pdouglas.thecodex-第60部分

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p。　He　turned　it　over　in　his　hand。
　〃It's　a　simple　mechanism；〃　he　said。　〃You　get　the　door　rolling　and　it　opens　by　itself。　The　trick　is；　how　do　you　start　the　door　rolling？〃
　They　examined　it　all　around；　but　there　was　no　obvious　answer。　When　they　emerged　from　the　tomb　Borabay　was　waiting　for　them；　an　anxious　expression　on　his　face。
　〃What　find？〃
　〃Nothing；〃　said　Philip。
　Vernon　emerged　from　the　tomb　holding　the　cylinder　of　wood　that　the　mummy　had　been　clutching。　〃What's　this；　Borabay？〃
　〃Key　to　underworld。〃
　Vernon　smiled。　〃Interesting。〃　He　carried　it　back　along　the　passageway　to　their　father's　tomb。　〃Funny　that　the　stick　should　fit　so　perfectly　into　these　airholes；〃　said　Vernon；　shoving　the　stick　in　several　holes；　almost　losing　it　in　one。　〃You　can　feel　the　air　ing　out　of　these　holes。　See？〃　He　went　from　hole　to　hole；　testing　with　his　hand　the　flow　of　air　from　each　one。　Finally　he　stopped。　〃Here's　an　airhole　with　no　breeze　ing　out　of　it。〃
　He　inserted　the　stick。　It　went　in　about　fourteen　inches　and　stopped；　leaving　four　inches　exposed。　Vernon　picked　up　a　heavy；　smooth　rock。　He　handed　it　to　Philip。
　〃You　do　the　honors。　Whack　the　end　of　the　stick。〃
　Philip　took　the　rock。　〃What　makes　you　think　this'll　work？〃
　〃A　wild　guess；　that's　all。〃
　Philip　hefted　the　rock；　braced　himself；　drew　back　his　arm；　and　brought　the　rock　down　hard　against　the　protruding　end　of　the　stick。　There　was　a　chunk　as　he　drove　the　stick　into　the　hole；　and　then　silence。
　Nothing　happened。　Philip　examined　the　hole。　The　wooden　dowel　had　gone　all　the　way　in　and　stuck。
　〃Damn　it！〃　Philip　cried；　losing　his　temper。　He　rushed　at　the　tomb　door　and　gave　it　a　savage　kick。　〃Open　up；　damn　you！〃
　A　sudden　grinding　noise　filled　the　air；　the　ground　vibrated；　and　the　stone　door　began　to　slide　open。　A　dark　crack　appeared　and　gradually　widened　as　the　door　moved　in　the　groove　along　its　stone　rollers；　In　a　moment；　with　a　clunk；　it　came　to　a　halt。
　The　tomb　was　open。
　They　all　waited；　staring　into　the　yawning　black　rectangle。　The　sun　was　just　breaking　over　the　distant　mountains；　pouring　golden　light　across　the　rocks；　at　an　angle　too　oblique　to　penetrate　into　the　tomb　itself；　which　remained　in　utter　blackness。　They　stood　without　moving；　paralyzed；　too　afraid　to　speak　or　call　out。　A　pestilential　cloud　of　corruption…the　stench　of　death…came　drifting　out　of　the　tomb。
　
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　Marcus　Aurelius　Hauser　waited　in　the　pleasing　dawn　light；　his　finger　stroking　the　blunt　trigger　of　his　Steyr　AUG。　The　weapon　was　perhaps　the　most　familiar　object　he　knew　besides　his　own　body；　and　he　never　felt　quite　normal　without　it。　The　metal　barrel；　warmed　from　constant　contact；　felt　almost　alive；　and　the　plastic　stock；　polished　by　his　own　hands　for　years；　was　as　smooth　as　a　woman's　thigh。
　Hauser　had　tucked　himself　into　a　fortable　niche　along　the　trail　that　led　down　the　cliff。　While　he　couldn't　actually　see　the　Broadbents　from　his　vantage　point　on　the　trail　above；　he　knew　they　were　below　and　would　have　to　e　back　the　same　way。　They　had　done　exactly　what　he　hoped。　They　had　led　him　to　old　Max's　tomb。　And　not　just　one　tomb；　but　a　whole　necropolis。　Unbelievable。　He　would　have　found　this　trail　eventually；　but　it　might　have　taken　a　long　time。
