Doctor Who_ Just War - Lance Parkin [38]
He was just settling down when the door burst open, and a torch was shone in his face. He raised his hands to shield his eyes. Behind the light, he could make out one, no, two figures. He reached for his revolver, and was greeted by the sound of two guns being cocked. He decided against it.
The soldier on the door saluted Forrester and Reed as they left the War Office. Reed led the way across Whitehall, all the time nervously looking back at Roz, checking that she was still with him, asking if she was all right. His overwhelming urge to appear concerned and his dogged desire to be liked reminded her of Chris.
Even in wartime, the London streets were normally busy with buses, cars and horse-carts during the day, but now they were almost deserted. Barrage balloons jostled in the sky. It was still only twilight, but it seemed darker, as no street lighting was permitted. The Doctor had claimed that when the restrictions on car headlamps and street lighting had first been introduced, the number of accidents had increased so dramatically that more people died on the roads than in air-raids. The blackout had been relaxed a little since then.
This was the first time that Forrester had walked any distance through London. As they picked their way past ruined terraces and cratered roads, she suddenly realized where she was. They were walking through a wide public space, surrounded by huge old buildings. In the middle of the plaza was a huge pillar, standing alone. As an Adjudicator, she had walked these streets in the thirtieth century, and the layout of the place was hardly different. In her day, the Underdwellers called this place Trafflegarr Square, and they were walking towards Sintjaimsys. Those in the Overtowns didn’t really distinguish. To them, all this area was Spaceport Five Undertown.
‘This hasn’t changed in a thousand years.’
‘No. And it probably won’t for another thousand,’ Reed answered. Roz was about to explain, but thought better of it.
As George said, the city was an old one. There was no reason why it should have changed that much. Individual houses and office blocks came and went, but the basic layout of the streets themselves stayed the same. It was amazing, though, that many of the buildings that were already centuries old at this time would still be standing in a millennium.
‘Whereabouts do you live?’ Roz asked, wondering whether she’d recognize Reed’s house.
‘I’ve got a flat in Mayfair, not far from here. I’m on this side of Hyde Park, you’re on the other.’
Again, it was a name Roz recognized from her time.
From Reed’s tone of voice, it was clear that Mayfair in this time was somewhat more prestigious than in hers.
There was someone blowing a whistle in the next street.
Reed grabbed her by the arm. ‘It’s an air-raid. We have to get inside.’
Will your flat do?’
Reed nodded grimly. ‘It’s a basement flat. We should have enough time, usually we get about ten minutes’
warning. We’ll have to hurry.’
Reed broke into a run, although Roz found it easy to keep up. He was already fishing in his pocket for his keys.
They were running along a row of elegant terraces straight out of a Sherlock Holmes simcord. When Roz looked up, the sky had become a cathedral of light. Solid white beams criss-crossed the night sky, creating a rippling net in the heavens.
A thousand years from now, people would pay good money to see a light-show like this. Hardly anyone saw this spectacle, though. Every night, millions of Londoners sat in their Anderson shelters, or in the Underground railway stations. Above ground, searchlight crews probed the sky for German bombers. If one beam intercepted a plane, half a dozen more would instantly be brought to bear. Bathed in light, the German planes would be easy targets for the antiaircraft batteries.
Right on cue, a mile or so behind them, there was a burst of artillery fire. It wouldn’t hit a plane. Over the last three months, half a million shells had been fired, but, on average,