Part 22 (2/2)

John Jerum, soldierman, Is searching high and low.

The only secret he can keep Is one he doesn't know.

She sighed. 'My father used to say that. He'd have hated this.'

Christopher's voice was very quiet. 'You haven't a clue, have you? It's your precious Chancellor who's got the real power. Power we can all profit by. He's not just a father subst.i.tute for you.'

She shuddered, but retained her composure. 'He works for the world's spiritual good.' She faced him. He was gloating over something, slowly turning the gold ring on his finger. She wished she had the courage to banish him forever. 'You'd even sell your own soul.'

He laughed. 'That's marketing.'

Victoria smiled too. She was, after all, still his employer.

'All ”ringfenced”, no doubt. Just like your expense account.'

His fingers froze on the ring. His glare could have inflicted physical injury on lesser mortals, but she revelled in it.

Without warning, the PA system crackled into life.

'Victoria Waterfield? Can you hear me?'

It was her turn to freeze. Anthony's voice sounded more than half crazed, full of insane mockery. 'Miss Waterfield's our boss, ladies and gentlemen. The big cheese at N Treble U!'

Victoria groped for the edge of the desk to steady herself.

'What's he doing? Make him stop!'

'And she's today's surprise guest on Lift the Lid Lift the Lid. So ring in those questions now.'

'Stop him!' yelled Victoria, but Christopher clutched her arm and laughed in her face.

'It's Revelation Time, Vice Chancellor!' ranted the presenter.

Christopher gave her arm an extra-hard squeeze before he ran from the office. She watched him hurrying towards the studio block, but there was no stopping Anthony's ravings. By now he sounded close to tears.

'Forget anything I said before. It was lies. New World's just a big front. But they pay well, don't they, Miss Waterfield?'

What was he saying? She didn't understand. From the window, she saw groups of Chillys standing and listening. The broadcast was feeding right across the campus.

'What about all the people who disappear, eh? Danny was right. New World doesn't give a toss for you. Something's coming. Victoria Waterfield'll tell you!'

Music cut in over the voice. It was smooth and pleasantly vacuous. Victoria sat in the security of her chair. She clung to one of the high leather wings. 'Of course, something's coming,' she said. She couldn't understand what poor Anthony was saying. 'It's what we've all been waiting for.'

Christopher had cut in the music as soon as he reached the studio control room. He could still hear Anthony in the studio booth, but the gla.s.s panel between them was opaque, tinged with a pale green light. The inside was covered with a skein of glinting web that rippled as if it was horribly alive.

Anthony's voice was close to breaking point. 'She'll tell you. She knows what's coming. And it'll finish everything.'

He finally cracked in a flood of hysterical tears.

From the window in the door, Christopher could see Anthony's shape through wreaths of web. The presenter was rocking to and fro, caught like an insect in the tangle. The substance had spread through the booth like a malignant, rampant plant. The strands of web were flecked with luminous froth.

Christopher smiled. This was abominable, but fascinating.

He tested the door to ensure that it was locked. Satisfied, he set off back to Victoria's office with a jaunty gait.

19.

Blunder Days he young man rose casually as Lethbridge-Stewart entered T the hotel lounge. He had sleek dark hair and cla.s.sically handsome features. The Brigadier had taught dozens of boys like him. The public school and military aura was inbred, indelible despite the sharp business suit. Sandhurst, the Brigadier decided before they even spoke.

'Captain Douglas Cavendish, Virtual Ordnance Group at UNIT. Good to see you, Brigadier.' He indicated an armchair for his guest. In one hand, he clutched a tumbler of whisky.

'Can I get you a drink?'

'Not for me, Cavendish,' the Brigadier said firmly. He felt like adding, 'Not on duty.'

'Sorry if I'm late,' he said instead. 'The whole transport system seems to be fouled up by this wretched computer business.'

'Quite,' agreed Cavendish. 'It's better to meet here. The security boys get stressed out over ID checks.'

The Brigadier smiled. 'UNIT hasn't changed much since my time then.' He glanced round at the lounge. Many of the old features had been retained from when he had once met Air Vice-Marshal Gilmore here in this same room. Even several of the paintings of ill.u.s.trious military forbears remained, their ferocity restored by the cleaners. He must have seemed like a young whippersnapper to Gilmore then, just as Cavendish appeared to him now. But he hoped he had displayed many degrees more civility.

'I doubt if there's much left you'd recognize,' said Cavendish. 'Razor-smart weapons. All on computer these days.'

'Oh, I used to leave the technology to the experts.'

'Yes, of course.' Cavendish took another swig of whisky.

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