bl.necroscope2-第3部分

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　For　the　first　time　Krakovitch　noticed　that　his　eyes　had　a　glazed　look。　He　had　helped　load　his　truck's　awful　cargo。　Never　ask　that　sort　of　question；〃　Krakovitch　told　him。　〃In　fact　as　long　as　you're　here…which　will　probably　be　a　long；　long　time…don't　ask　any　questions。　Just　do　as　you're　told。〃
　They　loaded　the　cans　of　Avgas　just　inside　the　truck's　tailgate　and　drove　to　a　wooded　corner　of　the　Chateau's　the　Chateau　itself　that　the　tank　did　go；　and　by　then　the　truck　was　a　blazing　shell　anyway。　Hearing　the　thunderous　roar　and　feeling　something　of　its　concussion；　they　looked　back。　Cab　and　chassis　and　superstructure　had　all　flown　apart；　bits　of　blazing　debris　were　falling　in　the　snow；　a　mushroom　of　smoke　shot　with　flame　was　uncurling　itself　high　over　the　trees。　It　was　done。。。
　Krakovitch　spoke　for　some　time　on　the　telephone　to　his　go…between；　an　anonymous　voice　which　seemed　hardly　interested　in　what　he　was　saying；　yet　precise　and　cutting　as　a　razor　when　its　owner　required　more　information。　He　finished　off　by　saying：　〃Oh；　and　I've　a　new　assistant　here；　a　Sergeant　Sergei　Gulharov；　from　the　supply　and　transport　barracks　in　Serpukhov。　I'm　keeping　him　on。　Can　you　get　him　permanently　posted　to　the　Chateau；　as　of　now？　He's　young　and　strong　and　I'll　have　plenty　of　work　for　him。〃
　〃Yes；　I'll　do　that；〃　came　the　cool；　clear　answer。　〃He'll　be　your　odd…job　man；　you　say？〃
　〃And　my　bodyguard；〃　said　Krakovitch；　〃eventually。　I'm　not　much　physically。〃
　〃Very　well。　I'll　check　out　the　chances　of　getting　him　on　a　military　close　protection　course。　Weapons；　too；　if　he's　not　up　to　scratch。　Of　course；　we　could　take　a　shortcut　and　get　you　a　professional。。。〃
　〃No；〃　Krakovitch　was　firm。　〃No　professionals。　This　one　will　do。　He's　fairly　innocent　and　I　like　that。　It's　refreshing。〃
　〃Krakovitch；〃　said　the　voice　on　the　other　end；　〃I　need　to　know　this。　Are　you　a　homosexual？〃
　〃Of　course　not！　Oh！　I　see。　No；　I　need　him　genuinely…and　he　looks　about　as　gay　as　a　shipyard　welder！　I'll　tell　you　why　I　want　him　right　now…because　I'm　alone　here。　And　if　you　were　here　you'd　know　what　I　mean。〃
　〃Yes；　I'm　told　you've　had　to　weather　quite　a　lot。　Very　well；　leave　it　with　me。〃
　Thank　you；〃　said　Krakovitch。　He　broke　the　connection。
　Gulharov　was　impressed。　〃Just　like　that；〃　he　said。　〃You　have　a　lot　of　power；　sir。〃
　〃It　seems　that　way；　doesn't　it？〃　Krakovitch　smiled　tiredly。　〃Listen；　I'm　dead　on　my　feet。　But　there's　one　more　thing　to　do　before　I　can　sleep。　And　let　me　tell　you；　if　you　think　what　you've　seen　so　far　is　unpleasant；　what　you're　about　to　see　is　far　worse！　e　with　me。〃
　He　led　the　way　through　the　chaos　of　shattered　rooms　and　piled　rubble；　from　the　covered…in　courtyard　area　into　the　main；　original　building；　then　up　two　flights　of　time…hollowed　stone　stairs　into　one　of　the　twin　towers。　This　was　where　Gregor　Borowitz　had　had　his　office；　which　Dragosani　had　turned　into　his　control　room　on　the　night　of　the　horror。
