by Ian Marter
Just as the Doctor, Jamie and Vaughn reached the loading bay there was a sudden clanking of couplings and the freight wagons slowly began to pull out of the siding. Jamie started running after them but he was far too late. He gave up and stood staring at the rapidly accelerating train with a sinking heart.
'What a pity,' Vaughn said consolingly. 'I am sorry.'
The Doctor's brow was deeply furrowed with mounting anxiety, but he attempted a wry smile.
'However, all is not lost,' Vaughn went on brightly. 'I have to visit the factory complex myself this afternoon. Would you two gentlemen care to accompany me? We can meet the train there.'
Jamie glanced apprehensively at Packer and his security guards hovering at the entrance to the warehouse. The Doctor squeezed his arm reassuringly and turned to Vaughn. 'Most kind. We'd be delighted to come.'
'Splendid,' Vaughn purred and led the way into the main building.
Brigadier Alistair Gordon Lethbridge-Stewart was sitting at his desk in the Hercules Operations Room, straining to hear Benton's voice on the radiotelephone above the whine of the mighty turboprops as the massive plane came in to land on a disused RAF station.
'How long ago did they go into the railway yard?' he repeated.
'About an hour ago, sir. Tracey followed them to the... Just a minute, sir...'
The Brigadier pressed the handset firmly to his ear and waited impatiently. 'Benton, what the devil's going on?' he demanded in clipped urgent tones.
'The Doctor and the boy have just come out of the main entrance, sir. Vaughn's with them.'
'Vaughn!' echoed the Brigadier in surprise.
'And Packer, sir. They're getting into Vaughn's Rolls.'
The Brigadier stroked his neat moustache thoughtfully. 'Are they being harrassed, Benton?'
'Doesn't look like it, sir...'
The Brigadier was roughly jolted about as the Hercules touched down and coasted along the uneven concrete runway. 'Benton...' he shouted irritably.
'All looks quite friendly, sir. They're just being driven off now. Shall we follow, sir?'
'Negative, Benton. Continue surveillance at your location. Out.' Unlatching his seat belt, the Brigadier leaped to his. feet. 'Sergeant Walters, alert aerial patrol Section Three,' he instructed. Then he turned to a tall, dark-haired young officer at the Situation Map. 'Captain Turner, as soon as we're on blocks get aboard a chopper and rendezvous with Section Three tracking agents,' he shouted above the engines as they revved at reverse pitch to slow the heavy plane. 'We'll play it by ear for a bit so keep your nose out of trouble.'
'Yes, sir,' snapped Turner with a crisp salute. 'Should the Doctor contact us for help I'll have him connected directly to you.'
Turner strode away towards the huge cargo bay at the rear, briskly snapping instructions right and left.
The Brigadier studied the brightly coloured Situation Map for a long time, occasionally breaking off to receive a report or to issue a string of orders to the widely spread and versatile forces under his overall command.
At last Captain Turner came through, shouting above the din of the helicopter engine on the radiotelephone. 'They've just gone through the IE Compound gates, sir. They seem to be heading for the Factory Complex.'
The Brigadier's calm exterior betrayed a brief tremor of excitement. 'Circle the area but keep out of sight, Jimmy,' he advised. 'If you're spotted it might make things worse for our two friends. We can't do anything until we get a request for assistance.'
He signed off and took a sip of cold tea from his chipped mug. 'After all, this is all rather unofficial...' he murmured wryly to himself.
The Doctor remained silent during the short high-speed drive out of London, his eyes fixed steadfastly on the disturbing International Electromatix symbol on the pennant flying from the front wing of the enormous white Rolls Royce.
'The train with the empty containers will not arrive for some time,' Vaughn informed him as they drew up in front of what appeared to be a smaller version of the Company's City headquarters. 'Meanwhile, I'd rather like to talk to you about those fascinating circuits you left with me.'
At the door of his private elevator in the foyer, Vaughn turned to his Deputy. 'Packer, be so good as to see what progress Professor Watkins is making,' he purred. 'You might even offer him a little gentle encouragement.' Then he ushered his visitors up to the top floor.
As they walked into the spacious, functional office Jamie whistled in astonishment. 'It's just like your London office,' he exclaimed.
