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He presumed this was the full VIP treatment, although the place that the pale young man who was showing him around clearly did not receive many visitors. And the Doctor wondered how many of those who entered ever left again.

'Frankly, Doctor,' his host was saying, 'without your contribution, I doubt the Vault would be half as successful as it is. I mean, look. Here we have Cyber-Guns, Nestene energy units, phials of the Silurian plague. You might even recognize that over there. One of our first trophies.'

The Doctor looked in the direction to which the pale young man had pointed. Inside a barred cage was the lower half of a cream-coloured Dalek, stained with green and pitted with bullet holes. The Doctor was sure he'd never seen a Dalek like that, least of all in the twentieth century.

'How fascinating. Now, I've enjoyed our guided tour. When do I get to see how Marc is doing? And where have you taken Tahni?'

The pale young man ignored him. 'And then over here,' he said as he led the Doctor through a steel door and into a room illuminated by a blue light, 'is our cryogenics section. There might be some people here you recognize.' He smiled benignly. 'Let's take a look, shall we?' He punched some buttons on the wall-mounted console. A partition slid back and then up on a hinge, revealing what appeared to be a mortuary. Embedded in one wall were forty drawers - each large enough to contain a body. 'Who's this?' said the pale young man. At the press of another switch, a drawer slid silently out of the wall; inside it was a glass coffin, frosted over. The pale young man peered at the name plaque, then rubbed it with his sleeve. 'Oh, George Ratcliffe. Right-wing leader of a post-war pro-segregation group. Know him?'

The Doctor just stared back. 'Is there any point to this?'

'How about this one?' Another frosted coffin slid out. 'Melvin Krimpton. I'm sure you knew him.' He waved his arm at the remaining drawers. 'In fact, I'd put a penny to a pound that you knew the vast majority of these people, and were present - in whatever face you wore at the time - during the circumstances that led to their deaths. Up there is one Stephen Weams, over there is George Hibbert and right back here is Mark Gregory, a scientist of my acquaintance. Did you ever meet him? I'm not sure, but does it matter? The fact is, Doctor, that all these people died at the hands of something beyond the purview of normal police or military jurisdiction. Their bodies are kept here for research, to aid the future.' He paused, then laughed. 'I wonder what his parents put in young Stephen Weams' grave? What was faked up to keep even the families of those who died unaware of the Great Intelligence's true evil?'

'Why?'

'Because, Doctor, all this needs to be collected, sifted and sorted. And because with the technology here, this country can be powerful. Imagine if we sent an army of Autons into Northern Ireland. Imagine if we'd helped the Yanks in Vietnam using a War Machine or two. And if this Government doesn't want to stain its lily-white hands, the next one will. Or the one after that. And if the price is right, they can have whatever they want. And, before you ask, it's all legitimate. I work for C19. I work for Sir John Sudbury, your bridge partner. Not that he's aware of any of this, any more than he was aware of what was going on at the Glasshouse. British politicians and civil servants make excellent ostriches, burying their heads and not seeing what they find distasteful.'

The Doctor stroked the back of his neck. 'Are you saying that Sudbury, Scobie and even Lethbridge-Stewart knew about this place?'

'Good grief no. No one knows, except those that work for me. And who are they? Well, that's my secret, but rest assured, they have infiltrated every walk of life. Politicians, actors, newspaper journalists, shopkeepers and dustmen. People keeping an eye or an ear out, just to keep me happy.' The pale young man replaced the last coffin.

The Doctor glanced around him. There were three doors from the cryogenic chamber, including the one they had come through. There were two guards holding him while the leader stood a little behind; all three were armed. He had no way of knowing whether the pale young man carried a gun, but he placed a silent bet with himself that he did. Never mind.

'Why did you want the Silurian girl?'

