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The Scales of Injustice - Episode Five

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The tall, blonde woman, dressed in jeans and a red T-shirt watched as the police frogmen went under the water for a fourth time.

The lake was not particularly large and was almost completely surrounded by shrubbery and trees. Only the gravelled area on which she and the ageing and rather tubby Inspector stood provided a clear run up to the water. The car simply had to have been driven in at that particular spot.

Maya der Voort glanced around the countryside in an effort to stop watching the surface of the water, waiting for the tell-tale black-encased arm to point up and inchcate that the discovery she had so long expected had finally been made.

'Mrs der Voort, it has been eight months now.' Inspector Hoevem was doing his best to be sympathetic - as he had been ever since the investigation began - but Maya could tell he was beginning to lose his patience.

'I know, I know,' she said. 'And it is costing a small fortune in your time and resources.' She lit a cigarette, offering him one as well, which he declined. 'It's just that everything my husband and I have discovered leads us here.'

'With respect,' said Inspector Hoevern, lighting her cigarette, 'you and Mr der Voort are hardly experienced investigators.'

'Unlike my sister,' Maya said. 'Yes, I know. Hans has been at me to give this up already. But it's my sister - his friend - who we think is down there. I have to be sure we're right.'

'Do you know how many people deliberately vanish every year, Mrs der Voort?'

'Hundreds.'

'Thousands. Most of them turn up again, even if only to say they're all right, but sometimes not until months, even years, later. If your sister chose to vanish, she could do it with consummate ease. Especially with her background. How do we know this isn't some assignment she's on?'

'Because her editor would have told us. Oh, he might not say what she was doing exactly, but he would have put our minds at rest. According to him, she was taking a break after exposing that military cover-up.'

'I remember.' The Inspector scratched his head. 'And the awards she won were impressive. For the third year running, I think.'

Maya nodded. 'Each one meant something to her. She never quite believed she could really win one, let alone three. That's why I can't believe she'd run away. She loved life, her job, her family.' Maya sat on the bonnet of the Inspector's car. 'She hadn't argued with anyone, had no enemies -,'

'Ah, well, that's where you might be wrong, Mrs der Voort. In her line of work, she was bound to make enemies. And after her last case blew open that corruption ring in the army, well, she must have upset a lot of influential people.' He looked at his watch and then back at the crystal-clear water. 'I'll give you until six, and then I'm calling it off. I'm sorry.'

Maya gave a resigned shrug. 'Thank you. You've already done more than I expected.'

Inspector Hoevern joined her on the car bonnet. 'To be frank, I admired your sister. That's what keeps me going on this case. I'm as intrigued as you, but out of respect for her rather than family loyalty. I want her to be living it up in Spain or South America. The last thing I want is for you to be right. But if she is under this,' he pointed at the water, 'then rest assured, I'm going to find out why.'

A car suddenly slewed to a halt beside them, skidding on the gravel. After a second, the driver got out, cursing.

'Blasted roads. No sign to say it turned into gravel. Hit that at forty-five kph and you'd be under water in a moment. Brakes would just throw you in.' The newcomer stared at Maya. 'You must be Mrs der Voort. I met your husband a few months back at a charity do. The Art Gallery.'

Maya frowned, shooting a look at Inspector Hoevern.

'I do apologize,' he said. 'Mrs der Voort, allow me to introduce you to Doctor Moere.'

Maya raised an eyebrow. 'I remember my husband talking about you. You made a nice donation to his project. He was very grateful.'

'A police doctor's wages aren't high, Mrs der Voort, but I'd rather see young people's art on my walls than their drug-filled corpses at the mortuary.'

Maya was about to ask why he was there, when an arm suddenly shot up from under the water, sending spray everywhere. All three of them were at the water's edge in an instant. The diver was walking towards them, pulling off his mask.

'Well?' asked Doctor Moere.

The diver nodded. 'There's a car there. One occupant, a driver.' He shot a glance at Maya and then to Inspector Hoevern. 'It's been there... well, quite a while.'

The doctor tutted. 'ID will be difficult. It'll take a couple of days to sort everything out.'

'Is it a woman's body?' Maya was surprised to hear herself ask the question. Her legs were turning to jelly and all she wanted to do was get back inside the Inspector's car and sit still.

The diver looked again at the Inspector, who nodded. He turned back to Maya. 'I'm sorry, Mrs der Voort. I believe it is. It's a dark car, probably a Mini, imported from the United Kingdom.'

'As I said.' Maya sat on the bank. 'It's hers. I knew it.'

'We don't know if she's the one inside it, yet, though.'

Inspector Hoevern looked back at the diver. 'Anything else?'

Again the diver looked towards Maya. She stared up at him. 'Please,' she said, 'don't spare me anything. Inspector Hoevern will tell you, I'm no shrinking violet. And I'll find out eventually.'

'But we don't want to make you assume the worst until Doctor Moere can do an autopsy.' Maya smiled stiffly. 'Yeah. But you know it's her just as I do. That's why you called a police doctor here.'

'Just a formality. Just in case,' the Inspector said.

Maya again looked to the diver. 'Well?'

He took a deep breath. Behind him, the surface was broken by the other two divers. One of them was carrying something. He swallowed. 'It is definitely a woman. I can't say more than that, except...'

'Go on,' urged Inspector Hoevern.

The diver held his hands out, apologetically. 'It's up to Doctor Moere really, but -'

Moere nodded sharply. 'No, go on. In your opinion, if you like. I can make my formal report later.'

The diver nodded. 'All right. From what I could see, the victim had been shot. At close range, in the back of the head. This was no accident; this looks like murder.'

'Back of the head, eh? Well, that's suicide out.' Moere looked across to the other divers. 'What's that?'

Inspector Hoevern took a wet bag from the nearest, who reported: 'On the seat beside the corpse, sir.' He shot a sad look at Maya. She recognized him as someone who had been on the inspector's team from the beginning.

The inspector opened the handbag with a piece of clear plastic he took from his pocket. Maya stared at the bag. She'd seen it so many times before. On her sister's shoulder. In her car. On her sofa. 'It's hers,' she breathed. 'My God, it's hers.'

The Inspector produced a purse and an ID card from within. On the ID card was a photograph of a blonde woman with a strong bone structure, and piercing blue eyes.

Maya couldn't stop the tears coming. She felt Doctor Moere's hand on her shoulder. 'I'm sorry,' he said.

Inspector Hoevern waved the divers back under the water and dropped the bag onto the back seat of his car. Then he crossed to Maya, holding out the ID card. 'Your sister, I presume?'

Maya glanced at the photo, and the signature beside it. 'Yes,' she said, a little hoarsely. 'Yes, that's Jana.' Maya looked back out to the disturbed water. 'And this is where she died, isn't it? Murdered.'

Finally, she gave way to tears.

