Downtime - Marc Platt [104]
‘And there was another body on board, you know. One of the frogmen told me. Not a victim of the crash, either. He said it was burned out from the inside. Sounds like what happened to Cavendish, doesn’t it?’
‘You must get very bored with D-notices,’ the Brigadier said. ‘You never got to report on any of your involvement in UNIT activities.’
She shrugged wistfully. ‘I signed the Official Secrets Act.
Anyway, you always paid well to keep me quiet.’
‘Rather better, I recall, than we paid our Scientific Advisor.
But don’t tell him that.’
‘Did he have a bank account?’ she asked. ‘I bet he never used it. He’s owed me a tenner for about twenty years.’ Her mobile phone trilled. He heard her talking to someone rather acerbically. She seemed to have trouble getting a word in edgeways. ‘Yes, I’m fine... Yes, of course... K9, can I say something, please? Look, I’m sure you have... Yes, well done... But do we have to go through this every time...? K9, I’m warning you! K9...! Pets Win Prizes! ’
A pause.
‘That’s better. Actually, I do need some information...’
The Brigadier, bemused, watched a group of squaddies pounding across the far side of the campus. The pyramid on top of the main university building was broken like a dead volcano.
There was no sign of any Chillys. He reckoned that Social Services would have their work cut out dealing with the poor saps.
He thought for the first time in two days about the school.
Someone would have to pay for the damage to the cloisters.
He would have a word with Crichton.
He supposed the affair had ended positively, but only by the skin of their teeth, he felt. The sacrifice of Harrods and Danny would prey on his conscience for ever.
Sarah had put away her mobile and was watching him.
‘Penny for them, Brigadier,’ she said gently.
‘I have an appointment. Let’s walk,’ he said and set off along the towpath.
She took his proffered arm. ‘We’ve just been trying to trace your car for you.’
‘Oh? Probably towed away, I shouldn’t wonder.’
‘Well, there’s no record at the moment; apparently the police computer is still down. Maybe it’s still where you left it.’
He frowned. ‘Where do you get your information from, Miss Smith? This friend of yours? Is he some sort of hacker?’
‘More of a retriever really,’ she grinned. ‘It’s an old joke. It keeps him amused.’
Still perplexed, he looked out over the canal. Sunlight dazzled on the water.
‘I retire from Brendon soon. I’ve been teaching there for twenty odd years – some of them very odd. Readying people for the world. I’m just not certain it’s the world I know any more.’
‘Of course it is, Brigadier. Last night, it felt as if we claimed it back.’
‘Perhaps,’ he said and walked quietly. There were things that they both knew and that could go unsaid.
In the distance, he saw a boat moored to the bank in an unlikely spot as if it had just washed up there.
He stopped for a moment. ‘That Vice Chancellor woman.’
‘Victoria Waterfield?’
‘Still no trace her of her, I take it.’
‘I’ve been meaning to ask you about her. Both she and you were involved in something called “The London Event”.’
‘Good Lord. You got that from your retriever friend again, I suppose.’ He sighed. ‘I knew I’d come across her somewhere before.’
‘I don’t think you need tell me how,’ said Sarah. ‘She dropped quite a few hints, unintentional or otherwise.’
‘She must have been in her late teens when I met her.’
Sarah looked a little wistful.
‘And she travelled with the Doctor?’
‘So it would appear.’
She squeezed his arm. ‘You know, I remember once going through the TARDIS wardrobe and I found this dress, long and white and old-fashioned, and he said it had belonged to Victoria. And I said, “Well, as long as Albert didn’t wear it.”’
‘And you think it could have been her.