rr.thebrentfordtriangle-第5章

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　'He　must　have　legged　it；　had　it　away　on　his　toes。'
　Omally　scratched　at　the　stubble　of　his　chin。　'Perhaps；'　said　he；　'perhaps。　There　is　a　terrible　smell　of　creosote　hereabouts；　has　anybody　been　pasting　his　paintwork？'
　'Not　to　my　knowledge。'
　Omally　shrugged；　'Shall　we　play　another　round　then？'
　Pooley　scrutinized　his　Piaget　wristwatch。　'I　feel　a　little　unsettled；'　he　said。　'Perhaps　we　should　adjourn　now　to　the　Swan　for　a　cooling　pint　of　Large　to　ease　our　fractured　nerves。'
　'That；'　said　Omally；　smacking　his　hands　together；　'is　not　a　bad　idea　by　any　reckoning。'
　
　5
　Bitow。。。　Bitow。。。　Bitow。。。　Bitow。。。　Whap。。。　'What？'　The　ungodly　sounds　echoed　across　the　library…silent　saloon…bar　of　the　Flying　Swan；　rattling　the　optics　and　jarring　the　patrons　from　their　contemplation　of　the　racing　dailies。　Neville　the　part…time　barman　clapped　his　hands　about　his　ears　and　swore　from　between　freshly　clenched　teeth。
　Nicholas　Roger　Raffles　Rathbone；　currently　serving　his　time　as　local　paperlad；　stood　before　the　Captain　Laser　Alien　Attack　Machine；　his　feet　at　three　of　the　clock　and　his　shoulders　painfully　hunched　in　his　bid　to　defend　planet　Earth　from　its　never…ending　stream　of　cosmic　cousins　ever　bent　upon　conquest；　doom；　and　destruction。
　Bitow。。。　Bitow。。。　Bitow。。。　Bitow。。。　His　right　forefinger　rattled　away　at　the　neutron　bomb　release　button　and　a　bead　of　perspiration　formed　upon　his　ample　brow。　'Go　on　my　son；　go　on。'　Little　streamers　of　coloured　light；　like　some　residue　from　a　third…rate　firework　box；　flew　up　the　bluely…tinted　video　screen　to　where　the　horde　of　approaching　spacecraft；　appearing　for　all　the　world　like　so　many　stuffed　olives；　dipped　and　weaved。
　Bitow。。。　Whap。。。　'What？'　Young　Nick　levelled　his　cherry…red　boot　at　the　machine；　damaging　several　of　his　favourite　toes。
　Neville　watched　the　performance　with　a　face　of　despair。　He　too　had　made　that　gesture　of　defiance　with　an　equal　lack　of　success。
　The　boy　Nick　dug　deeply　into　his　denim　pockets　for　more　small　change；　but　found　only　a　pound　note；　whose　serial　number　corresponded　exactly　with　one　which　had　lain　not　long　before　in　Norman's　secret　cashbox　beneath　his　counter。　He　turned　his　back　momentarily　upon　his　humming　adversary　and　bounced　over　to　the　bar　counter。　'Give　us　change　of　a　quid　then；　Nev。'
　Neville　viewed　the　diminutive　figure　with　the　lime…green　coiffure。　'I　cannot　give　out　change；'　he　said　maliciously。　'You　will　have　to　buy　a　drink。'
　'OK　then；　a　half　of　shandy　and　plenty　of　two…bobs　in　the　change；　the　Captain　awaits。'
　Neville　drew　off　a　mere　trickle　of　ale　into　the　glass　and　topped　it　up　from　the　drips　tray。　'We've　no　lemonade；'　he　sneered。
　'No　sweat；'　said　Nick。
　Neville　noticed；　as　he　passed　the　flat　half…pint　across　the　gleaming　bar　top；　that　the　boy's　right　forefinger　drummed　out　a　continual　tattoo　upon　an　imaginary　neutron　bomb　release　button。　Accepting　the　pound　note；　he　rang　up　'No　Sale'　and　scooped　out　a　fistful　of　pennies　and　halfpennies　and　a　ten…bob　piece。　'Sorry　I　can't　let　you　have　more　than　a　couple　of　florins；'　he　told　the　bouncing　boy；　'we　are　a　little　down　on　silver　this　morning。'
　The　boy　shrugged。　'No　sweat。'　He　was　well　acquainted　with　the　old　adage　about　a　prophet　being　without　honour　in　his　own　land；　and　he　made　a　mental　note　that　he　would　always　in　future　take　his　perks　in　silver　before　settling　in　for　a　lunchtime's　cosmic　warfare。　Without　further　ado　he　pocketed　his　ten…bob　piece；　swept　up　his　pennies；　pushed　his　half…pint　pointedly　aside　and　jogged　back　to　the　humming　machine。
　Pooley　and　Omally　entered　the　Flying　Swan。　'God　save　all　here；'　said　the　Irishman；　as　more　bitowing　rent　the　air；　'and　a　pox　upon　the　Nipponese　and　all　their　hellish　works。'
　Raffles　Rathbone　heard　not　a　word　of　this；　he　was　hunched　low；　aiding　the　Captain　in　his　bid　to　defeat　Earth's　attackers。　His　face　was　contorted　into　the　kind　of　expression　which　made　Joseph　Carey　Merrick　such　a　big　attraction　in　the　Victorian　side…shows。　His　right　forefinger　twitched　in　a　localized　St　Vitus'　Dance　and　his　body　quivered　as　if　charged　with　static　electricity。