The career of Sir Marmaduke Harrington-Smythe was finished, he realized, and there was nothing he could do about it. It had all been a set-up, a deliberate attempt to wreck his life. And all for revenge. Oh, yes, of course, it all fitted now. It was Lethbridge-Stewart's fault. He had Sir John Sudbury, in fact the whole of C19, eating out of his hand.

He'd always been manipulative, that soldier, right back to their days at Sandhurst, when a very young Sapper Lethbridge-Stewart had been caught making an error on manoeuvres. A careless rifle shot that had nearly killed one of the training marshals. The marshal had tried to bring a charge, to teach the young man a lesson, but of course, Lethbridge-Stewart had everyone eating out of his hand even then. Charmed the disciplinary board with assurances that it was an accident, that the rifle was at fault, not the operator. And that the training marshal had overstepped the bounds of safety by being ahead of the manoeuvres instead of watching them from behind.

As a result Colonel Harrington-Smythe had been forced to resign. What else could he do? Lethbridge-Stewart had betrayed him, stabbed him in the back. His life as a training marshal was over and he had to leave the Armed Services and return to civilian life.

From there, he had got together the funds (from his accrued inheritance) and set up the Glasshouse. A marvellous concept, a private paramilitary nursing home, caring for the sick and injured from the likes of M15, UNIT and other 'discreet' organizations across the United Kingdom. With the help of the Ministry of Defence, C19 in particular, he had made quite a go of it. Only last year, they had agreed to extend his contract.

And so here he was, sitting in one of those marvellous oak-panelled briefing rooms that littered Britain's corridors of power, listening as six or seven sad old men dictated his future. Of course, Sudbury had made it all sound jolly pleasant when he'd called him to London. Talk of an early retirement: 'Old Marmaduke's abdication' he had called it, oh so very wittily. And all because of that failed assassination attempt. And a tape sent to Sudbury's office that morning that the old fool had not bothered to listen to until after the attempt.

Sir Marmaduke now sat, both rapt and appalled, listening to that very tape. On it, he heard the unmistakable sound of his own voice, discussing with someone a plan to kill 'those C19 asses who are wrecking my Glasshouse'.

'That is a fake. A forgery. It's all a plot by someone who wants to discredit us, break up the alliance between your Ministry and the private sector.' Sir Marmaduke straightened his back, trying to look relaxed at the same time, as if none of this could possibly be upsetting him. 'It's a complete fabrication, and it will never stand up in court.'

'We are well aware of that, Sir Marmaduke,' one of the faceless bureaucrats said. 'But it does not alter the fact that three men died that day, and Sir John Sudbury is only sitting here due to the bravery of one of those men.'

Sir John Sudbury pushed himself up from his chair with obvious discomfort. Sir Marmaduke momentarily felt sorry for him and then noticed that the expression of pain on Sudbury's face was not quite realistic. He was faking it, the old bastard. Faking it in an attempt to get sympathy.

'I regret that these events, whatever Sir Marmaduke's involvement in them, have forced our hand in this matter. After all, I was responsible for persuading all of you here, as well as the Minister, that Sir Marmaduke's Glasshouse project was worthwhile. I still believe it is.'

Sir Marmaduke was puzzled. Surely Sudbury was after his blood, irrespective of that tape? They all were. They always had been.

'However,' Sir John continued, 'I do believe that it would be appropriate for there to be a change in management. The Minister has allowed me to arrange to buy Sir Marmaduke out of the Glasshouse at, I might add,' and he looked pointedly at Sir Marmaduke, 'a very fair price. Enough to keep you comfortable for the rest of your life.'

Sir Marmaduke decided enough was enough. 'I accept that offer, Sir John, in the spirit in which it has been offered. Unfairly, unnecessary and spitefully. Yes, take the blasted Glasshouse project. I would not wish to work for, indeed ever see, any of you again after today. But for the record' - he looked directly at the young man sitting at the back of the room, transcribing the proceedings - 'I believe you are all in error. I have been framed. Someone is out to get me, or obtain my facility for their own ends. That tape is forged and somehow I shall prove it. And when I do, I will drag this quorum through the slander courts so fast, you'll end up paying me six times the offer currently on the table.' He looked at Sir John. 'You, sir, I believed to be my friend. You have destroyed my faith in this Ministry and our relationship in particular. Take the Glasshouse and everything involved in it. I don't want your blood money, because I have my pride. Goodbye to you all.' He took his case from the floor, rose and walked towards the door. 'I hope, young man, you got all of that on record.'

The young recorder looked up, and smiled. It struck Sir Marmaduke that he would have been quite a handsome young man if it hadn't been for the scar down his face, made more livid by its contrast with the paleness of his skin. Perhaps he was some poor wretch Sudbury had found in the dregs of the working classes, scarred and injured. Maybe he was partially sighted, hence the dark glasses. 'Trust no one,' Sir Marmaduke warned him.

'Whatever you say, Sir Marmaduke,' the pale young man replied.

Sir Marmaduke walked into the corridor and slammed the door behind him. On a bench further down the corridor were the Irish Twins, dressed in their Glasshouse medical uniforms. They stood up together, Ciara reaching for his briefcase, Cellian passing him a plastic cup of water. Sir Marmaduke shook his head at them both. 'Thank you, but no. If you can bring the car round, I'm going to walk outside for a few moments. Meet me outside County Hall in fifteen minutes.'

The Irish Twins nodded and looked up as the door which Sir Marmaduke had slammed shut was reopened and a gaggle of old men traipsed through it. Sir Marmaduke shot them a stare of open hostility but it was only seen by the young recorder, who followed them out.

Sir Marmaduke hugged his briefcase closer and headed for the stairs that would take him towards Parliament Square.

A few minutes later, he stood on Westminster Bridge, looking back at the House. He allowed the slight breeze blowing down the Thames to ruffle his tie and hair. He liked the feel of the wind - it was something he had not appreciated for too long.

The air was warm, the sun blazing down onto the river, sending beautiful streaks of reflected yellow across the water, like tiny bolts of lightning. A River Police boat was chugging downstream from under Lambeth Bridge, tearing through the calm waters and leaving a churning wake behind it.

A disturbance, he decided. A breaking of the river's natural form. Rather like his life, he supposed. What to do now? Twenty minutes ago, he had been the head of a powerful organization.

Now, he was abandoned, with nothing to look forward to but returning to the Glasshouse, and facing his staff. Telling them that he had been dismissed from his own company and that they would soon be working for a new, as yet unknown, leader.

He looked left, towards the South Bank and County Hall. He could see his distinctive Mercedes parked there, but there did not appear to be anyone in it. Perhaps the Irish Twins were also getting a breath of fresh air. Probably worried about their jobs. No, nothing fazed them, really. Peter Morley though, he was potential trouble. He was weak enough as it was, but news like this might send him off. . . oh, what did it matter? Why should he care? If Morley didn't finish his work, it was no business of his any more. It was behind him. One day he'd been in charge, the next, he was out without so much as a thank-you for everything he'd done. The last few years' work meant nothing to the men in power. They would take everything he'd done and use it quite happily, and within three months, he would be nothing more than a hazy memory.

