第 18 页

Some of the walls were rough, jagged and unfinished. However, closer to the living areas, their surface was so perfect and flat that the walls became almost reflective. Stunningly vivid paintings adorned the walls at intervals, and tiny holographic images had been placed in recesses almost invisible until one encountered them. These art-works all represented reptile-people; some, the Doctor noted as he passed them, of hybrids or sub-species that he had not yet encountered.

Most of the reptiles the Doctor had seen so far bore little resemblance to those he and UNIT had met in Derbyshire. Just as humans varied in hair and skin tones, height and weight, so the reptiles differed in physical characteristics. Some seemed adapted for underwater life, others for extreme cold or life on high plateaux. Although it was untrue to say that no two reptiles looked identical, it was easy to group them together into families or clan groups.

However, the Doctor realized, if that was true then the group which currently held him prisoner, was the most mixed possible. They were also not represented in the art.

As Chukk led him towards a food area, the Doctor allowed himself to be the subject of stares and inspections and, sometimes, hisses from the various reptiles he encountered.

'My people,' Chukk had explained earlier, 'have no respect for Ape life. I apologize.'

'No need, old chap,' the Doctor replied. 'I don't blame them at all.'

The journey so far had been following a downward path, leading further into the depths of the Silurian complex. Although he was capable of resisting extreme temperatures far better than any human being, even the Doctor was beginning to find the heat a bit stiffing.

'Much further, is it?'

Chukk shook his head, his thin ears flapping slightly. 'Not far. There is much you need to understand. You will appreciate why Baal is doing what he does to the Ape hatchling.'

They emerged from the narrow hot corridor into a room very different from it and indeed the rest of the Shelter. It was a massive cavern, reminding the Doctor of the Panopticon on Gaffifrey. Or, in more human terms, of St Paul's Cathedral. The room's enormous domed ceiling was decorated with beautiful paintings showing Silurians battling and taming dinosaurs.

'And I thought the Sistine Chapel was the pinnacle of Earth's architecture,' murmured the Doctor.

Chukk pointed upwards. 'There you can see Masz K'll, legendary warrior chieftain from our Third Dynasty fighting the legendary Two-Face Lizard, his evil alter-ego. And to the left is Panun E'Ni, leader of the Southern Clan, who conquered much of the world and ruled it cruelly, although briefly. To his right is Tun W'lzz, who ultimately brought about Panun E'Ni's downfall. The lower end of that wall shows the celebrations that followed their destruction as the previously imprisoned and cast out tribes reconverged into a new, unified civilization, eating their foes' mindless warrior beasts, the Myrka.'

The Doctor nodded. 'Folk stories, or historical fact?'

Chukk laughed; the sound was alien and abrupt. 'Does it truly matter, Doctor? They inspired our race for a millennium, that is all that counts. We copied these paintings bit by bit from the Hall of Heroes at the centre of our world.' The reptile-man shrugged. 'I doubt it still exists. Very little of our civilization has been found by our few scouts or your fellow humans.'

The Doctor had wandered into the centre of the cavern, standing right below Masz K'll. 'Firstly, I'm not human. I'm not from this planet. Secondly, I fear you are correct. Nothing of your civilization exists at all. Millions of years of erosion and plate movement have seen to that.' He paused and examined the paintings as best he could from the ground. 'I find that rather sad.'

'As do my people. Those entombed here, especially.'

The Doctor looked at Chukk. 'Entombed? So you weren't placed here voluntarily, then?' Chukk surveyed the ground, the walls and his own feet before apparently deciding to confide in the Doctor. He moved towards a handful of benches roughly hewn out of the walls, and waited for the Doctor to join him before he continued speaking.

'Look at me, Doctor. What do you see?'

'A person,' replied the Doctor. 'Alien to mankind, but not this planet. A member of a race I have thought of as Silurian, or homo reptilia. Both inaccurate, I imagine, as your records here would indicate you are much older than we previously imagined.'

Chukk shrugged. 'Your human terms are unknown and irrelevant. No, Doctor, what I am is an outcast. Despised by my peers and loathed by the other inhabitants of this Shelter. I am a go-between if you like, leader by order rather than design. In truth, one of our pure Marine cousins should be leader of the Shelter, but he died during hibernation and I assumed control.

