Doctor Who_ Island of Death - Barry Letts [17]
They obviously couldn‟t stay in the ashram; but when the Sikh taxi-driver (all the taxi-drivers seemed to be Sikhs) took them straight to the Taj Mahal hotel on the seafront, the Brigadier took one look and condemned it as being unnecessarily luxurious.
Huh! Thirty rupees a night per person, that‟s what the hotel they‟d ended up in cost UNIT. About a couple of quid!
At least it was clean. And, to be fair, it was just down the road from the ashram.
It was run by an expatriate Aussie by the name of Ron (with a flowing ponytail and a kaftan), which was just as well... In spite of their elite status, the food on the aircraft had been as plastic as ever, and Sarah was in no mood to experiment more than she had to with Indian food, which had never been a favourite.
She fancied a hamburger.
„Sacred cows, duckie,‟ said Ron. „No beef here. But I can do you a simply delectable buffburger.‟
„Buffburger?!‟
„Buffalo meat. We can get away with that. How do you like it done?‟
He was right. It was delectable, she thought as she sat chumping away, listening to the Doctor and the Brigadier arguing the toss. They hardly seemed to notice that their omelettes were getting cold, they were so irritated with each other.
„I shall contact the UNIT liaison officer in the morning, and we‟ll make an official visit. This has to be done by the book.‟
„And frighten them off? What possible advantage is there in going in bull-headed? Once the china has been broken, I would defy even you to stick it back together again.‟
„It‟s all very well for you, Doctor, but I have to answer for my actions. Your hare-brained schemes - that is, if you have one at all...‟
„Hare-brained! You don‟t even know what I‟m proposing.‟
„Tell me, then.‟
The Doctor took a sip from his glass. Surprisingly good, don‟t you think?‟ he said. „Not unlike a small wine of Burgundy.‟
„Ha! I thought as much. You have no idea what to do, now have you?‟
Sarah, sitting between them, found that her head was swivelling from side to side like that of a tennis fan at Wimbledon.
„If, as we suspect, these people have something to hide...‟
started the Doctor.
„If! You yourself said that this creature must be an alien life form!‟
„If, as I say, they want to conceal what‟s going on, they‟ll have built themselves a defensive wall to hide behind. That‟s what the cult must be. We need to find a crack in that wall.‟
„And in the meantime, people are being slaughtered.‟
„I doubt it. Has UNIT had any similar reports from the other countries where the cult has been established?‟
„Well, no.‟
„I think you‟ll find that the Hampstead bodies were an aber-ration. Indeed, that may be the very thing which will betray them.‟
And so on, and so on, back and forth. Sarah found her jet lagged eyes starting to close, and left them to it.
After all, it was the story she was after. And that was inside the ashram. She could get up early tomorrow and follow her original plan. She could become a devotee herself.
„But I‟ve come all the way from London!‟
The large man in white, in the little lobby to the right of the main gate, shook his head.
„I‟m sorry,‟ he said, in a soft Germanic voice.
Austrian probably, thought Sarah automatically.
„You should in London have joined, perhaps. It is now too late.‟
„Oh, but I did! I just haven‟t had time to get some white things to wear, and...‟
„Then what is the password, please?‟
There‟d have to be a flipping password!
„Well, I didn‟t exactly join. Not in so many words. But I...‟
She stopped as she saw him shaking his head. „Oh, please‟.
I‟ve dreamed of being a Skang... er... disciple... follower...
whatever. For yonks! That‟s why I‟ve come all this way!‟ She could see that she was getting through to him.
„I shall tell you what. Go into the shop, over there. Ask Sister Helga. She could say yes, I don‟t know.‟
„Oh, thank you, thank you! You‟ve no idea what it means to me...‟ Steady girl, don‟t go too far, she thought.
On the left side of the massive gate was a small