　The　Broadbents　had　now　served　their　purpose。　There　was　no　rush；　the　light　was　not　high　enough；　and　he　wanted　to　give　them　plenty　of　time　to　get　fortable；　to　relax；　to　assume　they　were　safe。　And　he；　Hauser；　wanted　to　think　this　op　through。　One　of　the　great　lessons　he　had　learned　in　Vietnam　was　patience。　That　was　how　the　Viet　Cong　had　won　the　war…they　were　more　patient。
　He　gazed　around　with　delight。　The　necropolis　was　stupendous；　a　thousand　tombs　filled　with　grave　goods；　a　tree　laden　with　fruit　ripe　for　the　plucking。　Not　to　mention　all　the　valuable　antiquities；　stelae；　statuary；　reliefs；　and　other　treasures　in　the　White　City　itself。　On　top　of　that；　there　was　the　half　billion　dollars'　worth　of　art　and　antiquities　in　Broadbent's　tomb。　He　would　bring　the　Codex　out　with　some　of　the　lighter　stuff　and　finance　his　return　with　the　proceeds。　Yes；　he　would　definitely　be　back。　There　were　billions　to　be　made　in　the　White　City。　Billions。
　He　felt　into　his　musette　bag；　fondled　a　cigar；　and　with　regret　allowed　it　to　remain　undisturbed。　It　would　not　do　for　them　to　smell　cigar　smoke。
　One　had　to　make　certain　sacrifices。
　
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　The　four　brothers　stood　rooted　to　the　ground；　staring　into　the　rectangle　of　darkness。　They　could　not　move；　they　could　not　speak。　The　seconds　ticked　on　into　minutes　as　the　flow　of　foul　air　ebbed。　No　one　made　a　move　to　go　inside　the　tomb。　No　one　wanted　to　see　what　horror　lay　within。
　And　then　there　was　a　sound：　a　cough。　And　another：　the　shuffle　of　a　foot。
　They　were　paralyzed；　mute　with　anticipation。
　Another　shuffle。　Tom　knew　it　then：　Their　father　was　alive。　He　was　ing　out　of　the　tomb。　Still　Tom　could　not　move；　and　neither　could　the　others。　Just　as　the　tension　became　unbearable；　in　the　center　of　the　black　rectangle；　a　ghostly　face　began　to　materialize。　Another　shambling　step；　and　now　an　apparition　appeared　in　the　gloom。　Another　step　brought　the　figure　into　reality。
　He　was　almost　more　horrifying　than　a　corpse。　The　figure　halted　before　them　unsteadily；　blinking　his　eyes。　He　was　stark　naked；　shrunken；　stooped；　filthy；　cadaverous；　smelling　like　death　itself。　Snot　ran　from　his　nose；　his　mouth　hung　open　like　a　madman's。　He　blinked；　sniffed；　blinked　again　in　the　dawn　light；　his　colorless　eyes　vacant；　unprehending。
　Maxwell　Broadbent。
　The　seconds　ticked　by；　and　still　they　remained　rooted　to　the　ground；　speechless。
　Broadbent　stared　at　them；　one　eye　twitching。　He　blinked　again　and　straightened　up。　The　hollow　eyes；　sunken　in　great　dark　pools　of　flesh；　were　darting　from　each　of　their　faces　to　the　next。　He　took　a　long；　noisy　breath。
　No　matter　how　much　he　wanted　to；　Tom　could　not　move　or　speak。　He　stared　as　their　father　straightened　up　a　bit　more。　The　eyes　roved　once　again　across　their　faces；　more　penetrating。　He　coughed；　the　mouth　worked　a　bit；　but　no　sound　came。　Broadbent　raised　a　trembling　hand；　and　finally　a　cracked　sound　came　from　his　lips；　They　leaned　forward；　straining　to　understand。
