Post by Fitz Kreiner on Feb 8, 2011 19:23:07 GMT
Friday, December 17th, 1999
Tom sat beside the Brigadier as the old soldier drove his Rolls Royce down the gravel drive of the Wingmoore Institute. They had talked late into the last night about their respective research into James Duncan and his coming to power. The Brigadier’s journalist friend had been recently forced to cease investigating, although he had implied that something like that wouldn’t have stopped her. Harry Sullivan, it turned out, was following up leads in France and Spain, spending some time flitting between the two countries, sending coded messages back to Lethbridge-Stewart.
That had been followed by a rather delicious supper and a few more glasses of scotch. He had to admit, the Brigadier had a very fine taste in whisky. Whilst not a connoisseur himself, he did rather enjoy the old man’s taste in single malts.
“I have to admit,” the Brigadier said, glancing across at Tom as he drew the car up. “I’m not entirely sure what to say to this Crompton chap.”
“I’d have thought you’d have been old hat at doing all this,” Tom said.
“Yes, well,” the Brigadier said as he took the keys from the ignition. “It’s been some time. You don’t have much call for these civil servant busy body types when you teach mathematics at a boy’s school.”
“Just wing it, you’ll be fine,” Tom winked as he got out of the car and closed the door behind him. “Be prepared, this could be good fun, I can’t imagine Crompton will be best pleased to see me.”
“Don’t worry my dear fellow,” the Brigadier replied, gesturing to the doors with his cane, “I’ve dealt with many like him, I can give as good as I get.”
“I believe you,” Tom laughed, “and so do I!”
“Well then,” the Brigadier said setting off towards the doors, “let’s grab the bull by the horns.”
*
Kevin Crompton sat at his desk, turned to face the security monitors. His mouth was already a grim line, the rage evident across his face. The young man, Rowan, was back, and he’d brought someone with him; some old codger by the looks of things. Whoever the old man was, Crompton was sure that he could manage the pair of them.
Closing down the cover to the security monitors, Crompton turned in his chair to face the door and awaited the imminent knock. He was prepared for Rowan’s return; he knew that the man wouldn’t have let his being thrown out lie. Leaning back and interlacing his fingers, he let a smug smile slide onto his face. He knew that the young man would be agitated and probably lay into him, but he was prepared; he had a video camera installed in his office now, and would record their meeting and would send the footage to Mr. Duncan. He was still feeling smug when there was a knock at the door.
“Yes, come,” he barked.
To his surprise, only one person entered his office; the old man. He had a military bearing, Crompton could tell that, and there was the regimental pin on his tie as well.
“Good morning,” the man said walking purposefully towards him. “It’s governor Crompton isn’t it. My name is Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, formerly of UNIT.”
“Brigadier?” Crompton asked, eyeing the stranger suspiciously. “Aren’t you a little old to still be in service?”
The old soldier harrumphed and took a seat. “I may be getting on in years, governor, but my mind is still as sharp as ever. As the former head of the UK division of UNIT and one of the founding members, I am perhaps the only person on the planet who has an intimate knowledge of your prisoner; the Master.”
“Are you?” Crompton asked, raising an eyebrow and looking at the door over the Brigadier’s shoulder. “And what brings you here, may I ask? And, where is your compatriot?”
“Oh, Mr. Rowan,” the Brigadier smiled, sitting back in the chair. “I sent him to have a bit of a chin-wag with your prisoner, you don’t mind, do you? Only, I have full authority. Now, I, meanwhile, wanted to have a bit of a chat with you.”
Crompton shifted uncomfortably, “what about?” he asked.
The Brigadier leant forwards on his cane. “I want to know what influence the Master has on you,” he said slowly and simply.
“I beg your pardon?” Crompton spluttered.
“The Master,” the Brigadier continued, “has been in this institution since September. He has remained put, not attempted to escape, not attempted to hypnotise anyone in this institution, and as of yet has not killed anyone in this institution. His last time in prison, he killed his guards and escaped before being recaptured and sent to a prison on an island, and still he escaped after taking control, contacting a hostile force and killing his collaborators. So tell me, Governor Crompton, why are you still alive?”
“Brigadier, if that really is your title,” Crompton said, his smug grin turned to a frown of annoyance, “I don’t take kindly to people coming unannounced into my institution and accusing me of being corrupt.”
