Downtime - Marc Platt [52]
‘Perhaps I should ring the Gas Board,’ Celia suggested.
Any stranger seen loitering around the school grounds was a cause for concern. ‘Or even challenge him.’
‘Not just yet. I don’t think the Gas Board will know.’ Celia took another swig of coffee. ‘Brigadier, is this all to do with those phone calls?’
The Brigadier smiled. ‘Nothing to worry about, Celia. Just some old army colleagues trying to get in touch, I expect.’
‘They have a strange way of going about it, I must say.’
‘Well, must get on.’ He started to usher her towards the door.
‘The other reason I came round was the retirement meeting?’
He was suddenly flustered. ‘Sorry, I was forgetting. Can’t be for a few days yet. I may be away again. I’ll give the headmaster a ring and apologize.’
‘You will be back before term starts?’
‘Oh, yes. Not to worry, Celia. Just some business I have to attend to.’
He finally closed the door on her and watched from the window as she marched towards the van, cardigan flapping. It had come as no surprise when he had discovered that Twickers was merely a conflation of Celia’s original nickname, Old Tweed Knickers. For sheer formidability, she earned every stitch of it.
The van’s occupant had sensibly disappeared, but Celia made a note of the number plate and set off in the direction of the headmaster’s house.
Sarah waited until she got home before she rang UNIT. She was not prepared for the changes that had occurred to the once familiar organization. Security had been radically upgraded.
She was subjected to a series of identity checks. Her name was recognized by the personnel system, but when it was established that she was a journalist, all the doors started to slam shut.
‘How did you get hold of this number?’ she was repeatedly asked.
She was tempted to tell them that her dog had found it. ‘I always used this number when I spoke to Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart. You can check on your files.’
‘Yes, Miss Smith, but according to records that was nearly twenty years ago.’
‘How many other breaches of security have you had lately?’ she asked.
‘Why are you ringing, Miss Smith?’
‘I have important information. I told you, I used to work with Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart.’ As an afterthought she added, ‘ And the Doctor.’
‘Just one moment.’ There was a long pause.
‘I think we’ve rattled them,’ she muttered to K9. The angular metal dog was parked beside her chair, monitoring the call intently. His tail wagged slowly in positronic appreciation.
‘Miss Smith.’ A suave male voice on the line. ‘Captain Cavendish of Virtual Ordnance Group. Perhaps I can help.’
‘I hope so, Captain.’
‘I gather you used to work for UNIT.’ He sounded condescending and a little bored.
‘Yes, in a periodic capacity.’
‘I see. That would be with Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart.’
‘Yes. Look, perhaps I could speak to your current CO. Is it still Brigadier Crichton?’
‘I’m sure you can pass any information you have on to me, Miss Smith.’
‘I’m not sure that I can,’ she said. ‘It is very urgent. It concerns UNIT security.’
‘Right. Perhaps I should say that if there is a security breach, we will be addressing the problem.’
‘You mean “no comment”.’
She had to hand it to him. His voice stayed absolutely smooth. ‘I’m sure that if there is a need, then a press statement will be issued.’
‘Oh, come on. This is about the Brigadier...’
‘Naturally Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart’s safety is receiving our full and discreet attention.’
‘Why?’ she demanded. ‘What sort of trouble is he in?’
‘Perhaps you’d like to come in and tell us what you think you’ve uncovered.’
‘I didn’t say that.’
She could hear him smile. ‘Even so, as a former employee...’
‘I was never “employed” as such.’
‘I could arrange an appointment.’
She was starting to get very wary of this persistent crocodile charm. ‘Thank you so much for talking to me, Captain Cavendish. I don’t think I’ll come in if you already have everything in hand. My dog wouldn’t like it. Good morning.’
Sarah put the phone down and breathed a sigh of exhaustion. ‘Oh, K9. As long as they