Doctor Who: The Seeds of Doom (5 page)

‘That explosion was no accident,’ said Sarah Jane firmly. She had recovered from the ordeal but appeared tired after the trip back to England.

Sir Colin looked puzzled. ‘Why on earth should anyone want to possess a thing like that so badly?’

‘Greed! The most dangerous impulse in the Galaxy,’ exclaimed the Doctor, jumping to his feet and addressing them all. ‘You realise that on this planet the pod is unique—I use the word with precision—and to some people its uniqueness makes it desirable at any cost.’

‘You make these men sound like fanatics,’ said Dunbar derisively.

The Doctor sauntered over to the side of the room and peered at a model of the Antarctic Base. ‘No,’ he said slowly, ‘I think they were working for someone else.’

‘The real fanatic,’ added Sarah.

‘What’s more to the point is how they got on to it.’ The Doctor spun round to face Dunbar. ‘The expedition had only reported its discovery to this office, right?’

Dunbar coloured. ‘Doctor, I trust you aren’t suggesting information was leaked from this Bureau?’

‘Yes, what would be the gain from it?’ intervened Sir Colin.

‘Money,’ replied the Doctor sharply. ‘Thieves and murderers don’t usually work for love.’

‘Since you seem to have this business sewn up, Doc-tor, where do you think the pod is now?’ Dunbar sounded aggressive.

‘I’d make a guess and say—right in this country.’ The Doctor crossed to Sir Colin and jabbed him in the chest. ‘Action, Sir Colin, that’s what is needed. If we don’t find that pod before it germinates, it will be the end of everything—even your pension!’

This last thought seemed to galvanise Sir Colin into activity. ‘Of course, Doctor, we’ll do all we can to help. The entire facilities of this Bureau are at your disposal.’ He glared at his Deputy, ‘All right, Dunbar?’

Dunbar nodded. ‘I’ll organise anything you require.’

‘Good,’ snapped the Doctor. ‘Then organise us to the Botanical Institute.’

A few minutes later the unmistakable figures of the Doctor and his assistant emerged from the entrance of the World Ecology Bureau. A uniformed chauffeur approached them. ‘Doctor?’

‘Yes.’

‘This car was ordered for you, sir.’ He indicated a large, black limousine.

‘How kind. After you, Sarah.’ They climbed in, the Doctor gave instructions to the chauffeur, and the car moved off.

Alone in his office, Dunbar dialled a number. Someone answered the other end. Dunbar leant closer into the phone and whispered, ‘It’s all right, they’re being taken care of.’

‘Excellent,’ replied the voice and hung up. Dunbar replaced the receiver thoughtfully.

The limousine was approaching the outskirts of London. The Doctor had remained pensive and silent throughout the journey and Sarah had chosen not to disturb him. She looked out of the window as the car turned down a side road and into open country. The Botanical Institute was farther out of town than she thought.

Suddenly the car lurched to a halt. The road had become little more than a dirt track leading to what seemed like a disused quarry. The Doctor jerked to life. ‘What’s going on?’

The chauffeur turned round, a revolver in his hand. ‘We’re in a nice deserted place, Doctor. Now—both of you—out!’ He slipped from behind the wheel and, keeping them covered, opened the rear passenger door.

The Doctor winked. ‘I think we’d better do as he says, Sarah.’ He started to get out slowly. Then, in one explosive action he swung the door violently at the chauffeur, knocked him flying into the mud and dragged Sarah from the car.

‘Run!’ he yelled, and the two of them sprinted away down the rutted track. Winded, the chauffeur groped for his revolver, but before he could take aim the two figures disappeared down a gully. He staggered to his feet and set off in pursuit.

One quick glance was sufficient for the Doctor to take in the quarry. A large sandhopper with a raised platform lay to their right. He changed direction towards it, shouting instructions to Sarah as he did so.

A few moments later the panting gunman arrived beneath the hopper. His captives had vanished—into thin air! To his left was an old pile of gravel, enough for a hiding place. He crept towards it, finger on the trigger. Suddenly, there was a noise behind him. He spun round and fired.

Twenty feet above his head the Doctor crouched on the hopper platform, poised to leap. He could see Sarah plainly behind the gravel pile. She picked up a second pebble and threw it in the air. The chauffeur turned and fired again, then took a pace forward, bringing him directly below the Doctor.

