Part 22 (2/2)

174.

19.

Who Dares

PC McCracken was tired and bored.

This is the modern-day police for you, he thought. Dragged out of bed at the crack of dawn, jammed onto a bus and carried two hundred miles south because transfer charging made it seem somehow better for the West Yorks.h.i.+re constabulary to call on Glasgow than to s.h.i.+p reinforcements across the Pennines.

He stood with his back to the gla.s.s facade of the Ponds Forge International Sports Centre, baking in his flak jacket in the mid-afternoon sun. Although the Queen would only be briefly visible here, an impressive crowd had gathered. McCracken's job was to keep them off the paved forecourt, out of harm's way. They ma.s.sed on the roadside below and on the network of walkways which bridged Park Square and linked Sheffield city centre to Castle Market and the Wicker, carrying the Metrolink line across Sheaf Street to the station. The crowd waved Union flags and eagerly awaited a glimpse of their monarch as she emerged from her tour of the refurbished complex. Wherever McCracken looked, he could see men in uniform - and that was apart from the plain clothes cops and the Queen's own personal guard. Don't know Why we waste so much manpower, he thought surlily. It's not as if anything's likely to happen.

Of course, if McCracken had suspected he was currently a character in somebody else's story, he would have avoided such portentous thoughts at all costs.

Dr Who and Jason waited for the old, grey and white tram to rattle by, then stepped across the track and joined the throng.

175.

'Are you sure we're doing the right thing?' Jason asked.

'We've tried all else,' said Dr Who, reasonably. 'We must sort this world out somehow.'

'But there are so many people here.'

'That's all the better. When the deed is done, we can pa.s.s unnoticed amongst them.'

'What if they . . . you know, try and stop us?'

'They'll be too panicked. Now, what do you think of this spot?'

Jason pushed his way rudely between two people, leaned over the parapet and inspected the centre's main entrance. 'Not such a great angle, is it?'

'I'm a good shot.'

'What about up there?' Behind them, the bulk of the spectators had gathered where the blue handrail curved to the right and ran parallel to the front of the building, affording the best view of the main doors.

'We'd have to get to the front. We'd be trapped there, and we might have to run.'

'I don't think this is the best place at all,' said Jason doubtfully. 'Why don't we wait at the town hall for her speech later on?'

Dr Who laughed dismissively. 'Not such a good idea, Jason.

That's where they'll expect expect her to be a.s.sa.s.sinated!' her to be a.s.sa.s.sinated!'

Behind them, unnoticed by either of the odd pair, a woman sat on a curved, blue metal seat, a fawn trenchcoat b.u.t.toned around her despite the warmth. She held a newspaper in front of her face, although she wasn't reading it. She peered over its top and smiled as, after two weeks of unsuccessful trips through time, she finally caught sight of her quarries.

Bingo! thought Ace.

The Doctor and Melanie emerged from the rail station, the Doctor striding ahead with thunder in his expression. Across Sheaf Street, the Hallam University Union of Students welcomed visitors to Sheffield in bold white letters. Mel leafed through her copy of the local paper, the Star, obtained from the 176 station concourse. When she looked up, the Doctor had halted and was staring inquisitively towards her.

'The Queen will be at Ponds Forge,' she reported shortly. 'A leisure complex.' She made for the city map but, without a word, the Doctor had marched off purposefully to the right. She tutted and followed, noting that the road had been blocked and that guard-rails prevented pedestrians from straying onto it.

The Doctor produced a small, handheld device from his pocket and studied it as he walked. Mel recognized the homer, and from the way it bleeped, she guessed the TARDIS wasn't far away. That wasn't good. Wherever the s.h.i.+p was, so too were Dr Who and Jason. They had got here first.

A murmur ran through the spectators; the air was becoming suffused with a potent charge of expectancy. PC McCracken s.h.i.+fted uncomfortably from foot to foot and looked forward to the dispersal of the crowd and the opportunity to sit down at last. What was he doing here anyway? 'It's not as if anyone's going to shoot down the Queen, is it?' he grumbled.

