Doctor Who_ The Roundheads Part 40

The Doctor was moving with great rapidity through the still-bustling ranks of MPs. Cromwell was on his feet and speaking, seemingly unconcerned that an a.s.sa.s.sin's hand might shortly be raised against him.

'I move that the King's trial be brought forward with all due expedition,' he thundered. 'A list of commissioners must be named and a chairman found.'

Beneath him moved Ben and Jamie, snaking through the cramped benches in pursuit of the Doctor.

'Can you no see him?' asked Jamie.

Ben looked about desperately, conscious that he was crucial to the discovery of the a.s.sa.s.sin. He shook his head.

'He's not here. I'm sure of it. Doctor!'

He called out but the little man was already disappearing into the a.s.sembly.

'Where's he off to?' said Jamie wonderingly.

Some sixth sense made Ben whirl round, looking past the benches and up into the galleries. It took him only a few seconds to recognise the barrel of a gun projecting through the elaborate trelliswork.

'There!' he hissed, trying to point as discreetly as possible.

Jamie followed his gaze and let out a little gasp. 'That's where the Doctor's going. Come on!'

'No!' Ben grabbed him by the shoulder. 'I'll go. You get to Cromwell and get him off his feet. Quick!'

They split apart and Ben elbowed his way through the crowd towards a narrow spiral staircase which he could see the Doctor already ascending. He looked back to see Jamie having trouble moving in the sea of men. Cromwell was still speaking, listing likely commissioners who would sit in judgement on the King.

Ben pelted on, dragging his weary legs up the hard stone steps. He reached the top of the stairs, gasping for breath, and almost fell over the Doctor, who had stopped dead.

'Shh!' he said abruptly, jamming his finger to his lips.

They were standing at the entrance to a narrow corridor, which was divided in two by a narrow wooden wall. Pale light bled in through the stone lattice of the gallery wall but most of the area was plunged into sepulchral gloom.

Ben looked hard and suddenly made out the black-clad figure of van Leeuwenhoek, his skull-like face pressed close to the lattice, his hand closed around the long iron barrel of a very strange-looking musket.

The Doctor took Ben to one side and whispered urgently in his ear. 'He's waiting for a clear shot. Once everyone is sitting down, Cromwell's a dead man.'

Ben moved at once to rush the Dutchman but the Doctor held his arm and shook his head violently. Ben made a helpless gesture as if to say 'What?'

The Doctor pulled him down to his height and whispered again. 'If he sees us, he won't think twice about murdering us instead.'

'What can we do, then?' Ben murmured.

The Doctor beckoned to Ben and pointed at the wooden part.i.tion. He then prodded his finger into Ben's chest and indicated that he should go around the part.i.tion and behind van Leeuwenhoek. Then the Doctor pointed to himself and mimed walking up to the would-be a.s.sa.s.sin.

'Two-p.r.o.nged attack, eh?' whispered Ben with a smile.

'OK.'

He crept forward into the corridor and then slipped behind the part.i.tion. At once, the Doctor began to move towards the Dutchman, his face fixed in a beatific smile.

At the sound of the Doctor's boots, van Leeuwenhoek whirled around, brandishing the musket, his face filled with surprised anger.

'Ah,' said the Doctor pleasantly. 'It's Mr van Leeuwenhoek, isn't it? I've heard so much about you.'

The Dutchman looked quickly around, confused. Then his sallow face relaxed. 'You are alone, sir? That was a mistake.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Possibly. But you can't kill me and General Cromwell, can you?'

Van Leeuwenhoek sneered. 'Keep back, little fool. I shall kill Cromwell and then take care of you.'

The Doctor held up his hands. 'That's a very interesting weapon. Quite unique I should say. What does it do?'

Van Leeuwenhoek frowned, a little puzzled, and stroked the gun tenderly. 'My life's work. Elegant, efficient... And soon the little dart will fly from the barrel and into the gentleman's neck.'

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. 'Dart?'

The Dutchman smiled, his yellowy teeth showing. 'Yes, a dart. You do not think such a weapon fires a musket ball?'

Frowning, the Doctor looked more closely at the gun. It didn't really resemble a musket it was more like an airgun.

The doctor clicked his fingers. 'I see! And the dart... the dart would be dipped in poison would it?'

Van Leeuwenhoek shook with silent mirth. 'You think me so crude, little man?'

The Doctor frowned, thinking hard. If he could delay the Dutchman long enough...

Something suddenly flashed in his mind like a signpost.

Something about 'Got it!' cried the Doctor. 'Anton van Leeuwenhoek! The microscope man!'

The Dutchman shook his head. 'My brother. I am Gustavus. But his... samples have come in very useful.'

The Doctor looked at him appalled. 'What have you got on those darts?'

Van Leeuwenhoek shrugged. 'Oh, just a little something.

Something from a pustule.'

'Plague?' gasped the Doctor.

Van Leeuwenhoek nodded excitedly and slapped the barrel of the gun. 'I will cut down this Cromwell of yours and he will expire before the week is out. None shall even know he has been hit! The sights here act as a guide.'

