Doctor Who_ Silver Nemesis - Kevin Clarke [12]
‘How did you do that?’ she whispered, once they were a few yards down the corridor.
The Doctor, seldom a patron of false modesty, smiled complacently. ‘Oh, it’s quite easy really,’ he said. There was a sudden cry from behind them. Looking back, Ace saw the two security men break into a run after them. ‘The only trouble is,’ the Doctor continued, taking Ace’s arm and breaking into a dash himself, ‘it doesn’t last very long.’
They bolted down the corridor, pursued by the two security men.
Rounding a corner breathlessly, they hesitated for a moment. A large double door was ahead of them. They hurtled through it.
There was what seemed to Ace after the gloom of the corridor a blaze of light, crowded with smiling oriental faces as she and the Doctor charged through the centre of the group of Japanese tourists in whose company they had entered the castle, apologizing profusely as they shouldered the visitors aside. In the background, the security men burst through the door and headed full pelt for the centre of the disarrayed but reassembling group of tourists. The Doctor and Ace fled through the opposite exit and into a larger, brighter corridor. Ahead of them was a wide and magnificent flight of stairs lined with paintings. They charged down it. At the bottom was a recess, into which they crammed themselves and began to regain their breath.
‘What now?’ panted Ace.
‘Back to the TARDIS,’ replied the Doctor. ‘We must get the statue before anyone else does, and we’re obviously not going to get any help here.’ He moved to leave. Stepping forward to follow him, Ace’s attention was caught by one of the pictures. She halted. ‘Professor!’ she called. The Doctor stopped.
‘What now?’ he asked, glancing back up the stairs, where at any moment he expected the security men to appear. Ace pointed at the painting. It showed a rich young woman in eighteenth century dress: the green countryside rolling away in the eternal background, her eyes perfectly certain that its ownership would lie unchanged in the hands of her descendants forever.
Ace’s expression was one of wonder. ‘That’s me,’ she said.
‘What?’ The Doctor stepped closer and examined it.
Recognition dawned. ‘Oh yes. Not a bad likeness was it?’
He began to walk away. Ace was staggered.
‘But...’ she began.
The Doctor smiled indulgently and patted her on the arm. ‘It’s all right,’ he said in a comforting tone. ‘It hasn’t happened yet.’
Ace looked at him blankly. ‘But that was painted two hundred years ago.’
The Doctor smiled patiently. ‘I know,’ he replied, ‘but we haven’t done it yet. That’s why you can’t remember.’
Ace struggled for a moment to work out the Doctor’s logic. She was still mystified. ‘That doesn’t make sense,’
she finally said.
The Doctor sighed the sigh of a being forever misunderstood. ‘It did to Louis Armstrong,’ he murmured sadly. ‘He really understood time.’
4
At the building site, everything was still. The three policemen lay where they had collapsed, breathing but unconscious.
Suddenly and simultaneously through each of the windows, De Flores’ armed paramilitaries burst in.
Fanning out across the site they quickly and expertly searched every square foot before assuming defensive positions. It was only then that De Flores arrived, impatient though he clearly was. He carried the flight case in which he had placed the bow, and was already gazing intently at the smoking hole into which the comet had made its landfall. Karl awaited him, a puzzled look on his face.
‘Herr De Flores, I don’t understand how the police have already been overcome.’
De Flores brushed this aside and hurried towards the comet. ‘That is of no importance,’ he replied. ‘All that matters is that the Nemesis is safe.’ He gazed down at the smouldering ball of rock. The silver face seemed to stare back blankly at him, partly visible through the glass panel.
De Flores stepped forward and tenderly wiped away some mud from it with his handkerchief. He stared into its eyes, a look of adoration suffusing his hard features. ‘At last,