gns.thegraveyardvultures-第12章

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　his　eyes　found　himself　staring　down　into　the　room　below。
　　
　　The　fire　was　restricted　at　the　moment　to　the　upper…storey　where　it　had　obviously　been　started；　already　it　was　beginning　to　eat　its　way　through　the　wall　from　the　adjoining　bedroom　so　that　the　heat　was　blistering　his　skin。　Frantically　he　stamped　with　his　feet　at　the　edges　of　the　hole　made　by　the　bed；　sent　slivers　of　snapped　wood　flying　down　below；　widening　the　hole。　And　then　he　jumped。
　　
　　Sabat　hit　the　carpeted　floor　and　roiled　over。　Blazing　debris　was　cascading　everywhere　and　a　ten…foot　beam　above　the　door　was　threatening　to　collapse　at　any　second。　He　leaped　for　the　door；　heard　a　bang　like　the　report　of　a　shotgun　and　even　as　he　felt　the　weling　rush　of　cool　night　air　on　his　overheated　body；　a　tremendous　blow　struck　him。　His　leap　became　a　stagger；　he　felt　his　senses　starting　to　slip　away。
　　
　　And　then　the　fiery　night　turned　to　unrelenting　blackness。　Total　oblivion；　so　cool　and　refreshing　after　the　heat。
　　
　　Sabat　struggled　to　e　to　terms　with　his　own　mind。　Consciousness　was　as　elusive　as　a　marshland　Jack…o…lantern；　taunting　him；　slipping　from　his　grasp　just　as　he　reached　out　for　it。　He　could　still　smell　the　fire；　wondered　if　he　had　actually　got　out　and　just　when　he　had　almost　convinced　himself　that　he　had　he　fell　back　into　that　awful　black　abyss。　Floating　in　a　semi…atose　state；　aware　that　around　him　was　dazzling　painful　light。　Maybe　he　was　dead　and　his　astral　was　condemned　to　wander　the　barren　wilderness　of　the　first　plane　forever；　a　low　entity；　a　poltergeist　likely　to　be　summoned　by　its　Master　for　menial　hauntings　at　a　moment's　notice；　but　until　then　he　must　remain　in　this　awful　desert。
　　
　　Some　time　later；　it　could　have　been　hours；　days　or　weeks；　he　came　to　the　conclusion　that　he　was　in　hospital。　Although　he　stili　smelt　occasional　odours　of　acrid　smoke；　his　senses　were　dominated　by　an　odour　of　disinfectant　and　scrupulous　cleanliness；　the　constant　movement　of　blurred；　white…clothed　bodies　and　voices　that　spoke　in　low　whispers。
　　
　　It　seemed　an　eternity　before　Sabat　regained　full　consciousness；　managed　to　squint　painfully　through　half…open　eyes　and　saw　the　bare；　white…washed　walls。　He　was　lying　in　bed　in　a　small　room；　the　only　item　of　furniture　a　table　by　the　far　wall。　A　private　ward。
　　
　　A　few　minutes　later　a　tall；　balding　man　in　a　long　white　coat　entered；　a　smile　that　could　only　be　interpreted　as　one　of　professional　relief　on　his　features。　'Ah；　Mr　Sabat；　you've　decided　to　return　to　the　land　of　the　living　at　last。'
　　
　　'As　close　as　that；　was　it？'　Sabat　barely　recognised　his　own　voice；　a　rasping　croak　that　hurt　his　throat　and　made　his　jaw　ache　when　he　moved　his　mouth。
　　
　　'Almost。'　The　doctor　seated　himself　on　the　edge　of　the　bed。　'You　cheated　the　blaze　at　the　pub　but　a　falling　beam　clobbered　you　just　when　you　were　almost　clear。　Nothing　too　serious；　though。　It　was　the　concussion　that　worried　us。　We　were　afraid　you　mightn't　e　out　of　the　a　but　I　guess　now　you're　going　to　be　all　right。　You'll　have　to　take　it　easy　for　a　week　or　two　though。'
　　
　　'How　long　have　I　been　unconscious？'
　　
　　'Three　days。　You're　in　the　East　Birmingham　accident　hospital；　by　the　way。'
　　
　　〃Thanks　for　telling　me；'　Sabat　grimaced。　He　lifted　a　hand　and　felt　the　bandages　which　swathed　his　head；　noted　the　restricting　pyjamas　in　which　he　was　clothed。　The　sooner　he　was　out　of　this　place；　the　better。　A　favourite　quip　of　his　was　that　there　were　three　places　one　should　keep　clear　of　…prisons；　churches　and　hospitals。　He　felt　a　hypocrite　right　now。
　　
　　'You'll　be　in　here　for　a　week　at　least；'　the　doctor's　tone　was　stern；　almost　as　though　he　could　read　his　patient's　thoughts。
　　
