jherbert.sepulchre-第58部分

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he　paid　it　no　mind；　realising　it　was　a　fountain；　the　storm　causing　its　basin　to　overflow。
　　He　kept　running　and　the　other　person　had　spotted　him；　was　backing　away。　The　fool's　attention　must　have　been　on　the　fountain　before；　not　on　the　shadow　bearing　down　on　him　through　the　storm。　It　had　been　Shay's　luck　that　lightning　had　not　struck　during　those　few　seconds。
　　He　burst　into　the　hallway　and　was　able　to　reach　out　for　the　man　who；　too　late；　had　attempted　to　flee。　He　pulled　him　round；　clamping　a　hand　over　the　man's　mouth；　then　ramming　the　barrel　of　the　gun　beneath　his　captive's　wire…rimmed　spectacles　so　that　they　rose　off　his　nose；　the　weapon　hard　against　his　closed　eyelid。
　　　
　　　
　　　48　BLOOD　RITES
　　
　　The　Arab　was　murmuring　an　intonation　that　was　breathless；　his　excitement　conveyed　through　the　wire　which　vibrated　against　Halloran's　throat。　Daoud　watched　the　figures　at　the　altar；　fretful　that　he　was　unable　to　join　them；　but　chanting　the　incantations　learned　from　the　cuneiform　writings；　so　that　he　was　at　least　part　of　the　ceremony。
　　A　breeze　swept　down　from　the　corridor　above；　bending　the　candle　flames　as　it　swirled　around　the　underground　chamber；　ruffling　the　light　so　that　shadows　danced　and　weaved　as　though　they　also　belonged　to　the　rite。
　　At　the　stone　slab　that　served　as　an　altar；　Felix　Kline；　aware　that　his　strength　was　fading；　his　will　weakening　with　it；　urged　Khayed　to　hurry。　Tissue　was　breaking　from　him；　falling　onto　the　robe　he　wore；　onto　the　open　body　lying　below　on　the　stone。　He　could　feel　fresh　lesions　forming；　the　flesh　ulcerating　and　rupturing　beneath　his　clothing；　skin　weeping　pus；　dribbling　wetness。　The　pain　was　intense；　as　though　every　joint　in　his　body　was　on　fire；　and　his　scalp　was　tightening　around　the　skull；　splitting　apart　as　it　shrank。　This　agony　was　like　never　before；　and　it　was　the　significance　of　that　which　frightened　Kline　more　than　anything　else。　The　torments　of　his　sleep；　the　panic　that　had　lingered　afterwards；　the　sense　of　deep　foreboding…these　were　feelings　he　had　not　experienced　since　discovering　the　hidden　tomb　so　many　years　before。　Why　now；　O　Lord？　Have　I　failed　you　in　some　way？　Acre　you　failing　me；　Bel…Marduk？　The　questions　were　silent；　his　spoken　invocations　uninterrupted；　for　those　ancient　words　were　important　to　the　ritual；　their　tonal　values　an　inducing　cadence　for　affinity　between　the　psyche　and　the　spiritual　realms。
　　Khayed's　hands　were　bloodied　beyond　the　wrists　as　he　pulled　at　the　sliced　sides　of　the　body　to　expose　Monk's　innards。　The　bodyguard's　eyelids　fluttered　as　life　dwindled；　receding　within　him　so　that　it　could　expand　outwards　through　another　dimension。　The　Arab　tugged　at　Monk's　exposed　sternum；　bending　the　ribs　upwards；　then　pushed　sweating　organs　down　towards　the　gut；　reaching　for　the　heart　and　dragging　it　clear；　stretching　arteries　and　breaking　veins　until　the　feebly　pulsing　organ　was　revealed。　All　a　familiar　and　well…practised　ritual。
　　Kline　took　the　other　heart；　the　old　shrivelled　husk　that　represented…that　was…the　existence　of　his　deity。　With　one　hand　he　lifted　this　shell；　while　with　the　other　he　reached　for　Cora's　wrist。　She　was　too　numbed　to　resist；　inprehension　still　misted　in　her　eyes。
　　But　when　Kline　plunged　both　their　hands　into　the　gaping　wound；　the　dried；　withered　thing　held　between　them；　she　whimpered。　When　he　settled　the　remnant　organ　against　the　fresh；　bleeding　one；　using　their　hands　as　a　vice；　she　screamed。
