Post by Fitz Kreiner on May 4, 2011 14:56:13 GMT
Tom cautiously peered through the open garage door. The inside of the garage was deserted, not even a car sat in the open space. Glancing back over his shoulder, he beckoned to Kelly, who was glancing furtively about further down the road.
“All clear,” he whispered as she approached.
“I’m not sure about this,” Kelly whispered back. “It was bad enough last time I was here. They weren’t exactly friendly to me then, but now, I just don’t know.”
“Everyone’s out it seems,” Tom replied. “At least, all the cars are gone. And someone left the door open for us. Come on.”
Taking another glance around, Tom set off into the garage. Cautiously, Kelly followed him across the empty concrete floor. He paused at the door leading into the HQ, tapping an entry code into the number pad beside the door. Tom paused as he gently opened the door, cautiously peering through the widening gap into the corridors. Without a word he cautiously stepped through the door before beckoning for Kelly to follow him.
Their journey through the corridors of UNIT HQ was a slow and laborious task. Each door and corridor intersection, each window and corner caused them to pause to see whether there was anyone the other side.
Kelly could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Tom seemed nonplussed about sneaking through the building, despite knowing that they were out to arrest him. She was starting to have second thoughts. She’d never been in trouble with the police, and she was sure that what they were doing was verging on treason, especially if what Tom had said about trying to stop James Duncan from getting to the throne.
The sound of a door closing coming from behind them caused Tom to pause and spin round, grabbing Kelly by the shoulders as he peered past her.
“Maybe not good news,” he muttered, “come on.”
Grabbing Kelly’s hand, Tom half led, half dragged her behind him towards the stairwell. Chancing a look over her shoulder as she followed Tom through the door, Kelly saw a woman in a uniform with sergeant stripes on her arm, looking at a file in her hands, before the door closed on her. The door appeared to close with a deafening clang and Kelly hoped that the sergeant hadn’t looked up and seen them through the small frosted window.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” she repeated as she followed Tom up the stairs.
“Good idea or not, there are some things I want to get from the lab before UNIT and the police really clamp down,” Tom replied as he reached the top floor and opened the door before peering through. “There’s some stuff in there I really don’t want falling into Duncan’s, or anyone to do with his, hands.”
“Ok,” Kelly said slowly. “Like what? I mean, I can’t say I want to get involved with anything treasonous.”
“It’s not treason when you’re not a British subject,” Tom winked.
“Well, I bloody well am,” Kelly replied.
“Duncan isn’t meant to be king, it’s not treason if we’re restoring the rightful monarch, is it?” Tom countered.
“Are you sure?” Kelly asked.
“The Master told me,” Tom replied. “I had a funny feeling about Duncan, but he confirmed it.”
“Whoa there,” Kelly said, tugging on Tom’s hand and causing him to stop. “This is the super criminal, the one who tried to kill you. You’re taking his word that this isn’t meant to happen? He might be saying it to get you into trouble; did that ever occur to you?”
Tom looked at Kelly, his eyes almost boring into hers. “He isn’t lying, not this time,” he said. “I know what he’s done, but I trust him this time, I have to. He’s all I’ve got.”
“Okay, that’s worrying, what do you mean, ‘all you’ve got’?”
“I don’t have the Doctor anymore,” Tom replied. “I’m not very good at this on my own. I’m relying on the Master’s help because only the Master knows what’s fully going on, even if he doesn’t always tell me everything or hides it behind double and treble meanings. I don’t have anyone.”
“You’ve got me,” Kelly replied with a smile.
“Thanks,” Tom smiled back. “Good to know I’ve got one friend.”
“Course,” Kelly replied reaching out and putting her hand on Tom’s arm.
Tom nodded before turning and disappearing into the lab. Rolling her eyes at the Time Lord’s sudden change of mood, Kelly followed him in. The lab didn’t seem much changed from when she last saw it; the thick cloth was still pinned up over the windows and the lights were still off, the small desk lamp providing the only illumination. Tom was walking over towards the computer in the corner. Kelly could just see a note taped to the centre monitor that Tom was reaching towards.
“What is it?” she asked, walking over to him.
“A note?” Tom shrugged as he pulled it open. “My guess, from this mysterious ‘friend’ I’ve got.”
Kelly looked at the note. It was a single piece of A4 paper, folded in half. It was UNIT headed with the globe motif backed with two wings. There were just a few sentences typed across the page:
“Tom, we’ve got orders that you’re to be arrested on sight and taken to James Duncan. Captain Morris has been taken to collect the Master. You can’t rely on anyone any more. I’m sorry. I’m going to get as much information as I can for you. Meet me tomorrow at 1600 hours in the cellar of the old UNIT storehouse outside Thamesmead.
Your last friend in UNIT.”
“Ok, you’ve got two friends then,” Kelly said, reading the note over Tom’s shoulder.
“Possibly,” Tom replied thoughtfully chewing on his lip.
The look made Kelly smile. She remembered Jess doing something similar when she thought things over. “Ok, what’s up?”
