Doctor Who_ Just War - Lance Parkin [89]
‘When did he die?’
The Doctor tried to scratch his head, but his hat got in the way. ‘That’s a mystery that’s never solved. A secret buried deep in the Reich’s archives. The information only ever appeared on a single sheet of paper. At the end of the war, that scrap of paper was taken to the Kremlin along with every other piece of information about Emil Hartung and his project: every surviving blueprint, notebook and diary. The documents were sealed in the deepest, darkest vault in the Soviet Union and sat there untouched for almost forty years.
In September 1984 the vault was opened on the direct orders of Konstantin Chernenko. Certain technological developments coming to light in the United States worried the Soviets. Their own scientists couldn’t match recent American discoveries. You can’t have an arms race if there’s only one runner.’ The Doctor grinned, removing his hat and scratching his head. ‘Hartung’s work was in the same area. The vault was unlocked, the bolts were drawn back. The heavy door swung open for the first time in thirty-nine years. It was empty. Unable to match America in this and other areas, the Soviet Union collapsed soon afterwards.’ The Doctor kept his expression neutral as he unfolded a scrap of yellowing paper.
He pretended to read it. ‘Hartung dies in March 1941.’
Chris nodded. ‘We kill him.’
The Doctor’s expression was grim as he replaced his hat. ‘We finish this. Tonight.’
‘It’s alien, isn’t it? Whatever’s in those hangars?’ Chris offered.
‘In your terms,’ the Doctor said softly.
‘A crashed spacecraft? He’s using alien technology from a UFO that made planetfall in Germany. Or perhaps one that has been buried here in France for centuries that they’ve only just uncovered. The Nazis found the ship, they set their top scientist to work analysing it. They’ve organized a massive cover-up. Now he’s built something centuries in advance of what they should have here and they’ve been testing it.
Something big.’
The Doctor pointed ahead. They had arrived at the main gate of the secret airbase. ‘The truth is in there.’
They stepped from the car. The guards searched them, but found nothing. Finally, they were ushered through the main gate. Steinmann was waiting for them.
‘Is Hartung here?’ asked Christ.
‘I promised to show you what we are building,’ said Steinmann non-committally. They had walked past the concrete cows, past the concrete pine trees, down the green tarmac of the runway. They reached one of the long, almost square, hills. Chris saw now that one end of this barrow was flat, a wide corrugated metal door, painted to look like grass.
This door was edging open. Inside, neon lights were flickering on. The Doctor was consulting his watch. As the door inched open, Chris saw a word painted onto the concrete floor inside the hanger, thick white letters like road markings.
MUNIN
‘The Norse for “Memory”,’ noted the Doctor thoughtfully.
Chris guessed that Munin was sixty feet long, and that its wingspan was just under twice that. The main fuselage was simply the shape of a cigar tube. The wings were flat, narrow, isosceles triangles mounted halfway along the length. Most striking was the colour, a mottled blue/grey/black, lighter underneath than on top. The cockpit canopy was lozenge-shaped, and coated in gold film. It was impossible to see into the cockpit itself. Although it was advanced for the time there was nothing alien about it.
A handful of technicians scurried around the plane. Rusty orange scaffolding encased one side of the fuselage and technicians were inspecting the exposed fuel system.
Steinmann dismissed them, and they marched from the hangar. The three men were alone together, now.
‘It’s just an aircraft!’ Chris exclaimed. ‘An ordinary aircraft. It looks a bit like a U2 spy plane.’
‘The first U2 was unveiled at Groom Lake, Nevada on July fourteenth 1955. Fourteen years from now. This plane is similar,’ noted the Doctor. He sounded almost relieved.
‘Look where