　　Cora　felt　her　whole　self　being　drawn　down　into　the　huge　open　wound；　blood　spurting　along　her　arm；　her　hand　disappeared　into　the　quagmire。　And　it　was　the　ancient　petrified　heart　that　sucked　her　in。
　　Kline　was　lost　in　a　delirium　of　sensations；　a　euphoric　rebirth　without　trauma；　a　vigour　beginning　to　pulsate　through　him。　All　this　ceased　for　him　when　the　girl　pulled　her　hand　free；　bringing　with　it　the　parasite　heart。
　　Cora　held　the　relic　in　her　bloody　grasp　and　stared　loathingly　at　it　for　but　a　moment。　Turning　away；　she　cast　it　from　her；　a　violent　and　sudden　movement　that　neither　Kline　nor　Khayed　could　prevent。
　　The　brittle　shell　scudded　across　the　stone　floor　and　came　to　rest　in　a　puddle　of　blackened　water。
　　Now　it　was　Kline　who　screamed；　a　piercing　cry　that　echoed　around　the　walls　of　the　chamber。
　　And　it　was　Halloran　who　took　his　chance。
　　Daoud's　attention　was　on　the　dark；　blood…soaked　mound　lying　in　the　water　only　a　few　yards　away；　his　grip　loosened　on　the　wooden　handles　of　the　garotte。　Halloran；　half…kneeling　below　the　Arab；　swiftly　brought　the　point　of　his　elbow　up　into　the　other　man's　groin。　Daoud　hissed；　releasing　one　of　the　handles　to　clutch　at　himself；　the　wire　cutting　across　Halloran's　throat。　The　operative　grabbed　the　Arab's　ankle　and　pulled；　sending　his　opponent　crashing　onto　his　back。
　　Despite　the　pain；　Daoud　kicked　out　at　Halloran；　toppling　him　as　he　tried　to　rise。
　　They　came　up　together；　but　tears　blurred　the　Arab's　vision。　Halloran's　stiffened　fingers　jabbed　at　the　front　of　Daoud's　neck；　striking　for　the　thyroid　cartilage。　If　his　balance　had　allowed　a　greater　force　to　the　blow；　the　Arab　would　have　been　killed　instantly；　as　it　was；　Daoud　crouched　over　his　knees；　choking　and　gasping。　Halloran　half…rose；　turning　as　he　did　so；　ready　to　launch　himself　at　the　Arab's　panions。
　　Cora　had　sunk　down　against　the　altar；　blood　from　the　open　body　above　spilling　over　the　edge　to　stain　the　shoulders　of　her　white　robe。　Kline　was　stumbling　around　the　stone　slab；　one　hand　against　it　for　support；　the　other　stretched　out；　fingers　spread；　as　though　reaching　for　the　relic　lying　in　the　wetness　of　the　floor　some　distance　away。　Khayed's　gaze　was　fixed　on　his　choking　lover。　Rage　burned　when　it　shifted　to　Halloran。　Khayed　lifted　the　long　and　broad　chopping　knife。
　　But　others　had　entered　the　chamber。
　　Janusz　Palusinski；　whom　Kline　had　ordered　to　investigate　the　earlier　sound　of　gunfire；　had　returned。　A　man　in　a　rain…drenched　anorak　gripped　the　Pole's　collar　from　behind；　in　his　free　hand　was　a　revolver　pointing　at　Palusinski's　head。
　　Danny　Shay　was　dismayed　by　what　confronted　him　in　the　gloomy；　candle…lit　room。　Dismayed；　then　fiercely　angry。　There　were　robed　figures　below　him；　one　wielding　a　long；　bloodstained　knife；　another　in　black　wearing　a　hideous　mask　of　some　kind。　There　was　a　girl　resting　against　a　stone　slab；　her　legs　exposed；　blood　soaking　her　clothing。　And　the　stone　resembled　an　altar；　and　on　that　altar…oh　dear　God　in　Heaven　！…there　was　a　mutilated　body；　blood　pumping　from　it　like　red　springwater。　There　were　moving　shadows；　dark　alcoves　that　might　have　hidden　others　involved　in　this　atrocity。　Shay　thumbed　back　the　hammer　of　the　。38。
　　And　then　his　eyes　came　to　rest　on　the　man　he　had　been　seeking。
　　'Halloran！'　he　yelled。