“I dunno,” Tom replied slowly. “Just this message; got to think about it.”
“You think it’s a trap?” Kelly asked.
“I dunno,” Tom repeated. “So far, whoever this is, they’ve not led me wrong.”
“Ok,” Kelly replied. “Well, is there anything I can do?”
Tom turned round to glance round the lab. “Those books there,” he said pointing to a pile of books heaped on the floor next to the sofa. “Could you look through and collect any which have a bookmark in them?”
Kevin Crompton slammed the phone down in annoyance. It hadn’t been enough that the young trouble maker Rowan had been disrupting his establishment, but now an entire delegation from UNIT had turned up, headed by Sir Daniel Ashfield, one of James Duncan’s major aids.
Crompton turned to the security monitors which sat behind his desk. Sir Daniel was marching at the head of a procession of soldiers, two officers and four privates. The four privates had different hats to the two officers, which caused Crompton to narrow his eyes with curiosity. It was when they marched passed one of the cameras that he saw two letters on their uniforms; “MP”.
He turned back to his desk and activated the screen which slid down to conceal the security monitors. Several seconds later there was a rap at his office door.
“Come in,” he shouted.
The door opened and Sir Daniel marched into the centre of the room, the two officers standing close behind him. As he approached the desk, Sir Daniel reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“Mr. Crompton, I have a warrant here to transfer your prisoner,” he said, unfolding the paper.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” Crompton asked, eyeing the soldiers in the room.
“By order of Mr. Duncan,” Ashfield continued, “We’re taking charge of the prisoner until he can be transferred onto another unit.”
“But, he’s my prisoner,” Crompton replied feebly, starting to tremble slightly in fury. “I’ve served Mr. Duncan well and done my duty to keep the prisoner contained.”
“Yes, you have,” Ashfield replied, placing the paper on Crompton’s desk. “But as you see, he’s no longer your prisoner, he’s ours.”
Crompton slammed his hand on the paper and pulled it towards him. The letter head and signature were perfectly clear. This was an order direct from Mr. Duncan. “What’s going to happen to me; to my institute, my job?” he asked.
“This institute will remain open, although you will get a different class of prisoner, not such a high class as your current inmate,” Ashfield said. “At present, this institute has an occupant of one prisoner and vacancies for a further one hundred and forty nine. At present, those are spaces going spare; due to the nature of this prisoner we cannot expose him to other criminals. Once he is removed, this will no longer be an issue and this institute will be able to operate at peak efficiency.”
“I see,” Crompton said, his voice clearly resigned.
“Don’t worry about it, Kevin,” Ashfield said, smiling, “it means a promotion and pay rise for you.”
“Sir?” Crompton asked.
“Governor of a full working prison, it will generate you much more income than guarding one man,” Ashfield said. “Now, could you show us to the prisoner?”
The Master barely glanced up as he heard the door to his cell click open and slide back with a dull thud. He was fast becoming used to getting visitors. He could hear the heavy thuds of Crompton’s fake leather brogues upon the grid on the corridor floor. They were accompanied by the lighter sound of a more expensive shoe and the heavy, in-time clomping of approximately six military boots.
“Here he is,” Crompton’s voice came from the door.
The Master folded his paper and looked up with a smile. “Mr Crompton, what a delight to see you again,” he said with barely concealed sarcasm. “And, Mr, no, sorry, Sir Daniel Ashfield,” he added spotting the second figure. “How’s the wife?” he asked with a cruel smile.
Sir Daniel glared at the Master with a grimace before turning down the corridor. “Get that thing out of here,” he said.
The Master pursed his lips as he watched Ashfield storm off down the corridor, Crompton scurrying after him. Two military figures appeared in the doorway, the Master recognised them both; the general had been present at his trial and the captain was one of the UNIT lot and had been present when Tom had captured him when the Doctor had foiled his last plan to enslave Earth.
“Captain Morris, so good to see you again,” the Master smiled. “And General Bailey isn’t it? What can I do for you gentlemen?”
“The Master, AKA Bernard Rogers, Emil Keller, Victor Magister, Professor Thascales, Colonel Masters, you are hereby transferred from the Wingmoore Institute, to be taken to the Tower of London under implicit orders from Mr. Duncan. There you are to be held until such a time as he will decide your fate,” Bailey said, reading from a sheet of paper he pulled from his pocket. “Do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” the Master replied. “I can’t imagine your Mr. Duncan being very receptive to me. After all, we all know that there isn’t a prison which can hold me.”
“This one managed to,” Bailey replied with a sly smile.
“Wingmoore is serving my interests,” the Master replied with a smile as he got to his feet. “Even if it does lack style,” he added looking down at his prison issue uniform.
“You may find the Tower a somewhat different place,” Morris said, stepping aside to let the four military police in.
“Indeed,” the Master replied, picking up a glass and downing the contents, “I was there when it was built.”
“Come on, move,” one of the MP’s barked at him and gesturing with his gun.
“Ah, ah,” the Master said, holding his hands up. “We all know that I’m going to my death, James Duncan is going to want to execute me because of what I know about him. Surely you can’t deny a dead man his last wish?”
