第 14 页

The old man nodded. 'Yes. The Silurian just stunned me.'

'Si... Si-what?'

'Silurian. Them over there.'

Marc stared at their backs. 'What are they? Are they monsters? Will they eat us?'

'No, Marc. No, they're vegetarians.'

'Actually, we're not.' The newer monster, or Silurian, turned back to look at them. 'But unlike Apes, we synthesize all our food so as not to use up our planet's resources.'

The old man stood up. 'I see. I'm sorry, I was mistaken. Why have you captured us?'

The other monster turned. 'We are Earth Reptiles. This is our planet. You are an infestation and, by rights, should be wiped out. However' - it pointed at Marc -'we have need of the hatchling.'

Marc frowned. 'Me? Why?'

The first monster turned away and watched the television. 'You will find out.'

The old man cleared his throat, and motioned for Marc to keep quiet. 'I have met your people before. Perhaps you know of Okdel. And K'to?'

'Were you responsible for their deaths?'

The first Silurian hushed the one which had spoken. 'Sula, do not say anything else.'

'No, Tahni, we need to know how they died. Chukk and the others must have their revenge on the Apes.'

The old man moved towards them, the one called Sula turned in its seat. Its third eye flashed red, and he stopped abruptly, his face showing pain.

'Please,' he gasped, 'please let me speak.'

The other Silurian nodded and the blue glow stopped.

'Thank you.' The old man rubbed his nose. 'I am called the Doctor. Okdel was my friend. He was the victim of an uprising within your own people and, I believe, was murdered by one of them. The Apes had nothing to do with his death.'

The two Silurians faced each other. 'Morka?'

Sula nodded. 'Probably. He always was a fool.'

The Doctor continued: 'This Morka, he released a plague to kill the Apes. Okdel helped me find a cure, but the Apes retaliated in the only way they knew how. Desperate and afraid, much as Morka had been, they fought back.'

'They murdered our people, you mean.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'No. Many of them died, I know. But some were put back into hibernation. K'to certainly was. The Apes sealed the caves up, entombing them. But I'm sure many of them still live. Indeed, a great many were never revived and are still fast asleep, unaware of anything that transpired.'

Sula stared at him. 'Why did you befriend Okdel? To betray him?'

'No.' The Doctor sat on a seat opposite Marc. 'No. I sought to find a way for the Sil- for the Earth Reptiles to live in harmony with the Apes. Okdel also wanted this, but paranoia on both sides ultimately doomed such plans. It was a terrible waste of lives, both Reptile and Ape.'

'Ape lives are unimportant,' said the other Earth Reptile. Marc watched as it, too, returned to observe the screen.

'I think all life is important, Sula. Okdel believed that, too.'

The other Silurian swung round again. 'Then Okdel was a fool. We shall be back in our Shelter soon. You will answer to Chukk and the Triad.'

There was only the faint sound of the strange vehicle's engine. After a few moments, the Doctor looked at Marc. 'I'm sorry. I tried.'

Marc tried to smile. 'Will these Reptiles kill us then?'

'I really don't know, Marc. Why not tell me how you came to be here?'

Marc nodded and told his story, from his stay with his aunt and his visit to Dungeness, right up to seeing the Doctor appear on the beach. The Doctor listened intently and made him clarify a few points but after ten minutes or so, he seemed satisfied.

'Well, the policewoman is alive and in hospital, so that's something good I can tell you.' The Doctor paused, then indicated the Reptiles with his head. 'Now all we have to do is sit tight and find out where we're going.'

---

Fiona was beautiful, no doubt about it.

As she sat opposite, her hair highlighted by the flickering candles on the table between them, Alistair felt he loved her more now than ever before. Her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires, and when she smiled at him he felt an unquestionable glow spread in his chest.

Mr and Mrs Lethbridge-Stewart were having their first dinner together for far too long. They had experienced little trouble in convincing Virginia Ince to baby-sit Kate for the evening, and dressed up to the nines, they had headed into Old Beaconsfield, to their favourite restaurant, the Saracen's Head.

They were not entirely sure if the ma顃re d' really did recognize 'such old and valued customers', but nevertheless they got an excellent table, secluded but not so invisible that the waiters could ignore them.