Vaughn chuckled amiably. 'Confusing, isn't it?' He motioned them to sit down in the stylish chairs facing his desk. 'It's the secret of my success, Doctor - standardisation and uniformity.'
'Mass production,' remarked the Doctor with obvious distaste.
Jamie hovered by the huge window, staring down between the vertical louvres at the complex of large factory buildings spread below. Steam and smoke rose everywhere and a distant humming sounded constantly.
'The essence of efficiency, Doctor.' Vaughn said expansively.
The Doctor smiled blandly back at him, giving nothing away.
'I should be angry with you both,' Vaughn went on. 'You have thwarted my security system twice. Why?'
The Doctor shrugged casually. 'It's quite simple, Mr Vaughn. I detest computers and I refuse to be controlled by them.'
'Your young friend Zoe appears to feel the same. She completely destroyed one of our reception installations.'
Jamie spun round. 'So that's why your bully boys got hold of her and Isobel,' he blurted out.
Vaughn turned to him with an offended smile. 'My dear young man, on the contrary I found the incident quite amusing. She's a remarkable girl,' he turned back to the Doctor. 'And you, Doctor, are a remarkable man.'
The Doctor blushed. 'Why do you say that?' he inquired modestly.
Vaughn took the two circuit panels from the TARDIS from his inner pocket and laid them on the desk. 'Our Research Department found these baffling. Their structure seems totally illogical. Did you invent them yourself?'
The Doctor remained enigmatically silent.
Vaughn stood up, cleverly concealing his frustration. 'So you are determined to preserve your secrets, Doctor. I can hardly blame you. We shall do all we can to help.'
The Doctor inclined his head. 'You're very kind.'
Vaughn walked over to his private elevator. 'Please make yourselves at home,' he said graciously.'I will see if I can personally persuade Professor Watkins to divert his talents to investigating your little problem.'
As soon as he had gone, Jamie rushed over to the Doctor. 'What aboot Zoe and Isobel?' he cried.
'Don't worry. I haven't forgotten them,' the Doctor assured him.
'Och, I know they were in those box things, Doctor.'
The Doctor held up his hands patiently. 'Jamie, we won't help the girls by annoying Mr Vaughn,' he warned him.
'But he's being nice as pie to us.'
'Too nice, Jamie.' The Doctor picked up the circuits. 'And he's a little too interested in these for my liking.'
Jamie's eyes widened. 'Do ye think he knows aboot the TARDIS, Doctor?' he whispered.
'I don't see how he could.'
Jamie went back over to the panoramic window 'Och well, perhaps the Professor will be able to tell us what's happening here.'
The Doctor bit his lip and sighed. 'That's what puzzles me, Jamie. If Vaughn has anything to hide, why is he going to allow us to see Watkins?'
In a cluttered room in the basement below the building, Packer was lounging against the wall staring with sneering contempt at a short stout balding man of about sixty clad in baggy trousers, rolled-up shirtsleeves and an unbuttoned waistcoat. The bearded little man gazed back at Packer with undisguised loathing through thick wire-framed spectacles. Electronic circuitry and tangles of cable were scattered over a large bench and even over the crude unmade bunk in one corner.
'She's a pretty girl, your niece,' Packer was saying casually. 'It'd be such a shame to
spoil her.'
'You're a pathetic little sadist, Packer,' Professor Watkins retorted sadly. 'I don't believe you anyway.'
Packer stepped towards him, eyes blazing. 'You know I don't make idle threats. If you value the girl you'll do as Mr Vaughn wishes.'
Watkins snorted. 'Assuming you really have got Isobel, how do I know you haven't harmed her already?'
At that moment Vaughn appeared in the doorway. 'You can take my word for that, Professor,' he announced soothingly.
Watkins turned sharply, squinting through his pebble lenses. 'Your word!' he scoffed dismissively.
Vaughn strolled across to the bench and frowned at a complicated assemblage of partially connected cathode tubes, transistors and coils almost buried within a web of tiny coloured wires. 'So you still haven't completed the device...' he scolded menacingly.
'No. I don't intend to complete it,' snapped Watkins.
