Doctor Who_ Silver Nemesis - Kevin Clarke [2]
‘What’s that?’ asked Ace.
‘Very strange. A reminder, of course.’
‘Go on then.’
The Doctor was only too happy to do so. ‘Well you see, Louis Armstrong...’
‘I don’t mean that. What about your alarm?’
‘Oh that.’ The Doctor shifted uncomfortably. There was a pause. ‘What about it?’ he attempted lightly.
Ace gave him one of her more direct looks. ‘What’s it supposed to remind you of?’ she demanded relentlessly.
The Doctor prevaricated. ‘Well obviously, I set it so that at this precise moment I would change course to... our new destination.’
Ace, however, was not satisfied. ‘Where’s that?’ she insisted.
There was nothing else for it but the truth; often, in the Doctor’s view, a mistake. ‘I’ve forgotten,’ he admitted.
Ace looked at him, knowing all too well what was coming. ‘Oh, Professor...’
‘Yes, you’re quite right. I’m afraid we’ll have to go and find out.’
He was already marching away among the tables towards the riverside path. Ace stopped to buy a souvenir cassette from the band and ran to catch up. In their hurry, neither of them noticed the two large men stand and follow.
The TARDIS waited among some trees across a small footbridge. Ace, reaching the Doctor, was still annoyed.
She followed him on to the bridge.
It was at that moment that two simultaneous bursts of gunfire tore out of the bushes behind them. The force of the bullets threw the Doctor and Ace headlong into the water.
The two large men emerged from the bushes, their silver headphones still in position. They watched silently as the unmoving bodies floated downstream.
In 1638 Lady Peinforte controlled her impatience with an effort, as she had been doing for many days. She aimed the arrow very carefully at the blackbird sitting in the tree and pulled back the bowstring. The bird sang on as she tautened the bow further; then she fired.
The arrow embedded itself in the trunk and the tree immediately emptied of birds. There was a nervous attempt at applause from behind her. Richard, her servant, smiled fulsomely. ‘Oh very good, my lady.’
Ignoring him in disgust, she dropped the bow on to the ground and strode into the house. She had waited long enough.
Inside, an elderly man sat bent over scrolls of calculation muttering to himself.
‘How much longer?’ she demanded.
The elderly man continued muttering, absorbed in his work. Lady Peinforte seethed. The last servant who ignored her had suffered a number of torments that surprised even those familiar with her strict standards of etiquette. Richard, who had followed her in, was anxious to assist.
‘He doesn’t hear you ma’am,’ he informed her needlessly. ’Shall I... ?’
‘Leave him. There’ll be time enough to punish his impertinence when he has finished.’
A pot of green liquid containing the floating remains of a blackened human hand simmered gently on the fire.
Above it, a number of gold-tipped arrows were apparently drying. Lady Peinforte examined them carefully and held them out to Richard. ‘Put these with the others,’ she instructed.
Richard was nervous. Lady Peinforte glared at him. ‘Are you so very feeble? The poison cannot harm unless the arrow’s tip should break the skin. Let who will steal my gold.’
Richard turned to a silver arrow, lying in state on a purple cushion. ‘And this one, my lady?’
‘Leave that to me. You’re sure the potion is well mixed?’
‘On my life, ma’am.’ Suddenly conscious that this was perhaps an unfortunate choice of phrase, Richard amended it to: ’I guarantee it.’
‘Then we await but the calculation.’ This was said emphatically, for the benefit of the elderly man, but he continued working, oblivious to her words.
Aware of this, Richard spoke quietly. ‘There is but the final ingredient of the liquid wanting, as my lady knows.
For that, I was thinking...’
He was interrupted by a cry from the elderly man at the table. ‘My lady! Lady Peinforte: I’ve finished.’
Lady Peinforte gazed at him in disbelief. ‘You have the answer?’
‘Yes, my lady.’
‘Quickly then. Tell me.’
The man fumbled among his