The Phantom of the Temple
- Автор: ван Гулик Роберт Ханс
- Серия: Judge Dee #13
- Язык: английский
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Phantom of the Temple». Краткое содержание книги:
On a wooded hill in the Lan-fang district, a phantom stalks in a century-old Buddhist temple and three mysteries unfold-the vanishing of a wealthy merchant's daughter, the disapperance of twenty bars of gold, and the discovery of a decapitated corpse. In the Phantom of the Temple, the clever Judge Dee pieces together these strange occurrences to reveal one complex and gruesome plot.
'What happened ...? What ...?' the girl gasped behind him.
'That was meant for us!' he hissed. 'Stay here!'
He quickly climbed on to the heap of bricks. From there he could grasp the rough edges of the gap higher up in the wall. He pulled himself up, climbed on the wall and jumped down into the back yard of the temple, just in time to see a black shape disappear through the back door of the main hall.
Ma Joong ran to the door, dropped on all fours, and quickly crept inside. He crouched with his back against the wall, just inside the door, on the right, ready to clasp the other's legs should he be waiting there. But nothing stirred in the darkness. He carefully explored the space within his reach but his groping hands met only emptiness. At the far end of the hall he saw a faint light. That must be the latticework of the six-fold entrance door. Again he noticed that awful, nauseating stench of the day before. The only sound he heard was the flapping of a frightened bat. Yet the murderer had to be there, somewhere in the dark hall. Here they would fight it out. He reflected with grim satisfaction that he had the advantage, even if the murderer should be armed. For Ma Joong had fought many a fight in pitch-dark places and he knew all the tricks. And, thanks to his previous visit and Spring Cloud's sketch, he had a clear picture of the situation.
With infinite care he crept along the wall, advancing inch by inch towards the left corner, his right shoulder brushing the stone surface, his muscles tense for quick action, his ears straining for a tell-tale sound.
Arrived in the corner, a piece of cloth suddenly grazed his groping left hand. He shot forward, stretching out his long arms to grab his opponent's legs. But there was nothing, and he bumped his head hard against the wall. Half-dazed, he heard the quick shuffle of feet, directly ahead. Then there was the clanking of iron on stone. That meant his opponent had a sword. He lay completely still for a while. Then he groped about, and understood what had happened. What he had taken for a piece of the other's robe proved to be nothing but a cluster of cobwebs, stiffened by dirt.
His head was reeling but he knew he had to get away from that corner as fast as possible. The side door leading to the monks' cells couldn't be far away. After he had crept along the wall for some time, his fingers met the rough surface of wooden boards. Now on to the niche where the ritual arms were kept. Yes, he felt two thick shafts. The two halberds were still there. But apart from those the niche was empty. Now he knew his opponent's weapon: it was the second Tartar axe. He reflected with a wry grin that he was lucky. For an axe is of slight use in a fight in the dark, whereas a halberd is a wonderful weapon. He knew how to handle it: more than ten feet long, the point would penetrate a leather cuirass, the razor-sharp blade beneath the point would split a skull, and the wicked hook opposite could be used for pulling a knight from his horse, or for bringing a fleeing foot-soldier to the ground. And he had two, one for fighting, the other for reconnoitering and for setting a trap! He righted himself and took the halberds noiselessly from the niche, holding their shafts upright. While he stood there motionless, waiting for the painful throbbing in his head to subside, he tried to orientate himself. He was standing now by the last pillar of the row to the left of the entrance. On his left hand was the empty space in front of the altar. He levelled the halberd in his right hand and explored the floor space with it. When all proved to be clear there, he turned and verified that no one was in the narrow space between the row of pillars and the wall. Holding the two halberds upright, he tiptoed to the centre of the hall, and stood there facing the entrance.
The rectangle of the six latticework panels stood out clearly. Of course the other man would avoid the central part of the hall, between the two rows of pillars, for there he would be seen against the light of the lattice doors. He must be hiding in the space behind the row of pillars to the right of the entrance, now on Ma Joong's left. A slow grin spread over his face.
He went step by step to the left, till he had arrived by the last pillar. He went to stand squarely in front of it, and set up the halberd in his left hand against it. Then he took a firm grip with both hands on the other. Presently he would kick the standing weapon over, so that it would clatter down in the space behind the pillars. His opponent would come out and be clearly outlined against the lattice doors. Then he would get him with the halberd he still held.
All at once he held his breath. He thought he had heard a faint noise, on the other side of the pillar he was facing. Suddenly a large dark shape shot forward, knocked the halberd in his hands aside and made for the lattice door. Ma Joong lunged the halberd forward but he was too late, the fleeing shape was just out of reach. With a curse he let the halberd drop and ran after him. The dark shape halted in front of the door. A heavy object whizzed past Ma Joong's head and clattered to the floor behind him. Then the man kicked a panel open. Ma Joong threw himself forward to tackle him. His feet got caught in a rope on the floor and he fell flat on his face. After he had scrambled up he rushed through the open door out into the front yard, and got just a glimpse of something moving by the triple gate. When he had ran out there, he faintly heard the sound of feet on the staircase, far below. His opponent had escaped.
Cursing volubly, he wiped the blood from his face. A large lump was forming on his forehead. He went inside and retrieved the halberd. With vicious jabs he broke all the six panels down. Now he saw that the rope his feet had got entangled in was in fact a rope-ladder, made of thin, tough silk cords. At one end it was provided with two large iron hooks. Further down, at the foot of the last pillar, lay the Tartar axe the other had thrown at him.
He left the hall by the back gate. Spring Cloud sat on her haunches in the gap, clasping the lantern in her hands. He climbed up, kissed her tear-stained face, and helped her down on the other side.
'The son of a dog escaped, Princess! Did you see the ghost?'
'A ghost? No, I saw nothing. Was I in a blue funk? Hey, you look terrible! Here, let me wipe your face!’
'Don't bother. I'll deliver you to the Hermitage, then have a last look around for that blasted ghost.'
He put his arm round her shoulders and walked back with her to the Hermitage.
'You'll see more of me, Princess, one of these days!’ he said. Pushing her inside, he cast a casual look at the quarters of the Abbess. The window was dark now.
He hitched up his trousers and went back to the clearing where he had seen Fang sitting on the tree trunk. He whistled shrilly on his fingers. The hooting of an owl was the only answer. With a worried frown he lit the lantern and began to search the undergrowth systematically, cursing savagely when the thorny branches tore at his trousers. He knew that Fang would never have gone far from his watchpost.
Struggling through a clump of wild roses, he came out in a clearing, in front of a group of high yew trees. As he started to cross it he stepped with his right foot into a hole and fell with his face on a round boulder.
'That's the third time tonight!' he muttered as he scrambled up. With a sigh he picked up the lantern and relit it with his tinder-box. Suddenly he gasped. What he had taken to be a moss-overgrown boulder was the mangled head of a man.
A sick feeling rising in his stomach, he let the light shine on the distorted face. Then he heaved a deep sigh of relief.
'Heaven be praised!’ It wasn't Fang. The face was completely unknown to him.
He gave the hole a good look. It was newly-made, a small pile of wet earth was beside it. He gazed again at the grisly object at his feet.
'Holy Heaven, it must be Yang's head, buried here by the murderer! But why did he dig it up again?'