Doctor Who_ Just War - Lance Parkin [37]
— which was flecked with grey, he noticed for the first time —
to her slender neck, which was a dark chocolate-brown.
Strangely, she didn’t look out of place in uniform. He announced his presence.
She turned, wearily. ‘Hi, George.’ Her attention returned to the photographs. Her accent was still utterly impossible to place, containing elements of South African and American as well as English.
‘Captain Forrester, it’s getting late.’
‘Yes, I know, but there’s still so much to do.’
‘Permission to speak freely, Captain?’
‘Granted.’ She looked up from her work.
‘You were right this afternoon, Captain. The admiral wasn’t treating you as your rank deserves. If I have done so, then I offer my apologies. I like you, ma’am, and wouldn’t want to upset you.’ He had spent most of the day planning this speech.
It seemed to work. Roz smiled at him, and there was genuine warmth there. ‘Thank you, Lieutenant. Apology accepted, but it’s my fault. What I did this morning was unprofessional. It doesn’t matter whether I was provoked or not.’
‘Ma’am, I —’
‘End of story, George. Look, do you mind walking me home? The tube closes at six and there’s no way Kendrick will spare a staff car. I’m not sure I’d be able to find Paddington by myself.’ George’s heart raced, and he eagerly accepted. She stood, folding over a couple of sheets of paper, and placing the photographs in the safe. He reached across for Forrester’s coat and gas mask.
‘Captain, may I ask you a question?’
‘As long as you don’t expect an answer. Joke.’
‘Ah, yes. I wanted to ask about that tribe you mentioned before. The Servobots.’
Roz broke eye contact and she found another piece of paper to turn over. ‘Yeah, what about them?’
‘Well, I’ve read a bit about the South African tribes, and I’ve not heard of them.’
Chris made his way carefully across the fields. The airstrip was meant to be a mile to the north of here, but very little was known about it. There were certainly German patrols, with dogs and torches, but they made a lot of noise and were easy enough to avoid. Visibility was poor now; fog had drifted in off the sea. It would be a lot easier if he’d been allowed to bring his IR goggles, but the Doctor had made it clear why he couldn’t. If he was captured, or if he just dropped them, then the Germans might just work out how to duplicate the technology. The consequences could be horrendous: foot patrols would find it easier to pick up people, U-boats would be able to detect convoys, aerial reconnaissance would enter a whole new era. It wouldn’t take the Nazis long to work out that they could link up IR sensors to an antiaircraft battery or to put it in one of their planes. All of a sudden, it would become very easy to spot Allied aircraft, and all because he dropped his goggles.
Chris needed to rest. He’d hardly slept for twenty-four hours. He had to find somewhere safe to settle for the night.
It was just possible to make out a building a couple of hundred yards away, black against the royal-blue sky. It might fit the bill. A car darted past him as he made his way forward. The building was a large brick barn. Fifty yards away was a collection of farm buildings: a farmhouse, a stable, some sort of chicken shed. All were blacked out. There was the sound of a dog barking in the middle distance, but it wasn’t getting any closer. The animal was probably chained up.
Chris made his way round the sides of the barn until he found the door. It was unlocked. He prised open the door and stepped inside. It was pitch black. After a few moments fumbling around, Chris established that there was nothing in here but a few bales of hay. The door he had