rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第26部分
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ill see that the Swan is built exactly one third up from the Thames base line of the Brentford Triangle。 Exactly the same position as the King's Chamber hi the Great Pyramid。 A very powerful position indeed。'
'It all appears to me a little over…circuitous；' said Ornally。 'Why not simply stick up a row of landing lights？ If these Cerean lads have all the wits that you attribute to them； surely they could tamper with the National Grid and form a dirty big cross of lighted areas across half of Britain？'
'Possibly；' the Professor replied； 'they might be able to do that for an hour； possibly for a day； but this pattern has been glowing into space for a hundred years； unnoticed by man and untouched。 It is reinforced by the structures built above it； pubs； thriving pubs。 This is Brentford； nobody ever knocks down a pub here。'
'True；' said Omally。 'We have little truck with iconoclasts hereabouts。'
'This beacon could go on radiating energy for a thousand years。 After all； the Cereans had no idea how long they would have to wait to be rescued。'
'There is definitely evidence of a cracked rib here；' said Pooley； feeling at his chest。
'All is surely lost；' said Omally。
'I didn't say it was terminal；' Pooley replied。 'Just a job for a skilled surgeon or two。'
Professor Slobe stroked his chin。 'At this very moment；' he said； 'somewhere on the outer rim of the galaxy； the Cerean Strike Force is heading towards its homeworld。 Finding none； it will inevitably be turning here； guided by the descendants of its stranded forebears。 Unless otherwise diverted or destroyed； they will home in upon their landing area； and I do not believe that we can expect any of that 〃We bring greetings from a distant star〃 benign cosmic super…race attitude to be very much in evidence upon their arrival。 We must work at this thing； I do not believe that it is without solution。'
'My ankle's gone；' grizzled Pooley。 'I shall walk with a limp for the rest of my life。'
'Do put a sock in it； Pooley；' said the Professor。
'But I'm wounded；' said the wounded Pooley。 'Somebody might show a little passion。'
'I don't think you realize the gravity of the situation。'
'On the contrary；' said Jim； waggling a right wrist which was quite obviously a job for the fracture clinic。 'I've never missed an episode of 〃The Outer Limits〃 … true； I've been in the bog during many a tide sequence； or slept through the last five minutes； but I know what I'm talking about。
None of this smacks to me of sound science fiction。 All this sort of stuff does not occur in the shadow of the gasworks。 Alien invaders； who we all know to be green in colour and pictured accurately upon the front page of the Eagle； do not muck about with council water supplies or conveniently arrange for the location of public drinking…houses。 I take this opportunity to voice my opinion and pooh pooh the whole idea。 There is a poultice wanting upon these knees and more than one of my fillings has e adrift。'
'An uncle of mine has connections with the Proves；' said Omally。 'If you will sanction the exemption of the Swan； I might arrange for the levelling of every other relevant pub in Brentford。'
Professor Slobe smiled ruefully。 'That； I think； might be a little too extreme；' he said。 'I am sure that a less drastic solution can be found。'
'Nobody ever listens to me；' said Jim； going into a sulk。
'As I see it；' said Professor Slobe； 'the Flying Swan is the epicentre of the entire configuration。 It has been so aligned as to act as the focal point。 The harnessed Earth forces flow through the alignment and culminate therein。 There must be something located either within the Swan or beneath it into which the energy flows。 Something acting as locative centre or municating beacon to these beings。 As to what it is； I have not the slightest idea。'
'Maybe it's the darts team；' said Pooley。 'We've held the shield for five years。 Perhaps your lads have infiltrated the team and are guiding their mates in through a series of pre…planned double tops。'
'You are not being obstructive are you； Jim？' the Professor asked。
'What； me？ With the collapsed lung and the damaged cerebral cortex？ Perish the thought。' Pooley took up his glass in a grazed fist and refilled it。
'Now we know where it is；' said the Professor； 'it surely cannot be that difficult to find it。'
'But what are we looking for？' asked Omally。 'You find a great triangle； we find the constellation of the Plough。'
'I find it；' said Pooley。
'Pooley finds it；' said Omally； 'one thing leads to another； but we just go around in circles。 What are we looking for？'
