'Do you have any equipment here manufactured by International Electromatix?' he inquried eagerly.
'Indeed we do, Doctor. Mainframe computers, various radar and communications components...' _
'Could I see them at once, please?'
The Brigadier nodded to Turner.
'This way, Doctor,' said the Captain, as the Doctor bounded out of his seat like a terrier. 'What exactly are you looking for?'
The Doctor grinned enigmatically. 'I don't know until I find it.
A needle in a haystack perhaps!'
Major-General William Routledge sat hunched in the chair facing Tobias Vaughn across the gleaming curve of the desk, his expressionless eyes peering out from his bowed, lolling head. Packer hovered restlessly behind him.
'You must tell me,' Vaughn purred. 'How long before UNIT
forces could act against me? How long?'
There was a brief silence. 'One... maybe two days...' Routledge said in a ghostly whisper.
Vaughn sat back with a smile of satisfaction. 'Time enough.'
Packer stepped forward. 'I don't like this. Suppose they move faster than that?'
'Let me do the supposing, Packer!' Vaughn snapped dangerously.
His Deputy stared down at their miserable, slumped victim whom his fingers were itching to torture and subdue. 'Yes, Mr Vaughn,' he whined submissively.
'There's a good fellow,' Vaughn smiled. 'Now, just to be on the safe side we'll conduct a little experiment. Have the Professor's Cerebration apparatus taken down to the warehouse. I'll join you there shortly.'
'What are you going to do?'
'Wait and see, Packer, wait and see.'
Packer poked Routledge as though he were a sack of potatoes.
'What about this?'
'Leave that to me. Now run along, Packer.'
Smarting under Vaughn's patronising treatment and frustrated in his desire to deal with Routledge, Packer slowly walked out.
Vaughn locked all the doors by remote control from his desk.
Then he took out his fountain pen and twisted the top. The wall opposite the windows parted to reveal the glittering secret machine.
As Vaughn walked over to the alcove, Routledge followed with his clouded eyes.
Vaughn gazed unblinking at the buzzing apparatus. 'There are some unexpected difficulties. We must therefore adjust the plan,' he informed it.
'Report the details. We will assess them,' rasped the metallic voice.
'We must bring the invasion forward.'
The machine crackled angrily. 'Our invasion force is not complete.'
'Nevertheless, the invasion must begin in thirteen terrestrial hours time,' Vaughn insisted unflinchingly. 'Otherwise we may face the combined forces of the entire world.'
Behind Vaughn, Routledge was now sitting upright, alert and listening.
'Your report is being assessed...' the machine announced, its central crystal revolving busily to and fro.
'You must accept my judgement or our partnership will terminate,' Vaughn threatened. 'The invasion will commence at dawn tomorrow.'
As Routledge stared at the bizarre and sinister apparatus in the alcove, his mind rapidly began to clear and a renewed glint of purpose gleamed in his eyes.
Vaughn stood his ground fearlessly while the Cyber Unit consulted with its masters. Eventually it replied in a dry brittle tone.
'It is agreed. Data will be revised and new schedules transmitted to you. Discussion terminated.'
With a victorious, preening toss of the head, Vaughn closed the shutters and turned round. He found himself staring down the barrel of a compact revolver.
'Dear me, Routledge...' he laughed after a momentary hesitation. 'Are you going to kill me?'
Routledge steadied himself on his feet and nodded. 'I must,' he croaked.
Slowly Vaughn walked towards him. 'But you can't kill me. I control you.'
Routledge backed away from him, holding the gun with both hands. 'I know what you've done to me,' he muttered, 'but I can fight it now.'
Vaughn continued his slow advance. 'No, you can't. And even if you could squeeze that trigger, you wouldn't be able to kill me,' he murmured almost hypnotically. 'Now turn the gun round and point it at your chest.'
Routledge uttered plaintive little whimpering noises as he watched his trembling hands turning the weapon round towards his own body. Tears of frustration ran down his cheeks as he fought to resist Vaughn's implacable will.
'Now, fire!'
Routledge's whole body shook with violent tremors, as if it were acting totally independently of his mind. Vaughn winced as a deafening crack split the air. Routledge remained standing like a waxen dummy for several seconds. Then he vomited a stream of blood and pitched forward onto his face at Vaughn's feet.
