Doctor Who_ Last of the Gaderene - Mark Gatiss [26]
Whistler thought for a moment. ‘That could explain why they haven’t driven down there. The lorries would be too heavy to drive over the ground.’
Noah took his turn to glance around the side of the building. To his astonishment, he saw that the Legion guards had formed a long line and were carrying the cylinders bodily on their shoulders like a huge, bizarre funeral procession.
‘This gets weirder and weirder,’ he muttered. ‘What now?’
Whistler rubbed his hands together. ‘Well, we could go back and wait for this UNIT fella to turn up.’
‘Or?’
Whistler smiled. ‘Or we could carry on and see what turns up.’ Noah clapped the old man on the shoulder. ‘I’m game.’
Whistler was pleased. ‘Good lad. Right. Here’s what we’ll do. As soon as that lot are out of sight, you pop out and check the coast’s clear. Then we’ll get into a lorry and see if we can’t break open one of those containers – oh.’
‘What is it?’
Whistler was tapping his waistcoat pocket. ‘My lucky charm.’
Noah shrugged. ‘Never mind, sin I’m sure we’ll be OK.’
‘It’s not that, son,’ said Whistler, a little sadly. ‘It’s just I’ve never been on a... a mission without it. Not since I found it. It got me through the war, you know.’
‘I don’t doubt it,’ said Noah, clambering to his feet. ‘But we’ll have to trust to our own luck this time.’
He slipped around the corner of the barracks and nodded.
‘OK. They’ve gone.’
Whistler nipped out quickly and joined him, both pressing their backs flat against the cold grey wall, and peered through the darkness where he could just make out the last of the line of guards moving away in silent procession. Nodding to Noah.
he raced across the road to where the lorries were parked.
Noah crossed too and jumped up on to the back of the first lorry, immediately throwing back the tarpaulin that covered it.
There was nothing beneath it. He cursed and let the canvas fall back, looking over towards the lorry with Whistler on board.
‘Anything?’
‘No,’ hissed Whistler. ‘Try the next.’
They continued in this way for several minutes, finding every lorry clear of cargo, until they reached the last two in the line.
‘Ah!’ cried Whistler happily, as Noah pulled back the tarpaulin and revealed that the lorry was packed full of sleek, black cylinders, stacked like wet cigars.
Noah felt all over one of them with the palms of his hands.
‘I can’t find an opening,’ he murmured.
‘There must be a way in,’ said Whistler. ‘Here, I’ll shed some light.’
The old man reached into his pocket and pulled out a silver matchcase attached to the fob chain of his watch. He struck a match on its serrated base and the back of the lorry was briefly illuminated. Both men looked the casket over hurriedly. There wasn’t a single flaw or crack on its smooth, ebony-black surface. Noah and Whistler exchanged glances just as the flaring light of the match snuffed out.
There was sudden explosion of noise. Noah’s heart began to thump. Behind them, he could hear booted feet on tarmac.
‘We’re rumbled!’ he shouted. ‘Run!’
He jumped down on to the tarmac and set off at a run, jerking his head back to see Whistler struggling down from the lorry. He hesitated, then tore back across the airstrip and grabbed the old man by the arm. ‘Come on!’
Once on terra firma, Whistler was a different proposition altogether. Tucking his elbows into his sides he careered across the airstrip like a man possessed. Noah was just ahead, looking round wildly for an escape route. Booted feet thundered behind them and, even as he panicked, Noah thought it strange that the Legion men still hadn’t turned a single searchlight on to them.
Behind him, he could hear Whistler beginning to tire, his breath rasping. He gripped the old man by the sleeve and urged him forward.
‘Nearly there, sir. Hurry!’
Whistler shook his head, sweat streaming down his ruddy face. ‘No. Can’t –’
Noah pulled them both down to the ground. There, just visible in the gloom, was the hole they had cut in the mesh of the fence. Noah turned but found himself being pushed through.
‘Go! Go on, lad!’
Noah’s forehead hit the sharp