Doctor Who_ Timewyrm_ Exodus Part 4

Ace thrust the gun into her pocket and they strolled through the crowded foyer and out onto the hotel forecourt. A black limousine with an SS driver was parked outside, and to Ace's horror the Doctor opened the rear door and climbed inside, dragging her in after him. He leaned forward, tapped the black-uniformed chauffeur on the shoulder and snapped, "Nach Festival, bitte."

The chauffeur turned and gaped at him.

"Nach Festival!" barked the Doctor. "Schnell!"

The limousine pulled away. Ace gave the Doctor a horrified look. "What do you think you're doing, Professor?"

Leaning back in the cushions, the Doctor said, "In an authoritarian society, people tend to obey the voice of authority. It can be very useful at times."

"You're taking an awful chance."

"Look at it this way, Ace. No one would dare to commandeer an official car unless they had the right to do so. We've just done it - so we must have the authority to do what we've done, otherwise we wouldn't have done it!"

Ace felt there was a flaw in there somewhere, but she couldn't find it. They sat in silence as the car drove along the Strand, over the bridge and back on to the Festival site, pa.s.sing the saluting sentries. It parked just inside the gates.

"Wait here," ordered the Doctor and the chauffeur touched his cap. The Doctor marched briskly away, Ace hurrying after him.

The Festival was a little busier now, with depressed-looking groups of people visiting the various pavilions.

They turned the corner of the last pavilion, went through the gap in the fence, and walked along the river bank through the building site and finally reached the spot by the river where they'd left the TARDIS.

It was gone.

4: THE INSPECTOR GENERAL.

The tall white-haired old man who preferred to be known as Pop strolled slowly through the Festival site. He wore paint-stained overalls and a battered cloth cap and he carried several pots of paint and a big paintbrush. It was like a pa.s.s signed by old Adolf himself, he thought. Or better still, a cloak of invisibility. He was a painter, off to paint something.

Stood to reason, didn't it? Nodding to a pa.s.sing Freikorps patrolman, the old man climbed through the gap in the fence and walked along the river bank.

He was making for the place where some very strange things had been happening. A man had gone into the river, and a man and a girl had suddenly appeared from nowhere. Something else had appeared as well, an odd-looking blue police box. And there it was!

Pop marched up to it and tried the door. Locked. He put his hand on the side and felt a warmth, a faint hum of power. It was as if the thing were alive . . . He stood and looked at it for a while. He needed an excuse to hang around. He decided to paint the box white. He took his brush from the pot and slapped a broad streak of white paint on the side.

The paint just fell away.

He tried again.

The same thing happened. The box simply repelled, rejected the paint.

Pop scratched his head under the cap and moved away. There was a stretch of riverside railing nearby, newly painted black and red in honour of the Festival. Black and red were n.a.z.i colours, and he decided the fence would look better in red, white and blue. He set to work. For quite a long while nothing happened. Then a Freikorps lorry came jolting across the site from the other side. A Freikorps patrol under the command of a sergeant jumped down from the lorry and surrounded the blue box. They tried the door. It was locked. They tried to smash the door down. It refused to smash. For a while they stood round in a circle, arguing furiously. Then they rigged up a block and tackle and under the command of the cursing sergeant they heaved the blue box, which seemed to be astonishingly heavy, on to the back of the lorry. They lashed it down, jumped on to the lorry and drove away.

For a time things were quiet again. Pop painted peacefully on. Then a man and a girl came hurrying along the path. They stopped at the spot where the box had been. They boggled. They too started arguing. Pop went placidly on with his painting.

The Doctor stared at the spot where the TARDIS wasn't, rubbing his chin.

"Agley is the word, I think, Ace. . ."

"Come again, Professor?"

"Agley - what the best laid plans of mice and men gang aft, if you remember."

"It's the TARDIS that's ganged - gone, I mean. Where is it?"

"Well, it isn't here. . ."

"Brilliant, Professor."

"So someone's moved it."

"Even more amazing!"

"So all we need to know is who and where to."

"How do we discover that?"

"By a brilliant new scientific method," said the Doctor. "It's called asking someone." He looked round and saw a tall, cloth-capped, overalled old man painting a section of railing not far away.

The Doctor strode over. "Been here long, mate?"

"Who wants to know?"

"Festival Admin," announced the Doctor. "Exhibit gone missing."

"Well, I ain't got it."

"Police box of the future, big blue job, seen it?"

"They took it away."

"I gathered that. Who did?"

"Lot of them Free Corps lads came with a lorry. Hoisted it on board and made off."

"Another c.o.c.k-up," said the Doctor cheerfully. "Thanks, Pop, I'll sort it."

"You want to watch they don't sort you out. Nasty lot, them Free Corps. Still you know that, don't you?"

"Do I?"

"Well, they nicked you earlier on, didn't they? Now here you are, large as life, asking about blue boxes."

"It was all a misunderstanding," said the Doctor. "I was helping them with their enquiries."

The old man went on painting. "There's a lot of misunderstanding about these days."

"I know," said the Doctor. He looked hard at the old man. "Somebody misunderstood himself right into the river this morning.

"That right?"

The Doctor nodded. "I was there." He paused. "So were you, weren't you?"

"If you fancy a cuppa later on," said the old man, "try Ma Barker's Caff, under the arches. Say Pop sent you." In quite a different voice he added, "We provide rather a decent brewup, actually - a cut above this ersatz stuff."

Touching his cap to Ace, he picked up his paint pots and brush and strolled away.

"What was all that about?" asked Ace.

"Well, I'm not sure," said the Doctor thoughtfully. "But I rather think we may have made contact with the resistance."