'You met one of my closest hatchlings in what you call Derbyshire. Like me, he foresaw that co-operation between the Apes - mankind, or whatever they call themselves - and us has to be the only viable option for survival. Others here would rather see us dominate and destroy to reclaim our territory.' Chukk sighed. 'I fear my attempts at conciliation are destined to fail. Most of those here are young and idealistic. Auggi, the former leader's mate, is a charismatic opponent of any kind of deal with Apedom.'

The Doctor scratched his neck. 'I see your problem.'

'There is more,' Chukk added. 'The worst part. I am unfamiliar with Ape culture - indeed I am one of the few who can imagine using those two words together - but I doubt it is much like ours.' He indicated the passage through which they had entered. 'You have seen the different forms of our people. By far the biggest genetic and physiological differences lie between my clan and our Marine cousins, the Sea Devil Warriors. You may have noticed that you did not see any paintings or holograms of people who look like Baal and his sisters. Or any of the hundreds of their generation still hibernating here.'

'Indeed, it had crossed my mind. Do I assume that inter-breeding is frowned upon?'

'You might say that. "Punishable by death" is far more accurate. The pure eugenics of our people are considered our race's most important principle, and our most sacrosanct belief. Those cast into this Shelter were guilty of abandoning those teachings.'

'So Baal and the others were conceived by a union of your clan and these Sea Devil Warriors?'

'Correct. Normally their eggs would have been crushed, and the parents executed. But our scientists knew that many millions of our people would die in the cataclysm that caused us to hibernate. They allowed the hybrids to live here for the twelve years before the great hibernation. We went to sleep like so many others, and awoke a few years ago.' Chukk stood up, indicating for the Doctor to follow him. 'Let us return to my laboratory. Now you have seen something of our culture and history, let me hope you understand our quest.'

Her reddened eyes were reflected in the glass of the school photograph. It showed a group of twenty-three boys aged between thirteen and fifteen, on a rugby pitch, all wearing House colours, all smiling, with a small trophy in front of them.

All bar one were at home, safe and secure with their parents.

'It's our own fault, constable,' she said, still looking at the picture, feeling tears building up in her eyes once more, stinging the sore rims. She sniffed. 'We sent him down to Eve's because it was Alan's most important season. Lots of constituents all swarming around. the place. Marc would have hated it, so we thought a few weeks down at the seaside would be great. Kids love the seaside. I always did.'

'He's fourteen. He's not six.' The Right Honourable Alan Marshall, member of Parliament for Irlam o' th' Heights, was sitting on the sofa, staring at a blank television screen. He wouldn't let her catch his eye, nor those of the two police officers who had come to collect Marc's photograph for the papers. 'The Opposition will have a field day with this.'

She lost focus on the photo of her son instantly. She just saw a blur of red, felt her cheeks glow and her hands clench into fists. She didn't remember turning or moving across the room, but suddenly she was pummelling her husband as he sat on the sofa, tears of fear and rage spraying off her face as her head twisted ferociously.

The two police officers moved swiftly and efficiently to pull her back, letting her sob, uncontrollably, against one of them. It was the woman officer, the one with the soft Irish accent who had spoken at the door, offering condolences and apologies and suggesting that a photograph of their son would greatly increase the chances of finding him.

As she raised her damp face from the equally damp white blouse, Sarah Marshall threw a look at her husband. She saw astonishment - presumably at her fury - etched across his face.

And at that moment she knew she hated him. She hated his job, his politics, his friends and his need to socialize. She hated the tea parties, the endless public meetings, the local constituency arguments at the town hail. She hated wearing a fake smile as complete imbeciles turned up on her doorstep with petitions signed by twenty people from the local fish and chip shop. She hated wearing blue jackets, blue trousers and a silly blue rosette in public. She hated having to be present as he opened fetes and donkey derbies.

'I just want my little boy home,' she screamed suddenly, falling to the floor in what she knew was an undignified heap and hoping that it would embarrass him further.