“What?” Bailey replied, scepticism heavy in his voice.
“I believe it’s customary on this world to offer a condemned man a final cigarette,” the Master replied. “I’m not much of a cigarette smoker myself, but surely we can bend the rules to a final cigar?” he asked pointing to a wooden box on the table.
Morris looked over to Bailey who was staring at the box. “Sir?” he asked.
“It’s all I ask,” the Master said, raising his hand again.
“Alright,” Bailey nodded as he folded the paper and put it back in his pocket before looking at the two MP’s behind the Master. “You, cuff him, and you, check out that box.”
Nodding, the two soldiers shouldered their weapons. Reaching to his belt, one withdrew a stiff pair of handcuffs and reaching up, grabbed the Master’s hands and brought them down and together, roughly. With a metallic click, the cuffs fastened round his wrists. The other soldier carefully opened the wooden box. A silver cigar tube sat inside, alongside a packet of matches.
“Would you mind bringing the matches too?” the Master asked. “They keep the flavour in.”
Reaching into the box, the soldier removed the items and went to pocket them.
“Check those,” Morris said, keeping his eye on the Master and his hand on his holster.
“Sir,” the soldier replied, carefully unscrewing the end of the cigar tube. Tipping it up, the brown paper wrapped cigar slid into his palm. “All safe, sir,” he said after sniffing it cautiously.
“Right,” Bailey said, motioning to the other two soldiers, who were still covering the Master. “You two lead the prisoner, you others, follow on. Keep him covered at all times, is that understood?”
“Sir,” the four soldiers replied in unison.
With a last glance around the cell, the Master smiled through pursed lips and slowly nodded.
Kelly put the final book back on the pile. After flicking through them all, she had only found three which contained a bookmark. They were a bizarre mix of fiction and non-fiction books covering the time of the Tudors and the history of the kings and queens of Great Britain. Tom had spent all the time furiously typing at the computer. Only the centre screen of the seven was lit. It had so far taken nearly half an hour and Kelly was starting to get anxious. The longer they spent here, the greater their chance of getting caught.
She turned to look over at Tom, who was sliding a CD into the computer sat under the desk. She was about to go over to him and see what he was up to when a slight noise from the door made her turn. Unable to see out into the corridor and in the dim light of the lab, Kelly thought she saw the door handle begin to move.
Stepping closer to see it clearly, Kelly was in time to see it move to the fully down position and the door slowly opened. She was about to call out to Tom when the door crashed open with a bang, making her jump as the light from the corridor flooded in, causing her to screw up her eyes. Behind her she heard Tom turn loudly from where he was sat.
“OK, nobody move,” she heard a female voice say.
“Allison? Is that you?” Tom asked from behind her.
Kelly opened her eyes and saw a female soldier stood, silhouetted in the doorway, legs wide and her arms pointing into the room. She had seen enough films to know that the stance meant that she was pointing a gun in their direction, even if she couldn’t see it.
“I’m sorry, Tom,” the soldier replied. “I’ve got to take you in. It’s orders.”
“Allison, listen to me,” Kelly could hear Tom moving behind her and see the soldiers arms move as if she were following him round the room. “You know I’m innocent. I’ve not done anything wrong. I’m doing what Captain Morris asked me to do, what UNIT think is the right thing to do. No matter what your orders are, they’re wrong.”
“And if I don’t obey them, it’s mutiny and I’ll be court-martialled,” the soldier replied, stepping into the room. Kelly could now see three sergeant stripes on her arm, her hair was tied up into a bun and a red beret was folded up and stored under her epilate.
“But if you obey them, I can’t do anything to stop Duncan,” Tom replied. Kelly could now feel him stood beside her.
“That’s treasonous talk now, Tom,” Lovatt said.
“Not if you’re not British,” Tom replied. “That’s why I can do this.”
“What about her?” Lovatt asked.
“Please,” Kelly said, “I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“She’s with me,” Tom said, cutting in. “But if you are to arrest me, she goes free. That’s the only thing I ask if you decide that.”
“It’s my orders,” Lovatt replied.
“So you keep saying,” Tom said, stepping in front of Kelly, “but you don’t exactly sound convinced. Look, you know what I’m doing is right, you know about the UFO activity around the Tower, you know how suspicious certain people are over Duncan. You know I’m with the Doctor, and we’ve gone back a way, the Krynyyl in Derbyshire, the Autons and the Klil-Raath? You know I’m not on the side of those who want to destroy Earth, I’m trying to save it. Just give me ‘til the end of the weekend, and if I’ve made no headway, I’ll turn myself in. Deal?”
Lovatt’s arms lowered and she straightened up. “Alright,” she said, “but I am going to report that I saw you.”
“Allison,” Tom started.
“Report that I saw you fleeing, alone.” Lovatt continued. “You were fleeing into the crowd and I lost you. Now, go, before I change my mind or anyone else gets back.”
“Thank you,” Tom smiled. I owe you one, big time.”
