Doctor How and the Deadly Anemones (26 page)

There was a gasp from behind him as the Doctor was released from the agony of the time-disruption.

Kevin turned around and pushed his back on the wooden edge of the pallet and dug his heels in. He could now see the Doctor, and what had got past him.

It was the robots. Clones of the ones they’d had to fight in the lair of the illegal aliens.

One of them had picked up a box of the chips from the pallet on the forklift and was making rapid circles twenty-five feet above the Doctor, who was frozen once again and clearly in pain.

“This is
war
!” shouted Kevin. He took the Con-Bat in his right hand and swung it underneath the pallet. There was a loud and satisfying bang as it took out the truck’s front wheel assembly. He pushed himself forward off the pallet. A metal cable whipped itself around his upper arm and he pulled back. He heard the robot hitting the driver’s cage of the truck. As the robot pulled at his right arm again he tossed the Con-Bat into his left hand, rotated his body so that he was facing the driver’s seat, and dealt a massive blow to the robot, which slammed down into the bottom of the cab, its cables still on the controls. A couple of sparks fizzed from its circuitry. He unwrapped the limp cable from his arm and took in the scene.

All three robots were now airborne, each with a box of chips, moving in figures of eight high above the Doctor. Trinity was hissing at them. She settled down on her haunches the way a cat does and then sprung up, reaching twenty feet into the air, her claws extended. The robots had little difficulty avoiding her. She landed deftly on top of a machine on the other side of the production area and hissed again. She dropped down out of sight underneath the machine.

Kevin fought down a rising tide of panic. If they were being held here, what was happening to the Spectrel? He knew that if the Doctor wasn’t able to function in these conditions, then the chances are that it was disabled too. And where had Trinity gone?

The forklift truck was powered by a couple of butane cylinders. He holstered his Con-Bat and lifted one off its mounting, tearing off the end of the hose. The gas hissed loudly out of the cylinder. He felt the power of his suit as he knelt down and then heaved it into the air at the robots. It arced up towards them, hissing unevenly as it spun, leaving a white trail of chilled butane vapour behind it. The robots dodged it easily and it hit a light fitting, bounced off the far wall and banged and clanged down to the floor amidst the machinery.

He took out his Con-Bat again and bashed at one of the nearby machines, breaking off a heavy chunk of metal several inches in diameter. He threw it a few feet in the air like a tennis player with a ball, and hoped his suit and Con-Bat could figure out what he wanted as he swung to hit it.

His suit powered up his forehand swing and he felt the metal make jarring contact with the Con-Bat. As his Con-Bat followed through and his suit slowed his arm back down, he saw the piece of machinery rocket through the air and smash into one of the robots. It was knocked out of its circuit, spun on its axis, bounced off the ceiling and then continued spinning against the ceiling. It was still contributing to the time disruption, but presented a much easier target now. Kevin holstered his Con-Bat again, jumped back behind the forklift, tore off the second of the butane cylinders, hunched down and then threw it with all his suit’s might at the disabled robot. The cylinder spun through the air, trailing a cloud of butane vapour behind it. It connected with the robot and slammed it heavily into a metal cross-beam with a loud crash, bending the beam. A sheet of metal roofing was dislodged, and Kevin saw stars in the night sky beyond. The cylinder fell heavily to the floor near the furnace, bounced once and rolled. The robot fell less quickly, one of its cables still clasping the box and the others flailing in the air. It hit one of the machines, which turned itself on, spewing out a cascade of white flowers with yellow centres.

The other two robots were still circling. The Doctor was contorted in pain against the machine.
Where the hell was Trinity?

One of the robots stopped moving in its figure of eight, slowing down, and then began trying to move in different directions. It seemed that an unseen force was stopping it. Kevin caught the tiniest glint of a thread. The second robot was stopped in its path. Both robots deployed their cable arms to try to cut through the web that had caught them, but found that they became snagged. The more they struggled, the less they were able to move. The cardboard boxes full of components were suspended in mid-air by the near-invisible threads of the web Trinity had spun.

The Doctor gasped again and Kevin rushed to his side.

“You blithering idiot!”

