Doctor Who_ Rags - Mick Lewis [34]
the situation and cause more trouble. Has your blessed Prime Minister stopped to consider that? Well, has he?’
The Brigadier braved this storm without batting a military eyelid, and then replied calmly: ‘The Prime Minister is in an untenable situation; he is being forced to bow to pressure from the Opposition. The tabloids are baying for blood.’
‘Not a very apposite choice of words, I would think in this situation, eh, Lethbridge-Stewart?’
The Brigadier’s voice increased in volume as he let his irritation slip free. ‘The papers are linking the horrific actions of the two constables in Wells to the tour. And for once I think they have a point.’
‘Do you?’ The Doctor stepped nearer, his hand caressing his chin, and scrutinised the Brigadier with a quizzical look in his eyes. ‘Do you...?’ he repeated more pensively. ‘Do you know, Lethbridge-Stewart, you constantly surprise me.’
The Brigadier tilted his head back. Meaning?’
‘Meaning there’s hope for you yet. You just take a little longer getting there than everyone else. Now if you don’t mind, I do have rather a lot to do.’
He’d been dismissed - like a blasted schoolboy! The Brigadier opened his mouth to bark a riposte, but the Doctor had already turned his back. Lethbridge-Stewart closed his mouth, his face prickly with humiliation and anger, and strode from the room.
‘Bristol,’ the voice said in Willis’s ear: They’re heading for Bristol.’
‘How extraordinarily convenient. For both of us,’ Willis replied, leaning back in his leather armchair and watching the sun plunge bloodily into the woods beyond his picture window. ‘I should think this tour - what’s it called?... the Unwashed and Unforgiving tour? - would be rather a cause célèbre for your...
magazine.’ The last word was pronounced with poorly concealed contempt: he might just as well have included the word ‘odious’, as he had intended to do before surrendering to self-restraint just in time. It wouldn’t do to push the grubby little man too far.
86
‘They’re nothing to do with us!’ the voice bristled. ‘They’re peddling obscenity and butchery.’
‘And what on earth does Class Hate propagate? Peace and goodwill to all men?’
‘You know what we stand for Willis: don’t piss me around. I believe strongly in what I’m doing, which is something you could never say about yourself, so don’t get on your soddin’ high horse with me. Understand?’
Willis knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist rankling the man just a little more. ‘I know why the convoy is ruffling your feathers so much, my friend: might it not be to do with the fact that whoever is behind this magical mayhem tour is organising a protest that has gone so much further than anything you and your... organ... could ever initiate with regard to shaking up the establishment?’
The line went quiet for a moment. He’d certainly scored with that comment. He smiled as he imagined the man seething with fury and wishing all kinds of working-class violence on Willis’s upper-middle-class person. He enjoyed the moment, then gave in to practicalities; he did need this wretch on his side after all.
‘Your chance will come, Mr Pole. As I said, the convoy coming to Bristol couldn’t be more opportune. What superb camouflage it will provide for you to perpetrate your great act against the monarchy. That’s if these hippies - or whatever they are - stay in the city long enough for you to use them as scapegoats... and I believe I can put pressure on certain areas to ensure that. Well, goodbye, Mr Pole. A pleasure, as always.’ Willis replaced the receiver and his smirk grew. He reached for his glass of Bollinger on the coffee table, and took a very contented sip.
The convoy entered Bristol.
It had been tailed all the way from Glastonbury by two UNIT
trucks and a jeep, the Brigadier occupying the latter. However, the Brigadier, acting on his own innate good sense - nothing at all to do with the Doctor’s disapprobation