Doctor Who: The Enemy of the World (4 page)

His deputy shook his shining bald head emphatically and tugged at his full, black beard. ‘I agree, Alexander. The whole idea is absurd.’ He turned to Salamander. ‘Your data must be quite a few degrees out,’ he suggested.

Salamander stiffened. Clenching his fist, he rapped the map with beringed knuckles. ‘I do not think so, Comrade Fedorin,’ he snapped. ‘So far every single one of my predictions has proved correct.’

Fedorin bowed his head submissively, regretting his rashness. Under the table he clasped his knees with clammy hands.

The Controller smiled blandly and nodded. ‘Yes, Salamander, your record has been most impressive, I do not deny,’ he murmured pleasantly.

Just then, a small intercom unit placed on the other side of the circular table bleeped several times. Salamander ignored it.

A moment later a tall West Indian girl stepped through the french window onto the terrace. ‘Excuse me, Leader, but Communications have just come through to say that...’

‘I gave strict instructions that I was not to be disturbed!’

Salamander cried.

The girl turned to go.

‘Wait, Fariah. Some refreshments perhaps?’ Salamander suggested, turning to the other two men.

Alexander Denes was already levering himself out of his chair. ‘Not for me, thank you. I must consult my Scientific Bureau immediately.’

Salamander’s mouth formed a smile, but his eyes remained cold. ‘Still you do not believe, Alexander.’

The Zone Controller replied that he merely wanted to avoid any false alarms and with a polite bow he turned to leave.

‘Your advisers are all amateurs,’ Salamander laughed with an exaggerated shrug.

Denes turned back to face him. ‘They are extremely skilful and dedicated men, Salamander,’ he retorted. ‘But they are human and, like all men, they are capable of error.’

Salamander stared after him, obviously needled by Denes’ pointed rebuke. Then as Fedorin rose to follow Denes he pushed him firmly back into his seat. ‘Stay and drink with me, Comrade, we have much to discuss, you and I,’ he purred. ‘Fariah, look after the Deputy Controller for a moment.’

Leaving the puzzled man hunched at the table, Salamander hurried into the Palace after Denes, his eyes narrowed in a calculating frown.

Odd spots of rain were beginning to fall as Jamie and Victoria sat waiting on a bench in the Memorial Gardens of the Tisza Park near the Palace. There seemed to be no one about. Large gloomy buildings towered over the trees on the other side of the gray, swiftly flowing river. Victoria was cold and miserable. She felt uneasy without the Doctor. ‘Are you sure this is the place?’ she mumbled.

Jamie shrugged. ‘I’m no sure of anything after that orbital flight jaunt. Third bench. South walk. Memorial Gardens,’ he said with a huge yawn. ‘Those were the directions, lassie.’

‘Well, I don’t trust her, Jamie. Suppose it’s some kind of a trap?’

Jamie said nothing. He was preoccupied, running over in his mind the details of a daring and dangerous plan in which he would soon be risking his life. Eventually he looked up. Victoria was fast asleep despite the chilly wind.

Then he caught sight of a familiar figure strolling casually along the river bank.

It was Astrid. When at last she reached them, she sat down at the other end of the bench without looking at him.

‘Denes has arranged everything,’ she murmured.

‘Salamander is expected to remain at the Palace for only twenty-four hours.’ Still staring straight ahead across the river, she put her hand down on the seat and when she took it away there was a small plastic card. ‘Your pass.

When you enter the Palace, find your way straight to the East Terrace. Then proceed exactly as planned.’

Jamie picked up the pass and palmed it. ‘Will you be ready in time, lassie?’ he asked anxiously.

Astrid nodded slightly. ‘Go now,’ she ordered him.

With a glance at Victoria, Jamie got to his feet and sauntered away in the direction Astrid had just come from, whistling a favourite piper’s lament.

Victoria woke up with a start, just in time to see him disappearing into the nearby shrubbery. ‘Jamie!’ she cried, jumping up. ‘Where are you going? Come back!’

‘Quiet. Sit down,’ Astrid hissed savagely. ‘Do you want to ruin everything?’

On the East Terrace of the Tisza Palace, barely a kilometre away, Fariah and Fedorin were talking.

‘But if you dislike the man, then why do you work for him?’ the Deputy asked, sitting down with the drink he had insisted on pouring himself.

A brilliant but ironic smile flashed across the black girl’s beautiful face. ‘He has a way of persuading people.’

