Doctor Who_ Timewyrm_ Exodus Part 15

As the solitary figure came level with the mound, Ace saw the face of the shabby trenchcoated man who'd crawled towards them in agony along the narrow street. He was older and heavier now. The white face was puffier, the ridiculous moustache a little thicker. Only the eyes, still the same intense blue, hadn't changed. They seemed brighter than ever, blazing with an unearthly light.

"It's him!" whispered Ace.

"That's right," said the Doctor. "Adolf Hitler in person. The lad's done well, hasn't he?"

At the end of the long alley a uniformed entourage formed round Hitler, and the group disappeared from sight. Somewhere close by cannons roared, church bells rang, a fanfare of trumpets rang out, and the crowd cheered and cheered and cheered.

"You have to admit it," said the Doctor. "That's real show business."

Ace was amazed to realize how shaken, how moved she felt. "What was it all about?"

"The Fuehrer was paying tribute to the n.a.z.i Party's glorious dead, I expect," said the Doctor. "The reason doesn't matter, it's the event itself that counts. It's a primitive blood-rite, a mixture of religion, politics, and a three-ring circus. Effective, isn't it?"

"I suppose so - in a nasty kind of way."

"It's orchestrated," said the Doctor. "Arranged, preplanned - by someone with a very sophisticated knowledge of the psycho-dynamics of crowds.

Knowledge that doesn't really belong in this century."

"He's being helped?"

"I'm sure of it. There was someone there at the beginning, remember, the one who shot at me. I think somebody, probably a group of somebodies, has been with him ever since, guiding him, nurturing his career, boosting his powers. Did you see his eyes? I think he's controlled, possessed."

"By the Timewyrm?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I keep telling you, it doesn't feel like her, somehow. You've seen her at work, she's about as subtle as your nitro-nine-a. This sort of devious, long-term temporal manipulation is a very different matter."

Ace looked round the vast floodlit arena. "Where are we? And when, come to that?"

The Doctor considered. "I'd say, oh, about fifteen or sixteen years after that business in Munich. Our Adolf s right on top, as you can see, but I don't think the war's started yet, not with all these lights... I think we must be at Nuremberg, one of the big party rallies. They keep it up for days you know, parades, war games, torchlight processions. Plenty of marching about and yelling stops people thinking. And speeches of course, endless speeches. I imagine we're due for one now. Come on!"

The crowd was streaming out of the vast enclosure and the Doctor moved to join them.

"Hang on," said Ace. "What about the TARDIS?"

"Good point!" The Doctor produced something that looked like a keyring, and touched a concealed control. The TARDIS faded away, the noise of its departure drowned in the general din.

Ace looked alarmed. "Hey, where's it gone?"

"It's parked in the s.p.a.ce-time continuum."

"Well, don't lose that gadget. This may be a great place to visit but I don't want to live here."

The simple process of following the crowd led them out of the vast arena, through the streets of a picturesque old town, and up to the steps of an enormous, brightly lit hall, draped, like almost every other building in the town, with enormous swastika banners. The Doctor marched confidently up the steps, Ace close behind him. Through the open doors they could see that the vast hall was already jam-packed.

"Let's try the upper circle," said the Doctor, and headed for a marble staircase. A black-uniformed young SS captain barred their way.

"The upper levels are reserved for party officials."

The Doctor stared at him. Then he took out his monocle, screwed it in his eye, and stared even harder. "Do you know who I am?" he whispered. "Are you aware that I am here at the personal invitation of the Fuehrer?"

The Captain blenched. "Your pardon, Herr . . . ?"

"My name, like my visit, is confidential. You may address me as Herr Doktor. Kindly show me to my box."

"At once, Herr Doktor." The SS Captain led them up the stairs, brushing other guests out of the way. At the top of the steps he halted. "If the Herr Doktor would be kind enough to tell me which box?"

The Doctor gave him another stare "The best, of course." The officer led them along a curved, red-carpeted corridor and opened the door of a box - which was occupied by a plump little man in a dark suit and an opulent blonde in an evening gown.

"This box is taken," said the SS Captain. "Out!" All the lights went out. Then one spotlight came on again, focused on the gleaming steel speaker's podium. Another long pause. Then Adolf Hitler mounted the podium. He stood motionless, gazing out over the audience, the blue eyes fixed on some distant horizon. He stood silent for an amazingly long time.

Suddenly he began speaking in a low, tenor voice. "People of Germany..."