He saw Ciara walking across the bridge to meet him. Strange, that was unlike her. Oh well, he'd find out what she wanted soon enough.

'There's someone who wants to talk to you, Sir Marmaduke,' she said, pointing back towards the car. Sir Marmaduke could have sworn it was empty a moment ago, but there were two people in it now. Cellian was presumably in the driving seat, but who was in the back?

He and Ciara crossed the bridge and got to the car, Ciara side-stepping and getting into the front passenger seat before Sir Marmaduke could. He shrugged, but before he could climb in behind her the door was opened for him from the inside.

Sitting comfortably on the back seat was the pale young recorder. 'What do you want?' Sir Marmaduke asked him, annoyed. 'Why aren't you typing up your copious notes? Is this Sir John's attempt at an apology? Because it won't - '

'Shut up, Harrington-Smythe!'

Sir Marmaduke stared at the back of Ciara's head. How dare she speak to him like that! 'Ciara -'

The scarred young man reached out and grabbed his wrist with amazing strength. Before he knew what had happened, he had been pulled off his feet and into the car.

Sir Marmaduke looked across at his assailant in astonishment. 'Who are you?' he growled, rubbing his bruised wrist.

'Me?' said the pale young man. 'I'm the new owner of your Glasshouse, Sir Marmaduke.'

'But you're just... just a...'

'Oh Sir Marmaduke, I'm a great many things.'

Sir Marmaduke gasped in horror as the pale young man removed his dark glasses, revealing a face without human eyes. In their place were two black discs criss-crossed with microscopic filaments. Sir Marmaduke found the artificial eyes fascinating. 'What happened to your... I mean...'

The pale young man replaced his dark glasses, and tapped Cellian on the shoulder. 'You are a fool, Harrington-Smythe. We've been using you for months now, preparing to take over your little nursing home, preparing ourselves.'

'But... but you're with C 19?'

'Am I? I suppose in a way I am. But I'm also involved in far more interesting things.' The pale young man smiled, his perfect white teeth almost glinting in the sunlight as Cellian drove down Millbank, towards Victoria.

Sergeant Mike Yates stood and stared across the greyish blue water of the English Channel. A slight breeze was blowing his hair, but he was not particularly cold. Cool, but not chilly. To his right was the road that ran through Smallmarshes towards Hastings. Dotted along it were various shops and guest houses. Out of sight but, he knew, further along was the police station where Bell and Osgood would be making their investigations. The Brigadier was at the railway station. The five other men they had brought with them were searching the village. Only Hawke was not out and about. She was sitting in his car, using a short-wave radio to keep in touch with Benton at HQ. On the side of the car had been stencilled the name and address of a fictitious taxi firm, just in case anyone saw her with the radio.

This was Yates's first civvies-job since joining UNIT and he was rather enjoying himself. Being in the army was all very well, but wearing a khaki collar and tie or rough fatigues every day could get a bit tedious. The chance to wear his own clothes while at work was rare enough to be savoured.

He was dressed in a brown roll-neck, under a brown check sports coat. His tan flannel trousers flapped in the breeze as he started back towards the car, stuffmg his hand in his pocket.

Cunningly deepened and reshaped, the pocket was actually a holster containing a small Browning automatic, loaded and ready. Mike Yates was not taking chances.

As he approached, Maisie Hawke stuck her head out of the window, smiling. 'Hey, Michael. I don't think any of the locals are going to attack us. No need for the pistol, eh?'

He got into the passenger seat. 'Can't be too careful, Maisie. You never know. The Brig always says to be prepared.'

'You sound like a boy scout.' She was still smiling. 'When you've been with UNIT a while longer, you'll relax a bit more.'

Mike shrugged. 'Yeah, but how long is that? The life-expectancy of a UNIT soldier isn't exactly known to be high.'

'We all know the risks when we sign on the dotted line. No one forces us here, you know.'

Mike opened the glove compartment, taking out a bar of Dairy Milk. He broke off a piece, offering it to Hawke. She took it and began munching.

He did the same. 'I know, but it sounds quite glamorous when you're in the regular army, pounding some parade square. Or going on endless manoeuvres in Germany.'

Hawke shrugged. 'So. Why did you join up?'

Mike stared out of the windscreen. 'A long story involving family pressure, peer group pressure, university pressure and personal inability to say no to anyone who thought they could run my life better than I could.'

'Wow. Anything you do actually like in your life?'

Mike looked at her in concern. 'No, don't get me wrong. I actually like it. I mean, UNIT is great because it has an element of risk. Of the unknown. I've done things here that I could never have dreamed of. I've travelled through time rips, I've arranged for top secret objects to be locked away. I've seen more weirdness here in two months than I could have hoped for in ten years in the regular army. I'm not leaving this place unless it's on a blanket-covered stretcher.'

'How grim.' Hawke held her hand out for more chocolate. 'Best I've done is book restaurant tables for the Brigadier and the Doctor, order sandwiches for Sir John Sudbury and have a Nestene Energy Unit delivered to the National Space Museum.'

'Huh. Didn't know such a thing existed.'

'Nor me.' Hawke demanded more chocolate. 'You're a weird one yourself, Michael.'

'Why?'

'Most of us are doing a job. OK, I'm a glorified telephonist and radio ham, but I probably know more about UNIT and what it does than any foot soldier here. But it doesn't greatly interest me. You, well, you're sort of odd. You like all this crap. Aliens, killer robots, space missions bringing back alien plagues and all that. It actually interests you, doesn't it?'

Mike Yates nodded. 'I think so, yes.'

'Do you know why we're here?'

'Silurians. That's what Benton said when he rang. I had a quick flick through the files and gather that they're -'

'Reptile people, who had a civilization upon this planet millions of years before mankind could even talk clearly. Recently located in some caves in Derbyshire.

Research, however, has caused some speculation that a similar colony was found in the Antarctic during the twenties, although the UNIT station subsequently set up there has yet to provide any concrete evidence. Unlike most Reptiles, they appear to be able to adapt both to extremely hot and extremely cold temperatures. They are dangerous when roused and are a Code 1101 menace.'

Mike was impressed. 'How did you learn all that?'

'I typed the file you read.' She paused, staring forwards, 'I also lost my fiancé to them, at Wenley Moor.' She turned to face him. 'Possibly out of consideration for my feelings, or maybe because Sir John won't extend his budget, the Brigadier has not had a captain since Sam was killed.'

'I... I'm sorry, Maisie. I didn't know.'

'No reason why you should. Even his family don't know. They think he died in a military car accident in Switzerland. Do you know how many lies I have to type, Mike? How often I have to write and tell someone that their son or daughter has been killed while on attachment to UNIT? I can't say they died when an Auton shot them in Essex, or a supposedly friendly alien shoved more radiation through their body with one touch than they'd get if they sat in a reactor at Windscale for six months. No, they die in car accidents, or swimming accidents. Or missing after manoeuvres in the Gobi desert have gone awry.' She looked at her hands and Mike could see they were gripping the steering wheel too tightly; her knuckles were white. 'I had to write to George Hawkins, a man I spent Christmas with last year, and tell him Sam died in an accident when he actually died protecting us all from a bunch of reptilian killers.'

