　and　Romiith　mainframe　filed　away　Old　Pete's　vitals　and　beamed　a　triplicate　copy　of　the　now　pleted　programme　to　the　bio…gene　constructional　workshop；　twenty…six　storeys　below。　The　probe　moved　up　once　more　to　the　building's　roof　and　turned　itself　to　more　pressing　business。　Included　amongst　a　billion　or　so　other　tiny　matters　which　required　attention　was　the　removal　from　this　plane　of　existence　of　a　certain　local　Professor　and　his　unclassifiable　house…guest。
　The　sensory　scanner　criss…crossed　the　triangle　of　streets　and　houses；　prying　and　probing。　The　X…ray　eye　of　the　great　machine　penetrated　each　dwelling；　highlighting　the　plumbing　pipes　and　television　tubes。　The　house…owners　were　tiny　red　blotches　moving　to　and　fro；　going　about　their　business　unaware　that　all　was　revealed　to　the　voyeurist　machine　which　lurked　above　their　heads。　The　data　whirred　into　the　puter　banks；　but　at　intervals　the　motors　flicked　and　whined　as　a　patch　of　impenetrable　white　light　appeared　on　the　screen。　As　the　macroscope　focused　upon　the　area　of　disturbance　and　intensified　its　gaze；　the　area　revealed　itself　to　be　a　large　house　and　garden　set　upon　the　historic　Butts　Estate。　The　data　retrieval　cross…locators　coughed　and　spluttered；　fruitlessly　seeking　a　snippet　of　relevant　information；　but　none　was　to　be　found。　The　white　patch　glared　on　the　screen；　the　missing　piece　of　a　great　jigsaw。　The　best　the　print…out　could　e　up　with　was　'Insufficient　data；　scan　penetration　negative；　over…ride　and　re…submit。'
　Professor　Slobe　rewound　the　great　ormulu　mantel…clock　and；　withdrawing　the　fretted　key　from　the　gilded　face；　set　the　pendulum　in　motion。　The　sonorous　locking　of　the　magnificent　timepiece　returned　the　heartbeat　once　more　to　the　silent　house。
　Sherlock　Holmes　entered　the　study　through　the　open　French　windows。　'It　has　stopped　again？'　said　he。
　The　Professor　nodded　sombrely。　'The　mechanism　has　bee　infected；　I　believe。'
　Holmes　slumped　into　a　fireside　chair。　'You　have　had　the　electricity　disconnected；　I　trust？'
　'As　we　discussed；　we　will　have　to　be　very　much　upon　our　guard　from　now　on。　I　have　taken　what　protective　measures　I　can；　but　my　powers　are　not　inexhaustible；　I　can　feel　the　pressure　upon　me　even　now。'
　Holmes　slid　a　pale　hand　about　the　decanter's　neck　and　poured　himself　a　small　scotch。　'I　have　just　spent　a　most　informative　hour　with　Norman　Hartnell。　A　man　of　exceptional　capability。'
　Professor　Slobe　smiled　ruefully。　'He　keeps　us　all　guessing；　that　is　for　certain。'
　'I　discovered　the　hand　of　a　duplicate　replacement　at　work　in　his　shop　and　sought　to　question　it。'
　Professor　Slobe　raised　his　eyebrows　in　horror。　'That　was　a　somewhat　reckless　move　upon　your　part。'
　'Perhaps；　but　when　confronted　by　the　gun　you　gave　me；　the　thing　took　flight；　literally；　through　the　ceiling　of　the　shop。　To　my　astonishment　the　real　Mr　Hartnell　appears　from　his　quarters。　The　mechanical　double　was；　in　fact；　something　of　his　own　creation。　To　spare　his　time　for　more　important　matters；　according　to　himself。'
　Professor　Slobe　chuckled　loudly。　'Bravo；　Norman；'　he　said。　'The　shopkeeper　does　have　something　rather　substantial　on　the　go　at　the　present　time。　It　is　of　the　utmost　importance　that　nothing　stand　in　his　way。'
　Sherlock　Holmes　shook　his　head。　'Your　corner…shopkeeper　produces　an　all…but…perfect　facsimile　of　himself　with　no　more　than　a　few　discarded　wireless…set　parts　and　something　he　calls　Meccano　and　you　treat　it　as　if　it　were　an　everyday　affair。'
　'This　is　Brentford。　Norman's　ingenuity　is　not　unknown　tome。'
　'And　do　you　know　how　his　mechanical　man　is　powered？'
　'Knowing　Norman；　it　probably　has　a　key　in　its　back　or　runs　upon　steam。'
　'On　the　contrary；'　said　Sherlock　Holmes；　taking　the　opportunity　to　spring　from　his　chair　and　take　up　a　striking　pose　against　the　mantelpiece；　'it　runs　from　a　slim　brass　wheel　set　into　its　chest。　Your　shopkeeper　has　rediscovered　the　secret　of　perpetual　motion。'
　'Has　he；　be　damned？'　The　Professor　bit　upon　his　lower　lip。　'Now　that　is　another　matter　entirely。'
　'Ha；'　said　Holmes；　nodding　his　head；　'and　now　would　you　like　me　to　bring　you　the　automaton；　that　you　might　inspect　his　workings　at　first　hand