“Well, I’m sure that you can see my point of view,” the Brigadier said. “If you’re familiar with the Master and his ways, you must have read his files, you must know what the man is capable of.”
“I do,” Crompton said, his face reddening deeper. “I do not allow any solo visits, apart from your colleague, Mr. Rowan, who’s insistent that he sees the man alone and his UNIT appointed lawyer. There are security cameras, all guards are issued with tazer batons, when people see him, it’s in pairs, when I go to visit him, I have two armed guards with me.” Crompton paused and sat back. “I can assure you Mr. Stewart, every precaution has been taken.”
“I do hope so, and it’s Lethbridge-Stewart” the Brigadier said. “I just find it rather suspicious that the man has been here since September, that’s three months, without trying to escape. Given his record, don’t you find that rather suspicious?”
“What can I say?” Crompton shrugged. “This Master character is getting on, he’s old, I doubt that he’s got the same level of drive that he had back in the seventies. Besides, we’re civil to him, and he seems to respect that.”
“I somehow doubt that the key to the Master’s imprisonment is merely being civil,” the Brigadier countered. “Whatever that man does it’s always far from civil, even if he masks it with civility. And as for his age, well, having a history with him and others like him, I can tell you that however infirm he may appear, however old he may seem, I sincerely doubt that would stop someone like him.”
“Even so, Mr. Lethbridge-Stewart,” Crompton sighed, “the matter is surely academic; the point of the matter is that the man has been here for three months, and has not escaped, not attempted to escape and nor has he shown any hostility to any of my staff.”
“Even so,” the Brigadier said, “I would still like to see your security measures.”
“Very well,” Crompton said, getting to his feet. “If you’d care to follow me.”
Getting to his feet, the Brigadier followed Crompton from his office.
*
Tom walked down the concrete corridor, his hearts pounding and his mouth dry. He was about to visit the Master again, only this time the power ratio would be different; the Master now knew that Tom could snap, he now knew how to make Tom snap. That gave him the upper hand, Tom now couldn’t play the power card of being able to walk out and leave the other man imprisoned. His last visit here had given the Master a great psychological victory. He was now more nervous than his first visit.
Looking up, he saw the door before him; he had walked down the corridor in such a daze that he hadn’t realised where exactly he was. He was now stood facing the Master who was looking up at him with a puzzlingly neutral expression on his face. Tom had expected him to be looking either smug or sarcastic.
“Welcome back, Mr. Rowan,” the Master purred. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting to see you today.”
“Yeah, well,” Tom said, rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I still wanted to run a few things past you.”
“Please, do come in, sit down,” the Master said offering the opposing chair to the one he was sat in. “Would you care for a drink? Only you look a little shaken.”
Tom found himself sitting and nodding to accept the drink. Before he fully realised where he was and what he was doing he was sat down opposite the Master, a glass of brandy in his hand. A brief thought flashed through his mind; was the Master in his head?
“Well, what can I do for you?” the Master asked before cocking his head to one side. “Are you well?”
“Yes, thanks,” Tom replied. “Erm, sorry about yesterday,” he said rather feebly.
The Master laughed. “Oh that,” he smiled. “Completely forgot all about it. You’re under a lot of pressure, and you are quite young after all. You know, there are times when I can almost see a bit of me in you.”
That last sentence snapped Tom into the time and place. “I’m not like you,” he said.
“We’re both exiles, well, renegades if you will,” the Master explained. “Both on the run from our own people, not always on the right side of the local law,”
“You’re never on the right side of any law,” Tom cut in. “You’d even be against the law of gravity if you could.”
The Master chuckled again. “Thank you for your belief in me,” he smiled.
“That wasn’t actually meant as a compliment,” Tom said.
“By your own admission, we work along different rules,” the Master smiled. “So what is it you wish to talk to me about?”
“Well, quite frankly, I’m stuck,” Tom admitted. “I’m trapped on this planet, no way off, no real friends and I’m completely lost. Cards on the table; I think I might be in over my head here.”
“There, does that feel better?” the Master asked. “You’re finally opening up to me and being honest. We’ve established a good level of trust.”