The speech, like the voice, was low-key, rambling, vague. But gradually it gathered speed and strength, like a fire fanned by the wind. All at once Hitler was screaming, denouncing the enemies of Germany, the vast, shadowy, international conspiracy of Jews and Bolsheviks and foreigners and subhumans who wanted to destroy the country's greatness - the greatness that he had restored. He begged, he pleaded, he threatened, playing on the emotions of the audience like a master musician on a familiar instrument.

One final scream of "Deutschland! Deutschland! Deutschland!", fist stabbing the air, the whole body throbbing with power like an electric cable, and the speech was over. The hall exploded with applause. Ace found that she was shaking, tears streaming down her face. In the darkness, she heard the Doctor's voice.

"Psychological rape and murder. That's what a German poet called Hitler's speeches."

"It was like magic," said Ace. "Black magic."

"You saw how he started off, totally unimpressive?" Ace nodded. "If he'd gone on like that, he'd have been booed off the stage at a Brownies meeting."

"Ah, but he didn't, did he? He suddenly kicked into overdrive. And can you remember what he actually said in the speech?"

"Not really. Just a lot of vague warnings about Germany being in danger."

"Who from?"

"I dunno. Jews, Communists, capitalists, foreigners, the Salvation Army, little green men - everybody!"

"Exactly! And can you remember any plans or policies, anything specific he was going to do about all this danger?"

She thought hard. "No. Just a lot of stuff about blood and soil and the sacred spirit of the Aryan race."

"There you are then," said the Doctor. "He rambles on about unknown dangers looming from vague enemies, and makes misty appeals to some hazy spirit of the race. All airy-fairy nonsense. But you saw the effect it had."

Ace nodded. "I even felt it."

"Somehow he's bypa.s.sing sense and reason and logic altogether, and broadcasting basic signals on the psychic waveband. Fear, hatred, paranoia... Then togetherness, rea.s.surance, group-feelings. Ma.s.sive chunks of raw emotion, pumped out with enormous power."

"So, how's it done?"

"I think he's being boosted, used as a transmitter. . . "

The Doctor broke off as the door to their box was flung open. An angry voice shouted, "Hands up! You are under arrest!"

2: REUNION.

The cheers died away at last, and the Fuehrer left the podium. Hermann Goering hurried after him. Hitler would be tired and drained as always after his speech, and he would need the rea.s.surance of his most faithful supporter at his side. Goebbels and Ribbentrop would be sucking up to him as usual, but they could be discounted. Himmler was the one to worry about, thought Goering grimly. His influence was growing in a very worrying fashion. Recently Hitler had taken to referring to him as his faithful Heinrich...

Making ruthless use of his bulk and his authority, Goering barged his way through the crowd to the entrance and his waiting limousine.

At the magnificent reception in the Deutscher Hof, the Fuehrer's favourite old hotel, Goering was first at Hitler's side. "A magnificent speech, my Fuehrer," he said solemnly. "As always, you show us the way forward. We are nothing without you."

Himmler bustled in to pay his own grovelling tribute, but after that it could only be second best. Party officials and high-ranking officers gathered round to add to the ritual chorus of praise, and Goering, looking on with cynical amus.e.m.e.nt, signalled a waiter for more champagne. An SS officer came into the room and whispered in Himmler's ear. Himmler scowled, asked questions, then followed the messenger reluctantly from the room.

Curious, Goering strolled after them.

In the anteroom he found a small dark man and a pretty round-faced girl, under the guard of a nervous SS Captain and a couple of stormtroopers.

"The gentleman claimed to be a guest of the Fuehrer," the young officer was saying. "Upon his orders, I ejected Herr Essler of the Nuremburg Party Committee from his box." He gulped unhappily. "Later however, at Herr Essler's insistence, I checked the guest lists and found no mention of any such visitor. As the gentleman insists he is the Fuehrer's guest, I thought it best to refer the matter to the highest level."

Coldly Himmler surveyed the two prisoners. "The story is absurd. I would have been informed. They are undoubtedly terrorist a.s.sa.s.sins. Take them to Gestapo HQ, and execute them as soon as they have confessed."

The Captain turned to give the order but before he could speak Goering intervened. "Not so fast, Heinrich," he boomed. "Plenty of time to shoot them later. Let's have a look at them."

He loomed menacingly over the male prisoner. "So you claim to be an old friend of the Fuehrer, eh?"

The man inclined his head. "We met in Munich - in 1923."

"I don't recall seeing you."

"Yet I saw you. I trust the wound left no ill-effects?"

