"David Langford - The Spear of the Sun" - читать интересную книгу автора (Langford David)

sun. And where does a wise man hide a spear?"
"In an armoury, I suppose," said Flambeau in a low voice.
"In poor foolish William Blake's armoury. You remember, All the stars threw down their spears?
But the angel Ithuriel also carries a spear. Excuse me, I know I'm rambling, but I can see half of it, just
half ..." Father Brown stood stock still with hands pressed into his screwed-up eyes. At last he said: "You
thought I shuddered at that wreck of a face. I shuddered at the hands."
"But there is nothing to seeтАФno mark on the hands."
"There is nothing. And there should be a great sunburst ring. They are younger hands than Astron's,
when you look. It is the acolyte Traill who lies there."
Flambeau gaped. "But that can't be. It turns everything topsy-turvy; it makes the whole case the
wrong shape."
"So was that equation," said Father Brown gently. "And we survived even that equation. But I need
one further fact." He scribbled on a slip of paper and folded it. "Have one of your men show this to John
Horne. A reply is expected."
Wordlessly, Flambeau pressed a stud and did what was asked. "Horne," he said when the two
friends were alone again. "The one who fancies Miss Brayne and didn't like her interest in men with white
robes. Is he your choice for the dock?"
"No. For the witness-box." Father Brown sat on the edge of the bed, the dinginess of his cassock
highlighted by the expanse of white satin quilting, his stubby legs not quite reaching the deck plates. "I
think this story begins with young Horne prattling over dinner about his cargo. So I asked whether a
piece of his equipment was missing. Come now: when you think of fiery death in a locked stateroom,
what does mining and surveying gear suggest to you?"
"Nothing but moonshine," said Flambeau with sarcasm. "I do assure you that each hull plate and
bulkhead has been carefully inspected for any trace of a four-foot mineshaft through which a murderer
might crawl."
"That's the whole sad story. Even when you look at it you can't see it: but every stateroom of this
vessel contains a Judas window through which death can strike. AndтАФ" Brown's muddy eyes widened
suddenly. "Of course! The spear of the sun is two-edged. My friend, I predict... I predict that you will
never make an arrest."
As Flambeau arose with an oath, the communicator on his wrist crackled. "What? The answer is
yes? Father, the answer is yes."
"Then let me tell you the story," said the priest. "The great Astron devoured woman after woman,
but most of all he craved the women who did not crave him. For as I saw, Elizabeth Brayne was taken
with Simon Traill. And Astron left the room in anger.
"I fancy it was his practice to have Traill watch over the ritual flame for him, while another cowled
figure glided out upon certain assignations. But this time Astron's assignation was a darker one. He knew
where to find the pressure suits: there was a space-walking party a few watches ago. He knew that in
Horne's cargo he would find his spear."
"Which isтАФ?"
"A laser."
Father Brown continued dreamily after a sort of thunderous silence. "Picture Astron floating a little
way outside that porthole, a wide-open window for his frightful, insubstantial bolt. Picture his unknowing
rival Traill bent over the flame, struck in the face, falling dead across the brazier which would slowly burn
away every mark of how he died."
"Name of a name," cried Flambeau. "He is still out there. We shall have him yet!"
"You will never have him." Father Brown shook his head slowly. "The spear, I said, is two-edged.
Oh, these strong and simple Stoics with their great bold ideas! Astron called us impractical and
superstitious, but lacked even the little smattering of quantum electrodynamics that every seminarian picks
up along with his Latin and his St. Augustine. He thought the crystal of the port purely transparent,
Flambeau: but there is diffraction, my friend, and there is partial reflection. And even as it slew his victim,