gns.snakes-第8章

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　he　would　not　be　here　otherwise；　with　a　specialist　knowledge　of　poisonous　snakes。　A　lot　of　good　it　had　done　him；　just　given　him　some　kind　of　status　on　the　dole。　I'm　an　expert　on　snakes　but　I　can't　get　a　job。　Might　as　well　be　an　unemployed　labourer。　Burlington　smiled　cynically。　Faded　jeans　and　a　T…shirt；　a　roll…your…own…man　judging　by　the　packet　of　Rizlas　he　was　fidgeting　with。　Uncertain　of　himself；　could　be　on　drugs　too。　An　upper…class　hippy；　his　dark　beard　could　do　with　a　trim　to　tidy　it　up　and　his　hair　wouldn't　miss　a　couple　of　inches　shorn　off　it。　Clean；　though；　so　he　obviously　washed　regularly　or　maybe　he　had　had　a　spruce…up　specially　for　this　meeting；　felt　important　at　being　called　in　to　help　the　police。　Burlington　thought　that　maybe　they'd　have　to　take　him　down　a　peg　or　two　to　get　the　balance　right　but　they'd　give　him　a　chance　to　prove　himself　first。　'Strewth；　who　else　here　really　knew　the　enemy　they　were　up　against？
　　
　　'Right；　gentlemen；'　the　superintendent's　voice　was　low；　tired；　and　it　was　going　to　be　very　hot　again　today　which　was　a　daunting　prospect　when　you　had　not　seen　your　bed　since　the　night　before　last。　'We　all　know　what　we're　up　against；　killer　snakes　that　have　already　claimed　the　lives　of　two　people。'　He　dropped　his　spectacles　back　onto　the　bridge　of　his　nose　and　consulted　his　file　once　more。　'We　have　done　our　best　to　pile　an　accurate　list　of　the　escaped　reptiles。　I　cannot　guarantee　it　and　neither　can　that　Heath　Robinson　zoo。　Apparently；　various　means　of　transport　were　used　to　take　the　zoo　animals　away　and　nobody　really　knows　which　vehicles　took　which。　Consequently；　we　encountered　an　additional　delay　whilst　the　recipients　of　species　were　contacted　and　our　inventory　has　had　to　be　piled　by　a　process　of　elimination。　Anyway；　to　the　best　of　our　knowledge　we　are　hunting；'　he　paused；　flipped　over　a　page；　'one　African　rock　python；　presumably　the　one　that　killed　PC　Bazeley。　A　pair　of　western　diamondback　rattlesnakes　which　apparently　kill　more　people　in　the　United　States　than　any　other　poisonous　reptile。　One　cobra。　One　African　mamba。　A　pair　of　coral　snakes。　And　one　Russell's　viper。　Eight　in　all。　They　have　to　be　found　and　destroyed　as　quickly　as　possible　because　until　they　are；'　his　eyes　closed　momentarily；　'nobody　in　the　area　surrounding　Stainforth　village　is　safe。　It　will　mean　meticulous　searching　of　the　moors　and　woods　by　police　and　army　with　shotguns。　There　is　no　question　of　trying　to　recapture　the　snakes。　They　must　be　shot　and　we　must　risk　the　lives　of　tracker　dogs　to　find　them。　Perhaps；'　he　smiled　wryly；　trying　to　exude　optimism　he　did　not　feel；　'we　shall　e　upon　them　quickly　and　blast　them　before　they　can　do　any　harm。'
　　
　　'I　doubt　it；　sir。'　John　Price　spoke　softly；　an　interruption　which　had　the　superintendent　pushing　his　heavy　rimmed　spectacles　up　on　to　his　forehead　and　glowering　from　beneath　bushy　eyebrows。
　　
　　'Why　do　you　doubt　it；　Mr　Price？'
　　
　　'Because　these　snakes　are　a　variety　of　species　from　all　over　the　world。　No　way　is　a　mixture　like　this　gregarious。　Their　hatred　for　one　another　is　as　great　as　their　hatred　towards　Man。　I　would　think　that　the　chances　of　finding　them　all　in　a　small　area　are　very　remote。　I'd　like　to　think　I'm　wrong；　sir；　but　I　very　much　doubt　it。'
　　
　　'I　see。'　Superintendent　Burlington　passed　a　hand　across　his　forehead。　He　had　not　realised　until　now　that　he　had　a　headache；　a　dull　throbbing　behind　the　eyes。　'Thank　you；　Mr　Price；　for　that　information。　At　least　we　now　have　no　illusions　about　the　size　of　the　task　that　faces　us。　Well；　I　wish　you　the　best　of　luck；　gentlemen。　I　take　it；　Colonel；　that　you　have　already　discussed　with　Mr　Price　your　plans　for　searching　the　area。'
　　
　　'We　are　both　agreed　that　in　all　probability　the　snakes　will　head　for　high　ground。　The　moors　are　a　wild　stretch　and　that　is　where　we　shall　begin。'　The　uniformed　colonel　consulted　his　watch。　'Fortunately　the　days　are　long；　and　we　have　ample　men　at　our　disposal。　I　would　hope　to　finish　bing　the　moorland　before　dark。'
　　
