Doctor Who_ The Dying Days - Lance Parkin [51]
'Understood. But how?' It was a man's voice, and she recognised it. Edward was addressing a hands free telephone, or intercom. There was a speaker on the desk that hadn't been there before. It came as a relief that Greyhaven wasn't talking to himself.
'I pride myself on my resourcefulness. You wil see.' Eve edged back behind the door, aware that this was a private conversation.
'If you are sure, then I am sure, Teddy.' The line clicked, dead.
Edward had picked up a small brass box from his desk, squeezing its side. A faint warbling sound started up.
Greyhaven slipped the box into his jacket pocket and pressed something on his desk. A panel slid back into place, concealing the intercom he'd been talking to. Greyhaven gathered up another little box from the desk and then straightened, heading back her way.
Eve dashed back to the sofa, and had arranged herself on it as he opened the door. Edward was carrying a long, thin box, which he passed over to her as he sat down. The sort of box jewellery came in. Eve pulled herself up, a little clumsily. Inside was a gold necklace.
'Not too ostentatious, I hope.' He passed it over.
'It's beautiful.' It was understated, elegant and worth a small fortune. 'When-?'
'Adelle, my secretary chose it for me this afternoon. She has more taste in that area. Try it on.'
49
Eve lifted her hair, letting him wrap it around her. It was heavier than she had expected. When he had finished, he withdrew, looking a little uncomfortable.
'It's so expensive.'
'I'd much rather spend my money on my friends than on my carpet.'
She leant over him, kissing him on the forehead, then the bridge of his nose. He shifted, allowing her closer.
***
Half a world away, the Prime Minister checked his tie in the mirror.
This was going to be a big speech. There had been a lot of uncertainty for the last couple of years. But with the British and American elections out of the way, things were going to settle down for a while. This speech would set the tone for Anglo-American relations, and he wanted to grab the imagination with it, not just say the same old things about 'special relationships'.
The Prime Minister always got nervous before a speech, whether he was addressing the United Nations or the Women's Institute, and it had become a habit to come to the washroom, splash his face with water and check his appearance. The wash basins in the White House were relatively lavish affairs: large and spotlessly clean.
The washroom door swung noisily open. It was his bodyguard.
'Is everything all right?' the Prime Minister asked, reaching for the hand towel.
The bodyguard shot him twice, once in the chest and once in the back of the head.
***
Alarms were sounding around the UNIT Offices. Bambera's phone rang. The Doctor watched silently as she picked it up and listened for a couple of seconds before replacing the receiver.
'Corporal, patch through the datafeed from Skywatch One.'
That was the radar station in Essex that kept its dish pointing upwards. Twenty years ago it had been able to detect an artificial object a million miles away. Who knows what its range was now?
A roughly cylindrical object was in plain view, and no more than 200,000 miles away. It was moving fast across the screen.
The Doctor leapt to his feet. 'We're too late!' he gasped.
'It is now on a direct heading for Earth,' the Corporal announced.
The Doctor stared straight at Bambera, pointing at the screen. 'Your people want proof? That is pretty compelling evidence, I would say.'
Lethbridge-Stewart turned to face his old friend. 'Doctor, you said that we had two days.'
The Doctor grabbed a handful of his hair and stared at the screen. 'Martian spacedrives are notoriously slow. I don't understand how they have got here so quickly.'
Alexander Christian rubbed his chin. 'It's simple old chap. The radar signal was jammed. It's been on its way here all this time and no-one down here was any the wiser.'
The Doctor pressed his face up to the video wall, calculating trajectories