Downtime - Marc Platt [68]
Christopher had cut in the music as soon as he reached the studio control room. He could still hear Anthony in the studio booth, but the glass panel between them was opaque, tinged with a pale green light. The inside was covered with a skein of glinting web that rippled as if it was horribly alive.
Anthony’s voice was close to breaking point. ‘She’ll tell you. She knows what’s coming. And it’ll finish everything.’
He finally cracked in a flood of hysterical tears.
From the window in the door, Christopher could see Anthony’s shape through wreaths of web. The presenter was rocking to and fro, caught like an insect in the tangle. The substance had spread through the booth like a malignant, rampant plant. The strands of web were flecked with luminous froth.
Christopher smiled. This was abominable, but fascinating.
He tested the door to ensure that it was locked. Satisfied, he set off back to Victoria’s office with a jaunty gait.
19
Blunder Days
he young man rose casually as Lethbridge-Stewart entered T the hotel lounge. He had sleek dark hair and classically handsome features. The Brigadier had taught dozens of boys like him. The public school and military aura was inbred, indelible despite the sharp business suit. Sandhurst, the Brigadier decided before they even spoke.
‘Captain Douglas Cavendish, Virtual Ordnance Group at UNIT. Good to see you, Brigadier.’ He indicated an armchair for his guest. In one hand, he clutched a tumbler of whisky.
‘Can I get you a drink?’
‘Not for me, Cavendish,’ the Brigadier said firmly. He felt like adding, ‘Not on duty.’
‘Sorry if I’m late,’ he said instead. ‘The whole transport system seems to be fouled up by this wretched computer business.’
‘Quite,’ agreed Cavendish. ‘It’s better to meet here. The security boys get stressed out over ID checks.’
The Brigadier smiled. ‘UNIT hasn’t changed much since my time then.’ He glanced round at the lounge. Many of the old features had been retained from when he had once met Air Vice-Marshal Gilmore here in this same room. Even several of the paintings of illustrious military forbears remained, their ferocity restored by the cleaners. He must have seemed like a young whippersnapper to Gilmore then, just as Cavendish appeared to him now. But he hoped he had displayed many degrees more civility.
‘I doubt if there’s much left you’d recognize,’ said Cavendish. ‘Razor-smart weapons. All on computer these days.’
‘Oh, I used to leave the technology to the experts.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Cavendish took another swig of whisky.
He had cut-glass eyes that watched over the rim of the tumbler. The Brigadier wondered just how much the Captain had drunk while he waited.
‘You know they call your era “The Blunder Days”?’
‘What?’ retorted Lethbridge-Stewart.
Cavendish smirked. ‘Blood and Thunder. Well, you took on some formidable opposition. Cybermen, Daemons...Yeti.’
‘No worse than jumped-up officers with tuppenny-halfpenny commissions,’ the Brigadier observed.
The atmosphere went cold. ‘Right,’ said Cavendish and studied the contents of his tumbler.
‘Why exactly did you call me up to town, Cavendish?’
‘Information...sir.’ He glanced round the lounge and confided, ‘Of a personal nature, you understand.’
‘Meaning?’
‘Someone’s been hacking into files at Geneva.’
‘ My files, I take it.’
There was a pause where Cavendish seemed to be gazing into space. He suddenly smiled. ‘There aren’t many who can remember back before UNIT’s founding.’
The Brigadier studied him for a moment. He wondered what on earth it had to do with UNIT. ‘That’s all covered in old army reports.’
‘The MoD were never very forthcoming when dealing with UNIT. Besides we need more personal details.’
‘We? Are security in the dark on this one too?’
Cavendish’s manner suddenly became less nonchalant, more sneering. ‘Strange that you never rose higher than Brigadier,