“Too damn right,” Lovatt replied. “Now, go on.”
Grabbing Kelly’s hand, Tom lead her from the room, picking up the books as they passed. Watching them go, Lovatt re-holstered her pistol and swallowed hard. Her orders had been implicit; she was to arrest Tom if she saw him, and here she was letting him go. If Captain Morris or General Bailey returned now, she’d be for the high jump. She was about to turn to leave the lab when she saw a folded sheet of paper on the floor near the computers where Tom had been sitting. Curiosity over coming her, she walked over to it and picked it up, her eyes widening as she read the typed message.
Private Harrison sat in the back of the jeep as it followed the staff car back towards London. He was sat opposite the prisoner who had said nothing since they had left the institute. As they had left, he had made a rather scathing remark to Crompton, which left the man red faced and Harrison struggling hard to suppress a smile.
He still had no idea why they needed four military police to move one prisoner, especially as he was cuffed and had been searched prior to leaving. They had been briefed that he was an intensely dangerous man and had been behind the terror attack back in September, and had engaged in a number of terror activities back in the 1970s. The man didn’t look like much, he was shorter than Harrison and the other soldiers, and the greying at his temples and in his beard made him look old.
“Would you mind giving me my cigar now?”
The voice almost made Harrison jump. It was a purr from the prisoner and much politer than he would have expected from a man who was deemed to be the most dangerous in the country. He had been polite to everyone since they had picked him up, besides Crompton and Sir Daniel.
“When we get there,” Harrison replied, feeling the metal tube in his pocket.
“Oh, now surely it would make no difference if I were to start it now,” the Master replied. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere other than the Tower, and I believe that it’s non-smoking there.”
“Just give him the bloody cigar,” Palmer said from beside the prisoner. “Makes no difference and we were told to look after him.”
“You flatter me,” the Master smiled, as Palmer removed the cuff from one wrist. He looked around at the three other solders as they raised their guns to his face until his wrists had been fastened again in front of him. “May I?” he asked, holding his hands out.
Reaching into his pocket, Harrison pulled the silver tube out and unscrewed the end. Tipping it up, the brown cigar slid into his hand. It felt heavier than he expected, having never held a cigar before. Passing the thought off, he passed it over to the prisoner.
“Thank you,” the Master replied as he took it in his hand and brought it up to his mouth, stopping just before he reached it. “There’s been a mistake you know,” he said softly.
“What are you on about?” Harrison said.
“Shut up and smoke the bloody thing,” Palmer said, shifting to cover him with his gun. “Just light it will you, Harrison?”
“I really wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” the Master replied silkily. “As I said, there’s been a mistake. I’m not the man you’re looking for. There’s been a mistake.”
“What are you on about?” Harrison repeated, pulling the matches out of his pocket.
“There’s been a mistake, do you understand, a mistake,” the Master repeated. “I’m not the man you want. I am the Master, and you will obey me. You will obey.”
“Obey,” Harrison repeated faintly.
“I am the Master, and you will obey,” the Master repeated.
“Wake up you dozy git,” Palmer said, reaching across and hitting Harrison round the face, “he’s trying to hypnotise you.” He raised his gun and pointed it right in the Master’s face. “Nice try pal, but it don’t work on me. Stage hypnotist tried it a few years back, strong minded y’see,” he said, tapping the side of his head. “Now, try that nuts again and you’ll get a bullet, get me?”
“Perfectly,” the Master replied with a smile. “You are indeed a strong individual,” he added his eyes narrowing slightly before turning to Harrison. “Now, would you mind?”
Cautiously, Harrison struck the match on the box, the orange glare of the small wooden stick igniting caused a slight flash in the back of the jeep. Harrison thought he saw a glint of metal come from the prisoner’s hand but dismissed it almost immediately as the metal of the handcuffs.
Leaning in, the Master brought the cigar up to his mouth and towards the match which Harrison was cautiously holding out. The Master took a puff as the tobacco at the end of the paper wrapped tube it before pulling the cigar away from his mouth. Within a split second, the remaining paper surrounding the cigar flashed into flame, and with a flourish, the Master spun it round in his hand to avoid the flame.
As the last of the flash-paper burned off, a short, slender metal tube in black and silver sat in the Master’s hand.
“What the-?” Palmer said, still blinking over the split second event.
“What I can’t control,” he said with a cruel smile, “I shall destroy.” Depressing the end of the tube, he quickly moved it around to cover his four guards. The deadly beams of the Tissue Compression Eliminator struck all four of the men, who twisted and shrank away to shrivelled, doll-size figures, faint wisps of smoke coming from their dead bodies.
Twisting his hand, he produced the key to the cuffs, which he had palmed whilst he was getting the light from Harrison, and unlocked the hand cuffs. They fell to the floor of the jeep with a dull thud. Smiling to himself, the Master reached to the canvas which separated the cab of the jeep with the rear section and climbed through to the passenger seat.
“How is-?” the driver started before he noticed the Master sat beside him. "What the-?"
