gns.thedruidconnection-第32部分

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　　'No；'　Sabat　replied。　'I　didn't　kill　anybody；　at　least　not　in　the　way　you　mean；　Boyce。　In　fact；　there　are　certain；　er；　people；　for　want　of　a　better　explanation；　who　would　like　me　dead　right　now。　But　you're　missing　the　point。　I'm　here　because。　I　found　out　what　was　behind　it　all；　what　had　caused　the　psychic　disturbance　at　St　Monica's。　You're　the　biggest　fucking　hypocrite　I've　met　in　many　a　year　and　I'd　be　doing　your　Church　a　big　favour　if　I　blasted　your　brains　all　over　the　wall　behind　you。　Which　I　might　just　do　if　you　cause　me　any　trouble。　Anyway；　I　haven't　time　to　stand　here　all　night　telling　you　what　a　bastard　you　are。　We've　got　a　long　journey　ahead　of　us。'
　　
　　'Where　to？'
　　
　　'Wiltshire。　Darren　Hurst　will　be　driving　down　to　meet　us　there　tomorrow　night；　I　guess　your　luck　has　run　out；　Boyce。　Your　corrupt　deal　might　fall　through　and　you　might　also　get　a　…38　slug　in　the　back　of　your　head　if　you　try　to　run　out　on　me。　Now；　get　dressed　and　let's　get　moving。　It　can't　be　far　off　dawn　and　the　fewer　people　who　see　us；　the　better！'
　　
　　Bishop　Boyce　was　trembling　violently　as　he　attempted　to　dress；　fingers　fumbling　with　buttons；　having　great　difficulty　getting　his　legs　into　a　pair　of　wide　grey　flannel　trousers。　Sabat　made　no　attempt　to　help　him；　watching　hawk…like；　the　barrel　of　the　？38　steady。　In　some　ways　he　would　have　weled　the　easy　way　out　but　he　had　to　account　to　the　Oke　Priests　if　Kent　was　to　have　his　sanity　restored　to　him。
　　
　　Dawn　was　just　beginning　to　streak　the　eastern　sky　as　they　emerged　from　the　palace。　Sabat　kept　close　behind　the　bishop；　the　pistol　gripped　in　his　pocket。　All　the　same；　Boyce　would　neither　run　for　it　nor　try　to　attract　attention。　He　was　a　very　frightened　man　and　he　was　puzzled　about　why　they　were…going　to　Wiltshire。　He　was　unlikely　to　give　any　trouble。
　　
　　It　was　fully　light　by　the　time　they　arrived　back　at　the　curate's　house。　Sabat　pulled　the　Daimler　to　a　halt；　killed　the　engine。　His　features　were　etched　with　lines；　almost　pallid　with　tiredness；　he　had　to　call　upon　his　last　reserves　of　energy　to　keep　going。
　　
　　'Don't　try　anything；'　he　warned　the　bishop。　'Now；　let's　go　inside。'
　　
　　Apprehension　that　brought　a　tightness　to　Sabat's　chest　as　he　opened　the　door；　a　build…up　of　tension　inside　him　like　a　boiler　that　was　overheating　and　might　explode　at　any　second；　scared　at　what　he　might　find　inside。
　　
　　The　moment　he　stepped　into　the　hall　he　knew　that　everything　was　all　right；　the　atmosphere　almost　tranquil。　He　let　out　his　pent…up　breath　slowly；　motioned　to　Boyce　to　follow　him。
　　
　　Kent　greeted　them　with　a　vacant　expression　from　the　centre　of　the　pentagram；　nasal；　meaningless　vocal　sounds；　'glug…glug　。　。　。　uh…ah…uh…uh。　。　；　。　'　The　jewelled　sword　lay　by　his　side；　untouched；　seemingly　a　lifeless　object　in　the　cold　light　of　day；　as　harmless　as　a　cast…off　garden　spade。
　　
　　'What's　。　。　。　what's　the　matter　with　him'　Boyce's　expression　was　one　of　horror　and　revulsion。
　　
　　'He's　temporarily　lost　his　mind；'　Sabat　answered。　'Which　is　the　main　reason　for　my　trip　down　to　Wiltshire。　Yours　is　to　meet　Hurst。　Now；　we　don't　need　to　start　until　early　afternoon　and　I　think　we　all　need　some　sleep。　I'll　show　you　the　spare　bedroom。　The　bed's　already　made　up。'
　　
　　Boyce　followed　him　unprotesting；　dazed　by　recent　events。　Sabat　closed　the　door　behind　the　bishop；　then　went　downstairs　and　rummaged　through　the　late　Philip　Owen's　desk。　He　found　what　he　was　looking　for；　three　drawing　pins　and　a　length　of　string。
　　
　　Upstairs　again　he　could　hear　Bishop　Boyce　moving　about　inside　the　room。　Sabat　wasted　no　time；　stuck　the　pins　into　the　soft　cheap　wood　of　the　bedroom　door　and　pulled　the　string　around　them　into　a　triangular　shape。　A　few　muttered　Latin　words　and　he　knew　that　his　prisoner　would　not　be　going　anywhere　until　he　was　released。
　　
　　Sabat　went　back　downstairs；　stretched　himself　out　on　the　couch　in　the　hall。　Above　him　he　heard　footsteps；　the　door　handle　rattling；　then　footsteps　again　and　the　utility　bed　creaking　beneath　the　bishop's　weight。　Boyce　wouldn't　be　going　anywhere；　that　much　was　certain。
