Part 14 (1/2)

Christopher, who had been studying the screen from over the Vice Chancellor's shoulder, smirked. 'Afraid of unearthing a scandal?'

Sarah was not going to be thrown. 'Half of them vanish off any records. And what's this ”London Event” that connects them?'

'What do you know?' parried Christopher.

In for a penny, thought Sarah. If that's the way you want it.

'I've found records implying that about thirty years ago central London was evacuated in an industrial accident. They say it lasted three months. But there are no extant reports. No actuality. No one even remembers. How can that happen?'

Christopher never lost his superior air for one moment.

'The London Event was a wasted opportunity the world missed out on interface with a higher plane of existence.' He shrugged. 'It's no big deal. Other chances come along.'

'It was totally misunderstood,' insisted Miss Waterfield.

She turned away from scrutinizing the data and fixed Sarah with an equally intense stare. 'We all stumble about in the unknowing darkness. New World seeks to light the first candle.'

Sarah just managed not to laugh. The woman's sincerity was genuinely touching. 'Oh, come on. New World's more than just a New Age Sunday school. You've got fingers in more pies than Robert Maxwell.'

At this, Miss Waterfield looked slightly hurt. She glanced at the screen for a second and then reached forward to open a large painted box that sat on her desk. Inside, nestling on a couch of blue satin, was a mirrored metal globe.

'I'm afraid we've wasted your time, Sarah,' she said.

This time Sarah did laugh. 'You already knew all this. I should have known better,' she accused. 'New World has the solution.'

The Vice Chancellor nodded. 'That's our motto.'

'Our program program,' corrected Christopher sharply.

Sarah was incredulous. 'But if you've got such highflying sources, why employ me?'

Christopher slowly turned the gold ring on his index finger.

'There's still one name missing from your list.'

'Not to my knowledge,' replied Sarah.

'But much to ours,' said Miss Waterfield. She was intent on gazing into the depths of the globe as if it were a crystal ball.

Sarah had been wondering which story was worth more.

The ease with which she had obtained cla.s.sified MoD information, or the university that was prepared to pay for it?

Whatever she decided, it would all have added up to a nice little expose for her. That was until the names of people she cared about had started to emerge. And, of course, the information she had pa.s.sed on was just the tip of the iceberg.

Even so, she was beginning to get the sense of a hornets'

nest about New World University. She started to feel for the handle of her briefcase in the vain hope of making a scoot for the door.

'United Nations Intelligence Taskforce is a paramilitary espionage squad,' began Christopher as if he was kicking off a lecture. It was plain that they were testing her, so Sarah tried to feign disinterest.

'It's the old MI5 story,' he angled. 'Everyone knows it's there, but no one knows what its real agenda is.'

'Even those who work for it,' added Miss Waterfield.

Sarah returned their accusing stares and noticed a reflection in the Vice Chancellor's spectacles of the monitor screen on her desk. An old black and white image, instantly recognizable, of Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart in his UNIT uniform.

Christopher blinked slowly. 'Colonel Alastair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart figures largely in its setting up in the Seventies. He's a Brigadier by then with a remarkable active service record.' He leant forward slightly. 'And then he vanishes.'

'You must have known him during your time at UNIT,'

said Miss Waterfield.

Sarah shook her head wearily. 'Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm just a journalist.'

'With no ”official” records of him, you could easily imagine Lethbridge-Stewart was dead,' continued Christopher.

The Vice Chancellor half turned to him. 'UNIT looks after its own.'

'What's this ”Brigadier” supposed to have done?' Sarah enquired.

There was a sudden look of pain on her employer's face.

'He has committed a great crime,' she said. She plainly took this offence personally. Christopher edged towards her, almost as if to console her, Sarah thought. Miss Waterfield suddenly pulled up and said, 'There are other ways of seeking him.'

Simultaneously, there was a flare of light from the screen and a shrill bleeping sound began. It came from the silvered sphere. Beside it on the desk, a small white ivory pyramid began to pulse with an inner fire.

Cracking the Waterfield system had been a doddle, but now Danny was inside, there was nothing to do but nose through the files. It seemed to be all administrative records; nothing immediately political or in any other way d.a.m.ning. Even Victoria's diary was only a list of the future meetings she had to attend. Danny couldn't believe that she could really be so boring. He was skimming through the items faster and faster until he reached a file t.i.tled 'LOCUS'.

He edged in and found a series of doc.u.ments flicking up onto the screen. Some were headed 'Ministry of Defence', others marked 'UNIT'. A number carried ID photos of military personnel. Danny tried to control the flow of images, but the function keys refused to respond. He guessed that he was monitoring another screen elsewhere on the same server.

The parade of doc.u.ments continued as Danny tried to puzzle out why anyone needed to know about 'ARNOLD, George Albert Staff Sergeant (DECEASED)' or 'EVANS, Gwyn Ivor Private'. Then the screen went blank.

Danny tried the keys again, but they refused to punch down. They physically resisted. No exit. No escape from the file. He started to try other combinations, but the keyboard was jammed solid. He started to bite at his finger until the nail tore painfully.

The screen flickered into life.

Danny studied the new image for a second and gawped. It was a UNIT file and the ID photo was of Old Stewpot. Or, rather, Young Stewpot. Lethbridge-Stewart, the Brigadier, his old maths master at Brendon, but much much younger. He was in full military uniform as he invariably was on School CCF younger. He was in full military uniform as he invariably was on School CCF Inspection Day.