Vaughn swung round on the trembling little figure. 'Oh, I think you will, Professor,' he purred. 'Otherwise, much as I abhore violence, I might not he able to restrain Packer's enthusiasm for persuasive hospitality. The choice is yours.'
Shaking with outrage, Watkins brazened it out for a few more seconds. Finally he slumped meekly in defeat. 'You'll let the poor child go if I cooperate?' he muttered faintly.
'No, no, no... She is our guarantee,' Vaughn protested indignantly. 'But she'll come to no harm.'
Watkins blinked at his smiling tormentors in anguish. 'Very well,' he conceded at last. But I want to see Isobel first.'
'Of course you do,' Vaughn agreed. 'However, one more thing.'
The Professor started suspiciously and retreated a few paces.
'Some friends of yours are here and they're determined to see you,' Vaughn informed his victim.
Watkins frowned. 'Friends? I'm not allowed visitors,' he retorted. 'I might tell them everything!'
Vaughn threw hack his distinguished head and laughed. 'You know nothing to compromise me. Besides, Professor, don't forget Isobel.'
Packer thrust his pale perspiring face at Watkins. 'Because I certainly shan't forget Isobel,' he threatened, baring his discoloured teeth.
The Professor hesitated for a moment, then bowing to the inevitable, he turned reluctantly to his half-assembled apparatus and sighed, shaking his domed head in distress.
Vaughn paused in the doorway. 'Conduct the Professor's visitors down to him, Packer,' he ordered benignly and walked out.
In Vaughn's office, Jamie and the Doctor were at the window and Jamie was pointing out a strange building he had noticed in the distance. The Doctor fished out a small brass telescope and extended it. 'My goodness me!' he muttered, focussing on the three large spheres mounted on the roof of a small windowless building on the far side of the complex. 'It looks like a deep space communications installation, Jamie.'
'What's it doing here, Doctor?'
The Doctor shrugged. 'The plot thickens...' he murmured, studying the structure carefully.
Suddenly Jamie pointed to a tiny black shape high above the distant woodland. 'A helicopter! Perhaps it's the Brigadier's mob,' he whispered.
Before the Doctor could refocus the telescope the door slid open and Packer swaggered in. 'Come with me,' he snapped malevolently.
The Doctor turned and stared at him with raised eyebrows.
Packer stared back, thrilled at the prospect of trouble. But the Doctor's steadfast gaze eventually disconcerted him and at last he got the message. 'Please, gentlemen...' he added through clenched teeth.
With a brilliant smile, the Doctor led Jamie to the door.
As soon as he was alone with his visitors Professor Watkins seemed to conquer his profound suspicion and to relax a little. 'Of course... Anne Travers told me all about you, Doctor,' he beamed. 'She was a brilliant student.'
'Indeed. They're in America now, I believe,' replied the Doctor, his eyes shifting surreptitiously around the jumbled room while they chatted.
'But what are you doing here?' Watkins inquired brightly.
The Doctor coughed and blew his nose loudly. 'That's rather a long story.' he murmured confidentially. 'But the fact is, I need help with some faulty circuits out of the TARDIS.'
Watkins looked puzzled. Then he nodded and smiled.
'Ah yes... your machine. I remember Anne's description was most intriguing. I'd like to hear more...'
Again the Doctor coughed and then blew his nose violently. 'I fear Miss Travers may have allowed her imagination to run rather wild,' he replied, weaving his way through the disorder towards the Professor's bunk.
Watkins's eager face clouded with disappointment. 'You mean the travel machine doesn't exist?' he cried.
'Och, of course it does,' Jamie burst out, 'we landed in it this morning not far from...'
His words were muffled by a prolonged fit of wheezing and coughing from the Doctor who was now perched on the bunk facing them and shooting significant glances towards a small ventilator grille set into the wall.
Then Jamie noticed something glinting in one corner of the grille. 'Och... Aye...' he mumbled shamefacedly, turning to the Professor and mouthing a frantic warning.
Professor Watkins glanced from one to the other, utterly confused by their extraordinary antics. 'Are you all right?' he ventured kindly.
'Never felt better!' the Doctor laughed, starting to rummage feverishly in his many bulging pockets. 'Tell us something about your important work here, Professor,' he suggested with exaggerated enthusiasm.
'My work?' Watkins echoed with flattered delight. 'Oh, it's really just a new kind of teaching aid...'