The pale young man smiled. 'She is a bonus. We were aware that someone here was feeding information back to Whitehall, possibly to someone within C19 itself. That person contacted an investigative journalist famous in Holland, who could work under cover here. She began using this stolen information which enabled her to piece together what we already knew - that L'Ithe contained something worth investigating. Deciding to let this charade continue, we substituted the journalist with one of our own and, along with your Miss Shaw, they found the Silurian base for us. I've always wanted a Reptile; their genetic structure is so unique.' He leant back against the wall, as if he and the Doctor were discussing an old movie rather than a terrible plan to pervert human science. 'Imagine a breed of super-soldiers, Doctor. Capable of withstanding the extremes of the Antarctic and the Sahara. Able to breathe underwater and on land. The Silurian evolution is far superior to ours. Now that my people have had a chance to experiment on that poor boy you brought with you, I can see how it might be achieved. An army of eugenic fighters, Doctor. We'd rule this whole planet. Westminster would be the heart of the Western world, and eventually the Eastern, too. What do you say?'

The Doctor looked straight at him. 'Just this. Hai!' He flicked both his arms up and then back, catching his guards under their chins, and then slamming his flattened hand against the backs of their necks. Both guards skidded across the floor, dazed. The guard leader went for his rifle but a high kick from the Doctor sent it spinning into the far corner. A second kick took him in the solar plexus and left him rolling on the floor, gasping for air.

The pale young man shoved his hand inside his jacket but before he could bring his gun up to bear, a rifle shot rang out, sending the gun spinning across the floor. The pale young man grabbed at his stinging wrist and looked down at one of the guards the Doctor had sent sprawling. He was up on one knee, his rifle aimed squarely at his employer's chest. He tossed his head back, and his helmet flew off.

'Sergeant Yates!' The Doctor hurried over to him. 'My dear Mike, I'm terribly sorry to have hit you so hard.'

A little hoarsely, Yates muttered that it didn't hurt. He rose slowly, still covering the pale young man with his rifle.

The guard captain also staggered to his feet, stumbling over to his boss, followed by the third guard.

'You were infiltrated, Leader,' said the pale young man. 'Presumably at Smallmarshes.'

'Correct.' Yates's voice was getting stronger now.

Suddenly the pale young man lashed out with his fist, striking the guard leader's head.

Mike winced, expecting to see the guard fall back down, possibly losing a couple of teeth. Instead, his head was torn from his shoulders with a horrible ripping sound, sending blood and tissue everywhere. The head bounced a couple of times, before coming to rest by the door. A second later, the body hit the floor.

Without hesitation, Mike fired eight bullets into the pale young man's chest, but again the expected failed to occur. The man just smiled, and looked at his shredded suit, a line of smoking bullet holes dotting his chest.

'Cybernetics. He's been augmented by Cyber-technology!' The Doctor pulled Mike away. 'Run!'

Yates didn't need telling twice, and followed the Doctor through the door behind them. He turned briefly to put a bullet into the electronic keypad on the other side. 'That'll either stop them, or make it easier for them. I wonder which.'

The door didn't open, but a massive rip suddenly split it diagonally, and a suited arm thrust its way through the breach, feeling for the keypad.

The Doctor frowned. 'There's your answer, Sergeant, but I don't think it's going to keep them long. We ought to split up. Can you find us some transport?'

'I can probably find the Blackbird again.'

'Excellent. Get it ready. I need to find Marc and Tahni and get them away. Give me half an hour. If I'm not there, go and get Lethbridge-Stewart, Sir John Sudbury, Scobie and the whole United Nations if necessary. This place needs to be shut down.'

'Right-ho, Doctor. Good luck.' Mike slung his rifle over his shoulder and ran to the left, down a corridor.

The Doctor wondered which way to go. As the door opposite was ripped cleanly off its hinges, and hurled ten feet towards him, his decision was made for him. He ran in the opposite direction.

The pale young man and the surviving guard stood framed in the doorway. 'Kill him! Shoot him down.'

---

Sergeant Benton and his armed party, now in frill uniform, were waiting on the beach, watching the sea. Corporal Bell was there as well, as were a couple of local police officers including Sergeant Bob Lines.

One of the soldiers, Private Millar was operating a powerful sonar. 'Still approaching, sir. About eight craft plus something I can't identify. ETA approximately three minutes.'

Benton turned to Lines. 'How is the evacuation going?'

'Complete, Sergeant Benton. Just myself WPC Haggard and PC Attrill are left here.' Lines turned to the WPC. 'Pat, any news from Hastings?'