　　Sabat　tried　to　relax　after　the　doctor　had　gone　out　but　it　was　impossible。　The　enemy　had　failed　to　kill　him　but　they　had　certainly　removed　him　from　the　battleground。　And　the　man　called　Royston　would　already　have　prepared　his　new　black　altar　in　their　latest　meeting　place；　and　the　mouldering　bones　of　William　Gardiner　would　be　ready　to　call　up　unspeakable　evil。　Sabat　was　in　the　same　situation　as　a　racing　driver　who　had　crashed　…　for　his　own　sake　he　had　to　get　back　into　action　as　quickly　as　possible。　And　also　he　had　a　score　to　settle；　a　hatred　that　was　festering　inside　him　for　the　big　man　named　Royston　who　was　responsible　for　this。　The　SAS　had　taught　him　how　to　kill　and　he　had　learned　well。
　　
　　Sabat　had　not　been　expecting　a　visitor　so　soon。　The　man　who　was　ushered　into　the　room　had　the　role　of　policeman　stamped　indelibly　on　his　features；　even　civvies　could　not　hide　that。　The　nurse　stood　hesitantly　in　the　doorway；　wondering　if　she　had　done　the　right　thing。　The　doctor　had　said　definitely　no　visitors。　But　there　was　no　way　she　could　refuse　that　important…looking；　awe…inspiring　pass　which　had　been　flashed　under　her　nose。　One　did　not　argue　with　the　police。
　　
　　'Plowden；'　the　newer's　introduction　was　peremptory；　no　enquiry　after　the　patient's　health；　adding　'Detective　Inspector。'
　　
　　Sabat　regarded　him　stoically。　His　painstaking　efforts　to　avoid　contact　with　the　police　had　proved　futile。　He　nodded；　for　once　feeling　at　a　disadvantage　wrapped　in　bandages。　'Pleased　to　meet　you；　Inspector。'　That　was　a　downright　lie。
　　
　　'I　understand　you've　been　making　enquiries　into　this　St　Adrian's　business；'　Plowden's　tone　was　hostile。　'I　would　have　thought　it　only　courteous　for　you　to　have　contacted　us。'
　　
　　'Considering　I'd　only　been　in　the　village　a　few　hours；'　Sabat's　tips　tightened；　'I'd　had　no　chance　to；　even　if　I'd　wanted　to；　which　I　didn't　because　my　enquiries　were　of　a　different　nature　to　yours　and　I　saw　no　reason　for　us　to　collaborate。　The　Bishop
　　
　　Plowden　managed　to　refrain　from　saying　'fuck　the　Bishop'　and　snapped：　'We've　found　a　body　in　the　river。　One　bearing　the　same　crushing　hoofprints　that　were　found　on　the　corpse　of　the　girl　those　bastards　dug　up。　Her　name's　Sheila　Dowson；　has　a　record　for　soliciting　in　London's　East　End。　Also　served　a　term　of　imprisonment　for　involvement　in　drug　pushing。　It's　a　murder　enquiry　now！'
　　
　　The　other　stiffened；　conjured　up　a　mental　picture　of　a　battered　corpse；　the　skull　crushed　by　flailing　cloven　hooves。　He　made　it　up　on　to　one　elbow；　experienced　a　wave　of　dizziness　that　receded　and　left　him　feeling　sick。
　　
　　'You're　going　to　e　up　with　some　preposterous　theory　about　the　devil　having　been　called　up；'　the　policeman's　tone　was　heavy　with　sarcasm。　'I'd　prefer　to　think　in　more　realistic　terms；　like　cudgels　being　fashioned　with　iron　hooves　so　that　they　leave　the　marks　we　saw　and　half　these　bloody　drug…crazed　idiots　believing　that　they've　actually　succeeded　in　summoning　Old　Nick。　We'll　get　'em；　though。　But　I　haven't　e　here　to　discuss　the　police's　findings；　Mr　Sabat；　you'll　no　doubt　read　all　about　it　in　the　sensational　dailies。　I've　e　to　warn　you　。　。　。　don't　start　interfering　or　else　I'll　have　you　charged　with　obstructing　police　investigations！'
　　
　　'You'd　find　that　rather　difficult；　I　think。'　Sabat's　head　was　throbbing　and　he　was　forced　to　close　his　eyes　momentarily。　'Nevertheless；　you　have　told　me　something　that　I　already　suspected。'
　　
　　'And　what's　that？'
　　
　　'That　we　are　not　dealing　with　some　teenage　sensation…seeking　cult；　we　are　up　against　one　of　the　most　dangerous　covens　that　has　ever　existed；　one　which　harnessed　a　dangerous　and　terrible　power！'
　　
　　'Bullshit！'　Plowden　snapped。　'They'll　all　be　under　arrest　before　long；　that　I　promise　you。'
　　
　　'I　wish　you　success；'　Sabat's　voice　had　a　ring　of　sincerity　as　well　as　doubt；　'but　I　don't　think　you'll　find　it　quite　that　easy；　Inspector。　Have　you　found　the　missing　skeleton　yet；　the　remains　of　William　Gardiner？'
　　
　　'No。　But　I　don't　regard　it　as　being　of　any　importance　now　except　perhaps　as　evidence　against　those　who　exhumed　and　stole　it。　Possibly　it's　been　disposed　of；　burned　in　an　incinerator　and　we'll　never　find　it。'
　　
　　'I　see。'　Sabat　closed　his　eyes　again；　deliberately　kept　them　shut　and　when　he　opened　them　the　inspector　had　gone；　it　was　the　easiest　way　of　concluding　their　brief　discussion。
　　
　　It　was　a　sheer　physical　effort　to　get　out　of　bed。　Every　nerve　in　his　body　screa