“I just saved your bleedin’ life, Doc. If that’s all the gratitude –”

“Butane, lad! There’s a furnace over there. Pick me up and run, damn you! Trinity, get the hell out of here!”

Kevin felt a pang of fear loosen his stomach. He knelt down in front of the Doctor and put him over his shoulder in a fireman’s lift – his right arm hooked around the back of the Time Keeper’s knees, and the Doctor’s chest against Kevin’s back. He ran for the plastic curtain that led to the other part of the factory. Something large shot over his head, and Trinity landed in her spider form several feet ahead of him. She ran straight through the plastic curtains without slowing down. He could see something red on the other side, about the height of a man.

He burst through the curtains. There was no sign of Trinity but there was a red post office box right in his path, and its door was wide open. Without even thinking, he ducked down and pushed the Doctor feet-first through the door. As he clambered through he felt the blast wave from the explosion hit his back and launch him forwards into the post box.

Doctor How had just got onto his hands and knees in When’s Spectrel when Kevin landed on top of him, sending him sprawling heavily back onto the floor.

“Damn it, Kevin. Let me get up, will you?”

“Sorry, Doc. You know not to stop moving once you get into a Spectrel, don’t you?”

Kevin was first on his feet, aided by his suit. He held out a hand to the Doctor, who took it and got up, still a little unsteady. Trinity’s head bobbed up and down with laughter from underneath a display table of museum pieces.

“Thank you,” said the Doctor, and brushed off his suit.

“I do hope you are both well?” said When in a monotone from behind the control panel. “That was a little bit too close for my liking.”

A 3D projection of the factory appeared in front of the control panel. It showed flames billowing up from one corner of the building, and it was clear that the fire was spreading rapidly to the other parts.

“What about the Doc’s Spectrel?”

“Luckily she was quite some distance from the explosion. She was frozen and unable to move due to the large amount of interference. It would seem that this was a very clever trap. However, as soon as those components were destroyed she was able to exit.”

“So how did you get here?” asked the Doctor, his voice tinged with anger.

“Peter, I do have a good grounding in technology, you know,” said When, looking genuinely hurt. “You kindly sent me one of those flowers tomorrow, if you recall. I worked my backside off getting a fix fitted to counter this threat. To be honest, I wasn’t one hundred percent confident that it would work. There was not a small risk that I could have damaged my Spectrel.”

Doctor How regarded his cousin for a few moments. “
Bhaltair
,” said How. “I’m sorry I snapped at you. You can understand…”

“I appreciate that you have been under an awful lot of pressure these last fifty years, Peter. I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” The Doctor walked over to his cousin and grabbed him in a tight embrace. When stood rigid, his hands by his side whilst How hugged him.

“Peter, you know I don’t –”

“No, nor do I for that matter. But sometimes I think it’s appropriate.” How let his cousin go and stood awkwardly in front of him. “You did the right thing today. A brave and risky thing, and I’m grateful. The three of us are, and my Spectrel.”

“I took the liberty of deploying a fix. So you’ll find that the existing stock of flowers isn’t going to be a problem.”

“A fix?” asked Kevin.

“Yes,” said When. “I found a particular resonant frequency at which I could burst the – for want of a layman’s term – guts of these devices using a time-gravity pulse. For your reference, Peter, I deployed it in three sequential bursts triangulated around London.”

“You what?” said Kevin.

“You know how you can break wine glass with the right frequency?” said How. “He did the same thing to these chips, but with a time-gravity pulse. He went to three points around London and did it. He didn’t do them all at the same time because there would have been interference patterns, as would happen with any wave form. That would have meant there would have been an interference pattern and some wouldn’t have been destroyed.”

“Right. Of course.” Kevin thought for a moment. “Hang on, why didn’t he just go back in time and eliminate the threat from the start?”

“You’ll find we’re now back in your basement,” said When in his usual neutral tone. “I took the liberty of presuming you would want to be returned there, and to the time you originally set off. I know you’re a stickler for keeping your timelines and schedules uncomplicated.”

How turned to Kevin with a smile. “Does that answer your question, lad?”

“Sure. Timelines. We hadn’t been to Brixton at that stage.”