The Doctor eyed the drop one more time, noted the position of the revolver and launched himself into space. Thud! The chauffeur crumpled like a rag doll as the Doctor’s fifteen and a half stones slammed into him. Sarah dashed out from behind the mound. The Doctor picked himself up and was about to administer a straight left when he realised his dive had laid the gunman out cold.

‘He isn’t dead?’ said Sarah fearfully.

‘Unconscious. It seems news travels fast from the South Pole.’

The Doctor gathered up the revolver and hurled it out of sight. ‘Let’s search the car.’

They ran back.

Clearly the limousine did not belong to the World Ecology Bureau. But who did own it? There appeared to be no clues inside the car.

Sarah suddenly called the Doctor to the boot. She was holding up a framed painting of a flower. In the corner was a signature.

‘Amelia Ducat,’ read the Doctor, puzzled.

‘An original as well,’ exclaimed Sarah excitedly. ‘Must be worth something.’

‘You think so?’

Sarah eyed the Doctor with disdain. ‘You mean to say you haven’t heard of Amelia Ducat? She’s one of the country’s leading flower artists.’

The Doctor glanced in the direction of the sandhopper. ‘Hardly a passion for a gunman,’ he said with a grin. ‘Still, let’s see if Miss Ducat can throw any light on the subject.’

He leapt into the driving seat and, scarcely allowing Sarah time to climb in, accelerated off towards the main road.

‘Ah yes... a perfect example of Fritillaria Meleagris.’

The speaker was an eccentric little lady in her sixties, dressed in heavy tweeds; a pair of gold-rimmed spectacles dangled on a chain round her neck and a large cigar jutted from the side of her mouth. She held the painting at arm’s length admiringly. ‘Rather good, don’t you think?’

The Doctor smiled indulgently. ‘We’re trying to trace the owner, Miss Ducat.’

‘You mean it isn’t yours?’

‘No. We found it in a car boot.’

‘In a car boot?’ Miss Ducat looked horrified. ‘How insensitive! ‘

‘So was the driver,’ chipped in Sarah. ‘He tried to kill us.’

‘Good gracious! Whatever for?’

The Doctor leant over the top of Miss Ducat’s easel, which held a half-completed painting. ‘Miss Ducat,’ he said, in his friendliest and most coaxing tone, ‘do you remember who bought this painting?’

Miss Ducat stared, a little puzzled, at the painting in front of her. ‘Nobody. It isn’t finished yet.’

‘No, this one, Miss Ducat,’ explained Sarah. ‘Fritillaria Melewhatsit.’

‘Ah... oh... let me see now...’ Miss Ducat took a couple of good puffs on her cigar and coughed violently ‘It was six or seven years ago...’ She closed her eves in deep concentration. ‘Lace?... Mace?... Paice?... Race?...’ Miss Ducat struggled manfully.

‘Brace?’ said Sarah.

‘Grace?’ tried the Doctor.

‘Chase!’ shouted Miss Ducat triumphantly. ‘Harrison Chase the millionaire!’ A strange look came over her. ‘Good Lord,’ she said. ‘He never paid me!’

Sarah glanced at the Doctor who suppressed a smile. ‘Give me his address, Miss Ducat,’ he said, ‘and I’ll see what I can do.’

Twenty minutes later the large, black limousine was cruising effortlessly through the countryside, the Doctor at the wheel. He was dressed in the chauffeur’s dark blue raincoat.

‘I hope this works,’ said Sarah doubtfully.

‘A risk worth taking,’ replied the Doctor seriously. ‘We must find that pod.’

The road now ran alongside the high wall of an estate, topped with barbed wire, and signs at intervals marked ‘DANGER—KEEP OUT’.

The Doctor spotted the gateway ahead and pulled the car into the verge. ‘Ready?’ He smiled encouragingly at Sarah. She ducked down beneath the wind-screen out of sight. The Doctor doffed the chauffeur’s peaked cap, glanced appreciatively at himself in the mirror and eased the car forward.

The heavy wooden gates were at least twenty feet high and studded with metal bolts like a prison entrance. From the look of things Mr Harrison Chase was a gentleman who valued his privacy. He was also a gentleman with friends in high places. On past evidence, their little contretemps with the chauffeur would soon be reported, and before then the Doctor knew he had to somehow penetrate Chase’s domain and retrieve the pod.

He swung the car in front of the gates and beeped the horn. A uniformed guard poked his head through a small door set in the right-hand gate. He glanced at the car, nodded, then disappeared inside. Seconds later the gates parted and the Doctor accelerated through. The guard stood back as the car swept past, hardly giving it a look, then shut the gates again. The Doctor breathed a sigh of relief. He had banked correctly on this being a routine procedure.