Ace folded her Independent Independent and readied herself for action. She hoped she was doing the right thing, but she couldn't be sure. and readied herself for action. She hoped she was doing the right thing, but she couldn't be sure.

'The Queen's shooting,' she would tell the Doctor later, in the TARDIS. 'It was the fifth event on my list of places you were most likely to be. With all the weirdness that surrounded this one, it was almost a cert.'

'If you knew what would happen,' Melanie Bush would ask, 'then why did you just stand there and let it?'

'I'd already seen it. In the papers, in the future. I thought We'd destroyed enough b.u.t.terflies already.'

Ace shrugged off the c.u.mbersome overcoat and draped it across one arm, her gun concealed beneath it for now. One or two glances were drawn by the trendrils which encircled her chest, but most eyes were on the doors, awaiting the Queen's appearance.

And, although not many knew it yet, the tragic events which were to follow.

Mel felt the almost tangible excitement as they raced up Sheaf 177 Street. She could see the Ponds Forge building through two sets of temporary railings, but the only way of getting closer without opposition was over the walkways, and they had no time to negotiate pa.s.sage through the crowd up there. The atmosphere itself told them that precious commodity was exhausted.

The Doctor whirled suddenly and Mel almost ran into him.

She opened her mouth to speak but he thrust the homing device at her and told her to head for the TARDIS. 'Over the bridge and towards the city centre,' he said, pointing vaguely past the sports centre. 'I dare say Jason will forget his force field at any moment.' Then he vaulted the first fence. By the time Mel's mind had formed a comment, he had reached the road's far side and was drawing policemen like a magnet draws iron filings.

She spared him one last glance, then sighed and took the upwards-leading ramp at a run.

Overhead, time s.h.i.+fted into slow-motion as Jason stiffened with fear and antic.i.p.ation and knew that this had to be the moment.

Queen Elizabeth emerged from the Ponds Forge building, radiant in her powder blue skirt and blouse with matching hat and pearl necklace. The crowd erupted into cheers and flag-waving, the appreciative noises swelling as she treated them to a gracious smile and a wave of her hand. Her escorts were guiding her towards her car, at the centre's side. She took what seemed like minutes to traverse the forecourt, each pace measured, and yet she was across it almost before Jason could comprehend that she'd been there at all.

With a pang of desperation, he realized that his moment was pa.s.sing swiftly. He turned to his companion, but there was consternation on Dr Who's face. 'I can't get a clear shot!' His voice slurred as seconds continued to pa.s.s like dripping mola.s.ses. The crowd had surged forward and were leaning over the parapet, some dangerously so, to prolong their view of their beloved monarch. Their heads bobbed into the line of fire, rippling flags obscuring his sight of the Queen. She was almost at the cars and Jason felt the emptiness of an opportunity fast disappearing.

He clutched at the first straw he could think of. It's a smart 178 gun!' he cried, illogically. 'The blaster . . . if you lock the sights on, the bolts will find her whatever's in the way.'

'You're right,' said Dr Who. He reached into his jacket, whipped out the extravagant weapon, leaned back over the railings and fired. He accomplished all this in one movement but, to Jason, that half-second stretched into a terrible lifetime in which all options fell away and there was only the cold certainty of what he'd just made happen.

Two yellow fireb.a.l.l.s streaked from Dr Who's blaster. They swerved upwards, avoiding the intrusive heads, and paused in mid-flight to reorient themselves, like striking eagles, upon their prey. Another fraction of a second pa.s.sed and horror rippled through the crowd as the gunshot crack reverberated like a drum roll and some of them, just some for now, began to appreciate the tragedy in progress.

The fireb.a.l.l.s blazed a trail behind them as they swooped unerringly towards their target.

The escort went for their weapons as the sound reached them before the meandering bolts.

The Queen began to turn, alarmed, and took the full force of the fireb.a.l.l.s directly in the chest.

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