rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第15部分

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inches　above　it；　and　then　an　extraordinary　thing　occurred。　The　coin　suddenly　arrested　its　downward　journey　and　hovered　in　the　air　as　if　now　reluctant　to　return　to　the　planet　of　its　origin。
　The　two　golfers　stared　at　it　in　dumb　disbelief。　'Now　that　is　what　I　would　call　a　trick；'　said　Jim；　when　he　eventually　found　his　voice。　'You　really　must　teach　it　to　me　on　some　occasion。　Wires　is　it；　or　magnetism？'
　Omally　shook　his　head。　'None　of　my　doing；'　he　said；　crossing　his　heart　solemnly；　'but　it　has　e　up　heads　so　I　suggest　that　you　tee　off　first。'
　'Not　so　fast；'　Pooley　replied。　'The　coin　has　not　yet　reached　the　deck；　it　might　have　a　couple　of　turns　left　in　it。'
　'It　has　clearly　stopped　falling；'　said　John；　'and　that　is　good　enough　for　me。　Kindly　tee　off。'
　'I　think　not；'　said　Jim；　shaking　his　head　slowly　and　firmly。　'I　am　not　a　man　to　call　cheat；　but　the　coin's　behaviour　leads　me　to　believe　that　something　a　little　phony　is　going　on　here。　Kindly　toss　it　again。'
　'You　want　the　best　out　of　three　then？'
　'No；　the　best　out　of　one。　I　should　like　the　coin；　as　the　biblical　seed　itself；　to　fall　upon　the　stony　ground！'
　Omally　shrugged。　'I　confess　my　own　astonishment　at　the　coin's　anarchistic　behaviour；　but　I　feel　deeply　insulted　that　you　should　even　hint　at　duplicity　upon　my　part。　Trust　being　the　bond　which　cements　our　long　friendship；　I　suggest　that　we　simply　let　the　matter　drop；　or　in　this　case　hover。'
　'Toss　the　coin　again；'　said　Jim　Pooley。
　'As　you　will；'　said　Omally；　who　had　now　determined　that　he　would　cheat　the　second　toss　e　what　may。　He　stooped　down　and　reached　out　a　hand　towards　the　hovering　coin。　He　was　rewarded　almost　instantaneously　by　a　crackle　of　blue　flame　which　scorched　his　fingertips　and　sent　him　reeling　backwards　into　the　shadows　as　if　suddenly　hit　by　a　speeding　lootive。　'Ooh；　ouch；　damn　and　blast；'　came　a　voice　from　the　darkness。
　Pooley　sniggered。　'Must　be　a　hotter　night　than　I　thought；　John；'　he　said；　'Get　a　touch　of　static　did　you？'
　Omally　gave　out　with　a　brief　burst　of　obscenities。
　'Tut　tut。'　Pooley　stretched　out　a　tentative　boot　to　nudge　the　copper　coin　aside。　This；　in　the　light　of　Omally's　experience；　was　an　ill…considered　move　upon　his　part。　For　his　folly　he　received　a　similar　charge　of　energy　which　caught　his　steel　toecap；　arched　up　the　back　of　his　leg　and　hit　him　squarely　in　the　groin。　'Erg；'　he　said；　which　was　in　technical　terms　basically　accurate。　Clutching　at　his　privy　parts；　he　sank　to　his　knees；　eyes　crossed。
　Omally　crawled　over　to　his　gasping　panion's　doubled　form。　'I　take　the　oath　that　this　is　none　of　my　doing；'　he　said；　blowing　upon　his　charred　finger…ends。
　Pooley　said；　'Erg；'　once　more；　which　was　at　least　an　encouraging　sign　that　life　still　remained　in　him。
　'Oh　no！'　said　Omally　suddenly。　'Not　again。'　The　dust　beneath　the　hovering　coin　had　cleared　to　reveal　the　grinning　metallic　face　of　yet　another　runic　ideogram。　As　the　two　men　watched；　a　faint　glow　seemed　to　engulf　it；　growing　steadily；　as　if　somehow　charged　from　beneath；　it　bathed　the　symbol　in　a　sharp　white　light。
