Doctor Who_ Timewyrm_ Exodus Part 21

The Gestapo man got in the remaining car and it moved away.

8: THE BLACK COVEN.

The Berlin headquarters of the Gestapo was a handsome mansion in PrinzAlbrechtstra.s.se. As the Doctor got out of the black limousine, he noticed that the pleasant tree-lined street was completely empty. n.o.body even pa.s.sed by Gestapo HQ if they had any choice. The building was surrounded by a cordon of fear.

Keeping beside, and a little behind him, his impa.s.sive companions took him past the armed SS guards on the door, into the building and up the stairs. They showed him into an outer office with yet another guard on the door, handed him over to a severe-looking bespectacled female behind a desk, and went out without saying a word.

The female pointed to a row of hard chairs against the wall and returned to her paperwork.

The Doctor knew exactly what to expect next - nothing. He would be left where he was, perhaps for hours on end, ignored, given no information whatsoever, so that his no doubt guilty conscience could work on his nerves. The Doctor didn't actually need a great deal of sleep, but he had nothing against it when there was nothing better to do. Leaning back in his chair he closed his eyes and emptied his mind...

He was engaged in a heated argument with President Borusa and Lady Flavia about the best shade of pink for the Capitol curtains when he felt an angry tap on his shoulder. Opening his eyes he saw a furious bespectacled face hovering over him. "Herr Doktor, it is inappropriate and, I might add, unheard of to fall asleep in the anteroom of the Reichsfuehrer SS."

"I was not sleeping - I was contemplating," said the Doctor with immense dignity.

"You were snoring, Herr Doktor."

"Well, I'm not surprised," said the Doctor, changing tack. "If I'm kept here much longer I shall insist on sending to my hotel for my pyjamas."

"Prisoners of the Reich do not insist."

"Ah, but I'm not a prisoner," said the Doctor calmly. "I'm a guest - an honoured guest, I might add, of the Fuehrer himself. I've just come from a meeting with him. He will be most interested to hear how I have been received here - when we meet, as we most certainly shall on his return from Poland."

The female retreated behind her desk and picked up an office telephone.

After a low-voiced conversation, she put down the phone and said frostily, "The Reichsfuehrer will see you now."

Feeling he was winning on points, the Doctor went through to the inner office. It was smaller, less ostentatious than any of the others the Doctor had visited in Berlin, a simple room furnished in plain dark colours. Heavy curtains were drawn against the suns.h.i.+ne, leaving the room gloomy and shadowed. A cave, thought the Doctor. A cave for a monster.

At the other end of the room, a neat, black-uniformed figure was at work on a pile of papers. Outlined in the circle of light from a desk lamp, small pudgy white hands picked up papers, one by one, from a pile on the left, signed them, and transferred them to a pile on the right. Just another petty civil servant immersed in paperwork, thought the Doctor. Paperwork that would eventually end millions of lives. There was a seat in front of the desk.

Uninvited, the Doctor went to it and sat down.

Himmler went on signing papers. When the last paper was signed, he pressed a bell on his desk. The bespectacled secretary came and took the papers and went out of the room.

Himmler looked up, light flas.h.i.+ng on his rimless spectacles. In a quiet, almost shy voice he said, "We must come to an understanding, Herr Doktor. I have certain questions - you will provide the answers."

When the Doctor didn't speak, Himmler went on, "Perhaps I should tell you, Herr Doktor, that there are cellars beneath this building. I never visit them the sights and sounds of pain are repugnant to me. However, I am sometimes forced to send people there. When they return, they invariably tell me everything I want to know."

"If they return," said the Doctor.

Himmler inclined his head. "Unfortunately, that is always a possibility." He actually managed a smile. "However, let us hope such unpleasant extremes will not prove necessary. You will begin by giving me an account of your conversation with Reichsmarshal Goering earlier today."

Choosing his words carefully, the Doctor said, "The Reichsmarshal is concerned for the Fuehrer's health. He knows, as I am sure you do yourself, of certain unfortunate episodes brought on by the strain and fatigue the Fuehrer must undergo."

"The Fuehrer is a saint," said Himmler with perfect seriousness. "He thinks only of the Reich, he never spares himself."