　The　stairwell　was　scarred　and　blackened；　with　tiny　fragments　of　shrapnel；　flattened　lead　bullets　and　copper　cases　lying　everywhere。　The　stink　of　cordite　was　still　heavy　in　the　air。　That　would　be　from　blast　grenades；　tossed　down　here　from　above　when　the　tower　came　under　attack。　But　none　of　this　had　stopped　Harry　Keogh　and　his　Tartars。　On　the　second　floor　landing　the　door　to　a　tiny　anteroom　stood　open。　The　room　had　served　as　an　office　for　Borowitz's　secretary；　Yul　Galenski。　Krakovitch　had　known　him　personally：　a　generally　timid　man；　a　clerk　with　no　extrasensory　talent。　Just　staff。
　Between　the　open　door　and　the　stairwell's　safety　rail；　face　down　on　the　landing；　lay　a　corpse　in　the　Chateau's　duty　uniform：　grey　coveralls　with　a　single　diagonal　yellow　stripe　across　the　heart。　Not　Galenski　（he　had　been　a　〃civvies　only〃　man）　but　the　Duty　Officer。　The　corpse's　face　lay　quite　flat　on　the　floor　in　a　pool　of　blood。　Flatter　than　it　should。　That　was　because　there　was　very　little　of　actual　face　left；　just　a　raw　flat　mess。
　Krakovitch　and　Gulharov　stepped　carefully　over　the　body；　entered　the　little　office。　Behind　a　desk；　crumpled　in　one　corner；　Galenski　sat　clutching　a　rusty　curved　sword　where　it　stuck　out　of　his　chest。　It　had　been　driven　home　with　such　force　that　he　was　pinned　to　the　wall。　His　eyes　were　still　open；　but　no　longer　terrified。　From　some　people；　death　steals　all　emotion。
　〃Mother　in　heaven！〃　Gulharov　whispered。　He'd　never　seen　anything　like　this。　He　wasn't　even　a　bat　soldier；　not　yet。
　They　went　through　a　second　door　into　what　had　been　Borowitz's　office。　It　was　spacious；　with　great　bullet…proof　bay　windows　looking　out　and　down　from　the　tower's　curving　stone　wall　toward　distant　woodland。　The　carpet　was　burned　and　stained　here　and　there。　A　massive　block　of　a　desk　in　solid　oak　stood　in　one　corner；　receiving　light　from　the　windows　and　protection　from　the　stone　wall　at　its　back。　As　for　the　rest　of　the　room：　it　was　a　shambles…and　a　nightmare！
　A　shattered　radio　spilled　its　guts　onto　the　floor；　walls　were　pockmarked　and　the　door　splintered　from　the　impact　of　sprayed　bullets；　the　body　of　a　young　man　in　Western　styled　clothes　lay　where　it　had　fallen；　ripped　by　machine　gun　fire；　almost　in　two　pieces　behind　the　door。　It　was　glued　to　the　floor　with　its　own　blood。　This　was　Harry　Keogh's　body：　nothing　much　to　look　at；　but　there　was　no　fear　or　pain　on　his　white；　unmarked　face。
　As　for　the　nightmare：　that　lay　propped　against　the　wall　on　the　other　side　of　the　room。
　〃Boris　Dragosani；〃　said　Krakovitch；　pointing。　〃The　thing　pinned　to　his　chest　is　what　controlled　him；　I　think。〃　He　stepped　carefully　across　the　room　to　stand　gazing　down　on　what　was　left　of　Dragosani　and　his　parasite　creature；　Gulharov　was　right　behind　him；　not　wanting　to　get　too　close。
　Both　of　Dragosani's　legs　were　broken　and　lay　at　weird　angles。　His　arms　hung　slack　down　the　wall　to　the　skirting；　elbows　just　off　the　floor；　forearms　at　ninety　degrees　and　hands　projecting　well　beyond　the　cuffs　of　his　jacket。　They　were　hands　like　claws；　big；　powerful　and　grasping；　frozen　in　Dragosani's　final　spasm。　His　face　was　a　rictus　of　agony；　made　worse　by　the　fact　that　it　was　hardly　a　human　face　at　all；　and　worse　still　by　the　gash　that　split　his　skull　ear　to　ear。