'I thought the Brigadier wrote to people,' Mike said suddenly, and immediately wished he hadn't.

But Maisie Hawke laughed and let go of the steering wheel. 'Oh, Michael, you're so sweet.'

'Oh. Thanks. I think.'

'Yeah, he signs them. But I research who they go to and actually type them up.' She shook her head, letting her hair whip around her face for a second. 'Right, that's enough about that. What next?'

Mike just stared at her. 'That's the first time you've talked about Sam's death, isn't it?'

'Not allowed to talk about it, am I? Official Secrets Act and all that.' She touched his hand. 'Thanks for listening.'

'Thanks for talking. If you want to do it again, I'm always around.' Mike gave her the last piece of chocolate.

She ate it and then pointed out of the window. 'Here comes Tom.'

Mike sighed. Why did he have to bring Corporal Osgood? The chap meant well but he was, frankly, a bit of an egg-head. Ah well.

Osgood opened the door and slid into the back.

'Sergeant. Corporal Hawke.'

'Well, Tom? Anything from our helpful local constabulary?'

Osgood consulted the spiral-bound notebook he always carried. 'I left Corporal Bell talking to a Sergeant Robert Lines. It appears he knew the Doctor.'

Hawke sighed. 'We knew that. That's why you went to find him.'

'Oh. Yes, right. Well, he knows nothing more it seems, but he wants to help. The Doctor obviously took him into some confidence.'

The radio crackled and Benton's voice came out of the dashboard receiver. 'Trap One to Greyhound Two. Over?'

'Greyhound Two to Trap One, receiving.'

'Hello, sir. News for you from Sir John Sudbury. The Glasshouse has been closed down pending an inquiry. Sir John wants us to oversee the removal of sensitive materials. Over.'

'Oh great,' Mike muttered. 'Roger, Trap One. Will inform Greyhound One of the situation. Do nothing until contacted. Over and out.' He looked at the other two. 'We'd better find the Brigadier.'

The Glasshouse receptionist looked up as the doors opened, briefly letting the bright sunlight in. She blinked slightly and her eyes readjusted.

A man in a cream jacket and black roll-neck sweater stood in the doorway. He had a neatly centre-parted cluster of blond hair above a richly tanned face. He was wearing dark glasses. She felt herself relax until she saw the hefty pistol in his hand, a large stubby silencer on the end. She reached for the alarm button but didn't make it - the man smacked her in the chest.

No he didn't, he was standing by the door... Then wha-

The blond man walked past the reception desk, glancing at the dead nurse as scarlet red spread across her breasts, stark against the bleached white of her uniform.

A male nurse came out of a room, carrying a sheaf of papers. Seconds later, he was on the floor, the papers soaking up the blood from a massive hole through his neck. His arm twitched violently, but he was already dead.

Moments later, the blond man entered Doctor Peter Morley's laboratory. It was empty apart from a man in a white coat and a young woman, both sitting in a corner. The woman was drawing something on the wall with a pen while the man watched. Neither was aware that he had entered.

He fired twice, almost severing the man's head from his body. The woman swung round and looked up, uncomprehending.

'Hey, who the hell -'

Another man in a scientist's jacket had entered from an office at the rear. The blond man turned almost imperceptibly, firing casually as he did so, not bothering to take careful aim. The shot took the newcomer through the groin, slamming him back against the far wall. White with shock, the injured man tried to get up until a second shot hit him between the eyes.

Before he had hit the floor, the blond man strode across to the woman, grabbed her roughly and threw her over his shoulder.

Ten minutes later they were on their way to Northumberland.

Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart stared at the timetable pasted up at Smallmarshes station. One train every hour passed that way, heading either for Dover or Hastings. The railway was a one-track job, like the famous Marlow Donkey near his home.

Home, Fiona and Kate, and all those problems, seemed frighteningly far away at that moment. It constantly amazed the Brigadier how easily he could set aside his worries about his domestic life. It was a kind of schizophrenia, he decided, a deliberate leading of a double-life to try and keep Queen, Country and Fiona happy. He didn't need to remind himself that he had failed. Fiona was going to divorce him. Even her Catholic grandparents wouldn't be able to stop that one. Maybe she was right. Maybe he should just give in and let her go, let her get on with her life. Find a real city businessman, with a real city business who could give her real excuses for working late and have real affairs with real secretaries.

No. He would not get bitter. Separation was, frankly, inevitable. It had been ever since that business in the Underground a few years back, when everyone else was talking about being evacuated from London. Fiona had wanted to know why he had 'stayed at the office apartments in London' instead of leaving for the safety of the countryside with her. Kate had not even been a gleam in their eye then, but nevertheless, Fiona had been pregnant within eighteen months. It had been a reminder that his place was at home. But Lethbridge-Stewarts had been in the military since the battle of Waterloo when Major General Fergus Lethbridge-Stewart had been right-hand man to the Duke of Wellington. And family tradition was something the Brigadier had never kicked against. Like all Sandhurst lads, he'd learnt another trade in case he ended up in Civvie Street, but there had been little doubt that the army was to be his life.

And so here he was, standing on an empty railway platform on the Kent/Sussex coast, wondering what had happened to two of his staff. The Doctor was not known for his adherence to rules and regulations, but for him to have vanished so totally seemed more than a little suspicious. And if those reptile monsters were involved, well, there could be an element of revenge thrown in. After all, the Doctor had been around in Derbyshire. Mind you, it had been the Brigadier and not the Doctor who tried to blow them all up, all on orders from C19 of course, but he would hardly blame them for bearing a grudge.

Then there was Miss Shaw: acerbic, spiky and just a little frightening. Nevertheless, the Brigadier valued her, not just for her mind but for her ability to keep the Doctor in check. She had just vanished without trace. Maisie Hawke had not been able to track her down at all, not even through Jeff Johnson.

'Can I help you, sir?'

The Brigadier found himself facing a ticket collector.

'Not another train for a while, sir. Sorry. I'm just about to lock up while I nip out and get a bite of lunch. Do you want to stay, or come back later? It's due in about twenty minutes, if you're wanting Hastings. Over an hour before Dungeness and Dover.'

'Oh. No, I'll go.'

'Right you are, sir. See you later.'

The Brigadier followed the ticket collector off the platform and back onto the short path leading up to the coastal road.

'Mr Lethbridge-Stewart?'

He looked up. There was Yates in his car with the two corporals. He walked over to them and Yates relayed Benton's message.

The Brigadier snatched at the radio transmitter and paged Benton back at UNIT HQ.

'Afternoon, sir. You got my message? Over.'

'Certainly did, Benton. What the hell is Sudbury up to? We need the Glasshouse. Over.'

