rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第13章

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　'I　didn't　know　you　weren't　supposed　to　use　soap　when　shaving　electric；'　Pooley　plained。
　'Who　was　it？'
　'Also　me。'
　'Then　you　will　understand　my　reasoning　that　if　there　is　one　man　capable　of　ruining；　whether　through　chance；　method　or　design；　any　piece　of　electrical　apparatus　with　only　the　minimum　of　tampering　then　that　person　is　you；　James　Pooley。'
　Jim　pushed　in　the　florin　and　the　video　screen　burst　into　colour。　'Lift　off；'　he　said。
　'You　have　to　use　the　thrust　booster　to　get　optimum　lift；'　said　Raffles　Rathbone；　prancing　on　his　toes　and　pointing　variously　at　the　throbbing　machine。　'Gauge　the　inclination　of　the　saucers；　if　you　count　to　three　and　fire　just　in　front　of　them　you　can　bring　them　down。　Every　third　one　is　worth　an　extra　hundred　points；　keep　to　the　right　and　they　can't。。。　'　His　voice　trailed　off　as　Omally　dealt　him　a　severe　blow　to　the　skull。
　'Silence；'　he　said；　'Jim　knows　what　he's　doing。'
　'I　don't；'　wailed　Jim；　wildly　pressing　buttons　and　joggling　the　joy　stick。
　'You're　not　here　to　win；　Jim；　only　to　break　it。'
　'Break　it？'　Raffles　Rathbone　renewed　his　frenzied　dance。　'Break　the　machine？　Oh；　barman；　barman；　there　is　sabotage　going　on　here；　do　something；　do　something。'
　Neville　smiled　benevolently　at　the　dancing　youth。　'There　is　nothing　I　can　do；'　he　said。　'All　the　patrons　have　a　right　to　play　the　machine。　Don't　be　so　selfish。'
　'Selfish？　This　is　a　conspiracy；　I　shall　phone　the　brewery。'
　John　Omally；　a　man　to　whom　the　word　tolerance　meant　about　as　much　as　the　rules　of　backgammon；　snatched　up　the　squirming　malcontent　by　his　badge…covered　lapels　and　held　him　high　at　arms'　length。　'We　don't　want　to　go　threatening　the　management　now　do　we？'　he　asked。
　'Ooh；　I　got　one；'　said　Pooley　suddenly。　'Blew　him　right　out　of　the　sky。　And　there　goes　another；　Bitow。　There's　a　knack　to　it　you　see。'
　Omally　let　the　dangling　lad　fall　from　his　grasp。　'Any　sign　of　damage　yet？'　he　asked。
　'I'm　damaging　their　invasion　fleet；　look　that's　a　hundred　points；　got　the　mother　ship；　you　score　double　for　that。'
　Omally　looked　on　in　wonder。　'e　now；　Jim；'　he　implored；　'try　harder；　apply　a　little　more　force。'
　'I　am；　I　am；　there；　took　one　straight　out；　you　duck　away　to　the　side　then；　they　can't　get　you　there。'
　'That's　it；'　said　the　fallen　Raffles　Rathbone。　'Count　five　from　the　last　saucer　across　and　the　scout　ship　es　straight；　down；　you　can　get　five　hundred　for　him。'
　A　look　of　dire　perplexity　appeared　upon　Omally's　ruddy　face。　'Jim；'　he　said　earnestly；　'what　is　happening　here；　Jim？'
　'Nice　one；'　said　Raffles　Rathbone；　'when　you　get　up　to　one　thousand　points　you　get　an　extra　man。　There；　you　got　it。'
　'No　sweat；'　said　Jim　Pooley。
　Omally　turned　away　from　the　machine　and　stalked　over　to　the　bar。　Neville　met　his　approach　with　a　face　like　thunder。　'What　is　all　this？'　the　part…time　barman　demanded。　'Treachery；　is　it？'
　Omally　shook　…his　head　ferociously；　his　honour　was　at　stake　here。　'Psychology；'　he　informed　Neville。
　'Oh；　psychology　is　it；　well　silly　old　me；　I　could　have　sworn　that　he　was　enjoying　himself。'
　Omally　smiled　a　sickly　smile　and　tapped　his　nose。　'Leave　it　to　Jim；'　he　counselled。　'He　knows　what　he's　doing。　Wins　over　the　machine's　confidence；　probes　its　defences；　finds　the　weak　spot　and　Bitov！'
　'Bitow；'　said　Neville　giving　the　Irishman　what　is　universally　known　as　the　old　fisheye。　'Bitow　it　had　better　be。'
　Omally　grinned　unconvincingly　and　ordered　another　pint。
　Bitow　Bitow　Bitow　Bitow　Whap。。。　'What？'
　'Aha；'　yelled　Raffles　Rathbone；　'forgot　to　tell　you　about　their　strike　ships。　They　got　you　that　time。　Care　for　a　game　of　doubles？'
　'Certainly；'　said　Jim；　'last　to　ten　thousand　gets　the　beer　in。'
　'You're　on；'　said　the　lad。
　Omally　hid　his　head　in　his　hands　and　groaned。
