Doctor Who_ Last of the Gaderene - Mark Gatiss [4]
‘Sorry, miss,’ said a familiar voice. ‘Didn’t mean to startle you.’
Jo heaved a relieved sigh. ‘Oh, it’s you, Sergeant Benton,’
she said, flashing a winning smile. ‘Thank goodness for that.’
‘Who were you expecting?’ said Benton, moving to her side, his big, good-humoured face creased into a frown.
‘No one,’ said Jo. ‘No one special. It’s just you never can tell what might be lurking around here.’
‘Thanks very much,’ laughed Benton with mock indignation. ‘I’m not sure I like being thought of as a lurker.’
‘You know what I mean.’ Jo raised a finger and dragged her sunglasses back down over her eyes. ‘It’s either some slimy monster or...’
‘Or?’
‘Or the Brig on the prowl.’
Benton lowered a broad hand and promptly lifted the sunglasses clear again. ‘Right second time. The Brig wants to see you.’
Jo made a face and, with a sigh, swung her legs off the sun lounger. ‘He can’t say I didn’t try to find him. My name’s in the log. But when I got here, there was no one about.’
She shrugged on a light summer dress as they made their way across the hot roof. ‘And, anyway, I’m still officially on leave.’
She walked quickly on tiptoe, the scorching asphalt under her feet as hot as she’d expected her Spanish beach to be.
‘The Brigadier’s been away too, miss,’ said Benton, helping Jo on to the metal ladder which ran up the side of the building.
‘Where to?’
Benton shrugged. ‘All I know for certain is that he’s running a very tight ship today.’
Jo gave a low groan and began to climb down the ladder.
The metal was warm under her hands, its hot, rusty stink reminding her of school playgrounds. Benton clambered down swiftly, his big army boots smacking the tarmac as he reached the ground.
‘Where’s the Doctor?’ asked Jo.
Benton gave a small, humourless laugh. ‘I’ll leave the explanations to the Brigadier,’ he said, giving her a cryptic wink and heading off in the opposite direction.
Jo frowned and, pushing at the double doors, made her way inside the building.
She blinked repeatedly, the contrast to the brightness outside making the interior seem unnaturally dark. The water fountain and bubble-hooded phone booth loomed ahead, wreathed in shadow. After a while, she grew accustomed to it and soon found her way to the Doctor’s laboratory.
Jo pushed open the door and looked about her as it swung back into place. The room was hot, stifling and silent. The lab bench with its Bunsen burners and hooked sink taps was in its familiar place as was the hat stand where the Doctor hung his cloak. Three stools had been moved carefully into the corner, forming a neat triangle.
Jo turned at a thudding, buzzing sound close by. A bluebottle was banging itself repeatedly against the windows and she moved swiftly across the room to release it. Warm air filtered inside as she opened the window but the fly continued its pointless attack on the glass.
‘Go on you stupid thing,’ cried Jo exasperatedly.
As she moved across to open another window, she stopped. There was something wrong. The stools were arranged too neatly. The hat stand was bare. The lab bench, usually so cluttered by the Doctor’s complicated electronic lash-ups, was wiped clean. And in the corner permanently occupied by the battered blue shape of the TARDIS, there was nothing.
The empty space yawned like the dusty rectangle left after a painting has been removed from a wall. Jo blinked slowly, then turned as the door opened again.
Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart was standing there, hot and uncomfortable in his uniform. There was a sheen of sweat over his face. He looked Jo in the eye and then glanced down at the floor.
‘That’s right, Miss Grant,’ he said flatly. ‘He’s gone.’
Chapter Two
AWOL
A decaying jet stream had left a wide, wispy track across the cobalt blue sky. Alec Whistler,