19.
"Does that battery have enough juice in it for another round?" Blick asked as he swung open the rear door. The colder air of the warehouse swirled into the stuffiness of their closed compartment.
"Let me check the levels first, just to be sure. It should be fine," the Doctor said. He got to his feet and he and Higgs both handed Jo down from the lorry, Higgs because he insisted, the Doctor because aside from courtesy he was still cuffed to her.
They'd ridden all the way back with the Doctor as a silent observer; young Higgs had blushingly sat beside them and talked with Jo about their 'grand mission' to free Britain and to put an end to all aliens who would dare to camouflage themselves among the human race, as if by his many words he would inflame in her the same single-minded pursuit of the goal. As chatty as Jo normally could be, even she was a little overwhelmed by his fanatic fervor; she'd spent most of the ride giving short, encouraging affirmations just to keep him going to pass the time. It was a relief when they finally reached the warehouse again.
"That battery better be fine," Gorringe said as he climbed out of the cab. "You watch him, Blick. Double-check his readings on it. Hodges! You start loading up those explosives."
"Right away. They got that Prime Minister bloke, then?"
"I'm calling now. They should have him by tomorrow at latest." He disappeared into his office.
The Doctor considered the handcuff he still shared with his assistant, then towed Jo over to the workbench to fetch the battery meter. "How are you going to get them all set without anyone noticing?" he asked conversationally. "Pardon me, Jo. This way." She followed him back to where they were lifting the converted tea-cart from the lorry's bed, bending to try to match his movements as he set up the meter.
"Oh, we have men ready to place them," Blick answered confidently. "We even have three among the staff there. We'll all be a part of it, and all our best men get to be in the force-field with the Prime Minister, it's going to be absolutely momentous."
"I wish I could see it." He tightened a wire-nut, trying to not bang into Jo's wrist as he did so then looked up at Blick, raising their shared wrists for consideration. "Pardon me, but can we get these blasted cuffs off? If I need to carry out any finer work, this is going to be difficult."
Before Blick could even reply, Higgs was there. He unlocked the cuff from the Doctor's wrist and then snapped it onto his own. "Sorry," he said to Jo. "I'm not supposed to just leave you loose."
"Can we stay and watch? I'm so tired of that old freezer room," Jo said, looking him right in the eyes.
The man looked mesmerized. "Sure," he said. "Anything you want."
The Doctor and Blick looked at one another. Blick shrugged and turned the battery cart towards the meter. "Just keep her out of the way. Oi, that's a strong reading! Is that right?"
"Yes," the Doctor said. "Exactly where it should be. Plenty for the field to regenerate, multiple times if you need it to. So, can my assistant and I help with these explosives or anything else? I'm a dab hand with chemicals."
"I bet you are!" Blick said. "Higgs! Go ask Gorringe if he wants them along."
Higgs smiled and took Jo's cuffed hand in his nervously. "You don't mind walking with me, do you?"
"Oh no," she said, as cheerily as if she had a choice in the matter. "Let's go see Mr. Gorringe."
"Absolutely not," Gorringe said up ahead of them. "I heard. They stay here. Higgs, I can see that pretty girl has you completely under her thumb. And Blick, you're too easily impressed by that inventor. As soon as he's done checking it over, I want them both locked back up, then you help load up those explosives. We leave tonight, reconnaissance with the others before dawn. Our own people only. Understood?"
"Understood," Blick said gruffly.
"Sorry," Higgs said unhappily.
"I'll be done momentarily," the Doctor put in. "Where did I put that probe? Oh yes," he leaned into Bessie's dilapidated carriage and rummaged a moment, then brought out a thin metal rod. "I just need to insert this into the back of the main force-field control. Just a moment. Now, Mr. Blick. You watch that meter and tell me if it changes."
He rapidly twiddled something at the back of the device, while Blick watched the needle on the meter. "Nothing. Nothing. Full power! Still full... still full…."
"Good," the Doctor said, pulling the rod back out. "Thank you. It appears to be ready to go. Mr. Higgs? I assume you will escort us to our guest chambers now?"
"Uh, oh yes!" Higgs said, belatedly, looking down at Jo. "Come along, this way. Please."
--
"Home, sweet home," Jo said as the freezer door opened before her, the musty smell of old vegetables and cardboard greeting them once again. "I'm almost getting used to this place."
Higgs saw them both through the door apologetically, turned to go, then suddenly dug in his coat pocket and pulled out a fat wad of something paper.
"Here, take this! It's yours, really. You earned it. Gorringe did offer to pay you first, you know. It's honest money, not stolen. We're not criminals, we just want to free the common man. Butlers like you earn their bread the same as anyone." He thrust the paper wad at the Doctor.
He pushed it back at him. "What? I can't take this from you."
But the young man would not be dissuaded. He stuffed the roll of pound-notes into the Doctor's pocket and slipped out the door, slamming it behind him. The bolt went home and they were once again left in the mustiness of the dim freezer room.
"Nice to know if you ever needed to you could find work as a butler," Jo said. She gave a little wave of her hand as she headed for the crates in the corner. "Bring me my mink and a champagne, Jeeves. Oh wait, all we have is a blanket and leftover tea. Good enough." She sat on a crate and kicked her feet reflectively. "Too bad about old Higgs though, isn't it? He seems a good egg."
"A little cracked perhaps, but good," the Doctor agreed, trailing after her. "Inasmuch as paranoid fanatics go, I suppose he's been relatively courteous."
"So now what do we do?"
He looked around the dim room. "We wait and hope someone will eventually find us."