"Such dedication takes its toll," said the Doctor. "However, thanks to my studies, I have some understanding of these problems. When such an episode was triggered this morning by the British ultimatum, I was able to a.s.sist the Fuehrer to control it himself."

Himmler leaned forward. "But they said that was impossible."

The Doctor risked a guess. "Who? The Black Coven?"

The shocked look on Himmler's face told him he was right. The Doctor tried a little more inspired guesswork. "They told you that the Fuehrer's condition could only worsen? That one day it would be necessary for you to remove him to replace him?"

"Never!" Himmler leapt to his feet. "I would never contemplate the slightest disloyalty to the Fuehrer."

The Doctor realized he was telling the truth.

"However," said Himmler, almost bashfully, "they did say that one day it might be necessary to relieve the Fuehrer of his intolerable burdens. Time for him to rule as a king - as an emperor - while other hands took over the daily cares of office."

"And that person would, of course, be you?" said the Doctor softly.

Himmler bowed his head. "He would always be our true leader, our revered, our beloved Fuehrer."

So that's the plan, thought the Doctor. Hitler isolated as a powerless figurehead while Himmler rules the Reich, and the Black Coven rules Himmler. He became aware that Himmler was speaking.

"Herr Doktor, you have gone too far to turn back. You must tell me who you are -and how you know the deepest secrets of the Reich."

The Doctor was in a spot. He had to come up with an answer that would satisfy Himmler's curiosity. The truth was obviously out of the question. He decided to borrow from the techniques of his n.a.z.i enemies and tell a really big lie. To satisfy Himmler, it would have to be a really loony lie as well.

The Doctor leaned forward urgently. "Reichsfuehrer, may I ask you a question a question of vital, indeed of cosmic importance?"

"Continue!"

In a low, thrilling voice the Doctor said solemnly, "Reichschancellor! Do you believe in the Higher Powers?"

"I do," said Himmler wonderingly.

"Do you believe in the Great Work?" continued the Doctor in his most impressive tones. "Do you follow the Quest for the Holy Grail? Are you initiated into the Secret Doctrine of the Golden Dawn? Do you believe in the Cosmic Ice? In Atlantis, the secret home of the Master Race?" The Doctor racked his brains for more occultist mumbo jumbo, but he had said more than enough.

In a voice trembling with excitement, Himmler said, "I believe in all this and more! For many years now the Ancestral Research branch of my SS has toiled to uncover the occult sources of Aryanism. We have sent expeditions to Tibet in an effort to uncover traces of the Secret Masters. . ." Himmler lowered his voice. "Are you too one of the elect, Doctor, one of the Bearers of Secret Knowledge?"

Modestly the Doctor bowed his head. "I am."

"Of course!" said Himmler excitedly. "The Great Ones sent you to watch over the Fuehrer. You were there to aid and sustain him in Munich, moving silently, invisibly amongst us. And now, at the time of his greatest trial, you return!"

The Doctor realized he didn't even need to go on embroidering his own story. Himmler was happily doing it for him.

"Doctor, you must come to Drachensberg!" said Himmler solemnly.

"Ah, Drachensberg!" said the Doctor profoundly, wondering what Himmler was on about now.

"My castle," said Himmler proudly. "My SS Camelot. There, in the sacred Tower, Doctor Kriegslieter and his a.s.sociates of the Black Coven toil to uncover the secret knowledge of the Ancient Ones. We must confer with Doctor Kriegslieter and decide what is best for the Reich. If, as you say, the Fuehrer can be completely cured, then I shall be happy to change my plans."

"Nothing would give me greater pleasure," said the Doctor hurriedly.

"Unfortunately, I have direct orders from the Fuehrer. I am to remain in Berlin awaiting his return."

Himmler frowned. Whatever his fears for Hitler's condition, an order from the Fuehrer was still sacred.

The Doctor rose. "I must return to my studies. If I am to find a complete answer for the Fuehrer's condition. . . "

Himmler rose from behind his desk and came round to the Doctor. "Of course, of course. When the Fuehrer returns from Poland we will ask his permission for you to visit Drachensberg."

The Doctor realized with some relief that Himmler seemed to have abandoned his suspicions, at least for the moment. He even escorted the Doctor to the door. In the outer office, the Gestapo secretary rose to her feet, shooting the Doctor a vicious glance.

