Doctor Who_ The Devil Goblins From Neptune - Keith Topping [72]
Moments later they came to the top of the hill, and Liz turned her thoughts away from the deadly silver pathways.
The trees were sparse and stunted here, and Liz and Shuskin ducked from one piece of cover to another as they approached the edge. All the while Liz kept a tight hand on the device, remembering how silently the Waro had come up behind her. And there was no one to watch her back this time.
Liz and Shuskin crawled on their stomachs for the last few metres. The vista below gradually unfolded - a massive crater in the middle of the forest, as sensitive and subtle as any human opencast mine. Scattered around the edge were large buildings, not unlike grain silos, and deep in the artificial chasm were what seemed to be motor units and conveyor belts.
Shuskin immediately scanned the area with a pair of binoculars. 'Something's wrong,' she said, passing them to Liz.
'What do you mean?'
'I see Waro patrolling overhead, and moving between the various buildings. I see what appears to be mining equipment.
'But?' Liz scanned the area intently.
'None of the machinery is moving.'
'Perhaps they're having a break,' said Liz. 'Union rules or something'
'They are an invading military force,' said Shuskin, seeming to have missed the humour in Liz's voice. 'We no longer stop our battles to have tea, Dr Shaw.'
'Well, maybe there's just been a power failure. Or they've mined what they came for. There could be a hundred and one reasons why the machines aren't working'
'We had better find out,' said Shuskin.
The plan was brilliant in its simplicity. Or, alternatively, it was a foolish, desperate gambit by a man who had been sent chasing from pillar to post and was, frankly, at the end of his tether.
Either way, Lethbridge-Stewart had paid his eight hundred francs to the ladies, and now he wanted to see his money's worth.
The girl who had tried to sell herself to him was called Sandrine and was from Zurich. Her father was a bürgermeister and her mother, recently deceased, had been a hausfrau. None of this really mattered, but Lethbridge-Stewart always liked to know who he was dealing with. The girl introduced several of her colleagues, and the Brigadier outlined his plans in a mixture of French and English. To his great relief, they seemed to understand him and, equally importantly, they didn't mind taking orders. You don't have to know the language to realise that money talks.
The diversion that he asked them to perform was straightforward enough. Six girls lined themselves up in front of the warehouse and began hollering at the top of their voices, taking their clothes off, and fighting with each other.
The Brigadier had asked them to spare no indignity, just make as much noise as possible. He was hoping that the last thing the men in the warehouse wanted was a 'scene', and, as he hid in the shadows beside the doors, he knew that he had to make the most of the one opportunity he was likely to get.
Two minutes later the doors creaked open and three men emerged, two carrying sub-machine guns. They fanned out, looking suitably menacing. Sandrine and her friends, having valiantly performed above and beyond the call of duty, took one look at the guns and fled into the bright morning, their money well earned.
Thankfully, they had kept the men occupied long enough for Lethbridge-Stewart to slip through the doors and conceal himself alongside a lorry. The moment the huge doors closed again the tailgate came down, and the men began unloading large quantities of documents in plastic bags. Most of them were speaking in French, though the Brigadier heard other languages occasionally, including English. He distinguished few specific words, but one caught his attention. It was a name - 'Houghton' - and it sent a chill down the Brigadier's spine.
The man he had been sent to kill. Lethbridge-Stewart fished in his pocket and removed the piece of paper that Hayes had given him. In the dim light he looked at it again,