“Well, possibly,” Tom said. “But this whole James Duncan thing, I just dunno.”
“I told you,” the Master said, “he’s not meant to be the British monarch. And yes, I suspect that there is some form of extra-terrestrial involvement. I’ve read the papers and know about these so called ‘Tower UFO’s’. I think what you want me to tell you is; who these aliens are, who James Duncan is and what his plans are?”
“Erm, yeah, that might help,” Tom replied. “So you’re saying you know?”
“No,” the Master replied simply. “From all accounts, James Duncan is who he says he is; James Duncan. Although whether he is really a descendant of Elizabeth the first is another matter. Without my TARDIS, I can’t pop back and check for you.”
“Tell me where it is, and I will,” Tom said.
“Not very subtle, but a nice try,” the Master smiled. “No, I don’t think I’ll be letting you know that information. Anything else, then I will certainly try my best.”
“Alright,” Tom said. “No riddles, no double meanings, just flat talk; what do you know about this whole shebang?”
“Alright then, Mr. Rowan,” the Master said, sitting back and steepling his hands. “This ‘shebang’, as you so eloquently put it, I believe to have been orchestrated for some unknown nefarious means. It’s plunging the United Kingdom into chaos, dividing people. It seems as though James Duncan has a great support from the public, but with any dramatic and sudden change, it unsettles the populace and resistance and splinter groups will always rise. To my mind, this could be for one major reason.”
“And what’s that?” Tom asked, sniffing the brandy before taking a sip.
“Infiltration,” the Master replied simply. “I would suspect that our Mr. Duncan is in league with whoever is behind these ‘Tower UFO’s’, and they are using this to cause enough disturbance within this country so that they can arrive unopposed. Let’s not forget that Mr. Duncan now has total control over the police and armed forces.”
“That’s what he’s up to?” Tom asked. “Doing what you’d do? Bringing an alien invasion force to Earth?”
“Has anyone on Earth detected any alien craft nearby?” the Master asked.
“No, not that I know of,” Tom replied. “But then, we both know that 20th Century Earth isn’t the most advanced planet. There are literally thousands of species in this time scale who can reach this planet and sit above it, undetected.”
“True, true,” the Master replied, nodding, “although I’m sure that you’ve noted the shapes of these unidentified objects.”
“Yeah, but it’s pretty hard when all you’ve got to go on is just a few lights,” Tom said. “I’ve sat down and sketched a few ideas over the lights, and there are just so many. It’s like looking up at the sky and trying to see the full shape of the constellations. You just can’t do it based on that.”
“Never say never, Mr. Rowan,” the Master replied. “All I will say to you is, don’t trust your military allies.”
“I’ve got a contact,” Tom started.
“If they’re military, I wouldn’t trust them,” the Master warned.
“You’d never trust military because of your history,” Tom countered. “I’ve not told you what my contact is. Not that I know who they are, but they’ve already told me that I’m being investigated by the UNIT lot, so I’m sure I can trust them some way.”
“You’re already being investigated. Well in that case, I suggest you act with supreme caution. You’re most likely being observed here and I would imagine that our friendly governor is sending reports about you back to Mr. Duncan. Although, speaking of which, how did he let you back in here after yesterday’s outburst?”
Tom shifted slightly. “I came with a friend; someone who’s got a fair bit of clout with authorities.”
“Very enterprising of you,” the Master purred. “But if I were you, and if you truly are one of the Doctor’s brigade, then you should be able to work outside the law as it were, and probably in a more legal capacity than I would. If you take a page from my book, things would be done a lot quicker and it’s a lot more fun.”
“I’m playing this my way,” Tom said. “It might not be yours and it might not be strictly the Doctor’s way, but it’s my way and I’m comfortable with it.”
“And it’s got you nowhere,” the Master replied. “You’ve been to see me how many times in the last few days?”
“I’ve just needed your advice and experience,” Tom said, shifting uncomfortably again. “I’ve got to a certain level with my own research and contacts.”
“And you still ended up here,” the Master said softly.
“And I can still walk out,” Tom replied. “We can go over this for days but it doesn’t detract from the point, you need my help as much as I need yours, because you’re the one stuck in this cell.”
“I concede to you on that point,” the Master smiled. “I will say that you have done very well on your own. You know what you have to do, the answer is staring you in the face.”