Kevin noticed that the projection of the factory now showed the aftermath of the fire. Most of the massive structure had been gutted, leaving just the blackened skeleton of the building. Water from the fire crew still played on the smoking ruins. This was clearly a factory the day after a massive blaze.

“Thank you for your consideration, cousin. And the remains of those illegal robots?”

“I did scan the building with a probe, but they were turned into pools of molten metal. Deliberately, it would seem. I’m sure we could get samples of the metal if you would like.”

“No,” sighed the Doctor. “I can already guess.” He paused awkwardly. “If you’d like to stick around for dinner?”

“Thank you, Peter. But that’s quite enough for one day. In terms of having company. It’s not that I didn’t enjoy seeing the three of you, it’s just that, you know…”

“You prefer to be alone. I understand and respect that. Well, you know where I am.”

“Yes. Yes, I do, Peter. And I’d like to thank the three of you, too. I am very appreciative.”

“Well, I hope we can count on you in the future?” said Kevin.

“I have a feeling you may also need my help in the past,” said When.

“Yeah, whatever,” said Kevin. “Whenever.”

“Right. I’d better be off then,” said When, shuffling awkwardly.

“Kevin, come along. Let my cousin get back to his life.” How gestured for Kevin and Trinity to leave When’s Spectrel.

“Cheerio,” said When.

“Laters,” said Kevin.

“Farewell, cousin,” said How, and exited into his basement. He motioned to his companions to enter his own Spectrel.

There was a slight disturbance in the air as When’s Spectrel disappeared.

“Well, I’m sorry to say that the US doesn’t sit on its collective ass drinking cups of tea when American citizens are getting attacked and killed, Sir Adrian,” roared Joe Schlutz. “So I can hardly apologise for taking the action I did.”

Vauxhall Cross, one of the busiest intersections in London, was devoid of traffic – both pedestrian and road, and the bus station had been evacuated. The Tube and rail stations were closed, with trains passing straight through. It reminded Peterson of a scene from a sci-fi disaster movie, which she supposed it was, in a way. The illusion was helped by the fact that Colonel Schlutz was almost a caricature: six foot three, solidly built, square-jawed, squeezed into a suit so smart that it seemed like it wanted to sprout gold braid and become a uniform.

Sir Adrian smiled a diplomatic smile. “The problem is, Joe, that you’ve created a bit of a… problem. Rather a big stink.”

“The hell I have! Those sewers are sovereign US property.”

Commander Bunce raised her hand in an assertive police-like manner. “With all due respect, Colonel Schultz –”

“Schlutz! Schultz is the guy who created Charlie Brown and Snoopy.”

“Sorry, Colonel Schlutz. Your territorial rights begin at the edge of the property. This is British sovereign territory.”

“It’s underground.”

“Same principle, Colonel.”

“Nah. Out of sight, out of mind.”

“We can’t be having you conducting this sort of operation on British soil. Or
under
it.”

“Thank you, Jane,” said Sir Adrian. “I think we’re actually a bit beyond questions of policing now. Rather, I think we’re onto issues of security and intelligence. Incidents like this are, unfortunately, sometimes talked about at diplomatic level because of the seriousness of the violations they represent. Of course, if the parties concerned can be shown to have been cooperating and communicating effectively… sharing information between peers as equals… then matters such as these need go no higher. Although quite how we explain a series of large explosions escapes me for the moment.”

“Methane explosions,” said Dr Peterson brightly, stepping out from behind Commander Bunce and Sir Adrian Brown.

“Excuse me?” said Schlutz, unable to resist a full take on Peterson’s figure.

“Methane builds up from bacterial action on faecal matter. Occasionally it explodes. Modern sewers are supposed to have had that flaw designed out of them, but in this instance it failed. Totally plausible.”

“I like it,” said Schlutz.

“This is Doctor Peterson. MI16,” said Sir Adrian. “One of our brightest.”

“Six
teen
?” asked Schlutz.

“Scientific branch,” said Sir Adrian. “She’s one half of it. The better half, to be honest,” he said conspiratorially.

“But what about the hundreds of witnesses who saw our special ops guys go in first?”

