Part 19 (1/2)

The Duke smiled. 'Never mind, my friend. There's only one solution. We shall have to have some more pancakes to accompany this delicious bacon.'

He accepted the chafing dish reverently, setting it on the table as if he was placing a sacrament on an altar. Ace had to admit that the bacon did smell delicious.

'More pancakes,' said the waiter happily. 'Yes, sir!'

'And sausages and a bowl of cream of wheat I think,' said the Duke. 'And when you have a moment perhaps you could bring me the lunch menu. And I imagine you serve ice cream.'

'Yes, sir!'

The Doctor and Ace said their farewells and left the Duke happily contemplating ice cream. They headed back down the swaying length of the train, through cars full of troops who stole glances at Ace's legs, towards the baggage compartment. 'Any questions, Ace?' said the Doctor.

'Yes. I still want to know who the h.e.l.l Uncle Sam is.'

123.

Chapter Ten.

Chapel of the Red Apocalypse In the shadowy seclusion of the baggage compartment they tore away the TARDIS's shroud of brown wrapping paper and went back inside, where the Doctor, with the aid of a yellow and crumbling 1944 Los Angeles telephone directory, an equally yellow and fragile gas-station map from the period and a sophisticated computer the size and shape of a glistening black pearl that projected a detailed three-dimensional map of the city, set their co-ordinates.

'Which address on Duke Ellington's list shall we investigate first?'

'Well,' said Ace, 'as much as I liked the sound of those drinking establishments, especially the less salubrious ones, I think probably that church-type place.'

'I agree,' said the Doctor.

The sun was setting as they arrived, painting the Los Angeles sky in shades of salmon pink and scarlet. They materialised among a verdant patch of shrubbery in the grounds of a large Mexican-style house. The grounds were screened from the road and neighbouring dwellings by a white brick wall topped with curved red tiles. The air in the garden was clean and clear and full of the smell of flowers. 'I was expecting smog,' said Ace, sniffing appreciatively at the evening breeze. 'It being LA and all.'

'That particular ecological nightmare is still some ten or twenty years away,'

said the Doctor, sealing the door of the TARDIS. There were trees and bushes all around, and these provided useful concealment for the incongruity of the blue police box. By the time they'd walked ten feet from it, the TARDIS was effectively hidden from sight. The Doctor studied the house. It was a cube-shaped dwelling with pink-and-white stucco walls, and elaborate arches over the windows and along a balcony that appeared to run around the entire second floor. In the centre of the flat roof was a curious domed structure.

The Doctor peered up at it. 'Astronomical observatory, by the look of it.'

'You mean they've got a telescope in there?'

'So it would seem.'

'For watching the neighbours undress?'

'Quite possibly. Now I suppose the thing to do is to cook up some kind of story to get us inside.'

125.'Why didn't we just land the TARDIS inside in the first place?'

'Because then we would have had to cook up an even more elaborate story to explain how we'd got inside.'

'I suppose you're right,' said Ace, following the Doctor across the neatly trimmed lawn, past lush flowerbeds shedding their delicate fragrances as the day faded around them. 'It doesn't look much like a church.'

'This is California, Ace.' They emerged from the palm trees fringing the garden onto a pink gravel driveway that led down in one direction towards a gateway in the white brick wall fitted with a black wrought-iron gate, and in the other direction up towards the front of the house. The Doctor turned and walked down towards the gate.

'Where are you going?'

'We just need to confirm something before we go any further,' said the Doctor. He reached for the gate and took hold of its black iron bars and pulled on them. The gate gently eased open with the creak of rusting hinges. 'Excellent,'

said the Doctor with satisfaction.

'So the gate opens. So what?'

'The gate is unlocked unlocked, Ace. We might have had some trouble explaining how we'd got inside if, say, it had been sealed with half a dozen formidable padlocks and a substantial length of chain.'

'You could always say you were Harry Houdini.'

'Right country, wrong period,' said the Doctor. Ace followed him back up the driveway towards the house, the gravel s.h.i.+fting under her shoes. From somewhere nearby there was the somnolent splash of running water.

'So what story have we cooked up?' said Ace.

'Hmm, good point.' The Doctor checked his pockets. He took out the small wallet he had shown to Duke Ellington. 'I still have this rather impressive-looking badge with me. It seems a shame to let it go to waste.'

'Right, so a Fed it is. Or a G-man.' The sound of water splas.h.i.+ng was growing closer. It seemed to be coming from the side of the house to the left of the impressive black marble staircase. The staircase led up to a front door surrounded by an archway of black tiles. There was a large rectangular bra.s.s plaque on the wall beside the door. 'By the way, what is a Fed or a G-man?'

'Federal agent or government man. The terms are pretty much interchange-able. They allude to agents of the FBI.'

'I always wanted to be in the FBI,' said Ace. She could now read the plaque beside the door: The Chapel of the Red Apocalypse The Chapel of the Red Apocalypse. 'Blimey. Apocalypse? That's cheerful.'

'Doomsday cults have always exercised a peculiar appeal to a certain sort of mentality.'

126.'Not just an apocalypse, mind you,' said Ace. 'But a red one.' The sound of running water abruptly stopped and a small man came around the side of the building, dragging a length of garden hose behind him, rolling it up as he went. He was bald, with wire-framed spectacles, wearing neat black trousers and a white s.h.i.+rt open at the neck. Incongruously, he was also wearing a ragged and dirty pair of tennis shoes. He looked up at the Doctor and Ace and smiled.

'Good evening,' he said. 'I thought I heard the gate.'

'It's a little late to be calling, I know,' said the Doctor.

'Heavens, no. Glad to have the company.' The little man finished rolling up the hose and placed it inside a large red ceramic urn that stood beside a pile of neatly stacked lumber. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, meticulously dried his hands with it and then shook hands with the Doctor and Ace.

'My name's Albert. I'm the caretaker, gardener and all-purpose handyman around here. I'm looking after the place while the Storrows are away.'

'The Storrows being the people who run the chapel?'

'That's right. Run it and own it. What can I do for you?'

'My name's Smith,' said the Doctor, lying smoothly. 'And this is my a.s.sistant Miss Eckhart.'

'Call me Acacia,' said Ace.

Albert bobbed his head thoughtfully, as though savouring the syllables.

'Beautiful name,' he declared, and suddenly Ace felt ashamed about lying to him.