Part 26 (1/2)

'Only one incoming call in the past week, sir. I've the report here.' He presented Crichton with a file and pointed out the caller details. 'It's the school secretary again.'

'Hmm.'

The Captain glanced round the office, apparently checking that they were alone. 'Is there a problem, sir?'

Crichton nodded coldly. 'I've just been contacted by a Miss Sarah Jane Smith. She used to be attached to UNIT in the early days. She says she's been talking to Lethbridge-Stewart.

She also says he's in London.'

Cavendish, decided Crichton, was a supreme example of UNIT training. Faced with this accusation, he managed to look convincingly surprised. 'That's impossible, sir. Why hasn't Grieve alerted us? Unless it's this computer business.'

'Miss Smith also said she spoke to you here at HQ.'

Cavendish gave a little laugh. 'Hardly, sir.'

It was too much. He was so infuriatingly smooth. 'What's going on, Cavendish? And what do you know about New World University?'

There was a knock. Crichton glowered. 'Come!'

Sergeant Beagles appeared in the doorway. He was carrying a battered cardboard file. 'Excuse me, sir, but I found this in the security vault. It's a full MoD report on the London Event of Sixty-eight.'

He reached in front of Cavendish and placed it on the desk.

'Like I said sir, it's pre-UNIT, so I doubt it exists except on hard copy.' A twinkle came into his eye. 'And there's a lot here about Yeti, too, sir.'

It was the first time Brigadier Crichton had smiled that day.

'Well done, Sergeant. Perhaps this'll throw a bit of light on proceedings. Get every man we have on standby.'

Sergeant Beagles returned the security key, saluted and left.

Brigadier Crichton was about to turn back to Cavendish when he noticed Corporal Ishani still hovering in the doorway.

'Sorry, sir, but the courier's still waiting.'

'Tell him I'm on manoeuvres, Corporal.' He picked up the Home Office letter and walked to a filing cabinet. He filed it under I for Interfering Politicians. 'Tell him anything you like, but tell him I'm not here.'

Ishani collided with Corporal White in the door. 'Sir?'

'What is it, Corporal? I'm busy.'

'There's two people to see you, sir.'

'Now what?'

'There's a Miss Smith. Says she spoke to you earlier.'

'Aha. The redoubtable Sarah Jane Smith. And who's the other?'

'It's Desmond Pennington, sir. The Education Secretary.'

'Good G.o.d, not together?'

'No, sir.'

Crichton turned to face his desk. It was a moment before he realized that the room was empty. Cavendish had gone, and so had the file on the London Event.

24.

The Boat omewhere something was chugging gently. The Brigadier Sseemed to be floating, a cradled drifting motion that was so comfortable and pleasing that he wanted to stay asleep. He opened his eyes and saw Kate bending over him.

'h.e.l.lo, Dad.' She smiled with an affection that he had forgotten could go with families. He realized that she had been holding his hand. It was another dream. Behind her, a shoal of coloured fish hovered in the air, flas.h.i.+ng and flickering.

'Where am I?' he mouthed. He felt woozy. He could see a low ceiling and a window that ran parallel above the side of the bed where he was lying. Lights darted back and forth across the surfaces.

'You're on the boat,' Kate said gently.

'Ah.' That brought everything into focus. He saw that the fish were part of a hanging mobile that was turning in the afternoon suns.h.i.+ne. It was reflecting lozenges of light around the cabin.

Kate squeezed his hand again. 'We had to bring you here.

How do you feel now?'

'We?' he asked and tried to sit up. He winced. Something had just hit him on the inside of his head.

She pushed him firmly back into the pillow. 'No, Dad. You stay there. You were mugged by some Chillys. Danny ran after me and fetched me back.'

'Danny who?'

Another figure slid into his field of vision. A young man with gelled hair and gla.s.ses. He was holding a mug of tea and had a terribly familiar look to him.

'Daniel Hinton, Brigadier. School House '91.' The boy had the sort of nervous smile that usually meant he couldn't hand in last night's prep.

Lethbridge-Stewart smiled. 'I remember.' Everywhere today it was memories. He was drowning in them. He hoped it wasn't his life flas.h.i.+ng before him.

He took the tea. The mug had a fierce picture of rampant nurses waving banners and was marked 'Save the NHS'. One of Kate's, no doubt. He eyed the boy again. It was difficult to think of him as anything other than a pupil, even if he had forcibly departed Brendon three years before. 'We've met again quite recently. Am I right? On something called the astral plane.'