Part 5 (1/2)

Telephone Company engineers were working on the other side of the square. They'd put up one of those mysterious little canvas huts that seem an essential part of all Telephone Company operations. Benton was so used to it that he didn't give it a second glance. He went up the steps and disappeared inside UNIT HQ.

Minutes later, Chin Lee emerged from the little hut and walked quickly away.

The Brigadier's reaction was all that Benton had feared.

'You lost lost her, Benton?' her, Benton?'

'Yes, sir,' said Benton miserably. 'She gave me the slip.

One minute I had her well in sight and the next...'

'She vanished in a puff of smoke?' suggested the Brigadier witheringly.

'No, sir. I got this sort of throbbing in my head... I must have fainted. When I came round she was gone.'

'Throbbing in the head?' snapped the Brigadier.

' Fainted? Fainted? You're too delicate for intelligence work, Sergeant Benton. You'd better go and lie down!' You're too delicate for intelligence work, Sergeant Benton. You'd better go and lie down!'

'Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.'

'Dismissed, Sergeant,' roared the Brigadier. 'Just get out of my sight!'

Benton turned and shot thankfully out of the room, almost colliding in the doorway with the Doctor and Mike Yates who were just arriving.

'I see you're in your usual sweet, affable mood, Brigadier,' said the Doctor.

Mike Yates gave an involuntary grin and straightened his face just too late.

'When you've quite finished grinning like a Ches.h.i.+re cat, Captain Yates,' said the Brigadier icily, 'perhaps you would continue with your duties?'

'Sir!' Mike Yates snapped to attention, threw up a hurried salute, and left the Brigadier's office even more rapidly than Benton.

Quite unintimidated, the Doctor looked down at the Brigadier.

'Now then, Brigadier, in a moment you can tell me what all the fuss is about. But first...'

On the other side of the square from UNIT HQ a Telephone Company workman was working on a big junction box that stood on the pavement, attaching a small but complex circuit into the maze of wiring inside.

His task completed, the workman took a little black box from his pocket, extended its aerial, checked its functioning, then closed the aerial and returned the device to his pocket...

In the UNIT main office, Mike Yates took his ear from the receiver. 'Still there, Mr Carr? Oh, good. For a moment I thought we'd been cut off...'

The workman closed the junction box and went into the nearby canvas hut, which contained a rickety table and chair, kettle and tea-making equipment and not much else.

Taking the device from his pocket he stood it on the table, and extended the aerial again and switched on.

Mike Yates's voice could be heard, a little tinny, but perfectly clear. 'As I was saying, the escort will be under my command, and will consist of my Sergeant and four motor-cycle outriders.'

'Bit light isn't it?' grumbled a second voice.

'Considering the importance of this weapon '

Yates's voice concluded the sentence ' we'll only make ourselves more conspicuous if we surround it with a small army, won't we?'

'All right, I suppose you people know best.'

'Our rendezvous with you will be at 0815 hours.'

'You'll let me know the projected route?'

'I'll ring it through as soon as its finalised. Goodbye, Mr Carr.'

'Goodbye.' A click, and then silence.

While all this was going on, an extraordinary scene took place in the little hut.

The listener removed his cap and m.u.f.fler. He took off his grimy coveralls to reveal an immaculately cut Savile Row suit, a spotless white handkerchief in the top pocket.

Finally he slipped his hands under his chin and removed his face, peeling back the mask of the workman to reveal a very different set of features.

The face beneath the mask, although rather sallow, was distinguished in a somewhat sinister way, with heavy eyebrows, dark, burning eyes, and a neatly pointed beard.

It was the face of the Master.

A renegade Time Lord, dedicated to evil for evil's sake, and the Doctor's oldest and bitterest enemy.

The transformation complete, the Master took a fur-collared overcoat from the back of a chair, tossed it carelessly over one arm, and strolled out of the canvas hut, every inch the man of distinction.

Parked not far away was a luxury limousine, with a chauffeur as big and black and powerful as the car he drove.

As the Master appeared, the chauffeur sprang from the car, touched his cap and opened the rear door.

The Master slid gracefully into the back seat, sank back into the expensive leather upholstery, and produced and lit a large and opulent cigar.

Exhaling a cloud of fragrant smoke, he produced the listening device and settled back to wait.

The Doctor had refused even to discuss the problems of the Peace Conference until the Brigadier had heard and agreed to his own demands concerning Stangmoor Prison.

'All right,' said the Brigadier at last. 'All right, all right, Doctor. You win!'

The Doctor was taking no chances. 'You'll back my report to the Home Office calling for a complete ban on the Keller Process?'