Doctor Who_ Illegal Alien - Mike Tucker [65]
The Doctor stared sadly into the glazed eyes of the fanatical young major. 'Do you really think that the conflict would end if I gave you that technology?' He shook his head.
'I'm sorry. I can't help you.'
Lazonby stood, abruptly. 'No matter. There are others more willing, more patriotic, who will assist us in our hour of greatest need.' He pulled his cap firmly on to his head and crossed to the door. 'You will both be tried, sentenced, and shot as spies and saboteurs.' He turned to McBride. 'If you have any influence with your accomplice then I suggest you start persuading him that cooperation is the only choice for either of you.'
Lazonby swung on his heel and marched out, the door slamming behind him.
McBride pulled his seat closer to the Doctor. He looked with concern at the bruise on the little man's chin. 'They been treating you a bit rough, Doc?'
The Doctor rubbed his jaw, gingerly. 'Our friend Lazonby got a little carried away.'
'Yeah. He's the type who would knock out your teeth, then kick you in the stomach for mumbling.'
'Fortunately, I always carry a spare set.' The Doctor pulled a set of false teeth from his pocket and clacked them like castanets.
McBride smiled weakly. 'So what do we do now? I have to say I was kind of relying on you to get me out of this mess.'
The Doctor sighed and regarded the false teeth. 'I'm afraid that rescue duties rather lie with our friendly neighbourhood policeman.'
McBride groaned. 'Mullen? Then we are in trouble.'
CHAPTER 17
Colonel T.P. Potter (retired) unscrewed the lid of his thermos flask and poured himself a cup of strong, sweet tea. He raised his cup and looked around the gloomy underground station. All his regulars were there; the alarms hadn't even sounded yet, but his people had already found themselves places on the platform, unfolding their blankets ready for the long night to come. He sipped his tea with satisfaction. His people. Working like a welloiled machine.
He'd been an army officer for years, fought in the Great War. By the time that Britain had declared war on Germany he'd been considered too old to serve. He snorted into his tea. Too old! Preposterous. Plenty of life left in him. He knew a thing or two about fighting the Hun, and it didn't involve hiding in underground railway stations.
His age hadn't stopped him becoming an ARP warden, though. As soon as war had been declared he had signed up alongside all the others. He wasn't popular in his district, however. Too many of those under his care thought that he was overofficious, pompous, and bossy. He shook his head.
Weak people. They needed strong leadership, and his army training made him the perfect choice. Why wait for the alarms to sound? he had asked them. Everyone knew that they were going to sound eventually. Making good use of the time, this was. Far better to get to the shelters early. Avoid the rush and the struggle.
Oh, a few had complained one woman had even thrown a boot at him when he'd tried to order her into the shelters but he knew what he was doing. Given time, Potter's army would be the best drilled bunch of civilians in London. He stretched his neck, looking around for the little Scotsman who had kept the tube station entertained the previous night. Potter had been impressed by the performance. Good for morale. He had hoped to see the little man again, persuade him to become a warden as well; a sergeant to his colonel.
He looked up as a metallic clang rang out from the tunnel. Potter frowned. There shouldn't be anyone in the tunnels. He hauled himself to his feet and peered into the Stygian gloom of the tunnel mouth. Another noise, a scuffling.
There were people in the tunnels. Couldn't be any of his people. All checked and accounted for.
He called over to where a tall, thinfaced man was struggling with a blanket.
'Wilkins! Have you sent anyone into the tunnels?'
Wilkins looked puzzled. The tunnels?'
'Yes, man! It's a perfectly straightforward