'No, Sarge, but we've set up road blocks everywhere. Nothing larger than a field mouse could get into Smallmarshes.'

'Good girl.'

Attrill walked over. 'Sarge?'

'Harry?'

'I know this seems strange, but the street lights are going out every so often. Electricity at the station is going on and off.'

'Probably something to do with this lot,' said Private Farley. He was pointing out to sea. Breaking the waves were a series of almost featureless egg-shaped capsules.

Each had just two tiny indentations at the front which suggested that they carried torpedoes of some sort.

'Right men, get prep-' Benton never finished. Breaking the water between the capsules was a massive horse-shaped green creature, covered in scales. Sharp fins ran down from its crested head to its long tail.

'It's a dinosaur,' muttered Private Johnson.

'It's bloody Nessie,' said Corporal Champion, priming his machine-gun. The other soldiers followed suit.

'You three, get back to the station,' said Benton to the police officers. 'Corporal Bell, go with them. Contact HQ if you can and request back-up.'

'Aye, sir.' Bell led the police officers away.

Farley was the first to open fire, seconds after the previously seamless roofs of the capsules slid open, revealing three Silurians in each. He saw their third eyes glowing red and Private Beaton, nearest to them, dropped his rifle and fell dead. Farley's first burst took two Silurians full in the face and they dropped lifelessly into the water, but the others ploughed on relentlessly.

Benton did not hesitate. 'Fall back, near the cliff-side cottage,' he yelled. Without waiting for further instructions, the soldiers retreated, firing. Another Silurian died, but two of Benton's platoon were killed in return.

Benton unclipped a grenade and Millar beside him did the same. Benton's aim was off, and his grenade exploded harmlessly near the massive bulk of the huge green sea creature. Millar's, however, landed right inside one of the capsules and exploded immediately, sending two Silurians into the air, their bodies alight. A chain reaction started, and two more capsules exploded, presumably killing their occupants.

Benton and Millar scrambled up the cliff to the cottage, but neither could see the other men.

'We can't be all that's left, sir,' Millar said, dropping his sonar tracking pack.

'No, we're not. The others are with Farley over there. Look.'

Farley was on the higher ground further from the cliff

He waved frantically to them.

'What's going on?' Millar wondered.

Benton turned and saw the sea creature behind them, just disappearing around the back wall of the cottage.

'Stay quiet, Millar.'

Millar flattened himself against the wall, while Benton stepped slightly forward. At that moment, the sea creature's head peered around the wall on its long neck, and for a second Benton saw a spark of intelligence in its eyes. It was sizing them up, he realized, working out where they had gone.

Benton turned back to Millar as the sea creature lifted a front flipper and touched the corner of the cottage. A massive blue flash caused Benton to cover his eyes and, as it faded, he saw Millar, still gripping the wall. His eyes were gone, his skin blistered and puckered. Smoke emerged from his empty eye sockets and mouth, before he pitched forward onto his face.

Benton fired his revolver pointlessly a couple of times before scrambling up the hill above the cliff.

'I can't see a bloody thing through this smoke,' he muttered as Farley helped him up the last few feet.

'We lost Beaton, Ashton and Mitchell, sir, as well as Millar. And I've not seen either Corporal Champion or Private Salt.'

Benton watched as one of his men carefully picked off another Silurian. 'We're going to need to stop that creature before anything else runs into it, Private. You get the flares, light some and see if you can guide Champion and Salt towards us. I'm going to get the heavy artillery out.'

He dashed back to one of the UNIT Landrovers and hoisted a bazooka out of the back. He flicked the catch, loaded it and put two more shells under his arm. He then headed back towards the cliff-top in time to see Farley lighting a flare and hurling it into the fog.

The flare landed at the feet of the sea creature, and it backed off slightly. Suddenly, emerging from the smoke, he could see Champion and Salt running towards him. Champion saw the creature, but Salt was not so lucky, running straight into its tail and then frying as thousands of volts spasmed through his body.

Benton fired the bazooka, but it exploded harmlessly beside the creature. As Farley hauled Champion up, Benton fired again. Farley too lobbed another flare into the murk. Again, the creature ignored the blast, but moved away from the flare. Benton suddenly dropped the bazooka and snatched the bag of flares from Farley.