Doctor Who_ Bunker Soldiers - Martin Day [66]
‘You’ll have to jump down,’ I said to the soldier. ‘I’ll try to lower Isaac to you.’
‘It is too far,’ he said.
‘Look around,’ I said. ‘There’s no other way out!’
With both ends of the corridor now impassable, and Isaac’s chamber itself disintegrating behind us, we had little alternative.
Perhaps we should have investigated the windows – though I remember that the shutters were both closed and on fire – but we had been in such haste to drag Isaac away from the flames that it had not occurred to us to do this.
The soldier peered into the lower corridor, then lowered himself down with as much dignity as he could muster. I heard, rather than saw, him fall and tumble untidily. He cursed, got to his feet and reached up for Isaac.
I laid the old man on the floor, manoeuvred him into a sitting position, then pushed him into the darkness.
It was a soft landing for Isaac, if not for the soldier. When I dropped down myself – my ankles crunched with the impact but otherwise complained little – the man had Isaac half in his arms, half on his shoulders piggy-back style.
Isaac had revived a little and we supported him between us, his feet dragging over the stone floor as we rushed towards the storeroom and then through the door to the square outside.
As we emerged we saw a group of soldiers barking orders to civilians who were carrying what looked like urns of water. ‘It’s a bit late for that,’ I commented in frustration as another plume of fire flashed out of the building.
‘Your bravery is to be commended, Steven,’ said Dmitri some hours later. We sat, as we had earlier in the day, in the debating chamber, a sanctuary of calm in a world gone mad.
‘Is Isaac all right?’ I asked.
‘He coughs and splutters... but that is all.’
‘Smoke inhalation,’ I said.
Dmitri smiled indulgently. He didn’t, of course, know what I meant, but he assumed I was right in what I said. ‘The fire is now almost out,’ he continued. ‘That side of the building is not safe. Other rooms are now being prepared.’
‘What started the fire?’ I queried.
‘It was no accident,’ Dmitri said by way of an answer. He turned, barking orders at one of the guards who stood at the doors to the chamber, and moments later two soldiers stepped into the room, dragging one of their fellows between them.
Dmitri was immediately on his feet. ‘We found this creature trying to set alight the room which contains your blue box,’ he said. ‘He has admitted to starting the fire in Isaac’s rooms.’ He stared down at the soldier – a wretched figure, almost limp with fear – and did not attempt to disguise the anger and disappointment in his voice. ‘What have you done?’ he asked. ‘I beg forgiveness,’ said the soldier, bowing his head and holding up his hands in terror. ‘I was instructed –’
‘Instructed?’ snapped Dmitri. ‘You owe no allegiance to anyone other than me!’
‘The Church...’ stammered the man. ‘The Church is also to be obeyed...’
‘Not when it commands such acts of brutal vandalism!’ said Dmitri. He paused, lowering his voice a little. ‘Tell me exactly what happened.’
‘The Jew... He was translating the Word of God into Russian. He and Olexander had been working together.’
‘Even if that were true, what business is it of yours?’
‘All men of God must follow the teaching of the Church –’
‘You call these fiends men of God? They have been striving to make pacts with the dog-faced Tartars!’
I saw the soldier cower before Dmitri, genuine shock registering on his face. ‘My lord, I did not know –’
‘Now you do.’
‘You meant to kill Isaac and burn his papers,’ I said when the soldier glanced in my direction. ‘But why attack the TARDIS?’
‘I was told that Bishop Vasil was intrigued by your box,’ the man explained. ‘He wanted it for himself, but had been thwarted.
I was ordered to set fire to it in the hope that the flames would liberate its secrets.’
‘Bishop