'No idea, sir,' came the reply. 'But I think he wanted us there quickly. To be frank, sir, I think he was worried that Sir Marmaduke Hamngton-Smythe would go back there and, well, scuttle the ship as it were. Over.'

The Brigadier thought about that. Harrington-Smythe was a spectre from his past who somehow always reared his ugly head at inopportune moments. He'd been there at Sandhurst, always trying to get him and the other sappers into disciplinary cases; he had been there after that business with International Electromatics, offering to buy the company up, and when that failed (the Government bought it out itself), he set up the Glasshouse. It was generally believed in the better circles that both his knighthood and CBE were pacifiers to keep him quiet and sweet. He had a knack for finding out the truth about less-than-public-interest events - that was how he'd know that an institution like the Glasshouse would be useful.

If Sir John Sudbury had upset him too much, he was malicious enough to make trouble. 'Do as Sudbury asks, Benton. Take a small squad of men you trust implicitly. I don't want a word of this getting out. Remember not even everyone at UNIT knows of the Glasshouse's existence. Over.'

'Understood, sir. Over and out.'

The Brigadier passed the transmitter back to Yates. 'Where's Corporal Bell?'

'Still at the police station, sir,' replied Osgood.

The Brigadier looked back towards the town. 'Not much to learn, is there?'

'No, sir,' said Yates. 'I suggest that a couple of us stay here for the night. See if anything unusual turns up.'

'Good idea, Sergeant. You keep a couple of your men here. I'll go back to HQ with the corporals. Osgood, can you drive the other car?'

'Yes, sir.'

The Brigadier swapped places with Yates to leave the sergeant standing outside the car, next to Osgood. 'We'll pick Bell up at the station. Got your radio, Yates?'

The sergeant produced a small walkie-talkie from under his jacket. 'And I'm armed, sir.'

The Brigadier told Yates that he was to observe, not take any risks. When the sergeant agreed, the Brigadier started the motor and began the long drive back to London.

He watched Yates and Osgood's figures fade into the distance as he and Corporal Hawke sped out of Smallmarshes on the road to Dover. 'Do you mind the long way round, Corporal?'

'No, sir. I like the Kent countryside.'

'Good girl' He watched the road for a few moments before clearing his throat. 'Good man, Mike Yates, don't you think?'

Hawke smiled. 'He's a good officer, sir.'

'Oh come on, Maisie. I'm not asking about just his military skills. He's intuitive. He's got exceptional leadership qualities, don't you think?'

'I think, with respect sir, that those are military skills.' She opened the glove compartment, producing another bar of chocolate. 'A bite, sir?'

'No thanks. My wife is on at me not to put on weight.' He paused. 'On the other hand, some chocolate would be very nice right now. Thank you.'

He could see Hawke relax a little more. Good, that was what he wanted. He tried a different tack.

'We've served together quite a while now, Corporal, haven't we?'

'Three years, sir. I've enjoyed it. For the most part.' Hawke nibbled on some chocolate and broke a piece off for the Brigadier, passing it as she spoke. They were about twelve miles from Dungeness, and another ten from the road that led towards London. 'Corporal. Maisie. I'm thinking it is time for some promotions within UNIT. Possibly a captain.'

Hawke let her head fall back against the head rest. 'I appreciate what you're saying, sir. Really I do. But I think you're right, you do need a captain. The troops could do with some stability as well. A handful of sergeants and corporals are all very well, but the command structure needs to be strengthened.'

'Yates? Benton? Someone from outside?'

'Mike Yates would make a fine captain, sir. As I said, I appreciate your waiting this long, but Sam is dead and life has to go on, for everyone.'

The Brigadier felt himself flush slightly. She had caught on. In fact, she'd probably caught on ages ago that he was putting off making any promotions to avoid upsetting her. 'That means there'll be a sergeant's job up for grabs. It's yours if you want it.'

She turned sharply and smiled. 'A nice idea, sir, but I'm not one of the troops. If someone like myself or Carol Bell went for a sergeant's job, we'd have to move away from UNIT. I know I speak for her by saying that neither of us want that.'

The Brigadier nodded. 'I could try for a special dispensation. You'd be one of the few female sergeants in the British Army.'

They were passing through Dungeness now, and they could just make out the distant bulk of the nuclear power station, dwarfing a nearby cluster of terraced houses.

'No thanks, sir. I like what I do. Tom Osgood would make a good sergeant. He's a technical wizard and although he can be a bit eccentric at times, the lads like him a lot. He'd be popular.'

The Brigadier steered the car into the turning for London. 'Thank you, corporal, for your appraisal. As usual, I expect I will act upon it.'

After five minutes he switched on the radio, and Radio Four filled the silence that had blanketed the car's interior.

'I feel sea-sick. Just thought you ought to know.' Liz Shaw tried smiling at her companion as their motor boat was tossed like a salad by the twenty-foot-high waves. At least, that was what it felt like. In fact, the sea wasn't that choppy, but the constant motion and the drone of the engine had made Liz feel very unwell indeed.

'Nearly there, Doctor Shaw. And I thought you looked sturdier than this.' At the back of the boat, steering it, Jana Kristan looked for all the world like a misplaced figurehead, her jaw set firmly against the buffeting wind and spray, her brown overcoat billowing behind her. All Liz wanted to do was hide under the tarpaulin she had found tucked under seat, and emerge when they reached the island.

Sturdier? She had never felt worse. She just hoped she would not have to use her favourite hat as a sick bag.

They had flown from Southampton to St Helier on Jersey, taken the ferry to Guernsey, and then hired the outboard to take them across to their mysterious island which, the man at the boat-hire company told them, was called L'Ithe. It was not until they were on the boat that Jana confessed she had accidentally left all the notes given to them by their mysterious correspondent back at Liz's flat. However, she had remembered enough for them to work out which island was their destination.

'It's a very small lump of rock,' Jana yelled over the noise. 'Only a couple of miles across. It shouldn't take long to find whatever it is that sent us after.'

Liz just nodded, trying to keep the aeroplane snack down, and praying that they would get there soon.

'Where exactly are you taking me?' asked Sir Marmaduke Harrington-Smythe. 'Not back to the Glasshous, I imagine.'

'Oh, certainly not,' said the pale young man. 'By now, UNIT will be crawling all over it, and searching for various things they won't find.' He pointed at the trees at the side of the road. 'This is a very nice part of the country. I used to enjoy walking though the trees and fields when I was younger. Especially when it was dark.'

Sir Marmaduke wondered if they were going slowly enough for him to jump out. He looked forwards, and saw Ceillian's eyes reflected in the rear-view mirror. Piercing blue, they stared straight back. As if he was reading Sir Marmaduke's mind, the car sped up a bit.

Damn.

'How long have my trusted aides here been working for you?' Sir Marmaduke asked.

The young man opened up a small wooden box built into the floor of the Mercedes. He took out a small bottle of Gordon's gin and another tonic.

'Ice?'

Sir Marmaduke bristled. 'I don't want a drink. I would like an answer to my question.'

