Doctor Who_ Warchild - Andrew Cartmel [102]
It wasn’t just a matter of glory. Certainly, it would be nice to be the man who bagged the White King and put an end to the terror in London. They’d probably give him the keys to the city. Not a bad result for a kid from the Divis Flats.
But it wasn’t just the glory. Redmond wanted to get it over with because it was too good a chance to miss. He had a clean shot now and who knew when that might happen again? Who knew what might happen in the next few seconds?
The White King’s narrow skull was perfectly framed in the computer-generated crosshairs of his night-sight. Its dark eyes stared at him with sad knowledge. Redmond began tightening his finger on the trigger.
That was when he heard the other sound. Another vehicle.
Approaching from the same direction as the armoured car and moving fast.
Redmond hesitated for a second when he heard the sound. He wondered who might be coming in the other vehicle. The reinforcements Norman Peverell had promised?
Had poor bladder-bursting Norman worked out a way to summon them?
Redmond speculated for a moment before he began to pull the trigger, and then it was too late.
Racing out of the night, sleek and gleaming under the streetlights, came a long black hearse. It was a gigantic vehicle with sweeping tail-fins that must have dated back to the 1950s.
Redmond froze with surprise. He failed to take his shot.
And then events began to move too rapidly to be easily absorbed.
The armoured car appeared along the perimeter road following the hearse; it braked violently and swerved to a rubber-burning halt to avoid a collision with the hearse. The hearse had abruptly skidded to a halt beside the pavement, and now it sat there, parked sideways, blocking the road.
In the front of the hearse Redmond could just about make out a man and a woman. The man was swinging the front door of the hearse open even as the big armoured vehicle screeched to a halt behind him. He was apparently oblivious to the threat of the dog pack that was massed all around him.
The nearest groups of dogs had immediately leapt to their feet, turning to face the hearse, preparing to defend their leader.
But the White King had suddenly left his spot on the front steps. He was bounding up the garden path and out of the front gate with youthful vigour, loping towards the hearse.
The scores of dogs who had begun to close in on the long black vehicle hesitated. They’d seen the man jumping out of the hearse and they were obviously poised to attack, to close in fast and rip him to pieces.
But they made no move towards him. Instead they turned and watched the White King as he raced along the pavement towards the hearse.
The ancient withered dog was running with the speed and excitement of a puppy. The ranks of other dogs backed away to clear a path for him as he dashed towards the man who’d emerged from the hearse.
He was a small man in a pale jacket, wearing an incongrous straw hat which he clutched to his head, as if he was more worried about losing his hat than anything else.
It’s the Doctor.’
Redmond looked up to see that Roz had joined him at the edge of the roof. She stared down into the street.
Redmond turned to follow her gaze and he was just in time to see the White King slow down and approach the Doctor; it moved unsteadily now on its frail legs, head shaking a little as it jabbed its muzzle up at the Doctor.
And began to lick his hand.
Chapter 32
Miss Marcroft was lost in thoughts of fruit salad when the nasty looking old man came back into her office.
It had only been a short time since lunch but Miss Marcroft could still distinctly taste every flavour of the tart, chilled fruit she’d consumed. She was lingering over these flavours when the old man came back in. Francis Leemark.
He was Wolfs father. She had been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, but the old man had proved to be, if anything, worse than his son. Even more rude. And more arrogant.
‘I need some information,’