　　The　operative　looked　up　towards　the　top　of　the　stairway；　as　did　the　others　in　the　chamber。　Khayed　became　still；　while　Kline　leaned　heavily　against　the　stone；　a　wildness　in　his　eyes。　Cora　barely　reacted；　for　the　moment　too　disorientated　to　care。
　　The　man　with　the　gun　shoved　Palusinski　away　from　him；　and　the　Pole　staggered　down　a　few　steps　before　cowering　against　the　wall；　folding　himself　up　so　that　he　was　small；　a　poor　attempt　to　make　himself　invisible。　The　weapon　came　around　to　point　at　Halloran。
　　'You've　given　the　Organisation　a　lot　of　grief；　man；'　Shay　said。
　　Halloran　straightened　slightly；　his　body　remaining　tensed。　The　man　above　him　had　spoken　with　a　thick；　southern…Irish　accent　and　a　hint　of　the　truth　began　to　dawn　in　Halloran's　mind。
　　'You　killed　three　good　men；　Halloran。　Valuable　men　to　the　Cause；　they　were。　Shot　'em　before　they　had　a　chance。　You　should　have　known　we'd　find　you；　you　must　have　realised　the　IRA　would　never　stand　for　that！'　Halloran　was　stunned。　So　it　was　he　who　had　been　the　target　all　along。　This　bastard　had　tortured　Dieter　Stuhr　to　find　him。。。
　　The　man　on　the　stairway　felt　uneasy　with　the　strange　smile　that　had　appeared　on　Halloran's　face。
　　Shay　spoke　to　cover　his　own　inexplicable　fear。　'There'll　be　three　Provos；　good　an'　true；　smiling　in　Heaven　this　night；'　he　said；　raising　the　。38　so　that　it　was　aimed　directly　at　Halloran。
　　'There's　no　such　place　for　killers；'　the　man　below　said；　and　his　voice　was　mild；　the　lilt　of　Irish　there　as　if　he'd　not　been　gone　too　long　from　the　ould　country。
　　'That　you'd　be　knowing　yourself；'　Shay　replied。　'God　only　knows　what　Divil's　worship　you're　involved　in　here。　Ask　His　forgiveness；　if　you've　a　mind　to；　an'　do　it　now。'　Thunder　rumbled　as　his　finger　curled　against　the　revolver's　trigger。
　　'Liam！'　Cora　screamed；　and　just　for　an　instant　the　gunman　was　distracted。
　　That　was　all　the　time　that　Halloran　needed　to　make　a　grab　for　the　collapsed　Arab。
　　The　gun　roared　deafeningly　in　the　confines　of　the　underground　room；　but　Halloran　had　already　hoisted　up　the　Arab　to　use　as　a　shield。　Daoud　shuddered　as　the　bullet　struck　his　forehead　and　lodged　inside。　The　operative　fought　to　control　the　twitching　body；　his　hands　beneath　the　dead　man's　shoulders；　holding　him　upright。　The　second　bullet　entered　Daoud's　stomach；　and　the　third　went　through　his　side。　Halloran　felt　this　last　one　nick　his　hip　as　it　emerged　and；　although　most　of　its　force　was　spent；　the　shock　was　enough　to　make　him　drop　his　cover。
　　More　screams　filled　the　air；　but　these　were　from　Khayed　who　had　witnessed　the　slaying　of　his　lover。　He　ran　towards　the　stairs；　the　long　blade　raised　high；　a　continuous　screech　now　rising　from　deep　inside　his　throat。
　　Shay　was　obliged　to　turn　to　meet　the　attack；　and　he　was　hardly　aware　of　the　person　who　had　led　him　to　this　ungodly　place　brushing　past。　Palusinski　was　too　afraid　for　his　own　life　to　tackle　the　gunman；　he　made　for　the　safety　of　the　corridor　at　the　top　of　the　stairs。
　　Khayed　was　almost　on　the　bottom　step　when　Shay　fired　the　gun　at　him。　A　hole　appeared　in　the　Arab's　chest；　its　edges　immediately　spreading　blood。　He　staggered　backwards；　his　arms　waving　as　if　for　balance；　then　came　forward　once　more；　his　face　not　contorted　with　pain　but　with　outrage。　He　reached　the　second　step　and　seemed　to　sense　he　would　never　get　close　to　the　one　who　had　killed　his　beloved　Youssef。
　　The　huge　knife　was　already　leaving　his　hand　as　the　next　bullet　tore　away　his　throat。
　　Shay　fell　back　against