　　'Good。　And　now；　unfortunately；　I　must　give　a　press　conference。　You　can　imagine　how　some　of　the　more　sensational　dailies　will　blow　the　whole　thing　up。　An　awful　lot　of　people　in　Britain　are　not　going　to　sleep　easy　in　their　beds　until　every　one　of　those　snakes　is　dead。'
　　
　　John　Price　followed　the　others　outside；　pausing　in　the　doorway　to　glance　back　at　the　senior　police　officer。　Burlington's　dislike　of　the　zoologist　had　not　gone　unnoticed。　Whatever　happened　John　knew　he　was　the　odd　man　out。　If　they　were　successful　the　police　and　army　would　take　the　credit；　if　they　failed　they　had　a　scapegoat。　He　accepted　his　lot　with　a　shrug。
　　
　　So　much　for　a　week's　vacation　with　Aunt　Elsie；　his　mother's　sister；　his　last　surviving　relative。　One　came　to　the　countryside　for　a　few　days　away　from　it　all　and　found　oneself　caught　up　in　something　too　awful　to　contemplate。　They　didn't　realise；　none　of　them；　and　there　was　no　way　of　making　them　until　they　met　up　with　the　escaped　killers。　Each　and　every　one　of　those　snakes　was　a　cunning　and　deadly　killer；　a　master　of　camouflage；　an　expert　in　ambush。　They　remembered　their　long　incarceration；　in　an　inexplicable　way　they　were　seeking　revenge。
　　
　　To　begin　with　they　would　run。
　　
　　Then　they　would　turn　and　fight。
　　
　　
　　
　　
　　　Chapter　5
　　
　　ELSIE　HARRISON　was　in　the　twilight　of　her　life；　at　seventy…six　the　only　thing　to　look　forward　to　was　the　visit　of　her　nephew；　John　Price；　the　only　person　in　the　world　she　had。　Not　that　the　villagers　of　Stainforth　were　unkind　to　her；　but　when　you　were　getting　on　the　only　people　who　really　cared　for　you　were　your　own　kin。　The　loneliness　of　old　age　had　closed　in　on　her　this　last　couple　of　years　or　so。
　　
　　Small　and　frail；　her　white　hair　tied　up　in　a　bun　on　the　back　of　her　head；　Elsie　walked　with　two　sticks。　She　had　built　her　hopes　on　a　replacement　hip　early　last　year；　had　even　gone　into　hospital　for　the　op。　and　then　they　had　shattered　her　by　telling　her　that　her　heart　wasn't　strong　enough　to　stand　it　and　had　sent　her　home　to　be　a　cripple　for　the　rest　of　her　life。　In　due　course　she　came　to　accept　the　fact　that　she　would　not　be　able　to　dispense　with　her　sticks；　and　she　endured　the　worsening　pain　and　decreasing　mobility　because　the　next　step　would　be　a　wheelchair　and　that　meant　going　into　a　home。　And　when　that　happened　she　wanted　to　die。
　　
　　After　Bert　had　passed　away　（he　had　lingered　on　for　a　whole　year　following　that　terrible　afternoon　when　he　had　suffered　a　stroke　in　the　garden）；　she　sold　the　cottage　and　bought　this　small　bungalow　on　the　edge　of　the　village。　She　missed　Daffodil　Cottage　with　its　quaint　tumbledown　features　and　the　ivy　over　the　front　porch；　but　there　was　no　way　she　could　have　kept　it　on　and　the　garden　would　have　to　have　gone　untended　and　Bert　wouldn't　have　liked　that。　Neither；　she　winced　at　the　thought；　would　he　have　approved　of　what　those　people　from　Manchester　who　bought　it　had　done　to　it。　They　had　pletely　destroyed　its　character；　knocked　down　walls；　built　a　modern　extension；　one　of　those　pine　structures　that　might　have　e　all　the　way　from　Canada；　turned　it　into　something　that　looked　like　a　log…cabin。　And　they　weren't　interested　in　gardening；　either。　They　had　landscaped　the　whole　place；　built　hideous　rockeries　and　made　slab　paths；　there　was　not　a　vegetable　in　sight；　and　they　had　ripped　out　all　the　soft　fruit　bushes　too。　Vandalism。　Perhaps　it　was　as　well　that　her　husband　was　not　here　to　see　it。　Just　thinking　of　Bert　brought　tears　to　her　eyes　and　she　hoped　her　Maker　would　decide　that　it　was　time　to　send　for　her；　too；　before　long。
　　
　　The　district　nurse　had　tried　to　persuade　her　to　have　one　of　those　aluminium　walking…frames。　Certainly　not；　she　had　told　the　rather　sharp…tongued　woman　who　always　thought　she　knew　best　and　that　you　had　no　right　to　have　an　opinion　of　your　own；　when　she　needed　that　she　did　not　want　to　be　here　anymore。　Elsie　would　manage　with　her　sticks；　she　would　defy　them　all　right　up　to　the　very　end。
　　
　　But　this　was　no　time　to　indulge　in　self…pity　with　John　here　for　a　few　days。　She　worried　a　lot　about　the　boy；　all　this　college　education　and　he　finished　up　no　better　off　than　any　of　the　other　youths　out　of　work　who　di