Doctor Who_ Storm Harvest - Mike Tucker [52]
He alighted on the fifth floor and picked his way along the corridor of offices. Garrett’s was at the far end. He knocked tremulously at the door.
No answer. He knocked harder. He could hear sounds of movement from inside. ‘Mr Garrett... he called out timorously.’
He opened the door and stepped inside. The blinds were drawn – the office was in semi-darkness. There was a smell in the room – a rank, sickening smell. Rancid meat.
‘I came, just as you said, if the Doctor contacted me...’ Bryce coughed. The smell was choking. ‘Well, I’ve just left him.’
‘What did he say?’
Bryce jumped out of his skin. Garrett’s voice, harsh and breathless, came through an open door in the far wall. The room beyond was dark.
Bryce could hear a low, ragged, rhythmic sound coming from it. It sounded almost like... something breathing.
‘He... He asked a lot about the Krill,’ Bryce stammered. ‘I... might have told him a little too much...’
Something lying in shadow in the far corner of the room caught Bryce’s eye. He stepped closer – and froze in horror. He felt his blood chill.
It was a body. That creature from the dig. Dead. Dead, and... His stomach lurched. He vomited. The corpse’s flesh hung from it in ribbons. The thing was half-eaten.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Garrett growled. ‘It’s too late for anybody to stop it now.’
Bryce spun around. Garrett was standing in the darkness behind him.
His breathing sounded like a broken bellows. There was something about his face...
‘What’s wrong, Bryce?’
Bryce didn’t reply. His throat had dried and closed.
‘You look frightened,’ Garrett said, taking a step closer. His face seemed to... shimmer... blur and melt...
It wasn’t Garrett at all – it was...
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Bryce felt a hand shoot out and grab him by the throat. He staggered backwards, screaming.
‘I seem to have eaten something that disagrees with me.’ Garrett gave a high, giggly laugh. ‘They say that you are what you eat. Perhaps I should change my diet.’
A huge arm flashed down and knocked the scream from Bryce.
Barely conscious, he was aware of a pair of ferocious jaws opening about his face, and then pain...
Central admin was buzzing with people when the Doctor arrived.
Officials were arguing in the foyer. Civilians were clustered around, shouting at them.
‘My kids were out there!’ one was shouting. ‘A day cruise. The Adair.’
‘We are still trying to establish which vessels are in the area,’ an official said, his voice trained to instil calm. It wasn’t working.
The Doctor slipped easily into the mêlée, and out the other side. He was in the lift before anyone challenged him.
Things seemed just as bad on the third floor. He could hear raised voices coming from the co-ordinator’s office – Brenda Mulholland’s, hard and throaty; others the Doctor didn’t recognise.
He stepped inside. The room fell silent. Brenda Mulholland was flanked by half a dozen suited or uniformed officials, all standing around the big map of the planet, all staring at him with a mixture of apprehension and expectation on their faces. To his relief, Garrett was absent.
‘Doctor...’ Brenda Mulholland said.
‘Miss Mulholland, I need to speak to you in private. It’s important.’
She hesitated for a split second, then nodded. ‘Give me a few minutes, gentlemen,’ she said. Her companions filed out of the room.
‘I need the weapon,’ the Doctor said in a low voice. ‘The biogenic weapon I found at Professor MacKenzie’s dig. The police impounded it – which, as we both know, means Garrett’s got it. I don’t think I can stop what’s happening. It’s the only weapon which will be effective against the Krill. I need to examine it. You must get it from Garrett.’
‘We’ve been trying to contact Garrett,’ Brenda said. ‘We can’t find him. He’s picked a hell of a time to do a disappearing act... Doctor, I’m glad you’re here. A police submarine’s been lost at sea.’
‘The Krill?’ the Doctor asked.
‘We don’t know,’ Brenda said. ‘All we know is the reactor went critical. It blew itself apart.’
‘It was a nuclear sub?’ the Doctor was aghast.
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