The Doctor nodded energetically, grimacing as if to encourage Watkins to keep talking regardless.
At last the Professor's feeble eyesight made out the miniature television camera lens fitted inside the grille. 'It's... it's called a Cerebration Mentor,' he burbled on. 'It is able to transmit encoded thought patterns directly into the brain... However the device can also induce emotional changes in the subject and therefore make it more susceptible to rapid learning...'
At that moment the Doctor found what he wanted. It was a small but exceedingly powerful magnet. 'Most ingenious, Professor,' he exclaimed, reaching up and attaching the magnet to the grille right next to the lens. 'But not foolproof, I'm afraid!'
Tobias Vaughn's faintly amused smile abruptly vanished as the image on the monitor broke up, flashed violently and disappeared.
'Check the system,' he snapped.
Packer hastily pressed several buttons on the Director's desk. At once the other eight video screens all showed clear, slowly scanning views of various sections of the complex.
Vaughn turned sharply away from the bank of screens, flushing with pent up frustration. 'Our friend, the Doctor, is a resourceful man. No wonder our allies fear him,' he grunted, staring across at the blank wall.
Packer's scalp crept visibly in surprise. 'They know him?'
'They encountered him on another planet.'
Packer's small but prominent eyeballs bulged. 'That's impossible.'
'No, Packer. The Doctor operates some kind of travel device. The barbarian Scottish youth confirmed it a moment ago. Our allies ordered me to destroy the Doctor, but first I must discover the secrets of this extraordinary machine.'
Packer's face suddenly betrayed a deeply rooted unease. He licked his thin lips nervously. 'But if you were ordered to...
Vaughn thumped the desk decisively. 'I don't take orders, Packer, I give them,' he shouted, striding across to the elevator. 'The time has come to stop playing cat and mouse with the Doctor and his friends.'
4
Hitching Lifts
Professor Watkins shuffled slowly round his basement prison wringing his gnarled hands in desperation. 'If Vaughn has your young friend Zoe as well as Isobel then we are completely at his mercy,' he submitted.
'Not entirely. There is still the Brigadier remember,' the Doctor pointed out. 'But quickly, Professor, we have little time. What do you know about
Vaughn's activities? What's he up to here?'
Watkins fluttered his hands helplessly. 'I know no more than you do Doctor, except that he wants control of my invention to add to his electronics empire.'
The Doctor sighed. 'I've a nasty feeling he's aiming a lot higher than that, my clear fellow.'
'Someone's coming!' Jamie warned them, retreating from the door where he'd been keeping watch.
The Doctor hurried across to the ventilator and was just about to remove his magnet from the grille when Vaughn strode in with Packer sneering at his elbow.
'Please don't trouble yourself, Doctor... allow me,' Vaughn smiled, going over and removing the magnet. He held the tiny object aloft like a trophy. 'Most ingenious... but alas not foolproof,' he joked.
The Doctor bowed, acknowledging the irony of the situation.
Vaughn's bland manner abruptly changed, becoming cold and undisguised. 'You must realise that you force me to consider other methods of obtaining the information I want.'
Inwardly boiling with resentment and rage, the Doctor remained silent and impassive. Jamie's fists clenched and unclenched behind his back.
'Your friend Zoe will arrive here shortly...' Vaughn began.
'So you have got the lassie,' Jamie shouted, barging forward. 'If ye've harmed her...'
Vaughn waved him away disdainfully. 'Doctor, I want your travel machine,' he announced curtly. 'Either you hand it over to me or Packer will be obliged to introduce Miss Zoe to his rather crude form of hospitality. You have exactly sixty minutes to decide. Packer!'
The gleam of anticipation shone in Packer's beady eyes as he drew his pistol and motioned the Doctor and Jamie towards the door. The Doctor grasped Jamie firmly by the arm and guided him to obey.
As Packer marched them outside, Vaughn wandered over to the cowering figure by the bench. 'No more interruptions, Professor,' he promised, with a bleak smile. 'And now I suggest that you continue with your vital work.'
Under Vaughn's pale gaze, Watkins picked up a soldering probe and bowed half-heartedly over his apparatus to resume his thankless task with trembling hands.