　Broadbent　cleared　his　throat；　rumbled；　and　took　a　step　closer。　He　inhaled　again　and　finally　spoke：
　〃What　the　hell　took　you　so　long？〃
　It　roared　out；　ringing　off　the　cliffs；　echoing　back　out　of　the　tomb。　The　spell　was　broken。　It　was　their　old　father；　there　in　the　flesh　after　all。　Tom　and　the　others　rushed　forward　and　embraced　the　old　man。　He　gripped　them　fiercely；　all　at　once　and　then　each　one　in　turn；　his　arms　surprisingly　strong。
　After　a　long　moment　Maxwell　Broadbent　stepped　back。　He　seemed　to　have　expanded　to　his　usual　size。
　Jesus　Christ；〃　he　said；　wiping　his　face。　〃Jesus；　Jesus　Christ。〃
　They　all　looked　at　him；　unsure　how　to　respond。
　The　old　man　shook　his　great　gray　head。　〃Christ　almighty；　I'm　glad　you're　here。　God；　I　must　stink。　Look　at　me。　I'm　a　mess。　Naked；　filthy；　revolting！〃
　〃Not　at　all；〃　said　Philip。　〃Here；　let　me　give　you　this。〃　He　pulled　off　his　shirt。
　〃Thank　you；　Philip。〃　Maxwell　put　on　Philip's　shirt　and　buttoned　it　up；　his　fingers　fumbling　clumsily。　〃Who　does　your　laundry？　This　shirt　is　a　disgrace。〃　He　attempted　a　laugh　and　ended　up　coughing。
　When　Philip　began　taking　off　his　pants；　Broadbent　held　up　a　large　hand。　〃I'm　not　going　to　strip　my　own　sons。〃
　〃Father…〃
　〃They　buried　me　naked。　I'm　used　to　it。〃
　Borabay　reached　into　his　palm…leaf　pack　and　pulled　out　a　long　piece　of　decorated　cloth。　〃You　wear　this。〃
　〃Going　native；　am　I？〃　Broadbent　awkwardly　fitted　it　around　his　waist。　〃How　do　you　tie　it　up？〃
　Borabay　helped　him　tie　it　around　his　waist　with　a　knotted　hemp　cord。
　The　old　man　knotted　it　and　stood　there；　saying　nothing。　Nobody　knew　what　to　say　next。
　〃Thank　God　you're　alive；〃　said　Vernon。
　〃At　first　I　wasn't　so　sure　myself；〃　Broadbent　said。　〃For　a　while　there　I　thought　I'd　died　and　gone　to　hell。〃
　〃What；　you？　The　old　atheist　now　believing　in　hell？〃　said　Philip。
　He　looked　up　at　Philip；　smiled；　and　shook　his　head。　〃So　much　has　changed。〃
　〃Don't　tell　me　you　found　God。〃
　Broadbent　wagged　his　head　and　clapped　a　hand　on　Philip's　shoulder。　He　gave　it　an　affectionate　shake。　〃Good　to　see　you；　son。〃
　He　turned　to　Vernon。　〃And　you；　too；　Vernon。〃　He　looked　around；　turning　his　crinkly　blue　eyes　on　each　of　them。　〃Tom；　Vernon；　Philip；　Borabay…I'm　overwhelmed。〃　He　placed　a　hand　on　each　of　their　heads　in　turn。　〃You　made　it。　You　found　me。　My　food　and　water　were　almost　gone。　I　could　only　have　lasted　a　day　or　two　more。　You've　given　me　a　second　chance。　I　don't　deserve　it　but　I'm　going　to　take　it。　I　did　a　lot　of　thinking　in　that　dark　tomb　。。。〃
　He　looked　up　and　out　over　the　purple　sea　of　mountains　and　the　golden　sky；　straightened　up；　and　inhaled。
　〃Are　you　okay？〃　Vernon　asked。
　〃If　it's　the　cancer　you're　talking　about；　I'm　sure　it's　still　there…just　hasn't　kicked　in　yet。　I've　still　got　a　couple　of　months。　The　son　of　a　bitch　got　into　my　brain…I　never　told　you　that。　But　so　far；　so　good：　I　feel　great。〃　He　looked　around。　〃Let's　get　the　hell　out　of　here。〃
　Tom　said；　〃Unfortunately；　it's　not　going　to　be　that　simple。〃
　〃How　so？〃
　Tom　glanced　at　his　brothers。　〃We've　got　a　problem；　and