Part 25 (1/2)

The Doctor and Malady swirled into existence in a small office in a mezzanine level in the warehouse.

It was some sort of foreman's place full of paperwork, requisition orders, maps and invoices. The light was off, so was the computer. The room smelt of pickle, clearly a favourite of the man who worked here.

There was a small safe.

'How big is the bomb?' the Doctor asked.

'The size of a small car,' Malady told him.

'It's not in the safe, then.' He checked under a pile of paperwork, before realising it wasn't likely to be under there, either.

Malady peered out of the office window, out over the warehouse. 'It's down there.'

From here, they got a good vantage point. Behind a screen, there was a large articulated lorry, corrugated silver sides, but with no markings. Three human guards and four humanoid RealWar robots stood guard.

'Ready to move out,' the Doctor said softly.

'There's no way of confirming it's in there,' Malady told him.

'We could go and look,' the Doctor suggested.

'It looks well*guarded.'

'Yes, it does, but '

One of the RealWar robots raised an arm and fired its machine gun. None of the three human guards had time even to register the attack. They fell where they stood.

The sound of the shots echoed around the warehouse. The other RealWar robots stood motionless, apparently oblivious. The robot that had fired raised its arm and advanced towards the truck.

'That's our cue, I think,' the Doctor said, heading for the door.

Malady drew one of the energy pistols, and followed him out.

The robot was opening the door at the back of the lorry. Its hands were a little too large for the delicate operation.

Malady and the Doctor hurried along the gantry. RealWar robots had their place, but Malady knew they weren't perfect their cameras and microphones were notoriously poor. Operators had a narrow field of vision and were almost deaf, particularly when the heavy hydraulic limbs were moving. It meant that they could only concentrate on one task at a time.

The robot had manage to grab the door handle.

'It's remote*controlled, isn't it?' the Doctor asked. 'Is there any way of telling who's operating it, where they are?'

Malady shook her head. 'Absolutely impossible. It could be from anywhere in the world.'

'Judging by what they're planning to do, it's someone a long way away.'

They'd made their way down narrow metal steps to the warehouse floor. In that time, the robot had got the door of the lorry open.

They could see into the trailer. The atomic device sat in the middle of the container, looking fairly innocuous.

Malady raised her arm, pointed the energy pistol at the robot, and fired.

The shot hit it square in the back, and the robot went down, its limbs sprawling.

'No!' the Doctor shouted.

Malady shrugged. He must have been worried she'd hit the nuke. 'I didn't miss,' she told him.

The other three RealWar robots stood to attention.

'Ah.'

The robots raised their arms in unison, the sound of the machine guns loading up filled the air.

The Doctor started running for the lorry.

'Keep them busy!' he called back, over his shoulder.

Malady dived for cover, as the robots started firing at her.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the Doctor clambering up over the fallen robot to get into the truck.

One of the machines was heading that way, the other two were heading for her.

She ducked behind the metal screen that hid the truck from view, deciding it was the best cover. It was half*inch steel plate. As the robots started firing, she was relieved that it could stop the bullets.

They were marching towards her position another drawback of the robots was that they weren't built for covert ops: they hissed and clanked. No more than a tank or armoured car, according to the manufacturers, who had a point.

And the fact robots couldn't do everything kept her in a job, so who was she to complain?

She straightened up, raised her gun, spun round the corner to face the robots.

Then dived back for cover as they opened fire.

The bullets streaked past her, scorching the air.

The Doctor climbed into the trailer of the articulated lorry, and hurried over to the bomb. The gunfire outside echoed and echoed off the corrugated metal walls of the container, and it was almost enough to deafen someone.

The bomb, though, looked refres.h.i.+ngly simple to defuse.

He took the sonic screwdriver from his pocket, and removed a piece of the casing.

The Doctor was always faintly disappointed that real nuclear bombs didn't have digital countdown clocks on them. It would add to the sense of urgency if numbers were ticking down.

This bomb wasn't even armed. That must have been what the robot or rather its operator was trying to do. At the moment, this was just a metal box with a quant.i.ty of plutonium in it. His job was to make sure it stayed that way.

'Ten... nine...' the Doctor began, trying to inject some tension. 'Eight... seven...' The casing was off, now, revealing the arming mechanism surrounded by the usual scribble of wiring.

'Six... five...' Now, what would he the best way of doing this?