Part 8 (1/2)

'And you hired me to do the dirty work without telling me I was dealing with G.o.ddam reds in bed!'

'I'm sorry, Mr McBride.'

She really was. She liked Cody McBride. She'd tried her best little-girl-lost routine, but it hadn't cut any ice. McBride was angry more, she thought, because he'd had the wool pulled over his eyes than because of the potential dangers. She'd tried to argue that she couldn't tell him the truth, not without putting him in danger. McBride hadn't believed a word of it, and had stomped back into the dark, slamming the door behind him.

He was developing the pictures that she'd taken earlier.

'So let me see if I've got this right.' The Doctor tapped on the table with his pencil. 'The British Rocket Group launched an experimental rocket, which you witnessed. Something went wrong and the rocket crashed. An anonymous informant told you the army and the government are concealing some part of the truth, and you suspect Mr Dumont-Smith is pa.s.sing secrets to the Soviet Union.'

Rita drew on her cigarette. 'That about sums it up.'

'But you have yet to establish a link between Mr Dumont-Smith and 46 the British Rocket Group.'

'Yes,' said Rita. 'There's still something missing. Something I don't know about.'

'Or someone,' said the Doctor darkly.

He rested his chin on his steepled fingers. 'So why are the American army keeping the pilot of that s.p.a.cecraft which I think we can a.s.sume he is in a London hospital, and what is his connection with Dumont-Smith?'

Rita's jaw dropped. 'Colonel Kneale is here in London?'

The Doctor frowned. 'Kneale? No, no, no. The man I saw was called O'Brien. Captain David O'Brien.'

'Davey O'Brien?' Rita gave a harsh laugh. 'No way, sweetheart.

Davey O'Brien is at Winnerton Flats, pretty much under house arrest.

The pilot of that s.p.a.cecraft was Thomas 'Chipper' Kneale; Davey O'Brien was the relief pilot. I should know, I interviewed them myself two days before the launch.'

'I wouldn't take too much notice of her if I were you, Doc.' McBride ambled back into the room, cigarette stub dangling from his lips. 'I imagine there's about as much truth in her s.p.a.ceman story as there was in her one about the giant ant attack last week.'

Rita turned on him. 'That was from eyewitness accounts. The poor man who...'

'Yeah, yeah, whatever.' Cutting her short, McBride dropped a bundle of black-and-white photographs on the desk. 'These might interest you, Doc.'

The Doctor picked them up and started leafing through them.

Rita reached into her bag for another cigarette. 'That guy's been delivering messages from Dumont-Smith's office to that house for at least two weeks. He's a messenger boy, no one important.'

'Yeah? Well, he might be important to us.' McBride leaned over the Doctor's shoulder, handing him an eyegla.s.s. 'Look at the last couple of pictures. See who he's with?'

The Doctor squinted though the eyegla.s.s. Rita saw him stiffen.

'Ace,' he murmured.

'What do you know about this man, Miss Hawks?'

'Nothing much. He looks great in overalls...'

'I beg your pardon?'

'I've seen him wearing them a couple of times. He looks like a... a park-keeper or something.'

'Or someone who works at the zoo?' said the Doctor sharply.

He looked at McBride. 'How's your petrol ration holding up?'

McBride grinned. 'I've... uh... got a special source, Doc. Back to the 47 zoo, then.'

'No.' said the Doctor thoughtfully. 'Time is against us, and we have no real idea that she's still at the zoo.'

'If it's so urgent that you find her, why don't you put out an alert on her?'

McBride and the Doctor stared at Rita.

'What?'

'An all cars alert.' She nodded at McBride. 'He's a private d.i.c.k, he must know lots of policemen. Comes with the territory.'

The Doctor and McBride stared at each other, the same name on their lips.

'Mullen!'

McBride pulled the Anglia to a halt outside the mess of ruined warehouses. From behind the facade was the glare of lights, throwing huge shadows across the rain-slick brickwork of Vauxhall.

He turned to the Doctor. 'Look, there's something you'd better know. Mullen's not exactly going to be overjoyed to see me. He's liable to be a little... ratty.'

The Doctor raised an eyebrow 'He was never exactly jovial.'

'Yeah, well that business with the Cybermen kinda took its toll, on both of us, and... well, we've barely spoken for the last few years. I don't know how the h.e.l.l he's going to react when he sees you.'

'I see.' The two men sat for a moment in silence, then McBride took a deep breath and opened the door. 'Only one way to find out.'

The two of them dashed through the rain towards the warehouses.

Police and soldiers scurried to and fro. A uniformed policeman watched them approach with a frown.

'Hold on, you two, where do you think you're going? There's an unexploded bomb in there. I'm afraid that I'm going to have to ask you to leave the area.'

McBride pulled an ID card from inside his coat. 'We're here to see the officer in charge, Chief Inspector Mullen.'

The policeman peered at the card. 'Private detective, eh?' McBride could hear the distaste in his voice. 'Well that's as may be, but...'

'It's very important.' The Doctor's voice was low, calm and icy, his face obscured by shadow 'A young girl's life is at stake.'