"Shall I summon the Guards, Herr Reichsfuehrer?"

Himmler looked at her in surprise. "Certainly not. See that the Herr Doktor has anything he needs." He retired to his office, presumably to sign more papers.

The Doctor threw himself in a chair and crossed his legs. "A car to the Hotel Adlon please, my good woman. And make it snappy, will you? I haven't got all day."

On the way back to his hotel, the Doctor was thinking hard about Kriegslieter and his Black Coven. Had a bunch of crooks and charlatans who'd got a grip on Himmler by playing on his superst.i.tious fears put the eccentric and fallible Hitler to one side, and so changed the course of history? Was that all there was to it? Surely not. Totally diverting the course of history, so that the false timestream became the true, required skilled intervention on a ma.s.sive scale. No bunch of petty swindlers could manage that. Too many things were still unexplained. The attack on him in Munich, for example. The feeling of overwhelming familiarity that even a brief glimpse of Kriegslieter had given him. And above all, the precise involvement of the Timewyrm...

His mind filled with such reflections, the Doctor reached the hotel almost without realizing it. He strode into his suite and yelled, "Ace, where are you? Sorry I've been so long, I got hijacked, twice. . ."

Then he saw the note on the table.

9: DRACHENSBERG.

Ace awoke in darkness. She tried to move and found to her horror that she was fastened upright in a T-shape by manacles at her wrists and ankles.

She could feel stone, cold against her back.

There was a sudden blaze of light. Burning torches were held close to her face, and in their flickering light, she saw sinister black-robed, blackcowled forms grouped around her in a semicircle. They fell back to reveal an even more ghastly figure, a black-robed priest in a hideous goat mask. He carried an enormous ceremonial knife with a huge curved blade, and he was stalking towards her.

The razor-edged blade touched her throat and she felt the sting as it drew blood. Ace prided herself on being tough. But waking up to find herself in the middle of a horror movie was just too much for her. She screamed, and fainted dead away.

Hastily paying off his taxi in Kronprinzenstra.s.se, the Doctor rushed up the path to the front door of the old house - and made himself pause and calm down. It wasn't certain, after all, that Ace was in any danger. He'd look a fool if he hurtled in like the US Cavalry and found Ace sipping tea and eating cream cakes with a gang of old lady librarians.

He studied the bra.s.s plate. He looked thoughtfully at the bellpull. He was just about to give it a heave when he noticed that the front door was very slightly ajar. Cautiously the Doctor pushed it open and went inside. He went up the polished staircase calling, "h.e.l.lo? Anyone about?"

There was no reply. He went into the visitor's library, and saw, like Ace before him, the gla.s.s-fronted bookcases and the big central table with its surrounding chairs. There was a gap, as if one chair was missing.

All in all, about as quiet and respectable a place as you could wish to find, thought the Doctor. All the danger and excitement of a trip to the local library.

The only thing at all out of place was the huge crystal ball in the centre of the polished table. The Doctor guessed that this was the refined, upmarket end of the supernatural business. A few sances for rich old ladies, a bit of crystal gazing . . . Was it simply a nest of cunning con-men after all - or was there more to it than that?

There was. The Doctor was just about to start searching the rest of the building for some clue to what had become of Ace when he noticed that a glow was coming from the crystal ball. He leaned over it, staring into its cloudy depths. Suddenly a picture began to form. It was Ace.

Ace chained to a wall in some kind of dungeon, surrounded by blackcowled figures. Ace menaced by a hideously masked figure holding a knife to her throat. A close-up of the knife touching Ace's throat, of the thin line of blood, of Ace screaming. The picture faded.

The Doctor stood quite still, hands resting on the table. After a few minutes, the picture started to reform. Ace chained to the dungeon wall, Ace surrounded by cowled figures, Ace menaced by the priest in the goat mask, Ace screaming . . .

It faded - and then returned, the same little sequence playing through again and again.

"All right, all right, I get the message!" shouted the Doctor. s.n.a.t.c.hing up the heavy crystal ball, he hurled it at the wall with amazing force, smas.h.i.+ng it into a million tiny pieces. The Doctor went over to the fragments and studied them. No trace of electronic circuitry, nothing but crystal fragments.