　　
　　Sabat　had　learned　the　art　of　relaxing；　inducing　sleep　in　the　most　unpromising　situations。　He　also　knew　that　he　would　wake　to　within　a　minute　or　two　of　midday。　SAS　training　again；　his　own　system　more　reliable　than　any　alarm　clock；　perfect　co…ordination　of　mind　and　body　even　when　sleeping。
　　
　　So　far；　so　good。　His　plans　were　working　out　and　now　he　needed　to　rest；　to　re…charge　his　mind　and　body　for　the　terrible　ordeal　which　lay　ahead。　For　tonight　he　would　take　on　the　ancient　druids　in　their　own　kingdom：　Stonehenge；　the　most　powerful　temple　of　the　old　religion　where　the　spirits　of　the　long　dead　priests　lived　on。
　　
　　Lola　woke　sometime　during　the　late　morning；　eased　herself　off　the　bed　and　began　to　dress。　Last　night　seemed　like　a　dream　yet　she　knew　it　had　been　reality。　She　still　felt　the　touch　of　the　man　called　Sabat；　his　kisses；　everything　he　had　done　to　her。　Tingling　with　anticipation；　for　tonight　they　would　meet　again。　She　heard　his　voice；　like　one　of　those　catchy　tunes　which　you　can't　get　out　of　your　head；　driving　you　crazy；　only　she　didn't　want　to　get　Sabat's　voice　out　of　her　head。　She　thrilled　to　his　soft　yet　manding　tones；　knew　that　she　would　obey　his　instructions　implicitly。
　　
　　She　went　downstairs；　restlessly　began　to　wander　about　the　house；　pacing　up　and　down　in　the　hall。　How　long　before　Darren　got　back？　Oh　God；　suppose　he　didn't　e；　stopped　over　in　London　another　night。　。　。　。　Her　stomach　churned。　The　thought　was　too　terrible　to　contemplate。　If　that　happened；　then　she　would　have　let　Sabat　down　and　that　was　unthinkable。
　　
　　Her　fears　mounted；　kneeling　up　on　a　chair　at　the　window；　biting　her　fingernails　like　an　anxious　schoolgirl；　listening　for　every　car　that　turned　into　the　road；　hopes　raised　and　dashed。　Until　finally　Darren　Hurst's　Jaguar　swung　into　the　drive。
　　
　　Lola　had　the　front　door　open；　awaiting　him。　He　looked　tired；　dishevelled　as　he　climbed　out　of　the　car；　a　very　worn　and　weary　Greek　god　for　whom　the　sands　of　time　were　running　out。
　　
　　'You　okay？'　He　eyed　her　up；　noticed　a　vacant　expression　in　those　usually　searching　pale　blue　eyes。　'Nothing　happened　while　I've　been　away？　I　tried　to　phone　you　last　night　but　I　couldn't　get　anything　except　the　unobtainable　tone。'
　　
　　'We　have　to　go　down　to　Wiltshire；'　words　like　carefully　learned　lines　ing　from　her　soft　red　lips。　To　Stonehenge。　Both　of　us。'
　　
　　'What！'　Darren　Hurst　stared　in　disbelief。　'Are　you　feeling　all　right；　Lola？　We're　not　going　anywhere。'
　　
　　'Yes；　we　are；'　her　tone　was　suddenly　like　a　whiplash；　a　spoiled　child　defying　a　parent。　'Bishop　Boyce　telephoned。　He　is　going　also。　Unless　you　meet　him　there　tonight；　and　he　insists　that　you　take　me　along　with　you；　then　the　whole　deal　is　likely　to　fall　through。　We　have　to　be　there　by　midnight。'
　　
　　'This　is　sheer　lunacy！*　Darren　strode　towards　the　phone　on　the　carved　dolphin　hall　table。　'I've　never　heard　anything　like　it　in　my　life。　We've　no　time　to　play　silly　games；'　he　said；　dialling　frantically。　Til　soon　put　a　stop　to　this。　I'll　bloody　well　find　out　what　the　bugger's　up　to！'
　　
　　Lola　watched　him　expressionlessly；　knew　that　this　was　what　he　would　do。　She　heard　him　talking；　no；　the　bishop　wasn't　available。　He　had　left　early　this　morning　without　saying　where　he　was　going。　He　frequently　went　away　without　advising　his　staff　of　his　whereabouts。　Yes；　they　would　be　pleased　to　leave　a　message　for　him　on　his　return。
　　
　　Darren　Hurst　dropped　the　receiver　back；　turned　to　Lola　with　a　look　of　incredulity　on　his　face。　'The　bishop's　not　there。　They　don't　know　where　he's　gone。'
　　
　　'Of　course　they　don't；'　her　expression　was　one　of　I…could…have…told…you…that；　'he's　already　left　for　Stonehenge。　We　need　to　start　within　the　hour。'
　　
　　'Jesus　Christ　Almighty！'　the　builder　raised　his　eyes　skywards；　clenched　his　fists　in　a　show　of　frustration。　'Is　everybody　going　stark　raving　bloody　mad？　We're　in　the　middle　of　some　inexplicable　crisis　and　all　Boyce　can　e　up　with　is　a　trip　to　Stonehenge。'
　　
　　'But　we　have　to　go　just　the　same；　whether　you　like　it　or　not；'