Goering laughed and slapped his belly. "Oh, I survived as you can see. The doctors' drugs harmed me more than the wound! They pumped so much morphine into me they d.a.m.n near turned me into a drug addict." He turned to Himmler. "I think we'd better check this man's story. You know how the Fuehrer treasures anyone from the old days - his "old fighters" he calls them."

"I tell you I would have been informed," hissed Himmler furiously.

Goering chuckled. "Oh, I don't think the Fuehrer tells you absolutely everything, Heinrich."

Suddenly there was a bustle of movement from the main room. Goering and Himmler leapt smartly aside and Adolf Hitler himself came through the doorway. He seemed tired, drained, as if the speech had exhausted him.

He looked curiously at the little group by the door. "What is this?"

"Nothing -" began Himmler.

The booming voice of Goering overrode him. "Mein Fuehrer, this gentleman claims an acquaintance - from the old days in Munich."

Hitler's eyes flicked incuriously over the Doctor. "I have no recollection."

Suddenly the man stepped forward to confront him, piercing grey eyes locking with Hitler's bright blue. In some strange way, thought Goering, it was a meeting of equals.

The prisoner's voice was urgent and compelling. "Look more closely.

Remember a time when you were in pain, in danger and in despair.

Remember someone who eased the pain, took you to safety. I told you that one day you would rule Germany - and that we should meet again!"

Hitler stared hard at him for a moment. Then he stepped forward and folded the stranger in a formal embrace.

A gasp of astonishment went through the room. Hitler stepped back, looking delightedly at the newcomer. "You have returned, Doctor, just as you said you would."

"And now you rule Germany," said the Doctor. "Just as I said you would."

Hitler looked round the room, a hand on the Doctor's shoulder. "This man gave me help in my darkest hour. More than that, he gave me hope. He believed in my success."

There was a polite murmur of astonishment and applause.

"It was not a matter of belief," said the Doctor calmly. "I knew that you would rule. Just as I know now that you have many troubles, many enemies. That is why I have returned."

Hitler regarded him intently. "We shall talk again, very soon." He turned to the officers in his entourage. "The Doctor and his companion are the honoured guests of the Reich. Let suitable accommodation be found for them, here at the Deutscher Hof. Tomorrow they return with me to Berlin."

As. .h.i.tler swept out of the room, Ace turned to the Doctor and whispered, "Congratulations, Professor, you've done it again!"

"Listen," hissed the Doctor. "I'm a wandering scientist and scholar and you're my niece. Be as enigmatic as possible and give the impression that I'm a strange and mysterious character with a number of mystic powers."

"Just stick to the truth, you mean?"

Before the Doctor could reply, the crowd descended upon them. Goering claimed them as his property, sweeping them into the luxurious inner reception room, an impressive chandelier-lit chamber, where groups of high-ranking officers, party officials and local dignitaries, and their female companions, sipped champagne and munched elaborate canaps. The story of what had happened was sweeping the room and everyone was looking, openly or furtively, at Ace and the Doctor as they entered. They had been touched by greatness and everybody wanted to be their friend.

Summoning waiters to serve them, Goering looked at the Doctor with frank curiosity. "You're something of a phenomenon, my friend. I've never seen the Fuehrer give anyone a welcome like that! What did you do - save his life?"

The Doctor smiled modestly and said nothing.

Goering turned to Himmler, who was hovering awkwardly nearby. "Well, I certainly saved your life, Heinrich - you nearly shot the Fuehrer's dearest friend."

Himmler gave the Doctor a stiff little bow. "I trust you will forgive my initial suspicion. The safety of the Fuehrer is always my first concern."

The Doctor bowed. "It is also mine."

Ace was uncomfortably aware that everyone in the room seemed to be looking at them. "I feel like a film star, Professor!"

The Doctor gave her a what-can-you-do shrug, and was immediately swallowed up by a group of his new-found admirers. Suddenly Ace heard an oily voice in her ear. "Are you interested in a career in the cinema, my dear? With such youth and charm, anything is possible. Perhaps I could be of a.s.sistance."

She turned and saw a dark, ratty-looking little man at her elbow. He smiled ingratiatingly and put a hand on her arm. "Allow me to introduce myself.

Joseph Goebbels, Minister of Propaganda. The cinema, like all aspects of Reich culture, is among my responsibilities."

Ace s.n.a.t.c.hed her arm away. "Really?" she said in a bored voice.

Goebbels was undeterred. "Shall we discuss the matter somewhere a little less crowded - my suite, perhaps?"