Alistair had ordered a salmon steak, Fiona had gone for the veal escalope and a simple Burgundy washed it down well - Alistair forgoing his usual house red.

They had talked about the house, Kate, and her forthcoming first year at school. Alistair wanted to make plans to send her to a boarding school when she was old enough, but Fiona argued that the girl would be just as well educated closer to home. Not wishing to get into a 'you just want the girl away at boarding school to make things easier for you' row - which would have been untrue anyway - he consented.

In fact, so far, not a single cross word had been spoken. It felt like something of a miracle. Yet at the back of his mind Alistair knew that Fiona was keeping something back; she often seemed on the edge of saying something and then changed onto a totally different track.

'So,' she said, finishing off her last mouthful of veal, 'work must be very busy. The office seems to call a lot, or keep you there for days on end. London's not so far away that you can't come home, no matter how late, once in a while.'

And it had been going so well. If only Fiona knew that 'the office' was less than ten minutes from their front door and not in the City as she assumed. The only time he'd ever been completely truthful with her was during the period he was based in Guildford, while the central complex was being built. If Fiona had known he was spending his days inside a massive aircraft, inside a military hangar... Even now, he occasionally had to visit it as they used it as a green-field HQ. Young Captain Walters excelled in looking after the hardware...

His mind was wandering. 'Sorry, Fiona, but at this time of year, things do get very hectic. Foreign clients arriving at odd hours, and wanting to be entertained, and such things.'

Fiona nodded and took a sip of her wine. 'And just who is this Miss Hawke who keeps phoning you up?'

Alistair tried to laugh. 'Maisie? Oh, she's been with the firm since day one. I suppose you'd call her my Girl Friday -'

'Really? And what does being a Girl Friday entail?'

'Oh, honestly, darling. She's married,' (well, she was engaged, he thought), 'to one of the young... accountants,' (he was a captain actually). 'Sam. And he's an ex-boxer,' (true), 'who'd flatten me easily.' (Also true, but at least he wouldn't have dared.) 'Please don't start inventing fantasy women to keep me at the office.'

Fiona shrugged. 'Just a thought, darling. Apparently Eric Pike is cheating on Monica, and they've three teenage sons.'

'No,' he laughed. 'I expect poor Pike just has a gorgeous wife, whom he rudely takes for granted much like I do, and who has a vivid imagination working overtime.'

'You're a spy, aren't you? Something to do with the Government. And your Maisie Hawke is some kind of Miss Moneypenny.'

Alistair stared at her, unsure whether to laugh at the absurdity or admit the proximity of her guess. Then he saw her eyes. They were glittering sapphires no more. Now they were hard chunks of ice, daring him to argue.

'I think that's... well -

'Spot on, darling?'

'"Preposterous" was the word I was looking for. Darling.' This was going wrong. Alistair knew with a sinking feeling that it was going to get worse. 'I mean that's just so ridiculous.'

The ma”tre d' appeared beside them, like a genie from a lamp. Alistair actually jumped. 'There is a phone call for you, Mr Lethbridge-Stewart. A Miss Hawke from your office of work?'

Fiona smiled tightly and gestured across the restaurant towards the phone by the coat-rack and the gents.

With a mumbled 'Excuse me', Alistair got up and followed the ma顃re d' to the telephone. He picked up the receiver, there was a click and Corporal Hawke was there.

'Sorry to disturb you, sir. We are now scrambled.'

'Hawke, how in blazes did you find me? D'you know how inconvenient this is?,' The Brigadier found himself whispering despite the scrambled line. Across the restaurant, his wife was finishing her wine, looking anywhere but at him.

'Terribly sorry, sir. You weren't at home, and your baby-sitter said you had gone out with Mrs Lethbridge Stewart for dinner. Having been your Administrative Assistant since we were based at Guildford, I have booked more than one table for two at the Saracen's Head.'

'Don't get funny, Hawke. What is it?'

'A Navy sub in the Smallmarshes area has reported detecting strange underwater movement, sir, possibly a submersible.'

'In what area? Why is this worth interrupting a very expensive dinner, Corporal?'

There was a silence. The Brigadier imagined that Hawke was pausing, unwilling to continue, fearful of her master's wrath. 'Well?'

