Doctor Who_ The King of Terror - Keith Topping [55]
asked Ryman.
‘Fascinating developments,’ noted Lewis, leading the pair through Eva’s bedroom to an observation room beyond. There Eva stood watching Turlough.
Curled into a ball in the centre of the white room, he was once again being subjected to sensory experiments.
105
‘The light in the room is gradually fading,’ Eva noted, without taking her eyes from Turlough. ‘Once the creature has adjusted to those conditions, we shall throw it back into harsh light and see how its eyes react to that.’
‘And what will that prove?’ asked Sanger.
‘Ability to see in the dark might be useful,’ said Eva.
Sanger seemed satisfied with this answer. ‘Yes, I’ll give you that,’ he agreed.
‘So, Professor,’ he turned to Lewis. ‘A definitive answer then?’
‘I’m fairly certain that this man, this thing, is not human. At least, not wholly. A hybrid perhaps.’
‘You’re fairly certain?’ asked Sanger.
Suddenly Lewis didn’t seem anywhere near as sure as he had been a moment before. ‘Fairly,’ he repeated to a disgusted look from Ryman. ‘It is certainly able to withstand temperatures considerably higher than the average human which is, after all, what the conglomerate is ultimately looking for.
The signs all point to extraterrestrial origins. A higher white-blood-cell count, odd elements in the blood such as minute traces of uranium, not to mention its DNA profile which is peculiar to say the least.’ As Lewis continued to gibber excitedly Ryman moved behind him, drew out a revolver and shot the scientist in the head, mid-sentence.
There was a momentary look of total bewilderment on Lewis’s face just before he collapsed to the floor, dead. What was all that about? it seemed to ask.
‘“Yes” would have done,’ Ryman told the corpse as Chebb and another, smaller, InterCom operative entered the observation room carrying a black body bag. ‘Make sure this is disposed of,’ he said.
‘Right,’ agreed Chebb. ‘The usual sanitisation procedure?’
‘That would seem like a good idea,’ noted Sanger.
Eva turned at last and looked at the body being placed in the bag. ‘Was that really necessary?’ she asked.
‘His behaviour with the visitor from UNIT endangered the entire project,’
said Sanger in an emotionless voice. ‘He’d become a liability and we can’t afford liabilities at this stage of the project. And anyway, he’s just achieved his life’s work – where else was there for the man to go from here?’
‘ May have achieved his life’s work,’ said Eva, strongly. ‘We’re still not certain that this . . . ’ She pointed to Turlough, ‘. . . whatever it is, is an EBE.’
‘Then you’d better be sure,’ Sanger noted, ‘or you’ll be joining Lewis in the failures’ retirement home.’
The sign in the window of Tower Records on Sherman Way next to the wonderfully named Moby Disc made David Milligan stop the car and shout in surprise.
106
‘Whoa! Look at that!’
Tegan looked. A ragged piece of white card had been blue-tacked, ama-teurishly, to the glass. Whoever had put it there obviously didn’t have any qualifications in visual display merchandising. The writing was spidery and smudged, in red felt-tip.
JOHNNY CHESTER
will be here signing copies of his first novel –
‘Neurotic Boy Outsider’
11 July
‘So?’ asked Tegan, after a moment of trying to decipher whether the second word of the third line was supposed to read ‘novel’ or ‘navel’.
‘Johnny Chester,’ repeated Milligan as if that explained everything.
‘Oh. Right. So?’
‘Johnny bloody Chester,’ said Milligan, his voice raising an excited notch.
‘Still requiring a “so“, here . . . ’
Milligan had the look of whomsoever it was that had been assigned the tough job of converting Saul on the road to Damascus. ‘Johnny Chester!’ he repeated for the third time. Tegan wore an irritated scowl that told him some sort of explanation might be a really wise move. ‘You know . . . of the Star Jumpers? The beast of rock and roll? The only man to write a decent song about football, “Black and White