'I think I can make a reasonable guess；' said Professor Slobe。 'We are looking for something which is the product of a high technology。 Something which utilizes the vast power fed into it and acts as the ultimate homing beacon。 It must have been placed in the Swan during the last year or so； for it was only during this time that the Earthbound Cereans gained knowledge of their prodigals' return and wished to announce their own presence。'
Pooley shrugged。 'Product of a high technology； runs off its own power supply and recently installed in the Swan。 Can't see anything filling that bill； it would have to be pretty well camouflaged。。。 ' Pooley ceased his discourse in mid…sentence。 An image had suddenly appeared in his brain。 It was so strong and crystal clear that it blotted out everything else。 It was the image of a large bulky…looking object shrouded beneath a groundsheet and secured with baling wire； and it was humming and humming and humming。
'By the light of burning martyrs；' said John Omally。 'It has been staring us in the face for months and we never even twigged。'
'What is it？' the Professor demanded。 'You know； don't you？'
'Oh； yes；' said Jim Pooley。 'We know well enough； but believe me the thing will not be easily tampered with。 It will take an electronics expert with the brain of an Einstein to dismantle it； and where are we going to get one of those in Brentford？'
Norman Hartnell was not a happy man。 Apart from being barred from the Swan with darts night rapidly approaching； which was the kind of thing that could easily drive a sensitive soul such as himself to the point of suicide； he also was suffering a grave amount of concern over his camel。 Still wedged firmly into the eaves of his lock…up garage； and gaining bulk from its hearty consumption of cabbage leaves； the beast still showed no inclination whatever to return to Earth。 On top of these two insoluble problems； Small Dave's untimely return to Brentford and his disconcerting perceptions were causing the shopkeeper a good deal of grief。 He really would have to get rid of the camel。 It was damning evidence by any account； and he also had the definite feeling that Small Dave was on to him。 The nasty vindictive grudge…bearing wee bastard seemed to be dogging his every move。 If he was ever to transfer the Great Pyramid of Cheops from its present foundations in Egypt to its planned relocation upon the turf of Brentford football ground； he really couldn't have the dwarfish postman blundering in and spoiling everything before the project was pleted。
Norman dropped into his kitchen chair and did a bit of heavy thinking。 The mantelclock struck eleven； time once more to feed the camel。 Norman glanced despairingly about； perhaps he should simply blow the garage up。 The trouble was that he was really growing quite attached to the mouldy…looking quadruped。
He'd never been allowed to have a pet when he was a lad； and dogs didn't exactly take to him。 But Simon； well； Simon was different； he didn't snap at your ankles or climb on your furniture。 True； he didn't exactly do anything other than sleep in the rafters and roar for food when hungry； but there was something about the brute which touched Norman。 Possibly it was his helplessness； relying upon him； as it did； for his every requirement。 Perhaps it was that he had Simon exclusively to himself； nobody forever patting at him and offering him biscuits。 Whatever it was； there was something。 Simon was all right。 He was cheap to feed； living as he did upon Small Dave's cabbages； and his droppings made excellent manure for the roses。 Norman wondered for one bright moment whether a camel might be trained to eat dwarves； shouldn't be but a mouthful or two。 Pity camels were exclusively vegetarian。
Norman rose from his chair； drew on his shabby overcoat and put out the kitchen light。 Stepping silently through the darkened shop； he put his eye to the door's glass and peered out at the Baling Road。 All seemed quiet； but for the distant sound of police sirens。 Small Dave was nowhere to be seen。
The shopkeeper drew the bolt upon the door and slipped out into the night。 He scuttled away down Albany Road； keeping wherever possible in the shadows。 Down the empty street he hurried； with many a furtive glance to assure himself that he was not being followed。
Young Chips； who was returning from some canine equivalent of a lodge meeting； had been watching the shopkeeper's progress for some moments。 Now where is Norman off to； he asked himself； and who is the character in the Victorian garb hard upon his heels？ If I wasn't half the dog I believe myself to be；