　But　it　was　no　light　of　Earth。　Although　the　symbol　glowed　with　a　dazzling　brilliance；　the　light　seemed　self…contained　and　threw　no　illumination　on　to　the　awe…struck　faces　of　the　two　golfers。　Then；　with　an　audible　crackle；　the　light　rose　in　a　green　column；　a　clear　laser…like　shaft；　directly　into　the　night　sky。
　'Erg；　erg；'　went　Jim；　gesticulating　wildly　in　many　directions。　All　over　the　allotments　identical　columns　of　light　were　rising。　They　soared　into　the　black　void　of　space；　and　although　they　dwindled　to　whitened　hairs；　there　seemed　no　end　to　their　journeyings。
　'Say　this　isn't　happening；'　Omally　implored。
　Pooley　could　only　offer　another　'Erg'；　which　was　of　no　fort　whatever。　In　fact；　as　a　means　of　munication　the　word　'Erg'　was　proving　something　of　a　dead　loss。
　Just　then　the　lights　went　out。　One　by　one　they　snapped　off；　leaving　the　night　as　it　were　untouched；　although　Pooley　and　Omally　knew　very　much　to　the　contrary。　Pooley　at　last　found　a　tiny　croaking　voice　which　had　been　hiding　at　the　back　of　his　throat。　'What　were　they；　John？'
　Omally　shook　his　head。　'I　think　that　it　is　possibly　God's　way　of　telling　us　to　give　up　golf。'
　Pooley　found　this　explanation　doubtful　to　say　the　least。　'God；　I　think；　is　generally　a　little　more　direct　about　these　things。　A　great　man　for　a　thunderbolt　is　God。　But　whatever　it　was；　it　was　the　final　straw；　the　allotment　has　lost　its　charm　for　me。'
　'I　can　sympathize。'　Omally　struggled　to　his　feet　and　took　to　dusting　down　his　tweeds　with　his　one　good　hand。　'With　wandering　camels；　vanishing　council　spies；　symbols　and　searchlights；　there　does　seem　to　be　an　unwonted　amount　of　activity　hereabouts　of　late。'
　'I'm　for　telling　the　Professor；'　said　Jim；　getting　a　perfect　mental　image　of　a　whisky　decanter。
　Omally　had　taken　to　soaking　his　scorched　fingers　in　a　nearby　water…butt。　'I　think；'　said　he；　'that　the　Professor　has　pressing　business　of　his　own。　But；　as　you　see；　the　coin　has　now　reached　the　ground。'　He　pointed　towards　where　the　rogue　penny　now　lay　upon　the　exposed　symbol。　'And　even　though　it　is　still　〃heads〃；　in　the　face　of　the　unfortunate　accident　which　befell　you　I　am　willing　to　concede　the　toss。'
　'Thank　you。'　Pooley　stroked　his　trouser　region　gingerly；　the　old　three…piece　suite　was　smarting　like　a　good　'un。　'I　have　quite　gone　off　golf　now；　I　should　prefer　a　glass　or　two　of　nerve　tonic　rather　better。'
　'Aha！'　Omally　tapped　his　nose。　'I　think　there　might　be　a　bottle　or　two　of　such　stuff　maturing　even　now　in　my　hut；　would　you　care　to　step　across？'
　'I　would　indeed；　but　slowly　now；　I　am　not　feeling　at　my　best。'
　The　two　men　wended　their　way　over　the　allotment；　treading　warily　and　taking　great　lengths　to　avoid　those　areas　where　the　strange　symbols　lay　glowing　faintly　in　the　moonlight。
　Omally's　plot　was　always　a　matter　for　discussion　and　debate　amongst　his　fellow　allotment…holders。　John　tended　to　steer　clear　of　the　general　run…of…the…mill；　socially　acceptable　forms　of　crop　and　specialize　rather　in　things　with　unpronounceable　Latin　names　and　heady　fragrances。　Sniffing　moggies　often　emerged　from　his　plot　vacant…eyed　and　staggering。