Shaking his head at the mess on the carpet, Vaughn strolled over to his desk and unlocked the doors.
Down in the warehouse, teams of technicians in protective suits were busy activating the lines of cocoons in their open containers, using portable machines identical to the one which the Doctor and Jamie had watched at work earlier.
Packer swaggered in and observed the process critically.
'Come on, get a move on!' he whined. 'Mr Vaughn's ordered a general shake-up down here.'
He watched the newest Cyberman glowing and bursting into life, a gasp of awe escaping from his bloodless lips as the monster emerged. It stood about two metres high, with a square head from which rightangled loops of hydraulic tubing protruded on either side.
Its rudimentary face comprised two blank viewing lenses for eyes and a rectangular slit for a mouth. The broad chest contained a grilled ventilator unit which hissed nightmarishly. Thick flexible tubing ran along the arms and down each leg and was connected into a flattened humplike unit on the creature's back. Faint gasping and whirring noises inside the silvery body accompanied every movement. The movements were spasmodic and jerky at first, but gradually they grew suppler and more human as the creature strode across to take its place among the assembled ranks of activated Cybermen standing motionless and silent in row upon row in the centre of the warehouse.
With a shiver of excitement, Packer marched across to a large steel panel in the brick end-wall of the building. Opening it with a special key, he threw several switches in the control box behind the panel. A section of the warehouse wall began to rotate, slowly revealing a bare brick chamber about a metre above the floor level of the warehouse. In the centre of the chamber was a circular well about two metres in diameter, covered by a domed steel lid hinged at one side. A short flight of steps led up to the chamber level and a steel railing ran round the well at hip-height.
Packer threw more switches and with a grinding hum the massive lid gradually opened up into the vertical position, locking itself with a series of echoing clunks. Packer closed the panel and locked it. Then he walked over and climbed onto the raised platform, staring down into the fetid darkness. Stout steel ladders clamped to the mouldering brickwork led down from the rim of the well into a huge shaft. Eerie sounds echoed up from the darkness and a cold, dank breeze wafted fitfully into his face. Like an admiral on his poop deck, Packer grasped the handrail and turned to the ranks of motionless Cybermen.
'First Legion,' he snapped. A dozen Cybermen hissed into life and lumbered heavily forward. 'You have your instructions?' Packer demanded.
'Affirmative,' chorused the creatures with an exhalation of rubbery breath.
'Phase one. Proceed through tunnels to your allotted sector and stand by for Phase Two,' Packer ordered, thoroughly enjoying his newfound powers.
The Cybermen jerked forward and marched with creaking, hissing determination up the steps and onto the platform. Then, one by one, they swung themselves onto the ladders and down into the shaft. Steadying himself on the handrail, Packer grinned with delight as he watched the disciplined, obedient monsters disappearing underground, trying not to retch at the sickly, oily exhalations they released as they passed him.
'Second Legion. Proceed,' he commanded, swelling with self-importance.
At that moment, Vaughn hurried out of the nearby elevator followed by Mr Gregory who was struggling with the delicate but heavy mechanism of the Cerebration Mentor in his scrawny arms.
Vaughn paused for a moment out of sight, watching Packer's antics with scornful amusement. Then he strode forward.
'There you are, Packer. Everything going according to plan?'
'Yes Mr Vaughn,' Packer preened himself.
'Excellent. Time for our little experiment.'
Gregory set down the Professor's machine on the steps. 'Mr Vaughn; sir, I don't think this is wise,' he ventured timidly.
Vaughn rounded on him. 'It would be even more unwise not to test,' he hissed under his breath. 'We must be sure that we have an effective weapon against the Cybermen.'
Packer looked alarmed. 'You actually intend to use that thing?'
Ignoring him, Vaughn strode across to the nearest cocoon awaiting regeneration. 'I am a man of science, Packer, not a cowardly sadist,' he snapped, motioning to two technicians to connect the portable bioprojector to the cocoon. 'Now, partially activate. Just sufficiently to enable it to emerge,' he instructed.
The technicians started up the process. Within a few seconds the Cyberman came to life amid a shower of sparks and fibres and the piercing undulating whine. As soon as' it had broken free they switched off and the monster froze, halfway out of its container.
