Doctor Who_ Silver Nemesis - Kevin Clarke [4]
The young men stood in respectful silence around the table on which the scrolls lay as De Flores examined them closely, squinting and holding the small figures up to the bright sunlight. The portrait of Hitler which dominated the room seemed suddenly to be caught by the light too, and its expression appeared even more intense than usual.
The faintest smile twitched at De Flores’ thin mouth. He laid the document down on the table. His voice shook slightly. ‘Thank you, Karl. You have done well.’
‘I thought you should know at once.’
De Flores looked around the group of young South American men, taking in all their faces. ‘Gentlemen,’ he said, ‘I wonder if even you can fully appreciate what this moment means? You now stand at the turning point of history. The day of fulfilment of our mighty destiny is about to dawn.’ His voice seemed to echo and grow louder in the room. ‘Fifty years ago I stood at the side of the Führer when he ordered the first giant step to greatness.
Just as now the moment approaches for the second, and final one. It will be decisive!’
He turned to the painting behind him and gazed up at it; the young men’s eyes followed his. Hitler glared down at them all. De Flores’ voice dropped. ‘This time,’ he added, ‘we shall not fail.’
Beneath the portrait a curtain hung to the ground. De Flores crossed to it and drew the curtain aside to reveal a glass case. Inside, a raised dais supported a majestic purple cushion, on top of which lay a silver bow. De Flores gazed at the bow for a moment, then slowly turned to the group again. ‘Gentlemen, I give you... the Fourth Reich.’
Cheering broke out. In the adjoining room, the telephone rang. Karl hurried out. Smiling, De Flores opened the case and removed the bow reverently. He held it up before them, then.placed it in a flight case which he closed and locked. Karl returned. ‘Herr De Flores. The aircraft is ready.’
‘We leave at once,’ replied his leader.
On the pleasant river bank on the other side of the world it was still an idyllic English afternoon. Ace, however, had lost interest in the weather. Even the attempt of less than an hour before on her life and the Doctor’s had receded from her mind in the face of more pressing concerns. ‘You mean,’ she insisted, ‘the world’s going to end and you’d forgotten?’
‘I’ve been busy,’ said the Doctor defensively. ‘One thing and another...’
As usual, Ace was determined to get to the heart of the matter. ‘How long have you known?’
The Doctor squirmed a bit. ‘In strictly linear terms, as the chronometer flies...’ Ace, he could tell, was not going to be blinded by science. He took a deep breath. ‘I’ve known since November the twenty-third, 1638.’
Stepping over the elderly mathematician’s body, Richard handed Lady Peinforte a beaker of the fermenting brew that had simmered for the past few days on the fire, and to which he had now added the final ingredient of human blood, reluctantly supplied by the now late scholar.
Richard secretly hoped that none of the human hand, an ingredient about which her ladyship had been most insistent, had flaked off into his own beaker. Joining her now in the circle at the centre of the pentacle inscribed on the floor, he felt the unnatural chill from her body and realized he had never stood so physically close to her before. The bright silver arrow she held sparkled unusually in the firelight of the darkened room.
Lady Peinforte glared at him. ‘What meanst thou, afraid?’ she demanded. ‘When I hired you, you led me to believe you were a hardened criminal.’
Richard inclined his head modestly. ‘As my lady knows, before I entered your employment I had been found guilty of a large number of offences.’
‘Then,’ she concluded, ‘have the courage of your convictions. Drink.’
Richard looked into the foaming beaker. His courage, seldom if ever adequate, failed him completely.
‘ Drink!’
Faced with the inevitable, Richard closed his eyes