The pale young man shrugged and flicked his finger at the top of the bottle. The vacuum-sealed metal cap flipped off and up, embedding itself in the roof. Sir Marmaduke stared as the pale young man extracted a glass from the same box and mixed himself a drink. He then looked Sir Marmaduke straight in the eye, swallowed the drink in one gulp and replaced the grass. He picked up the empty gin bottle and held it upright between the palms of his hands.

'This, Sir Marmaduke, is your career.'

Sir Marmaduke watched open-mouthed as he slammed his palms together. Instead of shattering and cutting both of them to ribbons, the bottle seemed to vanish. The pale young man opened his palms, revealing thousands of fragments of powdered glass.

'How -?'

His kidnapper shrugged. 'Just a knack. No, that's a lie, I'm stronger than the average human. My reflexes are faster than the average human's. My life expectancy, barring accidents, is longer than the average human's. Oh, and' - he removed his glasses again, revealing his mechanical eyes - 'my eyesight is better than the average human's. It extends beyoned the normal spectrum into the infra-red. I can see colours that the average human doesn't even dream exist.'

'Are you human?'

'Oh yes. But I'm also much better than human now. Augmented by a technology the rest of you can't begin to imagine. And before you ask, yes, alien technology.'

Sir Marmaduke again asked how long Ciara and Ceillan had been working against him.

'Since before you employed them. I... well, created them I suppose, about seven or eight months ago. Using technology that you had a hand in.'

'Me?'

The pale young man smiled. 'You'll find out very soon. Now, tell me everything you know about the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce that I don't already know from working at C19.'

The car drove on as the sky began to darken with the fall of night.

Sergeant Benton stood in the doorway. Three UNIT soldiers were hovering by the reception desk, including Corporal Tracy and Private Boyle. Benton looked at the body of the receptionist, but Boyle shook his head.

'Is there anyone left alive?' Benton asked.

'Not on this floor,' said Tracy. 'All the patients and nursing staff were in the wards, on the top four floors. They weren't even aware of any of this until an hour ago.' The corporal pointed to the receptionist's telephone. 'One of the staff nurses heard it buzzing and came down to see why it hadn't been answered. There,' - he pointed at the body - 'was the reason.'

Benton stared at the carnage, holstering his gun. 'Yes. But why, Tracy? What was there here that she had to die for?'

Corporal Champion approached from the corridor opposite. 'I think you'd best see this, sir.'

Benton and Tracy followed Champion down the corridor, briefly staring at a dead male nurse, his blood drying on a sheaf of scattered papers. They passed two more bodies at the junction of the corridor before Champion pointed at an unremarkable door.

'A cupboard, corporal?'

'Not exactly, sir.' He pushed at the door and, with a hum, it slid upwards.

Both Sergeant Benton and Corporal Tracy allowed their surprise to show. 'Well, I've been here a few times with the Brig,' said Benton, 'but I've never seen this part before. Either of you?'

'Absolutely not, sir.' Corporal Champion led them further on. They were now in another corridor, which seemed to be sloping downwards. At the bottom was a series of connecting routes.

'It's like a maze, sir,' said Tracy. 'Shipman and Farley went exploring a few moments ago. They should be back soon.' No sooner had Champion spoken than Farley's voice called out from the left-hand corridor. Sergeant Benton led the way towards him, noting the various doors and sub-corridors leading off the corridor. 'This must extend for nearly a mile. Impressive.'

They met Farley outside an oak-panelled door. Sprawled in front of it were another two bodies.

'In there, sir. It's not pretty.'

Farley opened the door and Benton found himself looking into a large laboratory, lights in the ceiling illuminating various areas, like spotlights in a circus.

He saw the man on the far side of the room first, but the bullets which had blown away most of his head had rendered him unrecognizable.

'Shame that,' said Benton. 'He's not nursing staff, so we can't ID him.'

Corporal Champion stared at him. 'We can't identify any of these poor blighters, then. None of the people in here were nurses.'

'No, Corporal, we can't. The Glasshouse is top secret. Frankly, only the Brigadier and his main staff, and Doctor Sweetman of course, officially know about it.'

Farley coughed. 'Actually, sir, just about everyone at UNIT does. It's always been...'

'A bit of a joke to be sent here. Yes, Private, I know. I was a private too, once.' Benton pointed to the opposite wall. 'And there's another.'

Champion stood upright with a start. 'Sergeant Benton, what was that man doing over there?'

Benton strode over to examine the unrecognizable corpse by the far wall. 'Nothing. . . Wait a mo! Oh, this seems a bit stupid, but there's a pen and someone's -,'

'Drawn pictures on the wall, Sergeant? Mammoths, tigers, that sort of thing?' Champion hurried over.

Benton nodded. 'That's about the size of it, Corporal. Why?'

'Just remembering something, sir. From those caves in Derbyshire, when me and some of the lads went up there with Captain Hawkins. Steve Robins was drawing pictures like that when those Reptile things trapped us there. Silurians, I think the Brigadier called them. And Sergeant Yates mentioned them when he rounded C Patrol up this morning to go down south. Come to think of it, Steve ended up in here for about six weeks before going back to the regular army.'

'All right.' Benton thought for a moment. 'And apart from the Doc, they're looking for some missing policewoman who drew similar pictures.'

Tracy vocalized what they were all thinking. 'So that policewoman must have ended up here, then.'

Suddenly, Boyle bustled in with Private Shipman. 'We found a large office, sir,' Boyle said. 'Look at these.'

Shipman handed over a sheaf of photographs that seemed to have been pinned up, judging by the tiny holes in the top of them.

'Let me see those.' Benton swiped them from the private's outstretched hands. 'Yes, look at this. Whoever came here probably didn't murder all these people out of hand, then - they had a far greater purpose.' He passed the two corporals one of the photographs. 'Either of you recognize her?'

'That's the policewoman the Brig's been hunting for.'

'Yes, Champion. And that's why he couldn't find her down in Kent. She was here and, as we haven't found her body, she's probably been taken away, possibly by someone who wants her alive and ready to talk about your Derbyshire Reptiles.' Benton looked around the huge room, trying not to focus on the two bodies and the drawings. 'I reckon this is a medical or biological lab of some sort.'

'Looks like it, sir.' Tracy was hurriedly examining the papers and equipment scattered across the benches. 'I'm no Sherlock, Sarge, but I don't think these were the only two working here.'

'Why?'

'Well, I'm trying to picture the Doctor's laboratory at UNIT. I mean, he has loads of things on the go at once, right?'

'Usually,' Benton agreed.

'So he's a bit cleverer than your ordinary bloke. But there are four or five different bits of equipment set up here, like the Doctor has, but spread about more. Like individual work stations.'

They were interrupted by a shout from Shipman, who had returned to the small office. Leaving Tracy to examine the worktops, Benton and the others went to investigate.

'Hey Sarge, what's that policewoman's name?' Shipman was leafing through a box file. Benton paused. 'Red-something, I think.'