　At　ten…thirty　Neville　called　time；　just　to　see　what　might　happen。　As　ever　the　response　was　minimal。　A　few　lingering　tourists；　up　to　enjoy　the　tours　around　the　derelict　gasworks；　upped　and　had　it　away　in　search　of　their　coaches；　which　had　left　an　hour　before。　But　by　the　local　colour　the　cry　was　unheeded　as　ever。　John　Omally；　whose　face　was　now　contorted　into　an　expression　which　would　have　put　the　wind　up　Rondo　Hatton；　sat　upon　his　barstool　sipping　at　the　fourth　pint　of　Large　he　had　been　forced　into　buying　himself　during　the　course　of　the　evening。　Jim　Pooley　had　spent　the　last　four　solid　hours　locked　in　mortal　bat　with　the　ever…alert　invaders　from　the　outer　limits　of　the　cosmic　infinite。
　For　his　part；　young　Nick　had　never　been　happier。　He　had　borne　the　old　slings　and　arrows　of　outrageous　fortune　regarding　his　involvement　with　the　videotic　projection　of　the　alien　strike　force　for　a　goodly　while。　To　be　teamed　up　now　with　Jim　Pooley；　a　man　he　had　for　long　admired；　gave　him　a　definite　feeling　of　invincibility。　Together　they　would　score　maximum　high　points　and　get　the　mystery　bonus。　'Get　that　man；'　he　yelled；　dancing　like　a　demented　dervish。　'Give　that　lad　some　stick。。。　nice　one。'
　Pooley　paused　at　long　last　to　take　breath。　His　neutron　bomb　release　finger　had　the　cramp　and　he　was　beginning　to　suffer　withdrawal　symptoms　from　his　self…imposed　spell　of　drinklessness。
　'I　must　rest　now；'　he　told　Rathbone。　'I　heard　our　good　barman　calling　for　the　towels　up　and　the　habits　of　a　lifetime　cannot　be　set　aside　in　a　single　evening。　I　am　called　to　the　bar。'
　'You　are　a　mean　player；'　said　the　boy　admiringly。　'It　has　been　a　pleasure　to　do　battle　with　you。'
　'You　have　the　edge　by　virtue　of　practice；'　replied　Jim；　'but　I'll　give　you　a　run　for　your　money　tomorrow　lunchtime。'
　'You're　on；'　said　Raffles　Rathbone。
　When　Jim　found　his　way　to　the　bar　counter　he　was　somewhat　astonished　by　the　full　extent　of　Omally's　hostility。
　'What　in　the　name　of　all　the　saints；　including　even　those　who　have　recently　been　given　the　big　〃E〃　by　the　present　papacy；　do　you　think　you　are　up　to？'　the　Irishman　asked。
　Pooley　was　unrepentant。　'Psychology？'　he　suggested。
　'Psychology？'
　'Yes；　you　know；　win　over　the　machine's　confidence；　probe　its　defences；　find　the　weak　spot　then　Bitow！　Whose　round　is　it？'
　'Yours；'　said　Omally；　'Irrefutably　yours。'
　'I　got　fifteen　thousand　two　hundred　and　one；'　said　Jim　proudly；　'personal　high　score；　take　a　bit　of　beating　that。'
　'Your　head　likewise。'
　'It's　in　the　wrist　action；'　Pooley　continued　informatively；　'and　you　have　to　know　the　sequences；　once　you　know　the　sequences　you　can　go　for　the　high…scoring　ships　and　simply　dodge　the　lower　ones。　It's　simple　enough　once　you've　sussed　it　out。'
　'You're　mad；'　said　Omally。　'You　were　right　about　the　X…rays；　they've　burned　out　your　brain。'
　'Wrist　action；'　said　Pooley；　drumming　his　killing　finger　on　to　the　bar。　'One；　two；　three；　Bitow；　move　to　the　left；　Bitow；　Bitow；　Bitow。'
　'I　will　kill　you。'
　'Tell　you　what；'　said　Jim；　'I'll　give　you　a　game　of　doubles　tomorrow。　Nick　will　be　here　and　he　can　give　you　a　few　pointers；　ydu'll　soon　pick　it　up。　Last　one　to　two　thousand　points　gets　the　drinks　in；　what　do　you　say？'
　Omally　buried　his　face　in　his　hands　and　began　to　sob　plaintively。　Pooley　finished　the　Irishman's　pint　for　him。　'You　couldn't　spare　a　couple　of　two…bobs；　could　you；　John？'　he　asked。　'I　just　thought　I'd　get　in　another　game　before　we　go。'
　
　10
　Small　Dave　peeled　open　a　packet　of　frozen　filet　mignon　amoureuse　and　oozed　it　into　the　cankerous　baking　tray　which　had　served　his　family　for　several　generations。　Turning　the　enamel　oven　up　to　regulo　six；　he　popped　the　gourmet's　nightmare　on　to　a　vacant　shelf　and　slammed　shut　the　door。　This　having　been　done　to　his　satisfaction；　the　dwarfish　postman　slouched　over　to　his　sawn…down　armchair　and　flung　himself　into　it。　He　was　not　a　happy　man。
　It　is　a　sad　fact　that　those　unfortunates　amongst　us　who　are　born　lacking　certain　vital　parts；　or　possess　others　to　over…abundance；　have　good　cause　to　bear　grievance　regarding　their　lots　in　life。　Those　blessed　with　the　lucky　humpty　back；　those　who　perpetually　bump　their　heads　upon　the　undersides　of　road　bridges；　or　are　capable　of　walking　beneath　bar　stools　without　stooping；　tend　to　feel　that　the　gods　have　dealt　with　them　rather　shabbily。
　Small　Dave　was　one　of　this　unhappy　crew　and　he　played　the　thing　up　for　all　it　was　worth。　He　took　kindness　for　pity；　the　friendly