Vaughn nodded his approval and gestured to Gregory to prepare the Cerebration device.
'Connect up Watkins's little box of tricks,' he said impatiently.
Reluctantly Gregory plugged two leads into the machine and then fitted the pads, to which they were connected, on either side of the creature's head.
Vaughn took a step or two back as a precaution. 'I'm waiting,'
he prompted.
Gregory's hands hovered hesitantly over the controls. 'Please, Mr Vaughn, we don't know what effect this is going to have...' he pleaded.
Vaughn cast his eyes to the roof in despair. 'Exactly. That is precisely why we are conducting this experiment,' he explained painstakingly. 'Now get on with it, Gregory.'
'What er... what emotion shall I attempt to induce?' Gregory mumbled.
Vaughn considered for a moment. 'Fear, I think. Let's see how our mighty ally reacts to fear,' he suggested eagerly.
Gregory selected settings and pressed buttons and then retreated like a child lighting a firework.
There was a faint clicking sound and the Cyberman twitched slightly.
'Increase power,' Vaughn shouted, his good eye narrowing like the other as he observed the effect intently.
The clicks increased in frequency. The Cyberman started to writhe and clutched at the pads convulsively.
'More power!' Vaughn yelled.
'Now it's at maximum...' Gregory shouted, adjusting the settings and taking refuge behind the nearest stack of containers.
The clicks ran together into a strident pinging sound. Uttering grating, guttural cries of distress the Cyberman tore off the pads and wheeled about, flailing the air with its powerful arms. Packer whipped out his pistol and emptied the magazine into the Cyberman's chest, but the shots had no effect and he was sent reeling across the warehouse by a vicious blow from the monster's fist.
'I warned you. The device isn't tuned yet...' Gregory screamed.
The crazed Cyberman suddenly turned and staggered up the steps into the chamber over the sewer shaft, shrieking like knife blades scraping against each other.
'It's following the others into the sewers!' Packer gasped, hauling himself to his feet in a daze.
'Let it go,' Vaughn ordered impassively, still standing his ground as the Cyberman disappeared into the echoing shaft.
'The thing's gone berserk. It could've killed me!' Packer blustered, reloading his pistol as he walked unsteadily over to Vaughn.
The Director smiled sourly. 'Yes, I think we have established that Watkins's device can be effective. Get him back to work on it immediately, Gregory. I want more power and remote directional control,' he declared.
The cringing Research Director nodded meekly and set about disconnecting the lethal machine.
'But what about that Cyberman? We can't leave it rampaging about down there,' Packer protested. 'It'll destroy everything in its path.'
'Excellent,' Vaughn purred. 'Anyone foolish enough to be down there deserves to die.'
With a nod to the awed technicians, Vaughn turned and strode back to his elevator.
The Brigadier was getting rather irritated with the incessant chatter between Zoe, Isobel and Jamie which was disturbing his concentration while he tried to draft his report for Central Command in Geneva.
'If you believe those Cyber things are in the sewers why not go down and get some proof?' Isobel suggested for the umpteenth time.
The Brigadier threw down his pen in exasperation. 'And how do I prove that in the London sewers there lurks an army of robots from outer space poised to invade us?' he scoffed. 'Go and capture one?'
'No need,' Isobel retorted cheerfully. 'Just get some photographs.'
The Brigadier considered her for a moment, his annoyance changing to mild interest. 'Not a bad idea, miss,' he admitted, 'but it's pitch dark down there.'
Isobel shrugged this off casually. 'Okay, so you use an infra-red film with a number 25 filter and telephoto lens. It'd be a cinch.'
The Brigadier frowned. 'Is that gibberish, or do you know what you're talking about, miss?'
'Course I do!' said Isobel indignantly. 'All I need is my camera from Uncle's friend's house.'
The Brigadier grunted. 'Oh no, my dear, this would be a job for our lads.'
'Of all the cretinous bigoted chauvinists...' spluttered Isobel, turning to Zoe for support.
'I'll get in touch with our photoreconnaissance unit...' declared the Brigadier, marching briskly away.
Isobel grimaced after him. 'Oh you... you
man
!' she shouted.