The Doctor looked. There was indeed a kind of sight screwed into the long iron barrel.

'Mm,' he said. 'I'm familiar with the principle. However primitive.'

'Primitive!' snorted van Leeuwenhoek. He swung his head round to face the lattice wall. 'We shall see!' Raising the gun, he rested the barrel on the stonework and took aim, his eye squinting, his finger poised to squeeze the trigger.

The Doctor moved forward but stopped as he heard another gun being c.o.c.ked. To his amazement, the Dutchman had a pistol in his other hand, which was aimed squarely at the Doctor's chest.

'Oh dear,' said the Doctor. 'Do you really think you can shoot him with one hand?'

Van Leeuwenhoek bit his lip in frustration. 'I can. I am the best in the world, sir. And rest a.s.sured, you will follow Cromwell into the void.'

He aimed and his long, thin finger squeezed at the trigger of the air-musket.

Ben leapt from behind the part.i.tion like an angry tiger and hurled himself on to van Leeuwenhoek's back. The musket fell and clattered to the floor.

Ben and van Leeuwenhoek rolled together and the Doctor stepped neatly over them to retrieve the musket.

Desperately, the Dutchman tried to raise the pistol and press it against Ben's temple. Ben jerked his head out of the way but still the cold barrel bore down on him, van Leeuwenhoek clenching his teeth together in pure, vengeful hatred.

Ben tried to wriggle out of the way but the Dutchman's claw-like hand was fixed around his throat. The other was on the pistol, ready to fire.

'Excuse me,' said the Doctor, stepping in neatly and smashing the pistol from van Leeuwenhoek's hand with the b.u.t.t of the musket.

It flew across the corridor and crashed against the wall, discharging its deadly ball with a loud crack.

Ben threw himself on to the Dutchman's chest and forced him backwards into a narrow niche in the wall. He punched him twice in the face and, with a sigh, the a.s.sa.s.sin slid down the wall and collapsed.

The Doctor grimaced and helped Ben to his feet before gingerly kicking the musket into the corner. 'Better get that thing and its nasty bugs out of the way as soon as possible.'

He glanced down at van Leeuwenhoek, crumpled in the stone niche like a smashed statue.

'Nothing like a handy Parliamentary recess,' he said with a grin.

In the chamber below, all heads turned as the sound of the pistol shot reverberated through the building. Jamie, who was standing at Cromwell's side, ducked instinctively but the general did not flinch.

A murmur began to grow among the a.s.sembled MPs but Cromwell held up his hand. 'The crack of doom, gentlemen. It sounds for Charles Stuart.'

Pleased with his bon mot bon mot, Cromwell sat down and folded his arms, a smile of satisfaction on his warty face.

Some time later, Thurloe and Cromwell were standing in the general's chamber, looking with great interest at the tall blue box that had been deposited there.

The Doctor had asked that it be retrieved from the alley near to Kemp's inn, but as to its function or how it came to be there, they had no idea.

Cromwell walked around it several times, examining the panels and the little frosted windows. Pressing his palm against the double doors, he jumped back in shock. The box seemed to be humming. Almost as though it were alive...

He looked over at Thurloe, who bent down to examine the thing more closely. There was some kind of notice fixed to it.

'Free... for the use of the public,' he read, bemused.

'Officers and... cars... respond to urgent calls.'

He straightened up just as the Doctor, Jamie, and Polly came marching in.

'Ah, there she is,' cried the Doctor, rubbing his hands together. 'How thoughtful of you to fetch her.'

Cromwell walked up to him. 'What is this cabinet?'

Jamie laughed. 'Och, don't you know? It is the source of the McCrimmon's power!'

Thurloe ignored him and took the Doctor to one side. 'I gather we have much to thank you for, Doctor.'

Cromwell nodded. 'The a.s.sa.s.sination is foiled and the Dutch fellow in custody.'

Thurloe looked about. 'And your friend Master Jackson?'

'Oh. Well he asked that he might be in on the last act, as it were. I gather he has one or two scores to settle with Captain Stanislaus.'

Cromwell looked agitated. 'But, Doctor. The King is still at large. We have not completed our task.'

The Doctor stepped away from the TARDIS and walked over to Polly, who was sitting disconsolately on a big, cushioned chair.

'Polly?' he said, holding out his hand.

She looked up at him, her big eyes wet with tears. Then she took a small slip of paper from her dress and gave it to him.

'Thank you,' said the Doctor simply. He strode back to Cromwell and gave the general the paper, which he examined quickly.

His expression was immediately transformed into one of unalloyed joy.

'Thank 'ee, Doctor!' he beamed. He began to move off but turned. 'Stay a while, please. We have much to discuss.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'No, no. You must find your own way now.'

Cromwell stopped in his tracks and seemed about to ask the Doctor another question. Instead, he bowed politely and swept from the room.

Thurloe began to fuss agitatedly. 'What is it? What was that note?'

The Doctor was already at the TARDIS doors, slipping the key into the lock.

'I think you'd better follow your general, Mr Thurloe,'