按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！
Pooley was skulking near to the back door。 With every blow to the brickwork his nerve was taking a similar hammering。 His hand wavered above the door handle。
'If it goes up； Jim；' said the Professor without looking round； 'it will take most of Brentford with it。 You have nowhere to run to。'
'I wasn't running；' said Jim。 'Just keeping an eye on the alleyway； that's all。' He peered over the net curtain into a yard which was a veritable munitions dump of spent curry tins。 'And not without cause。 John； stop banging。'
'I'm getting nowhere with all these interruptions；' the Irishman plained。 'Look； I've nearly got this brick out。'
'No； stop； stop！' Pooley ducked down below window level。 'There's one of them out there。'
'Ah；' said Professor Slobe； 'I had the feeling that they would not be very far from the Swan this night。'
The four men held their breath until they could do it no more。 'Is he still there？' the Professor asked。
Pooley lifted the corner of the net curtain。 'No； he's gone。 Be at it； John； get a move on will you？'
'Perhaps you'd rather do the work yourself； Pooley？' said Omally； proffering his tools。
'I am the lookout；' said Pooley haughtily； 'you are the hammerman。'
'Oh； do get a move on；' sighed Norman。 'It's nearly a quarter to eight。'
Omally swung away with a vengeance； raising a fine cloud of brick dust； and dislodging chunks of masonry with every blow。 When he had cleared a hole of sufficient size； the Professor stuck his head through and shone about with a small hand torch。 'I see no sign of touch plates or sensory activators。 Have it down； John。'
Omally did the business。 As Gammon's final selection came to an end and the jukebox switched itself off for another decade； the saboteurs stood before the exposed back plate of the Captain Laser Alien Attack Machine。
Norman opened his tool…box and took out a pair of rubber gloves； which he dusted with talcum powder； and drew over his sensitive digits。 Taking up a long slim screwdriver； he teased out the locking screws。 As the others crossed their fingers and held their breath； he gently eased away the back plate。 The Professor shone his torch in through the crack and nodded。 Norman yanked the plate off； exposing the machine's inner workings。
A great gasp went up from the pany。 'Holy Mary；' said John Omally； 'would you look at all that lot？'
Norman whistled through his teeth。 'Magic；' said he。 Upon the dashboard of a black Cadillac sedan parked in a nearby side…road a green light began to flash furiously。
The shopkeeper leant forward and stared into the machine's innards。 'It is wonderful；' he said。 'Beyond belief。'
'But can you break it up？' Omally demanded。
'Break it up？ That would be a crime against God。 Look at it； the precision； the design。 It is beyond belief； beyond belief。'
'Yes； yes； but can you break it up？'
Norman shook his head； 'Given time； I suppose。 But look here； the thing must serve at least a dozen functions。 Each of these modules has a separate input and output。'
'Let me give it a welt with my hammer。'
'No； no； just a minute。' Norman traced the circuitry with his screwdriver； whistling all the while。 'Each module is fed by the main power supply； somewhere deep within the Earth； it appears。 This is evidently some sort of munications apparatus。 There is a signalling device here； obviously for some sort of guidance control。 Here is the basic circuitry which powers the games centre。 Here is a gravitational field device to draw down orbiting objects on to a preprogrammed landing site。 The whole thing is here； plete tracking； guidance； munication and landing controls。 There are various other subsidiary ponents： outward defence modifications； protecting the frontal circuitry； alarm systems； etcetera。'
The Professor nodded。 'Disconnect the guidance； munications； and landing systems； if you please； Norman。'
Norman delved into the works； skilfully removing certain intricate pieces of microcircuitry。 'It occurs to me；' he said； 'speaking purely as a layman； that as a protective measure we might reverse certain sections merely by changing over their positive and negative terminals。'
Professor Slobe scratched at his snowy head。 'To what end？'
'Well； if this device is guiding the craft in by means of gravitational beams locked into their puter guidance systems； if we were to reverse the polarity； then as they punch in their coordinates on board the ships； the machine will short them out； and possibly destroy the descending craft。'
'Will it work？'
Norman tapped at his nose。 'Take it from me； it won't do them a lot of good。 e to think of it； it might even be possible to cross…link the guidance system with the actual games programme on the video machine。 Pot the bastards right out of the sky as they fly in。'
'Can you do it？'
'Can I do it； Professor？' Norman unscrewed a series of terminals and reconnected them accordingly。 He also removed a small unobtrusive portion of the contrivance； which appeared of importance only to himself； and secreted it within his toolbox。
'Are you all done？' the Professor asked； when the shopkeeper finally straightened up。
'All done；' said Norman； pulling off his gloves and tossing them into his tool…box。 'A piece of cake。'
Professor Slobe rose upon creaking knees and patted the brick dust from his tweeds。 He put a hand upon the shopkeeper's shoulder and said； 'You have done very well； Norman； and we will be for ever in your debt。 The night； however； is far from over。 In fact it has just begun。 Do you think that you might now pull off the double by winning the darts match？'
Norman nodded。 He had every intention of pulling off the treble this night。 But that was something he was keeping very much to himself。
The Swan was filling at a goodly pace。 With seven local teams peting for the cherished shield； business was already being brisk。 Neville had taken on extra barstaff； but these were of the finger…counting； change…confusing variety； and were already costing him money。 The part…tune barman was doing all he could； but his good eye wandered forever towards the Swan's door。