'Not Wildeman, then?'

'No. Why?'

Shipman held up a piece of paper. It looked like a personnel file, with a photo clipped to the top. 'Cathryn Wildeman, sir. Worked here, presumably. She seemed to be some sort of animal boffin. Zoology, and genetics. Seems she came from Cambridge. And she's not dead out there, is she?' He waved the paper in the direction of the main laboratory.

Benton looked over Shipman's shoulder. 'That's one of the men out there, though. James Griffin. Perhaps the other one is this bloke, Atkinson.'

Shipman dug to the bottom of the file. 'Or, sir, he could be this bloke. I saw this report first. Peter Morley. He seems to have been in charge, and it's him that the other three had to report to, according to their files.'

Benton paused for thought and then stuffed all the papers back into the box. 'We'll take this lot back to HQ for the Brigadier.' He turned to the others. 'Right, I want all the other staff questioned and everything on this level sectioned and, if it can be carried, taken back to HQ as well.' As the other soldiers began following his orders, Benton followed them out of the office, and stared ahead. Boyle was covering the unrecognizable body with black plastic sheeting. Above it, he could make out the pictures on the wall. 'Blimey, where's the Doctor when you really need him?'

The Doctor was surrounded by Reptile People, all staring at him. They had stripped him of his cloak and smoking jacket in case they concealed any weapons. A shaft of light and power that beamed down from the ceiling held him helplessly in place.

He was in a massive chamber, even larger than the one Chukk had shown him earlier. This one was filled with stone benches, arranged in a semi-circle. Some kind of debating chamber, he guessed. Behind the benches, directly facing him, a huge screen had been carved into the rock. To either side of it were two entrance tunnels. The Doctor guessed that when decisions were made the Ayes went one way and the Nays went the other.

His nose itched, but he could not move. He wanted to speak, to say something, but that was impossible. All he could do was stare straight ahead. Straight into the jubilant eyes of Auggi.

Twenty minutes earlier, she had come to the lab and demanded of her son that he release the Doctor into her care. This he had agreed to do on the understanding that the Doctor wasn't harmed and would be returned later. Auggi had said that would not be a problem and Krugga had carried him away.

Now he was standing in what he took to be some sort of council chamber. Chukk was there, and one of Baal's sisters, Tahni probably. She seemed to be more politically inclined than Sula, who appeared content in her role as her brother's assistant. 'The Ape is an abomination generally, but this one is particularly vile,' Auggi was saying. 'It was involved in the destruction of Okdel L'Da's Shelter.'

'Entombment,' Chukk said.

'I'm sorry?' said another Reptile Person. 'Explain?'

'The Doctor is adamant that a majority of Shelter 873's population are still hibernating, alive but entombed. The Apes sealed them inside their Shelter rather than kill them. This Ape that Auggi is so keen to blame for everything is actually responsible for keeping our people alive rather than letting the other Apes destroy them.'

Thank you, Chukk, thought the Doctor, but I doubt that will help.

'So, even if this Ape is in some way benign,' another said, 'the majority are still murderers. Typical Ape behaviour.'

Auggi nodded. 'Indeed. And anyway, this Ape is what passes for a scientist among the Apes. He probably wanted our people to experiment on.'

Chukk sighed. 'Auggi, you know that is not true.'

Auggi turned to him. 'I do not know whether it is true or not. Neither do you. This Ape has fooled you and you are blinded by its apparent sincerity.' She walked to him and took his hands in hers. 'Dear Chukk, understand this. You are a good person, with a deep belief in right and wrong. You became our leader after Daurrix died and have seen us through the last few years with great wisdom and sense. But I believe these Apes present a terrible threat to us all. To our hatchlings. We need an Ape-free world for them to grow up in.'

'Why?' The Doctor forced his jaw to open, his vocal chords to vibrate. The word emerged as a hoarse whisper, but it was enough to make everyone stop and stare at him.

'Turn the beam up!' yelled Auggi.

As Krugga moved to obey, Chukk shouted: 'No! No, I believe we should hear this Ape. If we consider ourselves the leaders, the decision-makers of this Shelter, then we need all available information, no matter how unpalatable.' He walked to stand beside the Doctor, and held his arms outstretched. 'We need to know everything we can.'

Slowly, one by one, the Reptiles sat on their benches. The Doctor hoped this was an indication of agreement, and realized it must be as only Auggi and Krugga were left standing. Then Krugga sat, despite a sharp look from Auggi. She remained standing even after Chukk switched off the beam.

'Thank - thank you.' The Doctor massaged his throat. 'Thank you for giving me the honour to address you all today. Everything you have heard about me in this chamber today is true. I was present at Shelter 8...?'

'873,' prompted Chukk.

'Yes, Okdel's Shelter. Many of his people died because they attacked mankind. The Apes, as you call them. Mankind was stronger because they were afraid. And fear is a huge asset in a war, because it makes people fight harder. Dirtier. Believe me, mankind has weapons far dirtier than you. Mankind has split the atom, created nuclear weaponry capable of destroying millions of you in a second.'

One of the elder Reptiles stood. 'We discovered the power of nuclear fission and saw its potential for destruction, but we chose not to develop it further. Why have the Apes done something so foolish?'

Other Reptiles nodded at this question, daring the Doctor to answer. 'Yes, well, you're right. Mankind is foolish. It could wipe itself out in half a day if it so chose.'

'Good,' Auggi said. 'We could live with high radiation levels. Perhaps we should rediscover nuclear power.'

A shocked exclamation rippled through the chamber.

'I am, of course, joking,' she said quickly. The Doctor eyed her carefully. She was clearly a consummate politician, capable of judging opinion and changing tack instantly. Very shrewd. Very dangerous, too.

'But know this as well, noble Reptiles,' said the Doctor. 'Mankind has a thousand other skills as well as making war. For every weapon of destruction, it has ten cures for diseases, sicknesses and accidents. For every war that breaks out, another two or three groups demanding peace spring up. Mankind is resilient.'

Another Reptile stood. 'Could the Apes cure the genetic disorder in our hatchlings?' A murmur went through the crowd. The Doctor guessed that many of them had wondered this, but in the face of Auggi's determined verbal assault on mankind, were unwilling to risk her wrath. Now that he had been freed to speak, Auggi's control had slipped a little.

'Possibly. Mankind faces similar problems and finds ways to overcome them.' He wondered if he should disclose Baal's secret experiments. Angry as he was about Baal's torture of Marc Marshall, he knew it was a weapon to be used against Auggi only at the right time. This was probably not it. Instead, he glanced in Tahni's direction.

'Possibly. It is an avenue that ought to be explored and -,'

A Reptile came crashing into the chamber, almost knocking a couple of the older members to the floor.

'Chukk! Auggi! There are two Apes upon the surface of the island.'

No! This was precisely what he did not need.

Unsurprisingly, Auggi leapt at the opportunity to discredit him. 'See! See how the Ape lies. He knew we were to be attacked.'

