• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

'Very well' Shuskin nodded. 'But I am having all nuclear missile bases put on immediate stand-by. And if we do not report back to base by dusk tonight, a massive strike will be launched against this area'

The Doctor smiled. 'Thank you, Captain. I knew you'd see sense' He turned to Liz. 'Would you mind giving me a hand? Time is rather of the essence.'

The stress and anxiety of the last few days finally caught up with the Brigadier and he slumped wearily in the front seat of the car, dozing intermittently.

He was woken suddenly by a tapping on the window. He shook himself awake and looked dizzily through the glass. A red-lipped smile was the first thing he took in. Sitting upright and winding down the window, Lethbridge-Stewart found himself looking at a young woman in a very short leather skirt, fishnet stockings and a tight angora sweater.

'Bonjour,' she said with a charming smile.

'I beg your pardon?' said the Brigadier, still disorientated.

'Anglais?' the woman asked with a slight tremor in her voice. 'You are liking it, yes?'

'Young lady,' said the Brigadier, recovering his wits, 'I am not liking it. Comprenez-vous?'

'Oui. Up yours!'

Delightful, thought the Brigadier, as he closed the window. Farther down the road he could see a small knot of similarly dressed women watching each passing car with interest. Clearly Ise was in the middle of the local red-light district. He glanced at his watch. Ye gods, but they worked all hours on the Continent.

He eased himself back in his seat, and stared across the road at the warehouse. He was beginning to feel more than a trifle foolish.

Half an hour later, just before dawn, a lorry approached the warehouse from the far end of the street. It was a large military vehicle with a green canvas rear. A man in dark clothing jumped from the cab as it approached the building.

Putting a key in the lock, he looked around furtively. The huge doors opened to admit the lorry, then slammed shut a moment later.

The Brigadier stepped from the car and watched with interest as lights began to flicker behind the warehouse's filthy windows. Thinking quickly, he withdrew his wallet and nervously approached the group of prostitutes. He coughed loudly to attract their attention.

'Look,' he began. 'Delicate matter, this, but I have a proposition to put to you...'

* * *

It was a long and boring drive to the holiday town on the south coast. The radio was full of hippie drivel and the road bent and twisted all over the place. Dammit, didn't the Brits know how to build a straight road?

Bruce changed down into second, throwing the Land Rover around a small roundabout and scaring half to death the old woman in the little blue buggy thing to his left. He wondered if she knew her car had only three wheels.

He drove slowly along the almost deserted promenade.

This early in the morning the amusement arcades were just opening up, and old men bent double with age were carrying armfuls of deck chairs down to the beach.

The Land Rover came to a halt, facing the sea. Bruce flashed the headlights, then turned off the engine. He left the keys in the ignition, pushed open the door, shooing away the gulls that picked at the strewn remains of somebody's fish and chips. A stiff wind buffeted the seafront, bringing with it the tang of salt and seaweed.

'0i, mate,' said one of the deck-chair attendants, 'You've left your lights on.'

Bruce ignored him, and vaulted over the cast-iron railings, landing smartly on the sandy beach. The tide was in, and it didn't take Bruce long to reach the water's edge. He stared out at the dark sea, the wind tugging his hair. Waiting.

A little later he heard a droning noise over the crash of the waves. A dark shape skidded towards him across the water, gliding to a halt just in front of him.

He stepped nonchalantly aboard the hovercraft, which turned and moved swiftly back over the surface of the Channel.

It was Liz who reminded the Doctor that, if he wanted to construct a device to jam the artificial wings