'Something came up yesterday, sir, while you were lunching with Sir John Sudbury. The Doctor said he was going to show you the report and discuss it with you before he left. It involved Smallmarshes, a seaside town near Hastings. In Kent.'

'I know where Hastings is, Corporal. I can also tell you that I didn't see the Doctor at any time after Sir John left. Now tell me what the Doctor has gone to see, find or do.'

'I'm sorry, sir, I know I should have told you earlier but -'

The Brigadier sighed. 'Corporal Hawke, you have already ruined my evening out. I suspect my wallet is going to have to stand another two or three evenings out if I am to pacify my wife. You, it would appear, have kept something from me, but not from the Doctor. As briefly as you can, Hawke, what is going on?'

The one-word reply chilled the Brigadier. After a second's pause, he began to chew his lip. 'Are you sure, Hawke?'

'Yes, sir. I've got the original report here. Miss Shaw has seen it as well, although she asked me not to tell you that. I have tried reaching her on the London number you gave me recently, but it has been engaged for a while. I think perhaps you should see this report before we go any further.'

The Brigadier felt himself going red, and fought to control his voice. 'I think I should have been shown it a day and a half ago, Corporal, so that UNIT could have reacted properly. This has all the hallmarks of what Sergeant Benton would term a "cock-up", and believe me, right now the Doctor is in very deep water. I shall be with you as soon as I've dropped Mrs Lethbridge-Stewart at home. Now, as if this evening wasn't ruined already, is there anything else?'

There was a slight but audible pause. Then: 'Have you seen the news this evening, sir?'

'No, Corporal. I have better things to do than watch television. What Earth-shattering event have I missed? Michael Parkinson interviewing one of the Silurians?'

'Someone tried to assassinate Sir John Sudbury. The bullets used were C19-issue. The grapevine is linking it, tenuously, to Sir Marmaduke Harrington-Smythe and the Glasshouse team.'

'Wonderful news, Corporal. All I need now is Scobie to accidentally launch an all-out nuclear strike against the Chinese, and my day will be perfect. I want everybody in the Operations Room in forty-five minutes.'

Without waiting for a reply, he replaced the receiver... Silurians. The Doctor must have gone off chasing them, probably assuming that UNIT would follow and try to blow them up. Typical of the man. Never thought of the bigger picture. And then someone tries to kill Sir John Sudbury who, despite his inflated opinion of his role in Parliament, was hardly a prime target. If the Glasshouse set-up was compromised, all hell would probably break loose.

Which, frankly, was nothing compared to Fiona's reaction to his having to return to 'the office'.

As Alistair walked back towards his alcove, he realized he was approaching an empty table. The candle had been put out, and was currently playing host to their bill, impaled halfway down its length, torn and soaked in red wax.

The ma”tre d' had the decency to try and look anguished as he walked towards him, carrying his long fawn overcoat.

'The lady has, er, departed, sir. She hailed a cab. She said you would pay the, ah -' Alistair de-speared the bill, flattening the torn centre to try and read it. He took out his wallet and gave the ma顃re d' a twenty-pound note. 'I imagine this covers everything,' he said curtly.

The ma”tre d' coughed in surprise. 'More than adequate, sir. Are you really sure you want to -'

But Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart was gone.

And it was the Brigadier who got behind the wheel of his Daimler, and headed onto the A40 towards Denham, and UNIT HQ.

---

The pale young man was waiting for the blond man when the latter returned to his bed-sit that night.

'Well, you botched that, didn't you?' was his first comment. 'And I was led to believe that you were one of the best.'

'I am the best,' the blond man replied emotionlessly.

'Oh, tosh and nonsense, old chap, tosh and nonsense. You're a second-rate East End hood whose reputation is probably bought rather than earned.' The pale young man poured himself a drink. 'Scotch?'

'Please.'

A moment later and they were both drinking. The blond man helped himself to a second. His employer declined the offer.

'Now, what are we to do with you?' he wondered. 'Sir John is still alive, and although the evidence neatly points to the Glasshouse thanks to the tit-bits we left for the Parliamentary internal investigators to find, we have three innocent corpses in a morgue and one blighter with a bit of a scratch on his shoulder. Harrington-Smythe is going to find it quite easy to squirm out of this one.'