　Neville　ground　his　teeth；　loosening　yet　another　expensive　filling；　and　tore　his　eyes　away　from　the　loathsome　spectacle　and　towards　his　approaching　patrons。　'What　is　your　pleasure；　gentlemen？'　he　asked。
　Pooley　hoisted　himself　on　to　his　favourite　stool。　'Two　pints　of　your　very　best；　barlord；'　he　said。　'My　panion　is　in　the　chair。'
　Making　much　of　his　practised　wrist　action；　Neville　drew　off　two　pints　of　the　very　very　best。　He　eyed　Omally　with　only　the　merest　suspicion　as　the　Irishman　paid　up　without　a　fuss；　guessing　accurately　that　it　was　some　debt　of　honour。　His　eyebrows　were　raised　somewhat；　however；　to　the　shabby　and　mud…bespattered　appearance　of　the　two　drinkers。　He　thought　to　detect　something　slightly　amiss。　'I　think　to　detect　something　slightly　amiss；'　he　observed。
　John　drew　deeply　upon　his　pint。　'You　find　me　a　puzzled　man；'　said　he　with　some　sincerity。
　Pooley　nodded；　'I　also　am　puzzled；'　he　said　tapping　his　chest。
　The　part…time　barman　stood　silently　a　moment；　hoping　for　a　little　elaboration；　but　when　it　became　apparent　that　none　was　to　be　forthing　he　picked　up　a　pint　glass　and　began　to　polish　it。
　'You　have　had　no　luck　yet　with　the　disablement　of　that　horror？'　said　Omally；　gesturing　over　his　shoulder　towards　the　video　machine。
　Neville　accelerated　his　polishing。　'None　whatever；'　he　snarled。　'I　have　tried　the　hot　soup　through　the　vent；　the　bent　washer　in　the　slot；　assault　with　a　deadly　weapon。　I　have　tried　simply　to　cut　the　lead　but　the　thing　is　welded　into　the　wall。'
　'Why　not　pull　the　fuse　at　the　mains　box？'　Pooley　asked。
　Neville　laughed　hollowly。　'My　first　thought。　Our　friends　from　the　brewery　have　thought　of　that。　I　have　pulled　every　fuse　in　the　place；　but　it　still　runs。　It　works　off　some　separate　power　supply　which　doesn't　even　register　on　the　electric　meter。　It　cannot　be　switched　off。　Night　and　day　it　runs。　I　can　hear　it　in　my　room；　humming　and　humming。　I　swear　that　if　something　is　not　done　soon　I　will　tender　my　resignation；　if　only　to　save　my　sanity。'
　'Steady　on；'　said　Jim。
　'Look　at　it！'　Neville　manded。　'It　is　an　obscenity；　an　abomination；　an　insult！'　He　placed　one　hand　over　his　heart　and　the　other　palm　downward　upon　the　bar…top。　'Once；'　said　he；　'once；　if　you　will　recall；　one　could　sit　in　this　pub　enjoying　the　converse　of　good　friends　well　met。　Once；　hi　a　corner　booth；　meditate　upon　such　matters　as　took　your　fancy。　Little；　you　will　remember；　and　correct　me　if　I　am　wrong　or　sinking　into　melancholy；　little　broke　the　harmony　of　the　place　but　for　the　whisper　of　the　feathered　flight。　Once。。。　'
　'Enough；　enough；'　said　Jim。　'Hold　hard　now；　you　are　bringing　a　lump　to　my　throat　which　is　causing　some　interference　to　my　drinking。'
　'I　am　not　a　man　to　panic；'　said　Neville；　which　all　knew　to　be　a　blatant　lie。　'But　this　thing　is　wearing　down　my　resistance。　I　cannot　take　much　more；　I　can　tell　you。'
　Omally　noted　well　the　desperation　upon　the　barman's　face　and　felt　sure　that　there　was　the　definite　possibility　of　financial　advancement　in　it。　'You　need　to　play　a　shrewd　game　with　those　mechanical　lads；'　he　said；　when　he　thought　the　time　was　right。　'A　firm　hand　is　all　they　understand。'
　Neville's　eyes　strayed　towards　the　jukebox；　which　had　not　uttered　a　sound　these　ten　years；　since　Omally　had　applied　a　firm　hand　to　its　workings。　It　seemed　a　thing　of　little　menace　now　pared　with　the　video　machine；　but　Neville　could　vividly　recall　the　agonies　he　had　gone　through　at　the　time。　'You　feel　that　you　might　meet　with　such　a　challenge？'　he　asked　in　an　even　voice。
　'Child's　play；'　said　Omally；　which　made　Pooley　choke　upon　his　ale。
　'Good　show。'　Neville　smiled　bravely　and　pulled　two　more　pints。　These　are　on　the　house；'　he　said。
　Old　Pete；　whose　hearing　was　as　acute　as　his　right　arm　sound；　overheard　the　last　remark。　'Good　morning；　John；　Jim；'　he　said；　rising　upon　his　stick。　'A　fine　day　is　it　not？'
　'It　started　poorly；'　said　Omally；　'but　it　is　beginning　to　perk　up。　Cheers。'
　'Been　to　the　allotment　then？'　the　ancient　enquired；　placing　his　empty　glass　upon　the　counter　and　indicating　the　mud…bespattered　condition　of　the　two　secret　golfers。
　'Weeding；'　said　John；　making