Doctor Who_ Island of Death - Barry Letts [48]
However, there was also a door each side into the cabin area that opened into a short corridor going from one side to the other. So, by going indoors - not very nautical sounding that, thought Sarah, but she could hardly say (or even think) going below‟ when it was all on the same level - by going indoors for a moment or two, she‟d be able to complete the circuit.
Hang on. It must be the CO‟s private entrance to his cabins. It didn‟t go anywhere else. That was a bummer.
She‟d just have to be ultra quiet.
So here she was, bright and early on Friday morning, striding out at a speed she reckoned to be four miles an hour; or even five. Power-walking they called it, didn‟t they?
So if she kept up the same speed for half an hour, she would have gone at least two miles. If she really pushed it she might get as big a buzz as she did from her run on Hampstead Heath - if it wasn‟t for the silly hiatus when she had to slow down and creep through the short corridor past Hogben‟s cabin. But she hadn‟t any choice, had she?
It was a bore. He was a bore. She could even hear him snoring as she tiptoed by.
Horrible man.
Having spent Thursday establishing to the world that he was barely convalescent, Whitbread rose very early on Friday and presented himself in the wardroom (once he‟d found it) for breakfast.
There must be no more mistakes. From the way they‟d behaved so far it seemed that the Doctor and the Brigadier had nothing to go on but suspicions of the cult. But if the Smith girl started putting two and two together...
„Good morning, Mr Whitbread. Glad to see you up. Feeling better?‟ Pete Andrews was the only one in the wardroom. The welcome was so obviously sincere that he was instantly reassured If the truth had been discovered, he would have had a very different welcome.
He settled down to eating a frugal poached egg on toast, and concentrated on listening to the First Lieutenant, asking disingenuous questions, so that he could learn all about the Hallaton and its people.
If everybody got used to seeing him around the ship, he‟d be able to keep an eye open and establish the pattern of the girl‟s day, and spot any regularities, so that he would be able to predict when she‟d be alone and vulnerable.
But then, as he was sipping his second cup of coffee, he saw her, whipping past the open windows of the wardroom as if she was in a race. Round she went, past the after door and round to the other side, disappearing up the deck outside; and then, a few minutes later, there she was again. And again. And again.
Pete Andrews finished his breakfast and disappeared, but the girl kept on passing by. He didn‟t count the number of times, but it must have been twenty-five minutes or more before she stopped appearing. Did she do this every morning?
Was this what he‟d been looking for?
His mind gave a little lurch. Now, what was that all about?
He examined his twisted complex of emotions, and began to untangle them. Pleasure that the girl hadn‟t been drowned?
Surely not. A sort of guilt? He‟d been pretty ruthless in the hidden back alleys of his public life, but he‟d never been responsible for anyone‟s death. Then again, it had never been necessary before.
As the pieces fell into place, the picture revealed itself. It wasn‟t guilt or remorse, just a fear that he might get caught -
and a fierce determination not to let it happen. And as for the other emotion...
Yes, it was true that he was pleased that Sarah Jane Smith (stupid name) had been saved, but only because it meant that he could experience once more the rush of simple pleasure that he‟d felt as the chair leg smashed into her skull.
He was really looking forward to killing her.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
„Sarah!‟ The Doctor‟s voice came from his open door as she passed it on her way back to her cabin.
Hastily hiding her book under the blanket she was