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The secret base had finally come into view through the heat haze after a two-hour trek through the desert. Rose and Trainor had navigated completely by compass, there being no features to speak of in the broiling desert. Trainor remembered a joke he knew involving a map of the desert and a sheet of sandpaper, but decided against sharing it with the viscount.

They had used some equipment from the rucksack to plot a path through the only camera and sensor blind spot, and then followed the perimeter fence until they now stood at an unmanned secondary entrance, an electronic sentry box guarding a heavy metal gate.

'The proverbial tradesmen's entrance,' announced Rose.

Trainor rummaged in the rucksack, having studied the electronic schematics on the flight over. It works by looking for certain retinal prints.' he announced. 'Probably based on alien technology - it's way ahead of anything I've seen before.'

'But can you break in?'

Trainor looked hurt. 'Of course. It's just a lock.' He attached a small computerised device to the retina-scanner.

All you need to do is come up with enough combinations - in this case, eye patterns, not numbers.' He smiled. 'The real trick is not setting off the security protocols before we come up with a valid "key".' Trainor's device hummed and buzzed for a few moments, and finally the gate swung upward.

Rose smiled. 'A tribute to the enterprise of your best researchers.'

‘A tribute to what your money can buy you,' said Trainor sadly.

'But I've never used a parachute in my life,' said Liz nervously. 'I'm afraid it's the only way,' replied Mike Yates.

'We haven't got a ladder long enough!'

Oh great, thought Liz. Now everyone's a comedian.

'You will be fine,' said Shuskin impatiently. will show you.'

And she gave Liz a crash course in landing techniques as the Lockheed C-130 Hercules circled in the Nevada sky. It was all about bending your knees, apparently. Shuskin made it all sound straightforward enough, but Liz still couldn't help but wish she'd had longer to prepare for this mission. Like a year or two, at least.

'Do you know what we're going to do when we get there?' Yates asked the Doctor.

'Not really,' said the Doctor with a smile. 'It's possible that this might be just another wild-goose chase. I've experienced these multilayered plots before. Nothing they do surprises me.'

'The US Air Force?' asked Mike. 'The Waro?'

'No,' said the Doctor angrily. 'The CIA.'

They jumped at thirty thousand feet. The Doctor, still managing to look dignified in a pilot's overalls and helmet, was first out of the doors. In his hand he clutched a portable version of the advanced radar system he had created for UNIT's tracking stations. Before they left England he had told Liz that the device had been optimised to detect the mechanical wings of the Waro.

Liz jumped next, with Shuskin and Yates close behind her. She was swamped by the sickening feeling of hurtling descent, her stomach seeming to relocate to somewhere just below her throat. Then the adrenaline rush hit her and she shouted in terror and exhilaration. This was like nothing she had ever experienced before. She was flying like a bird.

'Yeeeeeeessssssss!' she screamed, and then almost passed out as Mike bumped into her from behind.

'Pull your ripcord,' came a muffled shout, 'or you'll be dead before you can say "Jack Robinson"!'

Liz tugged at the release mechanism and was immediately jerked upwards as the parachute opened. It was like hitting a wall, but her descent was checked and she found herself floating gently towards the sand-yellow desert below.

Now all she had to do was land without breaking her legs.

'How's your leg?' asked the Doctor.

'I'll live.' said Liz, putting her weight on her sprained right ankle for the first time. 'Owwww!'

'Take it easy,' said Mike Yates, helping her to sit again.

'They always say the last ten feet is the killer.'

The Doctor knelt beside Liz and gently massaged her swollen ankle. 'Give it