Peterson smiled. “Security check on the back of the ongoing problem with the… whatever we decide to tell them it is. Unfortunate that a spark ignited the gas. A routine accident, if you will.”

“A
routine
accident?” asked Schlutz.

“Of course. Just your usual sort of accident. No conspiracy. All very unfortunate. Wheel out a couple of experts for the media. Everybody knows that – if you’ll excuse me – farts are flammable. All rather amusing, humorous articles in the tabloid press, thankfully no one was hurt. Nothing to see here, let your brain move along please.”

Schlutz gave Peterson a long, hard look, then grinned. “Lady, if ever you wanna go on secondment to Uncle Sam, I can swing it for you.” He clapped his hands together and shouted over at a couple of his men. “Okay guys! Get this wrapped up ASAP and get back in the compound. Let the Brits have the scene back. I think we got all we need.” He turned back to his three British colleagues. “Sorry about the misunderstanding. You can appreciate we get a little trigger-happy. When it comes to our diplomatic missions, memories of Tehran, Beirut, and Nairobi are always in our minds – the whole damned world wants to have a pop at us.”

“We can work that into the news story,” said Peterson. “Maybe you were installing some kind of security apparatus and a spark triggered the explosion?”

“She’s awesome,” he said to Sir Adrian, jerking a thumb at Peterson.

“Isn’t she just?”

“Come on, you guys,” said Schlutz. “Let me get you a proper cup of coffee back in my place. Sir Adrian, you’re right – we need to share. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.”

“That’s a game I’ve not played in a long time,” said Sir Adrian.

Schlutz looked at Peterson and Bunce for an explanation.

“British humour,” said Peterson. “Double
entendre
.”

“Well it sounds French. Uncle Sam don’t do French. Hey, Mac!” he addressed a guard at the gate.

“Sir!” the man snapped to attention.

“Doctor Peterson’s leaving her French at the gate here. Look after it, will ya?”

“Uh, yessir.”

“Here’s what we got from the scene,” said Schlutz, setting a glass jar down on the left of his desk. “The only damned thing we could find. Slime. Went straight through the plastic container we tried to pick it up in. This is all we have left.” It looked unremarkable – a greenish-brown gunge in a mix of sewage. “One of the guys swears he was grabbed by something. We think this is what it was. But it doesn’t look like the something that killed our guy on the john this morning.”

“We fought one of the somethings off just before you were attacked,” said Sir Adrian. He was sitting to Schlutz’s left, and closest to the jar. He picked it up and looked at the contents. “It had a tendril. A tentacle. No suckers, so not an octopus. A bit like a jellyfish or something. Nothing like this. Unless it’s decomposed.”

Commander Bunce coughed politely. She was sitting at the other end of the line of three chairs in front of Schlutz. “We didn’t actually fight it off, to be honest. A member of the security services called Thickett –”

“The not-so-good half of MI16,” interjected Sir Adrian.

“Thickett was grabbed by it. It stung him like a jellyfish. The same sort of sting that my scenes-of-crime officer saw on this morning’s casualty.

“Yeah, that’s what we had this morning. Stinging tentacle. And worse. We shot at it. How did you guys fight it off?”

“To be honest,” said Bunce. “Something else dealt with the threat.”

“Something else? What the hell does that mean?” demanded Schlutz.

“We had a little bit of a leak this morning.”

“What is this – more of that famous British toilet humour? Huh?”

Commander Bunce gave Schlutz a thin smile. “No, it’s our famous understatement. There was a big security leak and I’m sure you’ve seen the images that went around the internet.”

“Damn right I did. An old guy in the sewer and a giant spider at the Brixton Market killings. You’re telling me those images are for real?”

“Yes. It was the giant spider which saved our colleague Thickett from the oversized jellyfish.”

“Holy cow. You know how absurd that sounds?”

“Our sentiments exactly,” said Sir Adrian.

“And you told me you had those giant cockroaches last week. What the hell is this?”

“We only wish we knew,” said Bunce. “The giant cockroaches are new to me too.”

“And I only found about them when I had to sign off on the millions in damage they caused,” said Sir Adrian.

