Doctor Who_ Last of the Gaderene - Mark Gatiss [56]
She clicked the lock on the cases and then froze as she heard one, no, two car doors slamming. Nichola looked up, her little eyes full of terror. Helen swept her up in her arms and raced to the window.
Pushing back the curtains she could just see a large, black, well-polished car in the street below.
She would have to sneak out the back, through the kitchen.
There was no point in trying to reason with John. He was different. Changed. A crazy thought drifted into her mind.
He’s not the man I married...
That’s what they always said, wasn’t it? In this case, it was true. Helen knew. She knew from John’s voice, his manner, his touch. There was something terribly wrong. This man looked like her husband and sounded like him now, although at first he’d been horribly silent, just sitting there, smiling; his grin mad and wide like a cut in the taut skin of a melon.
She’d go to her parents. They wouldn’t ask questions.
They’d listen to her. Know what to do next.
With Nichola in one arm and the suitcase in the other, Helen ran down the stairs and into the kitchen.
She almost yelled when she saw John standing there, that terrible smile plastered over his face.
‘Hello, love,’ he said softly. ‘Not going anywhere are you?’
Helen swallowed and felt tears spring to her eyes. She held Nichola very tight.
John took off his sunglasses and his eyes were very dark indeed.
‘You must meet our guest of honour, Helen. He’s come all the way up from Scotland Yard to open the fête. He’ll be in charge of things from now on.’
There was a sound behind Helen. She turned on her heel.
A middle-sized man with swarthy, saturnine features and a neat, pointed beard walked through from the hallway, looking immaculate in his braided inspector’s uniform.
‘Mrs Trickett,’ he said with what seemed genuine warmth.
I’ve heard so much about you.’
Helen looked at her husband and then back to the newcomer. ‘Who... who are you?’
The newcomer’s smile faded and his eyes, as fiery and brown as a dusty Andalusian desert, blazed with power.
‘I am the Master,’ he thundered. ‘And you will obey me!’
Chapter Twenty-One
Display of Power
Bliss raised a fat hand, taking in the whole of the aerodrome with one sweeping gesture. She seemed unperturbed by the summer heat whereas Jo and the Brigadier were perspiring profusely.
‘As you can see,’ she purred, ‘it’s full steam ahead here.
We aim to have a new airstrip laid within a fortnight and we have ambitions to rival the big airports for trade within the first few years. Once people see how competitive our rates are.’
The Doctor was leafing through the glossy brochure Bliss had given him.
‘Getting us where we want to go”,’ he quoted, looking up.
‘Unusual way of putting it.’
Bliss let a little sigh escape from her. ‘I don’t follow.’
The Doctor smiled back. ‘Nothing. Tell me, are you conducting any research here? Experimental aircraft, that sort of thing?’
Bliss shrugged. ‘That would certainly be on our agenda for the future, Doctor. But for now we have to concentrate on the task in hand.’
‘So,’ said the Doctor. ‘No wind tunnels or anything like that?’
Bliss looked him directly in the eye. The Doctor met her stare and cocked a quizzical eyebrow.
‘No,’ murmured Bliss at last. ‘Nothing like that.’
The Brigadier looked rapidly around, as though hoping to find something incriminating. ‘Well, thank you for your help, ma’am. I’m sure our report will be most encouraging.’
Bliss pressed her hands to her chest. ‘Not at all.’
She inclined her head to one side. ‘Now, I really must be getting on. We’re organising a display for the village fête, you know. It wouldn’t do to be late.’
The Doctor nodded. ‘Of course. Good afternoon.’
Bliss smiled at them all and headed off back towards her office.
The Doctor thrust his hands into his pockets.
The Brigadier sighed. ‘Nothing. Absolutely nothing.’
‘Clean as a whistle,’ concurred Jo.
‘You think so?’ said the Doctor. ‘I had a little adventure here last night. In a wind tunnel. One of those Legion fellas didn’t come out of it too well. And she