Doctor Who_ The Sea-Devils - Malcolm Hulke [24]
Trenchard slowly got out of the landrover. His legs felt unsteady, as though his knees had turned to soapy water. Then he tried to remember that he was, first and foremost, a soldier, and soldiers must be brave. He knew, or hoped he knew, that what he was doing was right. He was trying to save England from her enemies. The difficult thing about it, though, was that in order to do the right thing he had to do so many wrong things. He was a very, very worried man as he walked, a little unsteadily, from the car-park in the direction of the administrative building.
Once Trenchard’s footsteps had gone out of earshot, the heap of rugs and blankets started to move, and the Master cautiously reared his head. There was no one about, so he climbed out of the landrover and paused to brush down his smart-looking Naval officer’s uniform. Amused, he looked at the bands on his cuffs—the theatrical costumiers had made him into a commander, which was pretty high-ranking. He straightened his cap, and marched across the car-park, returning the salutes of two passing lower-deck ratings.
Captain Hart had now heard the Doctor’s story for the second time. He said nothing for a while because he wanted to give his mind time to consider the idea of intelligent beings living somewhere on, or under, the sea-bed. Finally, he looked up. ‘Let us say, Doctor, that I accept your theory about the existence of these Sea-Devils. What would you want me to do?’
The Doctor was emphatic. ‘We must devise some means to make contact with them!’
‘Whatever for?!’ exclaimed Captain Hart. ‘These things are sinking ships.’
‘These things, as you call them,’ said the Doctor, ‘are an intelligent form of life. I’ve already explained that they used to be the masters of this planet—’
There was a knock on the door, and W.R.N. Writer Jane Blythe looked in. ‘Excuse me, sir. Mr. Trenchard would like a word with you.’
Hart looked up. ‘Didn’t you tell him I was busy?’
‘He said he’d only be a moment, sir.’ Jane lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘He’s just outside, behind me.’
Captain Hart tried to put a good face on it. ‘All right. Wheel him in.’
Jane stepped to one side, and ushered in Trenchard. He advanced on Hart with outstretched hand. ‘Got a minute, old chap? Just wanted to talk to you about the golf tournament—’ He stopped as he saw the Doctor and Jo. ‘I’ll be blowed! I thought you two left the island yesterday.’
‘We got delayed,’ said Jo.
‘Taking a look round the island, eh? Charming place, what there is of it.’ Trenchard returned his attention to Captain Hart. ‘Look, John, I don’t want to butt in, but about next weekend: we are rather relying on you to play, you know.’
‘I’ll do my best,’ said Captain Hart. ‘But if we happen to get a sudden flap on...’ He left the rest of the sentence in mid-air.
‘Then I’d better arrange to have a reserve standing by,’ said Trenchard. ‘What sort of player is that fellow Griffiths?’
The Doctor listened patiently while the two men discussed the relative pros and cons of various local golf players. He noticed how Hart seemed to be trying to get rid of Trenchard, whereas Trenchard was almost deliberately prolonging the conversation. It occurred to the Doctor that Trenchard seemed extremely nervous, and he wondered why.
While Trenchard played for time, the Master was busily helping himself to sonar spare parts in the Naval Base’s store-room. It was a long hut containing rows of metal shelves. In this one place there was almost every electronic spare part he would ever need for the apparatus that he intended to construct back in his room at the château. By good luck he had found a small duffel bag in a corner of the store-room, and he was carefully filling this when Chief Petty Officer Smedley happened to come in. Smedley was more than a little surprised at the spectacle of a commander who was literally getting his hands dirty.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ enquired C.P.O. Smedley, ‘but should I know you?’
The Master, quite unperturbed, continued with his work. ‘You most certainly should. Haven’t you been informed that I was coming?’
‘I’m