Doctor Who: The Eight Doctors

by Terrance Dicks

  'I very much doubt it,' said the Third Doctor quietly.

  Hart turned away and hurried towards his office.

  'Surely they'll find the hovercraft eventually,' said Jo. 'A thing that size is hard to miss.'

  'Oh, they'll find the hovercraft all right, but the Master will be long gone.

  He'll ditch the hovercraft for some

  less conspicuous form of transport.

  Another boat, or perhaps a car. We'd better go inside and see what's happening.'

  He took Jo's arm and led her towards the base.

  ***

  As the Doctor had guessed, the Master had no intention of staying with the hovercraft. It was large, noisy and eminently noticeable - bad qualities in a getaway vehicle.

  Swinging the hovercraft round, the Master sped along parallel to the coast, gradually edging closer and closer to land. He spotted a rocky inlet, a narrow gash in the coastline, and steered right inside it. Opening the ramp he jumped out and began scrambling up the narrow path that led to the clifftop.

  ***

  Big Jack Harris was in a happy mood as he drove his Ford Cortina along the coastal road towards Portsmouth. He was a travelling salesman - gifts and novelties for the tourist shops in the towns along the south coast. A very large, round-faced man, Jack was cheerful by nature, and life seemed particularly good just at the moment. He'd had a successful sales round and for once his order book was full. He was planning to have a night out in Portsmouth, before making his way home to the wife and kids next day.

  Jack liked Portsmouth. Lots of good pubs...

  He frowned as he saw a black-clad figure signalling from the roadside.

  Jack often picked up hitchhikers - pretty girls for choice. But this was a deserted stretch of road, a rotten place to be stranded, and the bearded bloke seemed harmless enough. Some kind of foreigner by the look of him.

  Jack pulled up and wound down the window. 'Need a ride, mate?'

  The man hurried towards him. 'I'm sorry to trouble you, but I wonder if you could give me a lift? I'm a

  yachtsman and my boat sprang a leak. I had to come ashore...'

  His voice was deep and cultured, with a tinge of some unidentifiable accent.

  Funny outfit for a yachtsman, thought Jack. Still, you never knew with foreigners.

  'I can take you as far as Portsmouth, if that's any use,' he said. 'You can get help there.'

  'I should be very grateful.'

  Jack opened the passenger door and the man jumped in. They drove on.

  'Must be nice, having a boat,' Jack began.

  'It has its problems.'

  The bearded man then lapsed into brooding silence.

  Jack was disappointed. He expected his hitchhiking passengers to pay for their ride with conversation.

  'Commercial traveller myself, all along the coast. Toys, novelties, gifts and souvenirs...'

  'Fascinating.'

  'Soon be in Portsmouth,'Jack continued chattily.'I'm having a night on the town, then home to London tomorrow.'

  'I need to go much further than Portsmouth.'

  'Well, you're on your own there, mate. Portsmouth's my limit.'

  'You will take me wherever I wish to go,' said the bearded man arrogantly.

  Easygoing as he was, Big Jack Harris never stood any nonsense from his hitchhikers. One man young man had actually tried to mug him, but Jack had thumped him senseless and dropped him off at the nearest police station.

  He pulled the car up with a jerk. 'Look

  mate, it's Portsmouth and that's it. If that's not good enough, you can get out now and try your luck with someone else.'

  The bearded man stared at him with deep-set brooding eyes.

  'I am the Master. You will obey me. You will obey me...' The voice was deep and commanding.

  Jack Harris laughed out loud. 'You're wasting your time, mate, that stuff doesn't work on me. Some stage hypnotist bloke tried at the Portsmouth Empire. Didn't get anywhere - I'm immune!'

  'How very unfortunate for you,' said the bearded man.

  Suddenly there was a small black device in his hand. Jack stared at it unbelievingly. A gun? It seemed too small for that. A spasm of agony squeezed him and his body seemed to implode...

  Soon afterwards the car sped on its way, the black-clad, bearded man at the wheel.

  There was no sign of Big Jack Harris at all.

  ***

  In Captain Hart's office on the naval base, Jo Grant and the Third Doctor followed the progress of the hunt for the Master at long range.

  The Doctor had abandoned his escape suit and was his usual elegant self in a blue velvet jacket and ruffled white shirt.

  Captain Hart slammed down the telephone. 'They've found the hovercraft, Doctor. Abandoned in a cove a few miles up the coast.

  The Doctor nodded. 'Too conspicuous. He'll have ditched it as soon as possible. I take it there was no sign of the Master?'

  Hart shook his head.

  The Doctor turned to Jo. 'Get me the Brigadier, will you, Jo?'

  Jo Grant looked at Captain Hart for permission. He nodded, pushing the phone across the desk towards her.

  She dialled the UNIT emergency number, reflecting that although the most complex of mathematical formulae were simplicity itself to the Doctor, simple things like passes, codewords and telephone numbers appeared to be beyond him. She gave the UNIT operator the necessary passwords, and got through to the Brigadier.