“Would you mind if I drove?” the Master asked, raising his TCE.
“All clear,” he whispered as she approached.
“I’m not sure about this,” Kelly whispered back. “It was bad enough last time I was here. They weren’t exactly friendly to me then, but now, I just don’t know.”
“Everyone’s out it seems,” Tom replied. “At least, all the cars are gone. And someone left the door open for us. Come on.”
Taking another glance around, Tom set off into the garage. Cautiously, Kelly followed him across the empty concrete floor. He paused at the door leading into the HQ, tapping an entry code into the number pad beside the door. Tom paused as he gently opened the door, cautiously peering through the widening gap into the corridors. Without a word he cautiously stepped through the door before beckoning for Kelly to follow him.
Their journey through the corridors of UNIT HQ was a slow and laborious task. Each door and corridor intersection, each window and corner caused them to pause to see whether there was anyone the other side.
Kelly could feel her heart pounding in her chest. Tom seemed nonplussed about sneaking through the building, despite knowing that they were out to arrest him. She was starting to have second thoughts. She’d never been in trouble with the police, and she was sure that what they were doing was verging on treason, especially if what Tom had said about trying to stop James Duncan from getting to the throne.
The sound of a door closing coming from behind them caused Tom to pause and spin round, grabbing Kelly by the shoulders as he peered past her.
“Maybe not good news,” he muttered, “come on.”
Grabbing Kelly’s hand, Tom half led, half dragged her behind him towards the stairwell. Chancing a look over her shoulder as she followed Tom through the door, Kelly saw a woman in a uniform with sergeant stripes on her arm, looking at a file in her hands, before the door closed on her. The door appeared to close with a deafening clang and Kelly hoped that the sergeant hadn’t looked up and seen them through the small frosted window.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” she repeated as she followed Tom up the stairs.
“Good idea or not, there are some things I want to get from the lab before UNIT and the police really clamp down,” Tom replied as he reached the top floor and opened the door before peering through. “There’s some stuff in there I really don’t want falling into Duncan’s, or anyone to do with his, hands.”
“Ok,” Kelly said slowly. “Like what? I mean, I can’t say I want to get involved with anything treasonous.”
“It’s not treason when you’re not a British subject,” Tom winked.
“Well, I bloody well am,” Kelly replied.
“Duncan isn’t meant to be king, it’s not treason if we’re restoring the rightful monarch, is it?” Tom countered.
“Are you sure?” Kelly asked.
“The Master told me,” Tom replied. “I had a funny feeling about Duncan, but he confirmed it.”
“Whoa there,” Kelly said, tugging on Tom’s hand and causing him to stop. “This is the super criminal, the one who tried to kill you. You’re taking his word that this isn’t meant to happen? He might be saying it to get you into trouble; did that ever occur to you?”
Tom looked at Kelly, his eyes almost boring into hers. “He isn’t lying, not this time,” he said. “I know what he’s done, but I trust him this time, I have to. He’s all I’ve got.”
“Okay, that’s worrying, what do you mean, ‘all you’ve got’?”
“I don’t have the Doctor anymore,” Tom replied. “I’m not very good at this on my own. I’m relying on the Master’s help because only the Master knows what’s fully going on, even if he doesn’t always tell me everything or hides it behind double and treble meanings. I don’t have anyone.”
“You’ve got me,” Kelly replied with a smile.
“Thanks,” Tom smiled back. “Good to know I’ve got one friend.”
“Course,” Kelly replied reaching out and putting her hand on Tom’s arm.
Tom nodded before turning and disappearing into the lab. Rolling her eyes at the Time Lord’s sudden change of mood, Kelly followed him in. The lab didn’t seem much changed from when she last saw it; the thick cloth was still pinned up over the windows and the lights were still off, the small desk lamp providing the only illumination. Tom was walking over towards the computer in the corner. Kelly could just see a note taped to the centre monitor that Tom was reaching towards.
“What is it?” she asked, walking over to him.
“A note?” Tom shrugged as he pulled it open. “My guess, from this mysterious ‘friend’ I’ve got.”
Kelly looked at the note. It was a single piece of A4 paper, folded in half. It was UNIT headed with the globe motif backed with two wings. There were just a few sentences typed across the page:
“Tom, we’ve got orders that you’re to be arrested on sight and taken to James Duncan. Captain Morris has been taken to collect the Master. You can’t rely on anyone any more. I’m sorry. I’m going to get as much information as I can for you. Meet me tomorrow at 1600 hours in the cellar of the old UNIT storehouse outside Thamesmead.
Your last friend in UNIT.”
“Ok, you’ve got two friends then,” Kelly said, reading the note over Tom’s shoulder.
“Possibly,” Tom replied thoughtfully chewing on his lip.
The look made Kelly smile. She remembered Jess doing something similar when she thought things over. “Ok, what’s up?”
“I dunno,” Tom replied slowly. “Just this message; got to think about it.”
“You think it’s a trap?” Kelly asked.
“I dunno,” Tom repeated. “So far, whoever this is, they’ve not led me wrong.”