Fedorin nodded innocently. ‘Indeed, a most stimulating taskmaster. Salamander seems to radiate a kind of magnetism.’ He sipped his drink. ‘This is delicious!’ he exclaimed.

Fariah smiled again. ‘I am very relieved to hear that, Mr Fedorin,’ she said pointedly, looking at the glass.

He glanced up at her uncertainly and then stared at his glass in confusion. ‘I beg your pardon...’

‘I am Salamander’s official food-taster,’ she explained, as if the title disgusted her. ‘There have been many attempts to poison the Leader.’

‘Food-taster!’ Fedorin gasped. ‘What made you take on such a dangerous job?’

‘Hunger!’ The word cut through the heavy air like a blade as Salamander came out onto the terrace. ‘But it is strange. Now that the girl has all she can eat, she has lost her appetite,’ he cried with a brutal laugh. ‘Get me a drink, Fariah.’

As she hurried to obey, Fedorin tried to smile. ‘You seem to be extremely well protected, sir,’ he said.

‘Guard!’ Salamander yelled. At once a young officer rushed out onto the terrace aiming a lethal-looking gun straight at the terrified Deputy. Fedorin backed slowly away, mesmerised by his own reflection in the guard’s glittering vizor.

As the wretched little man collided with the wrought-iron table, Salamander gave a blood-curdling hyena laugh, greatly enjoying the sport. ‘Extremely well protected!’ he cried. Then his manner changed abruptly and he became charming and polite. ‘But have another drink, amigo, and relax,’ he purred.

At that moment Jamie appeared, clambering stealthily over the stone parapet at the end of the terrace behind the guard. Fedorin tried to shout a warning, but his voice seemed to be trapped in his throat. He uttered incoherent grunts, gesticulating at the kilted stranger as he jumped from the balustrade. Jamie felled the guard with a single chop to the neck and scooped up the rifle as he landed.

Salamander barely had time to turn before finding himself covered at point-blank range. Fariah dropped her tray of drinks with a crash.

‘It seems you’re not quite as well protected as you like to think,’ Jamie told Salamander.

Salamander began reaching carefully for the intercom unit on the table behind him.

‘Don’t touch that thing if you want to live,’ Jamie shouted. He moved cautiously forward, waving them all away from the table and towards the windows. Reaching the table he gingerly picked up the intercom with one hand, keeping his eyes and the gun trained on the retreating huddle of people. ‘Now duck!’ he cried, kneeling down and hurling the intercom high over the parapet.

As the others flung themselves onto the paving, a stunning explosion rocked the terrace and a huge orange fireball roared into the air. Several windows shattered, showering glass everywhere. The map was sucked off the table and it floated away in pieces. Jamie just caught a glimpse of Astrid through the gaps between the pillars of the parapet as she raced for cover round the corner of the building. ‘Well done, ma wee lassie,’ he murmured. Then he straightened up and laid the gun on the table.

Three guards ran out of the Palace and advanced on him, their boots crunching over the scattered glass.

‘Wait!’ Salamander ordered. He walked slowly over to Jamie. ‘What is this all about?’ he demanded.

Jamie had been preparing himself for his first encounter with the real Salamander for many hours, but even so he found the man’s hypnotic gaze hard to resist. ‘I... I heard about a plot, sir,’ he mumbled, his mouth feeling dry and sticky. ‘A bomb in your intercom. I tried to warn them at the gates, but the Sassenachs wouldn’t listen to me.’

Salamander continued to examine him as if he were a specimen in a microscope. ‘So how did you get into the Palace?’

Jamie swallowed hard. ‘Well, you see, sir, I’m sort of on the road with this friend of mine. She’s very pretty, so the sentries didn’t spot me slipping by them.’

Salamander walked to the parapet and leaned over. The grass in the paddock below was gouged into a blackened crater. There was no trace of the intercom unit. ‘Why did you risk your life for me?’ he demanded.

Jamie licked his lips. ‘Well, sir, without your leadership I don’t think the world has much of a chance,’ he answered shyly.

‘You are loyal and fearless. That pleases me,’

Salamander murmured. ‘You would like to work for me?’

Salamander adjusted his collar with bejewelled fingers.

‘You will not be disappointed by what I pay, I assure you,’

he smiled, ‘and as for your young lady—no doubt Fariah can find her a task to keep her from mischief.’ Salamander clapped his hands with satisfaction. ‘You accept?’