Again the strong arms of the two police officers helped her up. The woman spoke again. She was the only one of the two who ever had. 'I think, Mr Marshall, it might be best if we talked to your wife alone for a few moments. Allow her to calm down a little. Could you make us all a cup of tea, perhaps?'

'Tea? Oh, right. Yes.' Alan Marshall left the room.

'He... he doesn't even know how to turn the kettle on,' sobbed his wife as they led her to the sofa.

'He'll find out, Mrs Marshall. Men are remarkably adaptable.' The Irish policewoman indicated to her companion that he should go into the kitchen. As he went, the policewoman began massaging Mrs Marshall's shoulder. 'Tell me about your son. Why would someone kidnap him? Has he any enemies? Or your husband, perhaps?'

Of course - that was it! Alan's bloody job again. It had to be. She had no enemies, and Marc was only fourteen. But Alan, his politics. The IRA? The German lot? Someone from the Labour Party even?

'I don't know, but it's possible.'

The policewoman nodded. She understood, of course. In their line of work they must come up against this all the time. They'd find him.

'Has there been a ransom note?'

Good God! There had been nothing at all. But the abductors must know how to contact them, or why would they bother kidnapping Marc? Unless it was being done through the House. 'Maybe Alan should go to London. See if there's anything there?'

The policewoman frowned. 'Unlikely. And we don't want to draw attention to this yet. We need to let the kidnappers think we're relaxed about this. Any signs of panic and, well, we just don't want to risk anything in these situations.'

She was so reassuring. 'Have you done this a lot?'

The policewoman stopped smiling. 'Once. A long time ago, in Eire. My older sister was kidnapped by one of the anti-IRA groups. I had to help negotiate her release.' She smiled again. 'But that was different. We're unlikely to be dealing with terrorists here. It's probably someone who's after your money.'

'But we haven't got any. Well, not cash to speak of. I know Alan's an MP, but he doesn't make much. Most of it goes to charities and other worthwhile causes.'

She looked up as the door opened and the policeman walked in with a tray. He smiled at her as he put it down. Sarah was convinced she'd seen that smile before, and then it hit her. The Irish policewoman - these two must be related. Their smile, their eyes and features were perfectly matched. The way they moved in unison with each other. But he hadn't spoken, hadn't said a word, so she didn't know if he too was Irish.

'Where's Alan?' she asked.

The policeman shot a look across at the policewoman. She just shrugged.

Sarah was confused. 'Is he in the kitchen still?' She raised her voice. 'Alan?'

There was no reply and she got up, narrowly avoiding the outstretched hand of the silent policeman. She found herself in a hurry to get to the kitchen, to Alan, to -'Oh God,' she whispered.

On the floor... blood... he... he...

Something hit her between her shoulders and she found herself on her knees.

It hurt. She wanted to turn around but couldn't, wanted to... to... reach out to Alan. Why was he on the floor with her? Why was he wearing red?

Where was Marc?

Where

A small, dark-haired woman looked up as two police officers walked towards her car. As they reached it, they both took off their caps and the male got into the driving seat, the female joining the owner in the back.

'They were useless. Totally useless,' the policewoman said. 'They don't know where the boy is. They think he's been kidnapped.'

'What did you do, Ciara?' The dark-haired woman. tapped Ceffian's shoulder and indicated that he should drive.

As the car started to go forward, Ciara smiled, her blue eyes sparkling with joy. 'The usual, of course. She actually lasted about eight seconds.' She placed a silenced revolver on her lap. 'The gas ought to go up in about fifteen minutes. There's enough to take out a couple of other houses. It'll be ages before they piece the bodies back together.'

'Nevertheless, Ciara, we have to move quickly. The Government wants to investigate your employer over that Sudbury incident. He's been framed for something he didn't do, and my people don't want him to be cleared.' The dark-haired woman smiled at Ciara. 'In the meantime, let's see if Peter has had any luck with our artist from Sussex.'

Doctor Morley was aware that he was not having any success with WPC Barbara Redworth. Despite his best efforts, she had remained almost completely comatose since her arrival. He had decided not to ask too many questions about exactly how she was removed from a public hospital. He doubted he could stomach the answer.