Schlutz drummed his fingers on the desk. “You think there’s some kinda war going on down there somewhere? You know, a fight to the death between mutated species? Serious question.” He made eye contact with each of the three Brits in turn before locking gaze with Peterson. “Doctor Peterson, I’d appreciate your opinion. Apparently you saw the giant cockroaches.”

Doctor Peterson was sitting in the middle of the trio facing Colonel Schlutz. She smiled. “I think if you put a mix of any kind of wildlife into a confined space there’s going to be a fight,” she said. “There are predators and there are prey.”

“Very true, but that doesn’t tell me Jack about what we’re gonna do about it.”

“If you’ll excuse me,” said Sir Adrian. “I think we’d like to hear your side of the story. You’re not going to tell me that a team of Navy SEALs were defeated by a piece of slime, Joe?”

“Since we’re into British toilet humour, we both know that the German defeat in North Africa in World War Two was down to dysentery caused by poor hygiene practices. The British literally got their shit together.”

“Very droll.”

“My point is that the strongest army can be defeated by anything. You can’t plan for every threat.”

“I agree. Please, do continue.”

“So we used a bit of gas.”

“Gas? Tear gas?”

“Let’s call it tear gas plus.”

“Jesus, Joe. You were using
poison gas
on British sovereign territory?”

“Aw, Sir Adrian. Look, we have to be prepared for all sorts of eventualities.”

“My officers aren’t allowed anything more powerful than pepper spray!” said Bunce, rising from her seat.

Sir Adrian ushered her back down with a gentle hand and a smile. “You’d had a man killed. I understand.”

“Look, it’s the only thing we have to fight a threat in the sewers. So we dropped it into the system. We figured we had to head it off at the pass… What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” said Peterson.

“We inserted a team in the sewer and heard this splashing. It was going
up
the pipe towards the embassy. We figured we’d just got there in time – cut off its escape into the rest of the sewer system. One of our guys took a couple of cracks at it. Said it was the weirdest thing. It was deploying some kind of cloaking. You ever see that movie
Predator
?” His British counterparts nodded. “Yeah, well that’s what it was like. Cast a shadow though – just like your spider. Only this thing was bipedal – our guys could hear that immediately from the sound it made. And it looked… human. Five-ten, weighed maybe a hundred-and-eighty pounds.”

“And it never occurred to your men that this…
being
might not be a threat? They just chose to shoot at it?”

“Hey, we got a dead guy here and a lot of explaining to do. Right? Anyway, so we inserted another team inside our compound just as this – I dunno –
being
was about to pass the manhole. He smashes up the team’s ladder and leaves our guy for dead. And then – get this – he runs into a cul-de-sac and disappears. We figure the only way he could have gone is
up
. Suddenly a couple of our guys are hit by something like an anemone that drops on them from above – right where the being has gone.”

“You mean a sea anemone, rather than the flower, I take it,” said Sir Adrian.

“Enough levity. This sea anemone starts fighting. Then the being lands, and he starts fighting too.”

“On whose side?” asked Bunce.

“His own damned side, apparently. He biffs the anemone, scoops it up and then biffs a couple of our guys who get in his way. Except he’s pretty gentle on our guys by comparison. Our guys only got winded. Here, take a look at this. This is the best of the footage from the helmet cameras.” Schlutz clicked a control button and a fifty-inch TV screen blinked into life on the wall showing the desktop of Colonel Schlutz’s computer.

Doctor Peterson now had her back to Sir Adrian, and was facing the back of Commander Bunce’s head. She felt a puff of breath from Sir Adrian. She saw a slight movement of Commander Bunce’s hair, who was sitting in front of her, and slightly to the right. She liked Sir Adrian, but was a little disconcerted about how indiscreet the head of MI6 could be. He didn’t seem to care about stating his lack of confidence in Thickett in public, and nor did he care about letting his breath out in boredom – even if he did so silently.

Schlutz clicked through some folders to some MP4 files, then doubled clicked on one. A chaotic light and black image appeared. In the distance along a tunnel were two men bearing carbines with flashlights on them. The sound was confusing – splashes of water, shouting, all echoing in the confined space.