Doctor Who_ The Devil Goblins From Neptune - Keith Topping [1]
'In 1968 you worked at the underground installation at Semipalatinsk. A cul-de-sac in an otherwise promising career, wouldn't you agree, Captain?'
'I imagine most soldiers' careers have ups and downs, sir.
And it did at least bring me to the attention of the officers recruiting for UNIT.'
The colonel nodded. 'You enjoy working for us?'
'Of course.' Shuskin wasn't sure where the colonel's questions were leading.
'But you miss the excitement of more overt activities?'
Shuskin decided to temper her honesty, off the record or not. The unusual nature of the work makes up for the lack of more orthodox military operations.'
'A good answer,' said Katayev. 'I feel much the same myself. Wherever it is thought that I can be of most use, then there I am happy.'
They came to a halt outside an office block. The colonel pressed an intercom button, but ignored the clipped query from the tannoy. He turned to Shuskin. 'You seem surprised at our destination?'
Shuskin turned her face away in embarrassment, annoyed that the old man could read her so well. 'When I realised we were heading for Gorkiy I thought perhaps we were to visit the submarine yard. I admit I wasn't expecting this.' She indicated the dilapidated tower blocks and the nearby residential flats, studded now with just a few lights.
'Then it will perhaps satisfy your commendable curiosity to let you know something at the outset.' The door buzzed to indicate that it had been opened remotely, but again the colonel ignored it. Instead, he smiled for the first time. 'We're not here at the behest of the military or of the United Nations.'
'Then who...?' began Shuskin, just as the truth was dawning. 'The KGB?'
Katayev pushed open the door. 'It's best not to keep them waiting.'
The corridors smelt of dry rot and boiled cabbage. Paint peeled from every possible surface, and pipes and cables ran exposed over the walls. Only the security cameras, tucked into the darker corners, hinted at the building's function. If the new owners of the building wanted it to appear run-down, they'd certainly gone to extraordinary lengths, right down to the pool of urine in the corner.
They came to a door like any other, but here Colonel Katayev stopped and knocked. A man with the small, nervous eyes of a rat opened the door, indicated where they should sit, and then disappeared out into the corridor. Shuskin heard the door being locked behind them.
At first she thought they were in a lecture hall, as much of the room was dominated by steeply banked rows of seats. Then she noticed the large screen that the chairs all faced. She thought she could smell fresh glue and paint, an artificiality stronger than the stench of the corridors. Shuskin ran a hand over one of the seats. Her eyes widened. The covering was cream-coloured leather.
'If you ever wondered where the riches of the Soviet Union end up...' Katayev spoke in a whisper, a half-smile on his lips.
He nodded towards the front of the room. On two chairs were grey plastic folders. Shuskin followed him, and glanced at the papers in her binder.
Katayev nudged her with his elbow. 'Sit down. There is a protocol to follow at these meetings.'
The lights went out the moment she was seated. As her eyes struggled to adapt to the darkness she saw a figure shuffle into the room through another door. He made his way towards the back. Shuskin took her lead from the colonel, and stared forward at the screen, although she was itching to find out more about the mysterious man behind them, and the contents of the folder in her hand.
'I am grateful that two senior officers from UNIT have so willingly consented to meet with us.' said the man.
His voice was strong and clear, and Shuskin detected something of a regional accent. Baltic, perhaps?
'I am...' There was a pause, as if he were plucking a word from the ether. 'Mayakovsky, of the Narodnyi Kommissariat