Tom narrowed his eyes as he looked at the Master. Taking another sip of the brandy, he opened his mouth to speak again before closing it and looking intently at the Master again. “What? You?” he asked.
The Master laughed. “You’re too kind, and rather modest,” he said. “You simply have to expose our Mr. Duncan for what he is, a corrupt and power hungry little human.”
“You’re sure of that?” Tom asked.
“Mr. Rowan,” the Master said simply, sitting forwards. “I’m a man of the universe. I’ve seen so much more than you in my years, I know who is who. I can read them very well and Mr. Duncan is not an heir to the British throne. He is not a strategic master, he is not a genius. He’s a simple human being, and I would imagine, for all that he has achieved and as clever as his strategies may seem, there’s something behind it that he could not have done on his own. I’ve heard him speak, and I’ve seen him on the television. I’m sure most of the psychologists on this little planet with their limited scope would agree that he’s not like that. There’s a power behind him, Mr. Rowan. Expose or remove that, and Mr. Duncan will fall and history, as the Doctor would put it, will be allowed to take its proper course.”
“You’re sure of all this?” Tom asked.
“Speculating,” the Master replied. “Although I would suggest that it is likely. I can’t give you any more information than that I’m afraid. From here on in you’re on your own, unless of course you can organise my release, and then I’d be happy to help.”
“I told you the other day, I can’t exchange info for your freedom,” Tom replied. “And besides, your history doesn’t fill me with any confidence that you’d actually help.”
The Master spread his hands, “have I not helped you here?” he asked.
“You haven’t really had much choice here,” Tom replied. “Outside though, if I turn my back, you’d either shoot me in it or bugger off. I’m not taking that chance. At least if you’re here, I know where you are and that you’re safe and secure.”
“Oh, my dear Mr. Rowan,” the Master said, drawing his hands back in and adopting a hurt look. “After all the progress we’ve made, you go and spoil it all again.”
“I have no guarantee,” Tom said.
“I can give you my word,” the Master said. “That’s the only guarantee anyone can give another.”
“Even so,” Tom said downing the remains of the brandy and getting to his feet. “I still know where you are here and I know I can call on you at any time.”
“For the moment,” the Master replied. “Do you really think Mr. Duncan will allow you to continue to allow you to visit me when he learns how close you are getting to him? Somehow I doubt it. I would strongly advise you to be vigilant; you’re most likely being followed and watched. We already know that reports are being written about you and someone in UNIT has told you that you are being investigated. It wouldn’t surprise me if you find yourself an outlaw before too much longer. That means you’ll be on my side of things for once.”
“Thanks for your advice,” Tom said, “I’ll bear it in mind.”
“See that you do,” the Master warned. “I’m being totally sincere here; you have my word on that. If I were you, I would be very, very careful.”
“Like I said, I’ll keep it in mind,” Tom replied.
“Do,” the Master said as Tom turned to leave. “Because I doubt that you’ll manage to get to see me here again.”
“What do you mean?” Tom asked, whirling round at the door.
“I said before,” the Master replied. “I doubt that Mr. Duncan will allow you access to such a prisoner as I if he learns what you’re doing. I’ll either be moved elsewhere or you will be arrested. One or the other, if not both, in fact, you may find yourself in another cell in this institute.”
“I’m sure that won’t happen,” Tom said, turning and walking from the cell.
The Master watched Tom leave, his lips pursed and nodded. “Don’t you be too sure,” he said softly as the door clicked closed.
*
“Well, what did you learn?” the Brigadier asked as he drove the car out of the gates of the Wingmoore Institute.
“That the Master seems to be trying to unsettle me,” Tom replied, “although I can see certain logic to what he says.”
“And what’s that?” the Brigadier asked.
“That James Duncan is as much the heir to the throne of England as I’m Father Christmas. Which is pretty much what we already knew,” Tom replied. “Although it seems as though Duncan is tightening the net on my investigations. We suspect that he might just be doing this to cause enough chaos for an alien force to arrive, which would explain the Tower UFO’s. That’s the Master’s theory anyway, and it actually makes sense.”
“Do explain,” the Brigadier said.