"Do you think anyone will?"
"If the Brigadier does his part. In the meantime you should get some sleep; it looks like it's going to be a long night. I'll keep watch. "
--
The morning sky was still cool with the nip of early autumn, and Sergeant Benton rubbed his hands together to warm them for a moment before going back to carefully picking the lock on the warehouse office door. As far as they knew, all of the men involved in this unusual group were accounted for and being followed, but they didn't know if the Doctor and Jo were in the back of that lorry again or if they'd been left behind.
The lock gave a satisfactory click and the knob turned under his hand. The door nudged open, but no alarms or trip-wires could be seen. Nodding to the two men with him to keep watch, he looked down at what appeared to be a tin of throat-drops with a little wavering needle mounted on the lid. It pointed into the main warehouse.
In the warehouse proper, he paused by the familiar yellow roadster.
"Oo, poor old Doc must be beside himself on that one," he said to himself, wincing over the disassembly and the torn seats. The needle pointed towards the back of the building, beyond the car. He followed it until he found himself facing a large metal door, quite firmly bolted shut.
He knocked on it. "Hello! Doctor? Miss Grant?" He pulled out his lock-picks and set about working on the padlock that held the bolt-handle down, happy to hear a muffled returning knock and the faint sound of a woman's voice, a man's returning a comment to her.
"Well," he told the padlock, "Sounds like we've got the right place."
--
"What is that?" Jo asked, looking curiously at what appeared to be a tin of throat-drops the Sergeant was aiming at them.
"It's a… well, I don't remember what it is. It points to that whatsit that must be in the Doc's pocket," Benton said cheerfully. "Led us right to you."
"Bessie's temporal-location device. Yes. I pocketed it when we got back from the quarry. And we're grateful, I assure you Sergeant," the Doctor said. He scooped an arm around Jo to propel her out the door. "But right now we need to get an alert out to the Brigadier. The men who imprisoned us were meeting with the rest of their group at dawn and most likely are already bound for Parliament."
"Parliament?" Benton asked as they went through the assembly area. "We knew something about it. Yates is overseeing the Prime Minister's kidnapping. I mean, not the real one, of course, he's a look-alike. Here, we've a radio just outside in the jeep. The lot that had you are still up to no good, I warrant?"
"You could say so. They're still intending to blow up the House of Lords." He followed them out to the waiting transport.
"Will they, you think?" Benton asked as they reached the jeep.
"Will they what?"
"Blow it up!"
"Oh, no. I should think not. But it would be best to have the militia on hand to gather them up afterwards. Here, give me that. Greyhound!" he said into the radio com. "Greyhound, this is the Doctor."
--
The Brigadier stood, fists on his hips, and considered the men who were splayed on the floor in the central aisle of the House of Lords, a good number of UNIT and security forces gathered curiously with him.
The fanatical trespassers and their supposed hostage lay very, very flat and moaned unhappily within the shimmering circle that surrounded their tipped over tea-cart.
The Lords and dignitaries, what real ones there had been that morning, had all been escorted out once the men had made their strange proclamations, flipped their switch and dramatically flattened themselves. It had been a morning to remember.
In truth, the Brigadier was happy to leave them laying there as long as possible, if it were not for the comfort of the red herring among them, the look-alike man hired to play the part of the Prime Minister for the kidnapping. He had to admit it had been handy, flushing out the rest of this fanatical fringe group first. The remaining men were already in custody, locked in the waiting paddy wagons.
"It's the same machine from the quarry. What do you think he did to it?" Captain Yates wondered at his shoulder. "It's like he threw it into reverse, but he's not even here."
The Brigadier looked at him and shook his head. "Knowing him, the explanation probably wouldn't make any sense to us anyway. Radio the Doctor. I want to know what he knows about failed explosives, but first and foremost we need to know how to unstick these chaps. "
--
Benton set the jeep's radio com aside. "They didn't explode?" he asked.
"Of course not," said the Doctor.
"But they did!" Jo exclaimed. "They did in that quarry. It was terrifying. Why didn't they work then?"
"Because they don't have their explosives with them. The ingredients for Hodges and his bomb-making are still here, in the kitchen in fact."
"The kitchen?"
"I wouldn't make any tea in there just now, and you certainly don't want to light a pipe. I traded their potassium nitrate for a mix of salt and sugar, swapped a bit of powdered tea and creamer, even found a use for the napkins and old coffee-grounds. "
"But the dynamite!"
He put his hands in his pockets and grinned, obviously pleased with himself. "Mere sticks of automotive putty, I assure you. The fuses would give a bit of sizzle, that's all."
"But I thought you were locked up when you weren't working for them," Benton said.
"Volunteer to make tea, a bit of sleight of hand, some time underneath a car. Quite simple, really. I made their tea the entire time."
"No wonder they thought you were a butler!" Jo giggled.
"Have you the audacity to giggle at me, Miss Grant?" the Doctor asked in a pompous voice. "I'm surprised they drank the coffee though, must have been no discerning palates among them. I never could quite get it right."
"I can show you how," Benton said.
The radio sputtered. "Greyhound to Track 2," came the Brigadier's voice.
"Track 2 here," Benton said, picking up the com. "We've some news about those bombs now, sir. They're duds, all of 'em. They were, er, doctored."
"I see," the Brigadier sounded slightly amused. "To confirm, they aren't explosive?"
"They're perfectly safe though I wouldn't eat them if I were you," the Doctor put in.
"Confirmed, no ability to detonate," Benton said. "He says not to eat them. Over."
"What? Oh never mind. Greyhound out."
--