  'Miss Grant, what the devil's going on down there? I've been getting the most extraordinary reports from the Ministry - and complaints of gross insolence from some high-ranking Ministry official called Walker...

  Where's the Doctor?'

  'Right here, sir,' said Jo hurriedly.

  'Perhaps he'd better explain...'

  She beckoned the Doctor, who gave her a quizzical glance and took the receiver.

  'Lethbridge-Stewart? How are you my dear feller?'

  An angry squawking came from the telephone. The Doctor held the receiver away from his ear for a moment.

  'Calm down, Brigadier, and I'll explain everything. Now, I've got good news and bad news. To begin with, I've dealt with the Sea Devils...Yes, they were a marine version of those creatures that turned up in the caves. No not

  Silurians, that was a misnomer, quite the wrong geological period...

  Eocenes, if you like. What? Well, as a matter of feet, I blew up their base...'

  The Doctor listened for a moment, his face set in a frown. Then, 'No, that does not prove you were right all along, Brigadier,' he said indignantly.

  'The circumstances were entirely different! I've told you before, the instinctive unthinking use of force is totally unjustified. You do not solve a problem by blowing it up - well, only in very exceptional circumstances!'

  Jo cleared her throat loudly, caught the Doctor's eye and glanced towards Captain Hart, who was listening to this inter-UNTT squabbling with undisguised interest.

  'Well, anyway, we can discuss that later,' said the Doctor. 'Now for the bad news. The Master's escaped.'

  There was another outburst of anguished squawking from the telephone.

  'Yes, apparently he was mixed up in the thing from the beginning,' said the Doctor. 'He won overTrenchard, the prison governor, who helped him to steal naval equipment to contact the Sea Devils. We escaped from their base together and the navy took him prisoner when we were rescued. He faked a collapse, stole a hovercraft and escaped.'

  More indignant spluttering from the telephone.

  'There's no point in being unkind about our naval friends,' said the Doctor severely. 'They've been very helpful - and we haven't done too brilliantly against the Master ourselves, have we? He's a tricky devil."

  His voice hardened. 'Now listen,

  Brigadier, kindly stop chuntering and start making yourself useful. We've found the stolen hovercraft on the coast, a few miles from Portsmouth. No sign of the Master of course. I want you to liaise with the police, locally and nationally. G
et them to circulate a description and put out a general alarm. Tell them to be sure to emphasise that the Master's dangerous - "If seen, do not approach but inform the authorities immediately", you know the sort of thing. What? No, Miss Grant and I will stay here for a while in case he turns up in the area. If nothing happens by tonight, we'll head back to UNIT HQ.

  It's been nice talking to you, Brigadier,

  but there's no time for any more idle chit-chat. You've got a lot to do. Just get on with it, there's a good chap!'

  The Doctor slammed the telephone down on the Brigadier's angry expostulations and turned apologetically to Captain Hart.

  'Splendid chap, Lethbridge-Stewart, but he's inclined to get a bit tetchy when things go wrong!'

  'I gather from Miss Grant that you're his regular Scientific Adviser,' said Captain Hart.

  'Yes, that's right.'

  'Work together all the time, do you?' asked Hart casually.

  He had just spent a considerable amount of time cooperating with the Doctor on this Sea Devil business. It occurred to him that if the Brigadier had this Doctor for a full-time colleague, he probably had a good deal to be tetchy about.

  The Doctor gave him a puzzled look. 'Yes, of course we work together.

  Why do you -' He broke off and chuckled. 'My dear Captain, don't be misled by all that argy-bargy on the telephone. The Brigadier and I are the best of friends. We get on like a house on fire, don't we Jo?'

  'More like a fireworks factory on fire,' said Jo, ruefully.

  'Old Lethbridge-Stewart may be a bit short-tempered, but he's very efficient. He'll be putting a bomb under the police by now. If the Master's still anywhere around, we'll find him!'

  ***

  It was several hours later and the Master was driving across country, keeping to back roads and staying well within the speed-limit. The last thing he wanted was to attract attention before reaching his destination.

  He wasn't too worried about the possibility of the car being reported stolen.

  There was a good chance that no one was expecting its late owner at any specific time. The main danger was that he himself would be recognised.

  The Doctor would have a description out by now. On a sudden impulse the Master switched on the car radio, scanning the wavebands until he found a news bulletin. For several minutes he listened impatiently to a meaningless recital of petty human affairs. He was about to switch off when the newsreader said, 'Finally, here is a police message.

  An extremely dangerous prisoner has escaped from a special high-security prison in the Portsmouth area. He is described as being black-haired, of medium height, powerfully built, with a sallow complexion, deep-set eyes and a short black beard.'

  'Not very flattering, Doctor,' murmured the Master. 'What happened to

  "Handsome and distinguished"?'

  'This man is extremely dangerous,' the announcer went on. 'If you see him do not approach, but inform the authorities immediately. When last seen, the prisoner was wearing a black suit with a high-collared jacket.'

