Doctor Who_ Illegal Alien - Mike Tucker [79]
They all spun.
Silhouetted against the inferno of the lab were the Cybermen, weapons drawn, gnashing Cybermats writhing around their feet. In front of them stood Wall, the light glinting horribly from the cameras embedded in his skull. He pointed at the trio of chief inspector, detective, and Time Lord.
'Kill them.' 'On the other hand...' said the Doctor.
PART FOUR
CHAPTER 19
'Unlucky in love, lucky at cards. Isn't that the saying? Well, you'd have thought that with all the bad luck I'd had with the fair sex over the last few years, my gambling would be pretty good. Not a chance. If there's a situation where some poor sap is going to come off the worse for wear then it's a pretty safe bet that the sap in question is going to be me, and at the moment the situation is about as bad as it gets. I'm trapped in a factory, during an air raid, with a horde of murderous metal monsters from outer space. They've got ray guns, we've got a little man with a homemade jukebox. My hand ain't looking too strong. Only once in my life I've had an Ace up my sleeve, but I lost her, and now I'm not sure if I'll ever see her again.'
Ace's midriff still felt sore from the electric shock it had received. She had no idea where she was. She had recovered consciousness to find herself bound and gagged on the floor of a tiny, propellerdriven aircraft, flying through darkness. The aeroplane had bucked and lurched alarmingly, buffeted by winds. In front of her, at the controls, Captain Hartmann had turned briefly and smiled at her. Such a friendly smile. It had made Ace's blood run cold. She had been relieved when he returned his attention to the matter of piloting the little craft through this hurricane.
They had landed God alone knew where and two uniformed German soldiers had hauled her unceremoniously, like an old sack, from the plane, and dumped her on cold, wet tarmac. Powerful searchlights cut through the drizzle and darkness. All she could make out behind the walls of light were low concrete bunkers, all around. It was through a metal door in one of these bunkers that Ace had been hauled, struggling and shouting as much as she could shout behind her gag.
Low corridors. Harsh electric lighting. And now this.
***
The room didn't seem to fit with the outside of this place. The bed was big and soft and hung with drapes, like something out of a fairytale palace. The carpet was thick and scattered with rugs. A real tiger skin. Ace had never seen one before.
Dried flowers stood around in vases. There was even a large, elegant fireplace.
It was blocked off, of course, with a metal plate. The door to the room was made of heavy wood, and locked. The window was tiny, receding into a wall several feet thick.
As the sky slowly lightened through the tiny window, all Ace could see was long grass and a few trees in the distance. She was near the sea of that she was sure.
Something in the air. A tang. Occasionally, she even imagined she could hear it.
God, it was quiet here. Footsteps would occasionally approach the door, and then recede again. She had been brought breakfast: the door had been opened and a tray laden with cold meats and cheeses, bread, butter and hardboiled eggs, a carafe of water and a jug of coffee, had been deposited on the floor by a wordless German soldier.
She had eaten the meal eagerly. It was the first food to have passed her lips since the curry she had eaten at George Limb's house. She had gulped down the coffee. Must keep alert: she didn't know what was in store for her here.
She had been allowed out twice to go to the lavatory.
This luxurious captivity was getting on her nerves.
Finally, the door swung open to reveal Captain Hartmann, still smiling, hands clasped behind his back. He had changed his clothes for a uniform: gleaming black boots, black jodhpurs, black jacket done up to the neck. A silver death's head on one side of his collar, two lightning flashes on the other.
SS.
Ace felt herself shuddering. For the first time, the truth