　Pooley　stepped　carefully　across　Omally's　bed　of　flowering　mandrake　and　gestured　towards　a　row　of　towering　belladonna。　'You　have　an　unsavoury　looking　crop　on　at　present；'　he　said；　by　way　of　making　conversation。
　'Export　orders　mostly；'　John　told　him。　The　shed　itself　had　a　good　deal　of　the　gingerbread　cottage　about　it；　with　its　trelliswork　of　climbing　wolfsbane　and　its　poppy…filled　window　boxes。　Omally　unpadlocked　the　door　and　picked　up　a　couple　of　picture　postcards　from　the　wele　mat。　One　of　these　carried　upon　its　face　a　rooftop　view　of　Brentford。　Omally　read　this　one　aloud：　'Encountering　difficulties　dismantling　Ark　due　to　petrified　condition；　may　be　forced　to　bring　it　down　in　one　piece。　Regards　to　all；　Archroy。'
　'Do　you　actually　believe　any　of　the　stuff　he　writes？'　Pooley　asked。
　Omally　shrugged　his　broad　and　padded　shoulders。　'Who　is　to　say？　He　sends　these　cards　to　Neville　and　one　or　two　other　prominent　Brentonians。　I　suspect　there　will　shortly　be　a　request　for　financial　assistance　with　the　Ark's　transportation。　No　doubt　he　will　wish　to　have　the　money　orders　forwarded　to　some　post…office　box　in　West　Haling。'
　'You　are　a　hard　man；　John。'
　'I　am　a　realist；'　said　the　realist。
　Omally's　bottles　were　unearthed　and　drinks　were　poured。　The　two　lazed　variously　upon　potato　sacks；　sharing　a　Woodbine　and　musing　upon　this　and　that。　As　the　contents　of　the　bottles　dwindled；　likewise　did　the　musing　upon　this　and　that。　More　and　more　did　this　musing　spiral　inwards；　its　vagueness　and　generalities　crystallizing　with　each　inward　sweep　to　bee　definites　and　absolutes。　And　thus　did　these　definites　and　absolutes　eventually　centre　upon　the　woes　and　anguishes　of　interrupted　golf　tournaments　and；　in　particular；　their　own。
　'It　is　being　intolerable；'　said　Pooley；　draining　his　enamel　mug　and　refilling　it　immediately。
　'Unbearable；'　said　Omally；　doing　likewise。
　'Something　must　be　done。'
　'Absolutely。'
　'Something　drastic。'
　'Quite　so。'
　'My　bottle　is　empty；'　said　Jim。
　Omally　tossed　him　another。
　'Good　health　to　you；　John。'
　'And　to　yourself。'
　Three　hours　and　as　many　bottles　later　the　matter　was　ing　very　near　to　being　resolved。　A　vote　was　being　taken　and　by　a　show　of　hands　it　was　carried　unanimously。　It　was　agreed　that　with　the　aid　of　two　long…handled　shovels；　each　fitted　with　rubber　handgrips　as　a　precautionary　measure；　the　mysterious　symbols　would　be　dug　from　the　ground。　They　would　be　transported　by　wheelbarrow；　similarly　insulated　about　the　handle　regions；　to　the　river　and　therein　unceremoniously　dumped。　With　these　obstacles　to　play　satisfactorily　removed；　attention　would　be　turned　towards　the　matter　of　the　council　spies。　It　had　not　been　fully　resolved　as　to　the　exact　course　of　action　to　be　taken　over　this；　but　it　was　generally　agreed　that　the　employment　of　stout　sticks　would　play　a　part　in　it。
　The　moon　had　by　now　run　a　fair　distance　along　its　nightly　course；　and　when　the　men　emerged　from　Omally's　hut　the　allotment　had　about　it　the　quality　of　a　haunted　place。　There　was　a　harsh；　collars…up　chill　in　the　air　and　the　low　moon　now