  The Master stopped the car and rummaged in the back. A fawn car-coat with a tartan collar lay across the back seat. He shuddered, reached for it and put it on. There was a cap in one pocket and a tartan scarf in the other.

  He put on the cap, pulling it down over his eyes, and wound the scarf around his neck, pulling it up under his nose to conceal his beard. Then he drove on, a shapeless figure hunched behind the wheel.

  At the next main-road junction there was a police car parked. As he approached, a policeman got out, holding up his hand. Obediently the Master stopped the car and the constable walked over.

  The Master wound down the window.

  'Any trouble, officer? What have I done now?' He spoke in the wheezing, fruity voice of the late Mr Harris.

  'Just a routine check, sir,' said the policeman. He peered at the figure behind the wheel. 'I wonder if you'd be good enough to take off your hat and pull down that scarf.'

  The Master obeyed and the young constable's eyes widened. His hand reached instinctively for the handle of his truncheon.

  'Could I see your driving licence, sir?'

  The Master chuckled. 'Not without a magnifying glass, I fancy,' he said in his own voice. He stared deep into the young policeman's eyes, and his voice became deep and commanding. 'I know what you are thinking, but you're wrong you know, quite wrong. Just listen to me and I'll explain.

  Listen to me ..'.

  Minutes later, the constable straightened up and stepped back.

  'Sorry to hold you up, sir.'

  He waved the Master on.

  As the Cortina sped away, the constable returned to the police car and got back in the front passenger seat.

  'No joy, Sarge.'

  'Pity. I thought that one looked promising.'

  'Nothing like, sarge. Big fair-haired bloke with a red face. Commercial traveller.'

  The sergeant stared at him. 'You what?'

  'He was a big bloke, red face and fair hair. Nothing like the description.'

  The sergeant stared at him. 'Look, I know I wasn't as near as you, but I saw a medium-sized dark bloke, all muffled up. And as he drove past just now I thought I saw a black beard.'

  'No way,' said the constable confidently. 'He showed me his licence and everything.'

  'He did no such thing,' said the sergeant. 'I was watching. You chatted for a bit, you bent down and stared into the car and soon after that you stood up and waved him on.'

  Still staring hard at his baffled colleague, he reached for the radio.

  ***

  'I see,' said the Third Doctor. 'You were quite right to pass on the report, Inspector, I think it's very significant.

  Now, can you tell me exactly where this happened?'

  The Doctor snapped his fingers and held out his hand. Jo put a pencil in it and slid a notepad onto the desk.The

  Doctor scribbled rapidly.

  'Thank you again. And be sure to congratulate that sergeant forme!'

  'Have they found him?' asked Jo.

  'Not exactly,' said the Doctor. 'But I think we may be on his track.'

  'What happened?'

  'Two policemen checking cars at a junction. Car comes along, one of them goes over to talk to the driver, then waves him on.'

  'The policeman who talked to the driver saw a big, red-faced man with fair hair who showed him his driving licence. The one who stayed in the police car saw a medium sized dark man with a beard who did no such thing!'

  'The Master!' said Jo.

  Captain Hart looked baffled. 'I'm sorry, I don't understand.'

  'The Master is a skilled hypnotist,' said the Doctor. 'Isn't that right, Jo?'

  Jo shuddered. 'He did it to me once.'

  'And it worked?' asked Captain Hart sceptically.

  'I'll say. I brought a bomb into UNIT HQ and tried to blow up the Doctor!'

  'Captain Hart,' snapped the Doctor.

  'Kindly oblige me with a large-scale

  Ordnance Survey map of southern England and a reel of black cotton!'

  Captain Hart gave his secretary a baffled look. 'Jane?'

  The ever-efficient Third Officer Blythe said, "There'll be a map in the map room, sir, and I've got a sewing kit in my desk.' She hurried from the room, returning shortly with both

  items.

  The Doctor spread the map out on the floor. 'Captain Hart, be good enough to show me exactly where the stolen hovercraft was found abandoned.'

  Hart squatted beside the map. After a moment he pointed to a spot on the coastline. 'Just there.'

  The Doctor unrolled some black cotton. 'Just hold the end there, please, on that spot.' He glanced at his notes. "The Master - if it was the Master - was spotted ...here!' The

  Doctor stretched the cotton from one spot to the next. 'Hold it there, will you, Jo?'

  Jo obeyed.

  'Now if we assume that the Master is making more or less straight for his destination, which is all we can assume, if he continues
on this route, it will take him....'

  Muttering to himself, the Doctor stretched out the thread in a continuing straight line. Suddenly he leaped to his feet.

  'Great jumping Jehoshaphat, I'm a fool! Of course! Where else would he be making for? I need a helicopter right away!'

  Captain Hart looked as if he was feeling even more sympathy with the Brigadier.

  'Certainly, Doctor. Perhaps you'd be good enough to tell me your destination?'

  'Yes, come on, Doctor, where are we going?'demanded Jo.