Doctor Who_ Last of the Gaderene - Mark Gatiss [59]
‘My men have him. Unfortunately, there was an incident.
He was... converted.’
The Master clucked his tongue. ‘Thus rendering him useless for any further interrogation.’
Bliss let a hiss of anger slip between her teeth. ‘Yes.’
‘Well, once we have the village under our control, there’ll be no need for further secrecy,’ said the Master with a shrug.
‘We can tear the place apart if necessary.’
Bliss’s dark eyes blinked slowly. ‘There have been developments. Some people came on an official inspection.’
The Master frowned. ‘Official? I thought I’d blocked all avenues of inquiry.’
It was Bliss’s turn to sound smug. ‘So did I. Apparently you either failed or these particular visitors are able to pull strings.’
‘I didn’t fail,’ said the Master with menace. ‘Who were they?’
‘A soldier of some sort,’ muttered Bliss. ‘A girl and a man they called...’
‘The Doctor,’ smiled the Master. ‘Naturally. He’s a wily old bird and no mistake. Well, well, well. It will be nice to renew our acquaintanceship.’
‘Meanwhile,’ said Bliss evenly, ‘you will do your best to find the location of the key.’
The Master’s eyes glowed like coals. ‘I am not accustomed to taking orders.’
Bliss’s milky face suddenly clouded and, for an instant, something shifted beneath her skin, like an embryo stirring in the womb. ‘The Gaderene are taking this planet,’ she hissed.
‘Take care that you are not swept aside!’
A wasp was buzzing around the eves of Whistler’s cottage in a state of some confusion. The familiar, papery nest it had left seemed to have vanished, along with all its comrades. It flew angrily at the stonework until Mrs Toovey’s rolled-up copy of Horse and Hound flattened it out of existence.
She tutted to herself and threw the magazine into the incinerator to which the pest-control man had recently consigned the wasp nest and brushed herself down, all ready to go to the fête.
She paused on the threshold of the cottage, resplendent in her summer frock and wide-brimmed hat.
It didn’t seem right to be going when the Wing Commander was still missing. But what good would she be moping around the house all day? He’d have wanted her to go.
She mentally admonished herself for already acting as though he were dead. She might find out something that would be useful to the Doctor and Jo, after all.
Nodding to herself, she cradled a basket filled with jars of jam under her arm and was just closing the door when a familiar figure stepped on to the path next to her.
Mrs Toovey dropped the basket. ‘Oh! Sir!’ she cried, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘Wing Commander, thank God.
Where’ve you been?’
Whistler walked a little closer but didn’t speak.
‘What’s happened to you, you poor love? Look at the state of your face.’
She reached out a hand to touch the bruises and cuts that covered the old man’s skin. Whistler grabbed her wrist.
‘What are you –? You’re hurting me!’
He pulled Mrs Toovey close to him and she could feel his breath washing over her. He smiled.
On the pavement, jam oozed on to the hot flagstones.
Wasps settled among the shards of shattered glass.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Guest of Honour
Noah was back on the couch and dozing when Jo sat down beside him. He opened his eyes.
‘Hello,’ she said brightly.
Noah smiled and brushed his hair from his eyes.
‘How’re you feeling?’ she asked.
Noah sat up and pushed a fat cushion behind his back.
‘Pretty weak. Who... who are you?’
Jo held up her UNIT pass. ‘I’m Jo Grant.’
‘Jo,’ he said simply, ‘how long have I been here?’
‘Day or so. Your dad found you.’
Noah looked troubled. ‘I was out there. On the marsh. The Wing Commander and me went up to the aerodrome and –’
He cut himself off and clamped his eyes shut. Jo grasped his hand.
‘It’s OK. You told us all about it. You don’t have to think about it any more,’ she murmured gently.
Noah shook his head and opened his eyes. ‘No! I do. I want to remember.’
He took a deep, ragged breath. ‘There’s some kind of creature out there. Living in the marshes. Like a... a snake. Or a