They were now in the grounds of a large and imposing manor house, glimpses of which the Doctor caught through thick greenery bordering the approach road. He slowed down, searching for a fork which would lead round to the back of the property. Sure enough there was one. He steered the big car expertly down a narrow drive and pulled to a halt beneath a clump of trees.

‘So far so good,’ he whispered, and tapped Sarah on the shoulder.

She straightened up from her hiding position. ‘Ouch! I’m sure there are more comfortable ways of travelling.’ She rubbed her back painfully.

‘We’ll leave the car here,’ said the Doctor, ignoring her complaint. He switched off the ignition and slid gently out of the car. Sarah did likewise.

The nearest place of cover was a crumbling wall with a series of elegant arches set into it. The Doctor moved silently towards the wall, Sarah in tow. From there they could see the house clearly across a wild expanse of overgrown lawn.

It was a magnificent Elizabethan manor house, large and rambling, with several courtyards and outbuildings running off it. The gardens immediately surrounding the house were a blaze of colour, a breath-taking profusion of flowers of every kind, but further from the house the vegetation grew thicker and more exotic, forming a jungle-like screen around the whole property.

‘Lovely house,’ whispered Sarah. ‘What’s the best way in?’

‘Not the front door, I’m afraid.’

At that moment two uniformed guards appeared. They were no more than fifty yards away. Over their shoulders they carried vicious looking sten guns. It was obvious their course would bring them straight to where the Doctor and Sarah were hiding.

‘We’ll have to bluff it,’ whispered the Doctor and stepped nonchalantly out into the open. Sarah’s heart skipped a beat as she followed suit. Any second she expected to be enveloped in a hail of bullets. At the same time she found herself laughing inwardly at the comical figure of the Doctor, in the chauffeur’s hat and coat, attempting to walk quickly yet casually away from the guards.

They were half way towards the house when a voice rang out behind them. ‘Hey you!’ The Doctor quickened his pace. ‘Halt!’ The sound of a safety catch being released was clearly audible.

‘Run!’ yelled the Doctor and sprinted towards a narrow gate at the side of the house.

‘I said halt!’

The Doctor burst open the gate with his shoulder and pushed Sarah through. As he did so a shower of bullets slammed into the masonry inches above his head and alarm bells began to ring inside the house.

They were now running along a narrow terrace. Suddenly, more guards appeared at the far end. The Doctor grabbed Sarah’s arm and leapt with her off the terrace on to the ground and headed on a zigzag course towards the surrounding cover of trees. The barking of tracker dogs could be heard above the din of bells and machine-gun fire. ‘One thing is certain,’ thought the Doctor, ‘Harrison Chase doesn’t take kindly to strangers.’

Seconds later they reached the belt of trees and plunged in. Branches, thorns and razor-sharp leaves cut their skin and clawed at their clothing as they crashed through the jungle-like vegetation.

‘This way, Sarah,’ gasped the Doctor and struck out to his left. The hue and cry was falling behind them and to their right. Any plan to penetrate the house was now useless, but if they could make the outer wall, thought the Doctor, they might still escape. Ahead of them appeared a solid mass of giant bamboo. Sarah felt she was acting out a nightmare. This couldn’t be happening in England. The Doctor beat a way through. ‘Come on, nearly there!’ Sarah willed herself on.

Suddenly, she literally fell into a clearing. Ahead was a small pathway. The Doctor saw her fall and ran back. ‘Quick!’ He hauled her to her feet and dragged her forwards again. The blood was pounding through her veins and her lungs were bursting for air. Then, all at once, Sarah felt the Doctor’s grip slacken. He had stopped.

‘Hello, Doctor, I heard you were on your way.’ Sarah froze as the unmistakable voice of Scorby cut through the air. Gun in hand, his familiar dark figure blocked the pathway ahead. At the same moment three armed guards appeared from nowhere and seized them both.

Scorby stepped up to them, savouring the moment. ‘You weren’t thinking of leaving, I hope. Mr Chase is so looking forward to meeting you.’

Moments later the Doctor and Sarah found themselves inside the house. They were bundled along dark corridors and through a doorway into a large baronial hall. An oak-beamed ceiling towered above their heads, and on either side the panelled walls were lined with suits of armour and ancient hanging tapestries.