Doctor Who_ The Sea-Devils - Malcolm Hulke [15]
‘How you leave this establishment,’ said Captain Hart, ‘is no concern of mine, as long as you leave. UNIT doesn’t run this country, you know. If any more of your people want to come here, perhaps they’d be good enough to ask permission!’
‘I’m sure you’re right,’ said the Doctor, and ushered Jo out.
The petty officer kept close to them as they went down the stairs of the administrative block and back to the concrete roadway that ran outside.
‘Want to get back to your boat?’ asked the petty officer.
‘Thank you,’ said the Doctor, and allowed himself and Jo to be escorted back to the fishing-boat. The petty officer remained on the quayside, watching them carefully, until they were well out to sea.
Warm and comfortable in his luxurious basement ‘cell’, the Master was watching television when Trenchard arrived with the charts.
‘Here we are, old man,’ said Trenchard, setting down on a table the huge rolled-up charts. ‘I think I’ve got everything you asked for.’
The Master switched off his television set, and unrolled one of the charts. It was identical to the one that the Doctor had seen on the wall of Captain Hart’s office, showing the island and mainland, and the contours of the sea-bed.
‘Excellent,’ said the Master. ‘You know, Trenchard, a man of your efficiency is wasted in a job like this—governor of a prison with only one prisoner!’
Trenchard was delighted by the Master’s compliment. ‘Well, I suppose it’s a bit of a come-down. I was once the governor of a colony, you know.’
‘Yes, yes, so I heard,’ said the Master as he studied the chart. ‘Never mind. When our plan succeeds everyone will recognise your true worth.’ Then he drew lines on the chart using a ruler; the lines connected the three points of the recent sinkings.
Trenchard was curious. ‘What are you doing?’
‘These are the three points of the sinkings,’ said the Master. ‘And here in the centre is an oil-rig.’
‘By jove,’ exclaimed Trenchard, ‘you’re right. In fact, that’s the one they closed down because they had so much trouble there. One of these oil men was telling me about it in the local pub. It’s being overhauled now, and they’ve just left a couple of fellows there to act as caretakers.’
The Master straightened up. ‘We must get sonar equipment and search that whole area!’
‘Sonar equipment?’ queried Trenchard.
‘Electronic equipment to probe the sea-bed,’ explained the Mater.
‘I know what sonar equipment is,’ said Trenchard, ‘but where do we get any from?’
‘It’s obvious,’ said the Master. He pointed to a place on the map not far from the château itself. ‘The Naval base. Use your influence.’
‘It’s out of the question,’ Trenchard protested. ‘They’d never agree to that.’
‘Then we must steal it,’ said the Master.
‘Steady on, old man,’ said Trenchard, desperately trying to remember that he was supposed to be the prison governor and that the Master was his prisoner. ‘I can’t go along with that sort of behaviour. You’re asking me to commit a criminal act!’
‘If I had my freedom,’ said the Master, ‘that’s what I’d do.’
Trenchard was silent, torn between his loyalty to the Prison Department who had appointed him to this job, and the plan that he had agreed with the Master.
The Master realised he may have gone too far with Trenchard. He said, ‘You are, of course, right, Trenchard, in refusing to commit a crime. But the deliberate sinking of three ships, and the murder of all hands on board, was a far worse criminal act.’
‘It was disgraceful,’ said Trenchard with feeling, and glad to have something he could agree with.
‘The question is,’ said the Master, ‘how many more lives will be lost? Isn’t it your duty to save those lives, and to defeat the enemies of your country?’
Trenchard thought about this. Of one thing he was absolutely sure—the sinking of three ships, in mysterious circumstances, all in the same area, could not be a coincidence. Through conversations with the Master, whose intelligence he had come to respect, he now firmly believed that these sinkings were being