Part 30 (1/2)

'Handy to know,' another voice chimed in.

An old man in an expensive, fas.h.i.+onable business suit. He looked about eighty, the lines and wrinkles in his face were an inch deep, his hair was neat, but thin. But his eyes were sharp and he seemed unaffected by the cold.

'Who?' Relker asked.

'Cosgrove. Jonah Cosgrove,' the old man replied, as he broke Oleson's neck.

Relker brought his gun up, aimed it and fired.

But Cosgrove had gone.

Chapter Eighteen.

Boom and Bust Mather and Anji had a grandstand seat.

The complex consisted of three areas. The nearest was the runway their Concorde sat on, hangars and what were other support buildings for the airstrip. Beyond that, larger, more industrial*looking buildings. A factory, or warehouses at the very least. Beyond that, smaller buildings office s.p.a.ce, accommodation blocks. It was a compact site, no more than a dozen buildings in total.

Anji tried to figure the place out. She couldn't see a road now she was looking, she couldn't see any car parks. So, you got here by air. Which fitted in with the isolation of the place. This really was the middle of nowhere. Almost all around was nondescript moorland. Flat, with a couple of lonely*looking trees in the middle distance. No sign of any other habitation, or even agriculture. Not even planes in the sky. Through the windows on the right side of the plane, they could see the runway had been built a short distance from a cliff edge, although it was difficult to see how high the cliffs were.

Although that side would be easy enough to defend, the complex looked more like a light industrial site than a military one. Now, somewhere there was clearly an anti*aircraft battery they had been shot at. But this wasn't a fortress. The buildings were made from corrugated metal and flimsy*looking concrete slabs. There wasn't even a perimeter fence. The men surrounding the plane weren't in uniform, they looked like mercenaries, or paramilitaries. Its best defence was its isolation.

Anji had watched as the tank the same type of s.h.i.+ny, egg*shaped vehicle she'd seen on the news back in that Ibiza restaurant came out of the hangar building. At first, both she and Mather had a.s.sumed it was simply reinforcing the men guarding their plane.

They'd been a little surprised to spot Cosgrove outside. Neither of them had seen him leave, or had any idea how he'd got down from the plane. He'd managed to find cover, and edge towards what looked like the command post, near the hangar door.

Then the tank had started firing at the soldiers on the runway.

It had three guns, which all operated independently, and found their targets. Anji was fascinated by the efficiency of the thing until she remembered she was watching men die.

Mather didn't understand what was going on. It was too soon for his air force to arrive, let alone for robots to be deployed.

Anji quickly worked out it must be Baskerville in control, working from a computer on board the Concorde.

Within a minute, Dee and Leo came into the cabin, carrying pistols. 'We're moving out once the runway is secured,' Dee announced.

Mather leant over to Anji. 'If we get a chance, we have to disable the AAA system here.'

She worked out he meant anti*aircraft artillery before she opened her mouth to ask. 'How would we go about that?'

'There will be a radar post somewhere close by. We should aim to disable that.'

Dee was opening up the front door on the left side of the plane. She had already c.o.c.ked her pistol. Now she was using the door as cover, waiting for her moment.

'What is this place?' Anji asked.

'It's a robot factory,' the Doctor whispered.

He and Malady were right on the edge of the factory floor. Mechanised production lines were a.s.sembling RealWar robots, conveyor belts stretching hundreds of feet. The line nearest to them was a.s.sembling the cla.s.s threes, the humanoid type. There was something compelling about the process it was perfect ch.o.r.eography, almost like a dance routine. Arm moves into place, welder emerges, welder welds, welder withdraws, robot moves on to next stage.

Malady was watching this with more practical things on her mind. 'It's the RealWar factory.'

'Does this mean you know where we are?'

'No. We knew RealWar was a Russian company, but the location of its offices and research centres are a closely guarded secret. Most of Russia is unmonitored. It's either too isolated or too poor for satellites to bother with. There are whole areas of the map without data presence.'

'And I imagine your governments don't want every inch of the planet under surveillance. Where would they hide their own little secrets, hmm?'

Malady didn't look back at the Doctor. 'The CIA have looked for the RealWar factories, but we've not had much luck.'

'This isn't the only factory?'

'No one knows, but I doubt it.'

'Any idea why Baskerville is here? Could he be supplying the technology?'

'Possibly. It would explain how he pays his bills.'

'A time traveller could find other ways to make money,' the Doctor insisted. 'Instead of prophesying the results of football matches to convince investors, he could just bet on them.'

The Doctor hesitated, watched the production lines again for a moment, got caught up in the rhythm and movement.

'He could have a more sinister purpose for travelling to the past,' he muttered.

'Sinister?'

'Well, from this vantage point he looks remarkably like an arms dealer. With the Americans and Europeans on the verge of war, this could be the best possible time to come back to and sell weapons.'

'RealWar robots aren't that advanced.'

'They don't need to be. It's state of the art, but you only need to be a year or two ahead of your enemy, particularly with something that changes the rules. The development of the dreadnought made all existing navies irrelevant, the development of the atomic bomb s.h.i.+fted strategy towards attacking civilian targets. Or rather not not attacking them. The whole emphasis s.h.i.+fted to preventing the start of a war no one could win. If you have teletroops and missile defence, it's a lot easier to fight a war.' attacking them. The whole emphasis s.h.i.+fted to preventing the start of a war no one could win. If you have teletroops and missile defence, it's a lot easier to fight a war.'

Malady looked at him, clearly disturbed. 'It looks like we have to stop him, whatever he's doing.'

'Agreed.'

They heard firing.

'The people on the Concorde are making a break for it.'

Relker was behind the hover tank, now, out of its sight. He edged back towards the main hangar. Once inside, he tucked himself behind a brick wall, and got his radio out. Three more cla.s.s twos sat motionless here. They were always there garaged along with the three helicopters and the two light planes. But Relker kept one eye on them, mindful now that they could come to life at any moment.

'Baskerville,' he hissed into the radio. 'Baskerville, what the h.e.l.l is going on?'