The Doctor decided that he would achieve little by pointing out that two peoples probably local fishermen, hardly amounted to an invasion force.

Krugga used his third eye to activate the huge screen at one end of the cavern. On it, two figures could be seen tying a boat to a rock. Or rather, one was tying it up, the other was sitting on another rock, face in hands.

There was something familiar about that posture, the Doctor thought. 'Zoom in on them,' Auggi said to the screen.

Agitated voices travelled around the chamber like fire through dry bush. 'Are they hostile?' 'Should we destroy them?' As the picture closed in on the two humans, the Doctor saw Auggi staring at him. He was becoming very good at reading Reptile facial expressions but even a rank amateur could have seen what she was thinking. She had won her people over. The Apes were invading.

Chukk tried to reason with the crowd but no one was listening.

'Fellow Reptile People.' Auggi spoke quietly but forcibly enough to silence everyone. 'We are under attack. Bring those two in for questioning.' She addressed the last remark to Krugga and he walked off down the right-hand tunnel. Auggi then pointed at the Doctor. 'This Ape has tried to fool you. He has lied and betrayed you all. Chukk, tell me you don't still believe him. He has distracted us all in the hope that we would remain unaware of these others.'

'I'm not sure, Auggi.'

The Doctor stared at Chukk. If he was faltering, then the Doctor had lost his only ally here.

Then a human face filled the screen. It was the face of the person whose posture the Doctor had thought familiar a moment earlier.

'Oh no,' he said quietly. 'Liz!'

Auggi switched off the screen.

'Damn cold, isn't it, Liz?'

Jana had finished tying up the boat and was rubbing her hands together.

Liz nodded. 'Yes, but we're here to find out what was important enough for our mysterious friend to die for. Let's take a look around.' She stuffed her hands into her green duffle-coat pocket. 'Experience tells me that the longer you stay near the unknown, the more dangerous it gets.'

Jana laughed. 'I'll tell you one thing. I'm dying for the toilet. I bet there isn't a handy ladies here anywhere.'

Liz laughed. 'I think it'll have to be those bushes.'

'I'll be quick,' said Jana and scurried off.

Liz pulled her hat further down onto her head to try and keep the wind from whipping her long hair into her eyes. Thankfully she'd exchanged her usual miniskirt for a pair of slacks, and had worn them over tall boots. As a result, her legs were probably the warmest part of her.

What was taking Jana so long? Where exactly had she run off to anyway and Liz stopped worrying about Jana in an instant. Emerging from a hole by some rocks was a Silurian, a massive one. For a second she thought she had not been seen, but then the Silurian turned to her. And stared.

Must get to the top of the tree. Have to hurry. The Devilbacks cannot reach us up here, they do not have the head for heights. The only way they can reach us is to use a Long Neck, but they rarely use them. Too stupid to be trainable, even when the Devilbacks use their third eye to hurt them. They don't even know they're being hurt! The Devilback is coming, but it has not seen us. Wait. No! No, it saw someone's foot and is pointing us out to another Devilback. The eyes! Not the eyes. No!

Liz shook her bead. No, she was stronger than that. She had faced them before and would not let the race-memories overwhelm her. What would the Doctor do in this situation?

She knew the answer. Pushing down her feelings of fear, of nausea, she stood up and held her hands outstretched, palms up.

'I know you can understand me. I am not armed and I come in peace.'

The Silurian turned its head slightly, as if considering her words. 'There were two Apes,' he said slowly.

Liz shivered at his voice. She had forgotten how cold, how completely alien they sounded.

'My friend will be back any second now,' said Liz. 'She too comes in peace.'

'Like hell I do!' shouted Jana from a rocky plateau slightly above and behind the Silurian.

'No!' screamed Liz, but it was too late - Jana was firing her pistol. One, two, three shots slammed into the Silurian's body. It staggered slightly and then swung round, its third eye glowing. Jana dived at it, catching it behind the knees.

The Silurian was on the floor in a second, bleeding from two injuries to its shoulder and a third in the back of the neck.

Liz glared up at Jana. 'What did you do that for?'

The answer she got was an action, not a word. Jana aimed the pistol straight at her.

'It's a Silurian, right?'

'Yes, but how -?'

'That hole, there. Did it come from that?'

Liz nodded. 'I still don't understand.'

'No, you don't. Just as well.' Jana jumped down beside the fallen Reptile, still keeping her gun trained on Liz. 'I only needed you for your knowledge of these things. Now, down the hole.'

Liz took a deep breath, and did as she was told.

Moments later, they were climbing down a ladder carved from the rocks, into a dark and damp tunnel.

'Where now?' Liz stopped, folding her arms. 'I mean, I presume you have a plan of some sort. You obviously knew what to expect.'

Jana, still training her pistol on Liz, stared around the phosphorus-lit tunnel. 'Nope, not really. I just followed my orders.'

'Our anonymous informant's?'

Jana smiled. 'Don't be pathetic, Doctor Shaw. I work for your people. C19.'

'You're with Sir John Sudbury?'

'Wrong again.' Jana pushed Liz along to the left. 'Our mysterious benefactor thought he was safe from us, but we knew he wanted someone to expose what we do. We got rid of Traynor and I was sent down to pose as some stupid Dutch journalist he had written to. I followed his instructions, wound up in Smallmarshes and lo and behold, one Silurian gets the policewoman and the child. I make contact with you and go through the motions of being Jana bloody Kristan for a little longer.'

'You killed her, I suppose.'

'No, but someone did. Think yourself lucky I wasn't asked to impersonate you.'

'Probably because I'd be harder to kill at UNIT.'

Jana just laughed again, and pushed Liz into another corridor. 'I could walk into UNIT any time I wanted to with my credentials. No, impersonating you would have been difficult simply because we knew UNIT would become involved.'

'Stop, Apes!' A Reptile Person stood directly in front of them. 'I am Chukk, leader of the Shelter and I will -'

Jana shot him straight through the head, jumping over his body before it had stopped twitching.

In front of her, Liz saw a massive chamber, occupied by about thirty Reptile People. Standing in front of them was the Doctor. She shoved Jana out of the way and dashed through the startled Reptiles towards him.

'No you don't, bitch!' Jana aimed her pistol and pressed the trigger. As she did so, the third eye of every Reptile Person in the room glowed red.

Jana, or whoever she really was, was slammed back against the chamber wall, her mouth opening and closing in soundless agony. After a few seconds, she fell lifeless to the ground, her pistol skittering across the floor to stop at Auggi's feet.

The female picked up the gun. 'So Apes will help us, will they, Chukk?'

All the other Reptile People turned to look at the Doctor, waiting for Auggi to decide what to do with him and the other Ape.

And they saw the Doctor sitting on the floor, cradling the unmoving body of the other Ape in his arms, blood soaking into his shirt from the bullet that had gone straight through her back and out through her right shoulder.

A tear ran down his cheek. 'Oh Liz, no. I'm so sorry.' He stroked her hair. 'So very sorry.'