When at quarter past eight it swung open to herald the arrival of Omally； Pooley； Professor Slobe and Norman； the barman breathed an almighty sigh of relief。 Omally thrust his way through the crowd and ordered the drinks。 'As promised；' he announced； as the Swan's team enveloped Norman in their midst with a great cheer。
Neville pulled the pints。 'I am grateful； Omally；' said he； 'these are on the house。'
'And will be for a year； as soon as the other little matter is taken care of。'
'The machine？'
'You will have to bear with me just a little longer on that one。 Whatever occurs tonight you must stand resolute and take no action。'
Neville's suspicions were immediately aroused。 'What is likely to occur？'
Omally held up his grimy hands。 'The matter is under the control of Professor Slobe； a man who； I am sure you will agree； can be trusted without question。'
'If all is as you say； then I will turn a blind eye to that despoiler of my loins who has e skulking with you。' Omally grinned handsomely beneath his whiskers。 Neville loaded the drinks on to a tray and Omally bore them away to the Professor's reserved table。
A bell rang and the darts tournament began。 A hired Master of Ceremonies； acting as adjudicator and positive last word； clad in a glittering tuxedo and sporting an eyebrow…pencil moustache； announced the first game。
First on the oche were the teams from the Four Horsemen and the New Inn。 Jack Lane； resident landlord at the Four Horsemen these forty…seven long years； struggled from his wheelchair and flung the very first dart of the evening。
'Double top； Four Horsemen away；' announced the adjudicator in a booming voice。
Outside in the street； two figures who closely resembled a pair of young Jack Palances； and who smelt strongly of creosote； were rapidly approaching the Swan。 They walked with automaton precision； and their double footfalls echoed along the deserted Haling Road。
'Double top；' boomed the adjudicator； 'New Inn away。'
Pooley and Omally sat hi their grandstand seats； sipping their ale。 'Your man Jarvis there has a fine overarm swing；' said Omally。
'He is a little too showy for my liking；' Pooley replied。 'I will take five to four on the Horsemen if you're offering it。'
Omally； who had already opened his book and was now accepting bets from all ers； spat on his palm and smacked it down into that of his panion。 'We are away then；' said he。
Bitow bitow bitow went the Captain Laser Alien Attack Machine； suddenly jarring the two men from their appreciation of life's finer things； and causing them to leap from their chairs。 Omally craned his neck above the crowd and peered towards the sinister contrivance。 Through the swelling throng he could just make out the distinctive lime…green coiffure of Nicholas Roger Raffles Rathbone。
'It is the young ninny；' said John。 'Five to four you have then； I will draw up a page for you。'
Neville was by now moving up and down the bar； taking orders left； right； and centre。 The till jangled like a fire alarm； and Croughton the pot…bellied potman was already in a lather。
No…one noticed as two men with high cheekbones and immaculate black suits entered the Swan and lost themselves in the crowds。 No…one； that is； but for a single disembodied soul who lightly tapped the Professor upon the shoulder。 'All right；' said the old man； without drawing his eyes from the match in play。 'Kindly keep me informed。'
The Four Horsemen was faring rather badly。 The lads from the New Inn had enlisted the support of one Thomas 'Squires' Trelawny； a flightsmaster from Chiswick。 'Who brought him in？' asked Pooley。 'His name is not on the card。'
'A late entry； I suppose； do I hear a change in the odds？'
'Treacherous to the end； Omally；' said Jim Pooley。 'I will not shorten the odds； who is the next man up？'
'Jack's son； Young Jack。'
Young Jack； who was enjoying his tenth year in retirement； and looked not a day over forty； put his toe to the line and sent his feathered missile upon its unerring course into the treble twenty。
A great cheer went up from the Horsemen's supporters。 'He once got three hundred and one in five darts；' Omally told Jim。
'He is in league with the devil though but。'
'True； that does give him an edge。'
Somehow Young Jack had already managed to score one hundred and eighty…one with three darts； and this pleased the lads from the Four Horsemen no end。 To much applause； he concluded his performance by downing a pint of mild in less than four seconds。
'He is wearing very well considering his age；' said Omally。
'You should see the state of his portrait in the attic。'
'I'll get the round in then；' said Professor Slobe； rising upon his cane。
'Make sure he doesn't charge you for mine；' called Omally； who could see a long and happy year ahead； should the weather hold。 With no words spoken the crowd parted before the old man； allowing him immediate access' to the bar。
Beneath his table Young Jack made a satanic gesture； but he knew he was well outclassed by the great scholar。
'Same again；' said Professor Slobe。 Neville did the honours。 'All is well with you； I trust； barman？' the old gentleman asked。 'You wear something of a hunted look。'
'I am sorely tried； Professor；' said Neville。 'I can smell disaster； and this very night。 The scent is souring my nostrils even now as we speak。 It smells like creosote； but I know it to be disaster。 If we survive this night I am going to take a very long holiday。'
'You might try Penge； then；' said the old man brightly； 'I understand that it is very nice； although。。。 ' His words were suddenly swallowed up by a battery of Bitows from the nearby games machine。
Neville scowled through the crowd at the hunched back of the paperboy。 'Perhaps I will simply slay him now and take my holiday in Dartmoor； they say the air is very healthy thereabouts。'
'Never fear；' said Professor Slobe； but his eyes too had bee fixed upon the green…haired youth。 Speaking rapidly into Nick's ear was a man of average height； slightly tanned and with high cheek…bones。 The Professor couldn't help thinking that he put him hi mind of a young Jack Pal