"He just happened to be standing there?"

"I doubt if there's any just happened about it. He was waiting to see if anyone turned up looking for the TARDIS."

"How do you know?"

"That stretch of railings had already been painted perfectly well when we were here earlier," said the Doctor. "It really didn't need painting again -and did you see what colours he was painting it? Besides, I saw him when that chap went into the river. I rather think he was the one who stabbed him."

Ace rubbed her eyes. "So much has happened I'd almost forgotten him."

"So had I," admitted the Doctor. "Ace, I'm a fool." He began searching frantically through his pockets, eventually coming up with the black leather folder the dying man had given him. He opened it and studied the gold swastika badge, noticing for the first time the lettering embossed under the badge. He read it aloud. "ReichsinspektorGeneral."

"Sounds important," said Ace.

"It was vitally important to him, even when he was dying. And he was important too -important enough for the resistance to a.s.sa.s.sinate him right here at the Festival. It's worth a gamble. . . " The Doctor closed the folder and put it back in his pocket. "And this might just be our ace in the hole - if you'll pardon the expression. Come on!" He set off down the path.

Ace hurried after him. "Where to?"

"Back to the Freikorps HQ," said the Doctor. "I hope the car's still waiting."

"What was that about gambling?" asked Ace suspiciously. "You know what you're gambling with, don't you? Our lives!"

Obsessed with his latest scheme, the Doctor didn't even reply.

The car was still parked by the gate, and this time the chauffeur obeyed without question when the Doctor ordered him to take them back to the Savoy. As they drove out of the gate the driver had to pull aside sharply as an army lorry came rocketing through. It was packed with Freikorps troops and sitting beside the driver in the cab, was a white-faced and furious figure.

Ace nudged the Doctor. "Did you see who that was?"

The Doctor nodded. "After his escaped prisoners, no doubt. The right move, of course, but just a little mistimed."

The desk clerk at the hotel had been having a difficult day. First Lieutenant Hemmings had positively burst into the foyer looking disgracefully dishevelled, and demanded news of a man and a girl he'd brought in earlier. When the clerk told him they'd just left in an official car he'd seemed most put out. After saying a number of most ungentlemanly things, Lieutenant Hemmings had stormed out again. Now the whole place was in an uproar because General Stra.s.ser, the Commanding Officer, together with his whole entourage of staff officers, was just about to set off for a tour of the Festival. Apparently there was some problem about his car and another was being found. Once they'd all gone, maybe he'd have some peace and quiet...

Suddenly he saw the man and girl Lieutenant Hemmings had been after marching back into the hotel. To the clerk's horror, the man strode straight up to the desk, and fixed him with a cold grey stare.

"I wish to see the Commanding Officer of the Britischer Freikorps - immediately."

The desk clerk looked scornfully down his aristocratic nose. "I'm afraid that won't be possible."

The man lowered his voice to a sinister whisper. "For your sake, young man, it had better be possible - or perhaps you fancy a trip to the Continent in the Volunteer Labour Corps? Nice healthy outdoor work, you know. . . "

The clerk recoiled. "I a.s.sure you sir, it really isn't possible. General Stra.s.ser is just about to leave the hotel on a tour of the Festival site. There he comes now." He pointed to a large, portly man in the uniform of an SS General coming down the staircase, surrounded by an entourage of colonels, captains and lieutenants.

As the General reached the bottom of the staircase, the stranger marched up to him and clicked his heels. "General Stra.s.ser?"

The General came to a halt, his officers grouped round him protectively.

"Yes?"

"I must speak with you immediately."

A captain stepped forward. "The General is busy. Make an appointment with his office. Possibly in a week or two. . . " Ignoring him, the stranger fixed the General with his steely grey stare. "Immediately, if you please, General. My business is extremely urgent."

Impressed by the incisive manner, the General said uneasily, "And the nature of this urgent business?, "It concerns the security of the Reich."

The stranger produced the black leather folder, gave the General a quick glimpse of a gold badge, closed the folder and put it away.

The effect was amazing. The General came to attention and clicked his heels in response. "My time of course is at your disposal, Herr . . . ?" He raised his eyebrows interrogatively.

"You may address me as the Doctor."

"Herr Doktor," continued the General. "But I was just about to leave for a tour of the Festival site. As a matter of fact I'm late already, my car went missing. . ."

"It would not be advisable to visit the Festival at present," snapped the Doctor. "At the moment a hunt is taking place for two dangerous prisoners who have just escaped from your headquarters."

The General smiled. "Nonsense, Herr Doktor. Prisoners in my custody do not escape." He looked at his officers. "Do they, gentlemen?"

There was a stirring at the edge of the group. A lieutenant whispered to a captain, who whispered to a major, who whispered to a colonel.

"Well, do they?" snapped the General.

The Colonel cleared his throat. "It appears, General, that two prisoners were brought in earlier, by Lieutenant Hemmings. They subsequently escaped, and Lieutenant Hemmings has taken a detachment to the Festival site in order to search for them."

"Why was I not told?" bellowed the General. He controlled himself with an effort. "It appears, Herr Doktor, that you are rather better informed about events in my headquarters than I am myself!"

The Doctor gave him a sinister smile. "It is my business to be well informed."

The General turned to an aide. "Inform the Festival authorities that my visit is postponed. Inform me, immediately if you would be so kind, when the escaped prisoners are recaptured. There must be a full investigation. Send Lieutenant Hemmings to me the moment he returns."

There was a flurry of salutes and heel-clicking, and the General said, "If you will be good enough to accompany me, Herr Doktor?"

As the Doctor moved forward the girl came to join him.

The General raised his eyebrows. "And this young lady. . .?"