“Well, if you think about it,” Tom explained. “With Duncan coming to power so quickly, the sudden abdication of Elizabeth, it’s turned the country upside down. There’s been a lot of confusion and what with all these cabinet shufflings going on since September, well, no one’s quite sure who’s who and whether they’re coming or going.”
“Yes, I suppose I can see that,” the Brigadier replied.
“But we still don’t know whether this is a full scale invasion,” Tom replied. “But then, this might not be the case either, the Master did say that he was speculating.”
“And don’t forget, old chap, this is the Master we’re talking about,” the Brigadier said. “I’d take anything that he said with more than a pinch of salt.”
“I do,” Tom replied. “I wouldn’t trust him if he said that all the seas of the world were wet. But there we are. What’s our next plan?”
“My next plan is to drop you back off, I’m afraid,” the Brigadier said. “Where is London HQ these days?”
“Drop me off?” Tom asked. “But I thought we were working together on this, I told you that I’m being investigated by UNIT.”
“All the more reason not to spend too much time with me, old boy,” the Brigadier replied. “Think about it, they’re not a bunch of dunderhead’s in UNIT, they’ll work out that you’re spending too much time with an old-timer like me and get suspicious. And at my age, I don’t think I’m cut out for this lark any more.”
“So you’re not going to help?” Tom asked, his voice becoming downbeat.
“On the contrary, I’ll offer as much help as I can,” the Brigadier said. “It’s just I don’t want you getting into too much trouble, especially if they find out you’re coming to see me all the time as well as the Master, and besides, I already have a prior engagement tonight.” The Brigadier turned his head to Tom and smiled.
“Oh?” Tom asked.
“Yes, meeting up with some old UNIT chaps; the two Jimmy’s, Mike and old John,” the Brigadier said, his eyes drifting off slightly before returning to the road.
“Ah right,” Tom said. “I thought you were referring to something you may have planned with Doris.”
“Oh dear, no,” the Brigadier said with a chuckled. “It’s Doris’s bridge club tonight, she’ll be out for a while, so as the old saying goes; while the cat’s away.”
Tom chuckled. “So, when can we meet up again to discuss how things are going?”
“When the time is right, Tom,” the Brigadier said. “If you are being investigated, we have to tread carefully. Have you got one of these mobile telephone things?”
“Yeah,” Tom replied. “UNIT issue, but I’ve got one.”
“Well, that may be tapped, but it’s the best bet. If you give me the number, I can contact you on that,” the Brigadier smiled.
*
Corporal Loding had not been expecting any visitors to have arrived that day. The CCTV cameras from the outside of the building had showed a rather official looking black car arrive, coupled with what looked like a Military Police escort. A frantic telephone call, mere minutes later, had informed her that Sir Daniel Ashfield and General Bailey had arrived.
Several more minutes had passed, after she had told the garage attendant to send them up to the operations room, before the duo arrived, flanked by two MP’s, their grim demeanours and red peaked caps. The mere presence of the two military police sent a slight shiver through her blood. It was rare that the ordinary army had dealings with UNIT, mostly it was General Bailey, which is why he was here, she guessed. But to be joined with two MP’s, that meant trouble, more likely trouble for someone in UNIT.
As soon as the four entered the operations room, she jumped to her feet, snapping to attention and saluting.
“At ease, Corporal,” Bailey said, returning the salute.
“May I help you, sir?” she asked.
Bailey removed his cap and ran his hand through his thinning hair. “Is Captain Morris about today?” he asked.
“I think so, sir,” Loding replied. “I think all senior staff are in today, other than,” she tailed off when she saw Sir Daniel’s head snap up and look intently at her. “I mean, myself, Sergeant Lovatt and Captain Morris are all on duty this morning.”
“Would you call him,” Ashfield said, jumping in before Bailey. “This is a matter of national security.”
“May I ask-?” Loding started.
“No, Corporal, you may not,” Ashfield shouted. “Now, are you going to get me Captain Morris?”
“Sir,” Loding said, snapping to attention again and saluting before hurrying from the room.
“I must ask, sir,” Bailey said as soon as Loding had left, “Are you sure on this?”
“I’ve read and re-read the reports, General,” Ashfield said. “I have full authority for this matter. There is a serious risk to national security, and indeed world security in this unit, and we have to stamp it out.”