“Ok,” Kelly replied. “Well, is there anything I can do?”
Tom turned round to glance round the lab. “Those books there,” he said pointing to a pile of books heaped on the floor next to the sofa. “Could you look through and collect any which have a bookmark in them?”
*
Kevin Crompton slammed the phone down in annoyance. It hadn’t been enough that the young trouble maker Rowan had been disrupting his establishment, but now an entire delegation from UNIT had turned up, headed by Sir Daniel Ashfield, one of James Duncan’s major aids.
Crompton turned to the security monitors which sat behind his desk. Sir Daniel was marching at the head of a procession of soldiers, two officers and four privates. The four privates had different hats to the two officers, which caused Crompton to narrow his eyes with curiosity. It was when they marched passed one of the cameras that he saw two letters on their uniforms; “MP”.
He turned back to his desk and activated the screen which slid down to conceal the security monitors. Several seconds later there was a rap at his office door.
“Come in,” he shouted.
The door opened and Sir Daniel marched into the centre of the room, the two officers standing close behind him. As he approached the desk, Sir Daniel reached into his suit jacket pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper.
“Mr. Crompton, I have a warrant here to transfer your prisoner,” he said, unfolding the paper.
“I beg your pardon, sir?” Crompton asked, eyeing the soldiers in the room.
“By order of Mr. Duncan,” Ashfield continued, “We’re taking charge of the prisoner until he can be transferred onto another unit.”
“But, he’s my prisoner,” Crompton replied feebly, starting to tremble slightly in fury. “I’ve served Mr. Duncan well and done my duty to keep the prisoner contained.”
“Yes, you have,” Ashfield replied, placing the paper on Crompton’s desk. “But as you see, he’s no longer your prisoner, he’s ours.”
Crompton slammed his hand on the paper and pulled it towards him. The letter head and signature were perfectly clear. This was an order direct from Mr. Duncan. “What’s going to happen to me; to my institute, my job?” he asked.
“This institute will remain open, although you will get a different class of prisoner, not such a high class as your current inmate,” Ashfield said. “At present, this institute has an occupant of one prisoner and vacancies for a further one hundred and forty nine. At present, those are spaces going spare; due to the nature of this prisoner we cannot expose him to other criminals. Once he is removed, this will no longer be an issue and this institute will be able to operate at peak efficiency.”
“I see,” Crompton said, his voice clearly resigned.
“Don’t worry about it, Kevin,” Ashfield said, smiling, “it means a promotion and pay rise for you.”
“Sir?” Crompton asked.
“Governor of a full working prison, it will generate you much more income than guarding one man,” Ashfield said. “Now, could you show us to the prisoner?”
*
The Master barely glanced up as he heard the door to his cell click open and slide back with a dull thud. He was fast becoming used to getting visitors. He could hear the heavy thuds of Crompton’s fake leather brogues upon the grid on the corridor floor. They were accompanied by the lighter sound of a more expensive shoe and the heavy, in-time clomping of approximately six military boots.
“Here he is,” Crompton’s voice came from the door.
The Master folded his paper and looked up with a smile. “Mr Crompton, what a delight to see you again,” he said with barely concealed sarcasm. “And, Mr, no, sorry, Sir Daniel Ashfield,” he added spotting the second figure. “How’s the wife?” he asked with a cruel smile.
Sir Daniel glared at the Master with a grimace before turning down the corridor. “Get that thing out of here,” he said.
The Master pursed his lips as he watched Ashfield storm off down the corridor, Crompton scurrying after him. Two military figures appeared in the doorway, the Master recognised them both; the general had been present at his trial and the captain was one of the UNIT lot and had been present when Tom had captured him when the Doctor had foiled his last plan to enslave Earth.
“Captain Morris, so good to see you again,” the Master smiled. “And General Bailey isn’t it? What can I do for you gentlemen?”
“The Master, AKA Bernard Rogers, Emil Keller, Victor Magister, Professor Thascales, Colonel Masters, you are hereby transferred from the Wingmoore Institute, to be taken to the Tower of London under implicit orders from Mr. Duncan. There you are to be held until such a time as he will decide your fate,” Bailey said, reading from a sheet of paper he pulled from his pocket. “Do you understand?”
“Perfectly,” the Master replied. “I can’t imagine your Mr. Duncan being very receptive to me. After all, we all know that there isn’t a prison which can hold me.”
“This one managed to,” Bailey replied with a sly smile.
“Wingmoore is serving my interests,” the Master replied with a smile as he got to his feet. “Even if it does lack style,” he added looking down at his prison issue uniform.
“You may find the Tower a somewhat different place,” Morris said, stepping aside to let the four military police in.
“Indeed,” the Master replied, picking up a glass and downing the contents, “I was there when it was built.”
“Come on, move,” one of the MP’s barked at him and gesturing with his gun.
“Ah, ah,” the Master said, holding his hands up. “We all know that I’m going to my death, James Duncan is going to want to execute me because of what I know about him. Surely you can’t deny a dead man his last wish?”