　But　his　face！
　Dragosani's　jaws　were　long　as　some　great　hound's；　gaping　open　to　display　curving　needle　teeth。　His　skull　was　misshapen；　and　his　ears　were　pointed　where　they　curved　forward　and　lay　flat　against　his　temples。　His　eyes　were　ruptured　red　pits　above　a　nose　long　and　wrinkled　and　flattened　to　show　gaping　nostrils；　like　the　convoluted　snout　of　some　great　bat。　That　was　how　he　looked：　part　man；　part　wolf；　part　bat。　And　the　thing　pinned　to　his　chest　was　worse。
　〃What　。　。　；　what　is　that？〃　Gulharov　gasped　out　the　question。
　〃God　help　me；　Krakovitch　shook　his　head；　〃I　don't　know！　But　it　lived　in　him。　I　mean；　inside　him。　It　only　came　out　at　the　end。〃
　The　trunk　of　the　thing　had　the　form　of　a　great　leech　some　eighteen　inches　long；　but　tapering　to　a　tail。　There　were　no　limbs；　it　seemed　to　cling　to　Dragosani's　chest　by　suction；　and　was　held　there　by　a　sharp　stake　formed　of　the　splintered　hardwood　stock　of　a　heavy…duty　machine　gun；　its　skin　was　grey…green；　corrugated。　Gulharov　saw　that　its　head；　flat　and　cobra…like…but　eyeless；　blind…lay　on　the　carpet　a　little　apart。
　Like。。。　like　some　gigantic　tapeworm？〃　Gulharov's　horror　was　plain　on　his　face。
　〃Something　like　that；〃　Krakovitch　nodded　grimly。　〃But　intelligent；　evil；　and　deadly。〃
　〃Why　have　we　e　up　here？〃　Gulharov's　Adam's　apple　bobbed。　〃There　are　fifty　million　better　places　to　be。〃
　Krakovitch's　face　was　white；　pinched。　He　could　fully　appreciate　Gulharov's　feelings。　〃We've　e　up　here　because　we　have　to　burn　this；　that's　why。〃　His　talent　again；　warning　him　that　both　Dragosani　and　his　symbiont　must　be　destroyed；　utterly。　He　looked　around；　saw　a　tall　steel　filing　cabinet　standing　against　the　wall　to　one　side　of　the　door。　He　and　Gulharov　tore　out　the　shelving；　turning　the　cabinet　into　a　metal　coffin。　They　lowered　it　onto　its　back　and　dragged　it　across　the　floor　to　Dragosani。
　〃You　take　his　shoulders；　I'll　take　his　thighs；〃　said　Krakovitch。　〃Once　we've　got　him　in　here　we　can　close　the　door　and　slide　the　cabinet　down　the　steps。　Frankly；　I　don't　fancy　touching　him。　I'll　touch　him　as　little　as　possible。　This　way　has　to　be　best。〃
　They　gingerly　lifted　the　corpse；　strained　to　get　it　over　the　rim　of　the　cabinet；　lowered　it　inside。　Gulharov　went　to　close　the　door　and　the　projecting　stake　got　in　the　way。　He　grasped　the　splintered　stock　in　both　hands…and　the　mental　warning　hit　Krakovitch　like　a　fist　in　his　heart！
　〃Don't　touch　that！〃　he　yelled；　but　too　late。
　As　Gulharov　wrenched　the　stake　free；　so　the　leech…thing…headless　as　it　was…came　alive。　Its　hideous　slug…like　body　began　to　lash　in　a　frenzy；　so　that　it　almost　ejected　itself　from　the　cabinet。　At　the　same　time　its　leathery　skin　broke　open　in　a　dozen　places；　putting　out　protoplasmic　tentacles　that　writhed　and　vibrated　in　a　sort　of　mindless　agony。　These　pseudopods　whipped　out；　struck　the　sides　of　the　cabinet　and　recoiled；　settled　on　Dragosani's　body。　They　passed　through　clothing　and　dead　flesh　and　burrowed　into　him。　More　of　them　sprouted　from　the　main　body；　they　formed　barbs；　hooked　themselves　into　Dragosani's　flesh。　One　of　the　tentacles　f