Jamie hesitated a moment. ‘I’ll give it a try, sir,’ he grinned. ‘But your security arrangements are just terrible.

There’ll have to be changes.’

Salamander threw back his dark head and laughed throatily. ‘Excellent, excellent. We shall discuss everything later. Fariah, take our new young warrior and feed him.

Find him a uniform and then bring him and his young lady to me.’

Furious with Jamie for not telling her what was happening, Victoria had been sitting alone for what seemed like hours on the bench in the Memorial Gardens. As the sky became more and more overcast, she grew more and more afraid.

At last Astrid returned and sat silently at the other end of the beach pretending to read a newspaper. Victoria soon reached the point of wanting to snatch it out of her hands and hurl it into the river. She did not understand why they could not at least speak to each other.

Suddenly Jamie appeared, whistling jauntily as he strode through the shrubbery. He sat down between the two girls. ‘It worked. They think I saved Salamander’s life,’

he murmured.

‘You might have been followed,’ Astrid warned, without looking up.

Jamie revealed that Salamander had offered him a job.

‘Perfect, Jamie. You’re a genius,’ Astrid said.

Suddenly she stuffed the newspaper into her shoulder bag and got up. ‘Danger!’ she whispered, before setting off along triver bank towards a distant marina situated downstream of them.

‘That lassie has eyes in the back of her head,’ Jamie muttered, catching sight of two people emerging from the shrubbery. As they neared the bench, he suddenly spoke in a loud, casual voice as if he were in the midst of a conversation. ‘... and so he says there’s a job for both of us...’

They were confronted by Fariah and a Palace security officer.

‘Who was that woman you were talking to just now?’ the officer demanded.

‘We weren’t. She was just sitting there,’ Victoria retorted bitterly.

‘The boy had no right to leave the Palace,’ the officer shouted. ‘And who is this vagrant?’ he inquired, staring at Victoria.

Fariah cast her eyes skywards. ‘I have already explained, Captain,’ she said patiently. ‘Mr McCrimmon came to collect his friend. Salamander ordered it.’

The Captain stared suspiciously after Astrid’s receding figure. Then he glared at Victoria and finally at Jamie. ‘I shall check with the Leader personally,’ he rapped.

Fariah ignored him and introduced herself to Victoria.

‘You just come along with me,’ she smiled reassuringly.

As they walked through the deserted, gloomy park towards the Tisza Palace, the Captain followed a short distance behind them. He was speaking rapidly and quietly into his walkie-talkie, occasionally glancing round at the forest of masts waving forlornly in the distance.

Concealed in the maze of wooden struts beneath the outer end of the marina jetty, Astrid waited. She tried to keep calm. The operation on the East Terrace had been blessed with incredible luck: she had only just managed to reach cover behind a small buttress before the explosive she had planted had detonated; then she had run the gauntlet of the Palace security guards. She was still shaking, and wondering how much longer the luck was going to last.

She took a small automatic out of her bag and checked its magazine as she heard stealthy movements coming from the landward end of the jetty. Eventually Alexander Denes appeared, clambering laboriously through the tangle of beams towards her. Panting heavily, he squeezed his generous bulk into the angled stanchions beside her. ‘Have we been successful?’ he whispered anxiously.

‘Salamander’s swallowed it so far. The boy is very capable, but the girl could be a liability.’

Denes stared down at the rushing water and sighed. ‘I had not met Salamander before,’ he frowned. ‘You and Giles are right about him, Astrid. He must be stopped. But I hate the idea of violence.’

Astrid put her hand on his arm. ‘He’ll be stopped—

somehow. I must get back to Giles tonight. Things should be starting to happen at the Australian end by now. Can you hold on here until the boy gets the information we need?’

Denes nodded. ‘With a little luck. I think I can trust Nicholas, weak as he is.’

Astrid clambered up to check that the coast was clear, then slid back into her niche. ‘You’d better go, Alex,’ she said gently. ‘I’ll wait ten minutes before I leave. Keep your eye on Fedorin.’

The Zone Controller smiled. ‘You take care as well, my dear.’ He leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek and she pressed his hand reassuringly. Then he heaved himself round and began to manoeuvre his way clumsily back towards the river bank.

As darkness fell, Salamander and Fedorin had been sitting alone in the lofty, ornate salon leading off the East Terrace.