“What?” Bailey replied, scepticism heavy in his voice.
“I believe it’s customary on this world to offer a condemned man a final cigarette,” the Master replied. “I’m not much of a cigarette smoker myself, but surely we can bend the rules to a final cigar?” he asked pointing to a wooden box on the table.
Morris looked over to Bailey who was staring at the box. “Sir?” he asked.
“It’s all I ask,” the Master said, raising his hand again.
“Alright,” Bailey nodded as he folded the paper and put it back in his pocket before looking at the two MP’s behind the Master. “You, cuff him, and you, check out that box.”
Nodding, the two soldiers shouldered their weapons. Reaching to his belt, one withdrew a stiff pair of handcuffs and reaching up, grabbed the Master’s hands and brought them down and together, roughly. With a metallic click, the cuffs fastened round his wrists. The other soldier carefully opened the wooden box. A silver cigar tube sat inside, alongside a packet of matches.
“Would you mind bringing the matches too?” the Master asked. “They keep the flavour in.”
Reaching into the box, the soldier removed the items and went to pocket them.
“Check those,” Morris said, keeping his eye on the Master and his hand on his holster.
“Sir,” the soldier replied, carefully unscrewing the end of the cigar tube. Tipping it up, the brown paper wrapped cigar slid into his palm. “All safe, sir,” he said after sniffing it cautiously.
“Right,” Bailey said, motioning to the other two soldiers, who were still covering the Master. “You two lead the prisoner, you others, follow on. Keep him covered at all times, is that understood?”
“Sir,” the four soldiers replied in unison.
With a last glance around the cell, the Master smiled through pursed lips and slowly nodded.
*
Kelly put the final book back on the pile. After flicking through them all, she had only found three which contained a bookmark. They were a bizarre mix of fiction and non-fiction books covering the time of the Tudors and the history of the kings and queens of Great Britain. Tom had spent all the time furiously typing at the computer. Only the centre screen of the seven was lit. It had so far taken nearly half an hour and Kelly was starting to get anxious. The longer they spent here, the greater their chance of getting caught.
She turned to look over at Tom, who was sliding a CD into the computer sat under the desk. She was about to go over to him and see what he was up to when a slight noise from the door made her turn. Unable to see out into the corridor and in the dim light of the lab, Kelly thought she saw the door handle begin to move.
Stepping closer to see it clearly, Kelly was in time to see it move to the fully down position and the door slowly opened. She was about to call out to Tom when the door crashed open with a bang, making her jump as the light from the corridor flooded in, causing her to screw up her eyes. Behind her she heard Tom turn loudly from where he was sat.
“OK, nobody move,” she heard a female voice say.
“Allison? Is that you?” Tom asked from behind her.
Kelly opened her eyes and saw a female soldier stood, silhouetted in the doorway, legs wide and her arms pointing into the room. She had seen enough films to know that the stance meant that she was pointing a gun in their direction, even if she couldn’t see it.
“I’m sorry, Tom,” the soldier replied. “I’ve got to take you in. It’s orders.”
“Allison, listen to me,” Kelly could hear Tom moving behind her and see the soldiers arms move as if she were following him round the room. “You know I’m innocent. I’ve not done anything wrong. I’m doing what Captain Morris asked me to do, what UNIT think is the right thing to do. No matter what your orders are, they’re wrong.”
“And if I don’t obey them, it’s mutiny and I’ll be court-martialled,” the soldier replied, stepping into the room. Kelly could now see three sergeant stripes on her arm, her hair was tied up into a bun and a red beret was folded up and stored under her epilate.
“But if you obey them, I can’t do anything to stop Duncan,” Tom replied. Kelly could now feel him stood beside her.
“That’s treasonous talk now, Tom,” Lovatt said.
“Not if you’re not British,” Tom replied. “That’s why I can do this.”
“What about her?” Lovatt asked.
“Please,” Kelly said, “I don’t want to get in trouble.”
“She’s with me,” Tom said, cutting in. “But if you are to arrest me, she goes free. That’s the only thing I ask if you decide that.”
“It’s my orders,” Lovatt replied.
“So you keep saying,” Tom said, stepping in front of Kelly, “but you don’t exactly sound convinced. Look, you know what I’m doing is right, you know about the UFO activity around the Tower, you know how suspicious certain people are over Duncan. You know I’m with the Doctor, and we’ve gone back a way, the Krynyyl in Derbyshire, the Autons and the Klil-Raath? You know I’m not on the side of those who want to destroy Earth, I’m trying to save it. Just give me ‘til the end of the weekend, and if I’ve made no headway, I’ll turn myself in. Deal?”
Lovatt’s arms lowered and she straightened up. “Alright,” she said, “but I am going to report that I saw you.”
“Allison,” Tom started.
“Report that I saw you fleeing, alone.” Lovatt continued. “You were fleeing into the crowd and I lost you. Now, go, before I change my mind or anyone else gets back.”
“Thank you,” Tom smiled. I owe you one, big time.”
“Too damn right,” Lovatt replied. “Now, go on.”