So much for his theory that Kriegslieter and the Black Coven were simple swindlers. To project and repeat a telepathic image loop like that showed power of a very advanced kind.

It was a message, of course - a message for him. It said simply, "Ace is in our hands. If we choose, we can kill her." In a way it was like the invitation that Ace had accepted in his place. Only now Ace herself was the invitation. They wanted him to come to them. "Dilly, dilly, come and be killed!" sang the Doctor softly. He would have to go of course. He would have to rescue Ace, settle with Kriegslieter and get them both free again.

But how?

Ace awoke again.

This time it was better. She was curled up on a fur-covered couch, and she was warm and comfortable. She stretched. If this was another dream, it was much better than the last one. Too many late-night horror movies, she thought.

She opened her eyes and looked around. She was in a largish room, more or less triangular, except that the outer wall, the one with the window, was curved. The room was shaped, thought Ace sleepily, like a slice of pie. The walls were of stone and looked very thick, but some effort had been made to make the place comfortable. There were brightly coloured heraldic s.h.i.+elds on the walls, fur rugs, more furs strewn on the chairs and couches.

Whoever owned the place definitely wasn't into animal rights.

She went to the window, which was open but barred, and looked out.

Ahead and below was a wide vista of rolling wooded countryside. Ace felt that not only her window but the building itself was raised high up above the surrounding countryside. The castle, for that was what it felt like, must be built on a hill.

She heard faint shouting coming from directly below her, and craned her neck to look out and down. In a courtyard below, a squad of muscular blond young men, stripped to the waist, were going through a complicated series of exercises under the shouted orders of an instructor.

Just my luck, thought Ace. The place is full of bare-chested blond hunks and I'm locked up in here. At least, I suppose I'm locked in.

She went to the ma.s.sive oak door and tried to open it. To her astonishment, it opened. She found herself on a wide stone staircase which wound down to an enormous circular chamber, a vast stone hall divided into different areas. Ace stood at the top of the stairs, studying the busy scene below her. It was an amazing, complex sight. All kinds of different activities were going on simultaneously in the different sections.

One area held weapon-racks carrying everything from Luger automatics to grenades, rifles and machine guns. Here, black-uniformed SS men were stripping and cleaning an a.s.sortment of weapons. In front of the weapons area, so vast was the hall, was a parade ground, where another squad of SS men was being drilled by an instructor.

There was what looked like a high-tech medical area, where machines hummed and buzzed. In this section still more SS men lay rigidly to attention on simple military cots, which radiated like the spokes of a wheel from a vast central console. The men lay head-inwards and each man wore an oddly designed helmet, linked by electronic cables to the consoles.

Even as Ace watched the men, moving as one, took the helmets from their heads, swung their legs from the bed and stood to attention. A second group of men was taking their place, even as the first group formed a squad and marched away.

In the centre of the room was an open-plan control centre. Its illuminated screens held maps of Germany, of Europe, of Africa, of Asia - in fact, Ace saw, of all the world. Standing in front of the map of Europe was Doctor Kriegslieter.

Beside him was the sneering caretaker of the Aryan Research Inst.i.tute.

There was something very different about him now. He wore a strange black uniform with a high-collared jacket. He wasn't wearing his thick gla.s.ses, and his whole bearing was that of a soldier rather than a scholar.

He glanced briefly at Ace and then went back to studying the maps, making marks on the screen with a light-pencil.

Kriegslieter looked up as Ace came down the stairs and crossed the floor of the hall towards him. "Ah, there you are. I trust you are rested. Are your quarters comfortable?"

"They are now," said Ace bluntly. "When I first woke up I was in some kind of dungeon, surrounded by weirdies. Unless it was just a nightmare She broke off with a gasp as she caught sight of one of the monitor screens. On it she saw herself, chained to the dungeon wall, surrounded by blackcowled figures. She saw herself shrink from the priest with the knife, saw her own silent scream...

The sequence was repeated, again and again and again. "What on earth?"

Kriegslieter smiled, red lips curling in the white beard. "You might call it a trailer, my dear. As they say in the cinema, a preview of coming attractions.

It was recorded for the benefit of your friend the Doctor." He flicked a switch and the picture changed to a close-up of the Doctor, leaning forward, peering intently at something. "He is studying it now, you see. Very soon he will have to take action."

"What kind of action?"