Grabbing Kelly’s hand, Tom lead her from the room, picking up the books as they passed. Watching them go, Lovatt re-holstered her pistol and swallowed hard. Her orders had been implicit; she was to arrest Tom if she saw him, and here she was letting him go. If Captain Morris or General Bailey returned now, she’d be for the high jump. She was about to turn to leave the lab when she saw a folded sheet of paper on the floor near the computers where Tom had been sitting. Curiosity over coming her, she walked over to it and picked it up, her eyes widening as she read the typed message.
*
Private Harrison sat in the back of the jeep as it followed the staff car back towards London. He was sat opposite the prisoner who had said nothing since they had left the institute. As they had left, he had made a rather scathing remark to Crompton, which left the man red faced and Harrison struggling hard to suppress a smile.
He still had no idea why they needed four military police to move one prisoner, especially as he was cuffed and had been searched prior to leaving. They had been briefed that he was an intensely dangerous man and had been behind the terror attack back in September, and had engaged in a number of terror activities back in the 1970s. The man didn’t look like much, he was shorter than Harrison and the other soldiers, and the greying at his temples and in his beard made him look old.
“Would you mind giving me my cigar now?”
The voice almost made Harrison jump. It was a purr from the prisoner and much politer than he would have expected from a man who was deemed to be the most dangerous in the country. He had been polite to everyone since they had picked him up, besides Crompton and Sir Daniel.
“When we get there,” Harrison replied, feeling the metal tube in his pocket.
“Oh, now surely it would make no difference if I were to start it now,” the Master replied. “It’s not like I’m going anywhere other than the Tower, and I believe that it’s non-smoking there.”
“Just give him the bloody cigar,” Palmer said from beside the prisoner. “Makes no difference and we were told to look after him.”
“You flatter me,” the Master smiled, as Palmer removed the cuff from one wrist. He looked around at the three other solders as they raised their guns to his face until his wrists had been fastened again in front of him. “May I?” he asked, holding his hands out.
Reaching into his pocket, Harrison pulled the silver tube out and unscrewed the end. Tipping it up, the brown cigar slid into his hand. It felt heavier than he expected, having never held a cigar before. Passing the thought off, he passed it over to the prisoner.
“Thank you,” the Master replied as he took it in his hand and brought it up to his mouth, stopping just before he reached it. “There’s been a mistake you know,” he said softly.
“What are you on about?” Harrison said.
“Shut up and smoke the bloody thing,” Palmer said, shifting to cover him with his gun. “Just light it will you, Harrison?”
“I really wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” the Master replied silkily. “As I said, there’s been a mistake. I’m not the man you’re looking for. There’s been a mistake.”
“What are you on about?” Harrison repeated, pulling the matches out of his pocket.
“There’s been a mistake, do you understand, a mistake,” the Master repeated. “I’m not the man you want. I am the Master, and you will obey me. You will obey.”
“Obey,” Harrison repeated faintly.
“I am the Master, and you will obey,” the Master repeated.
“Wake up you dozy git,” Palmer said, reaching across and hitting Harrison round the face, “he’s trying to hypnotise you.” He raised his gun and pointed it right in the Master’s face. “Nice try pal, but it don’t work on me. Stage hypnotist tried it a few years back, strong minded y’see,” he said, tapping the side of his head. “Now, try that nuts again and you’ll get a bullet, get me?”
“Perfectly,” the Master replied with a smile. “You are indeed a strong individual,” he added his eyes narrowing slightly before turning to Harrison. “Now, would you mind?”
Cautiously, Harrison struck the match on the box, the orange glare of the small wooden stick igniting caused a slight flash in the back of the jeep. Harrison thought he saw a glint of metal come from the prisoner’s hand but dismissed it almost immediately as the metal of the handcuffs.
Leaning in, the Master brought the cigar up to his mouth and towards the match which Harrison was cautiously holding out. The Master took a puff as the tobacco at the end of the paper wrapped tube it before pulling the cigar away from his mouth. Within a split second, the remaining paper surrounding the cigar flashed into flame, and with a flourish, the Master spun it round in his hand to avoid the flame.
As the last of the flash-paper burned off, a short, slender metal tube in black and silver sat in the Master’s hand.
“What the-?” Palmer said, still blinking over the split second event.
“What I can’t control,” he said with a cruel smile, “I shall destroy.” Depressing the end of the tube, he quickly moved it around to cover his four guards. The deadly beams of the Tissue Compression Eliminator struck all four of the men, who twisted and shrank away to shrivelled, doll-size figures, faint wisps of smoke coming from their dead bodies.
Twisting his hand, he produced the key to the cuffs, which he had palmed whilst he was getting the light from Harrison, and unlocked the hand cuffs. They fell to the floor of the jeep with a dull thud. Smiling to himself, the Master reached to the canvas which separated the cab of the jeep with the rear section and climbed through to the passenger seat.
“How is-?” the driver started before he noticed the Master sat beside him. "What the-?"
“Would you mind if I drove?” the Master asked, raising his TCE.
