Al-Raheb stepped forward, held open the back door for him.

Suddenly suspicious, Mike tried to hold back, but the guard pushed him forward. Crouching down, he saw that one of the back seats was already occupied, and that the person occupying it was the Prime Minister himself.

Mike stared in astonishment, wondering if he could be wrong: but the features were unmistakable, though the stern, square face had a few more lines etched into it than were shown in any photograph Mike had seen.

'Get in the car, please,' said Al-Raheb.

Mike got in. 'Monsieur Benari -' he began.

Benari smiled. 'Captain Yates. I'm pleased to meet you.'

The car door slammed shut, and they accelerated away along the narrow road.

Benari didn't speak until they reached the Boulevard Gamal Abdul Na.s.ser, the wide dual carriageway that led past the People's Palace, the Prime Minister's official residence. Then he said, 'I'm sorry for the inconvenience you have suffered. It was all the result of a misunderstanding, I can a.s.sure you.'

Mike nodded, wondered if the Prime Minister was telling the truth, or whether he was simply covering up the fact that he had been pressured into a reversal of policy. The expression on the deeply lined face was unreadable.

Well, he thought, never mind: as long as we're going to be released, I'll let someone else worry about whose fault it was.

'You must think our country very ill-run, that such misunderstandings can occur.'

'Oh - no, sir,' said Mike politely. 'I'm sure it happens in all countries. No one's perfect.'

They were pa.s.sing the white onion-domes of the People's Palace.

Mike expected the car to turn in at the gates, but it drove past. Benari must have noticed his puzzled glance, because he said, 'I'm sorry I could not see you in the Palace. But there are -' he hesitated '- alterations in progress. It would not be appropriate.' He paused. 'You will go straight to the airport: I have already arranged for your men to be released and taken there.' He paused again, looked at his watch. 'I must ask you to leave the country by noon at the latest. I have arranged for your plane to be transferred to the civilian airport and provided with fuel for the flight to England.'

Mike nodded again, stared at the tinted gla.s.s screen that separated Benari and himself from the driver.

'Naturally we'll leave as soon as we can, sir,' he said cautiously. He hesitated, then added, 'But I should point out that we were asked here to investigate a possible extraterrestrial incident. That incident - '

Benari raised a hand. 'It will be dealt with, Captain Yates.

However, it is an internal matter, and we would appreciate your discretion.'

Mike frowned, decided to try one more time. 'With all due respect, Prime Minister, I don't think that a possible alien invasion can be described as an internal matter.'

Benari stared at him coldly.

'It is an internal matter, Mr Yates.' He seemed to have forgotten Mike's t.i.tle. 'We are dealing with it, believe me.' He paused, smiled.

'Now, we will speak no more of it. Tell me, how did you find the famous Sandhurst College?'

Jo was almost up to her neck in the mud when something flicked across her face.

And someone was whispering: 'Pick it up. Pick up the turban.'

Jo saw a white rope, like a snake, lying across the surface of the mud. It didn't look like a turban, but she caught hold of it anyway.

'Now!' came the voice. 'Jump!'

She felt the cloth pulling at her hands, lifting her clear of the bottom. A wave of dizziness pa.s.sed over her. She made a feeble effort to push against the relentless suction of the mud, but only floundered again.

A hand brushed against hers.

With a desperate effort Jo pushed forward, felt the warm flesh again, felt the fingers grip. Fighting for breath she hauled on the stranger's arm until she could get both of her hands free, then gripped him around the wrists. She could see him now: white eyes and white teeth, his body lying flat.

He smiled. 'We have got you half free,' he whispered. 'Come on.

You can do it.'

It was only when he spoke the last phrase in English that she realized he had up till then been speaking in French.

He wriggled backwards, pulling her up. At first she tried to help, then realized it wasn't necessary and let her tired muscles relax until she was far enough clear of the mud to haul herself across the ground and collapse next to the young man.

When she had got her breath, she said, 'Thanks. I don't think I'd have lasted much longer in there.'

'Maybe, maybe not,' replied the young man, in French. 'But you were better off out of it, no?' Before she could reply, he added, 'And it's better if you whisper. The insects can't hear that, it seems.'

Jo frowned. 'Insects?'

The young man sat up, shrugged, began wrapping his muddy turban back around his head. 'They look like insects on the outside.

And they have antennae.'

'True. But their eyes are like ours.'

The young man grinned again. 'We should discuss their natural history later, no? I'm Akram.' He extended a hand.

Jo took the hand, shook it. 'Jo Grant, from UNIT.' With her other hand, she tried to brush her hair back, discovered that it was full of mud. She looked down at herself, blushed. Mud, she decided, wasn't very becoming. 'I'm a bit of a mess, aren't I?' she said in English.

Akram grinned broadly. 'Come on,' he whispered. 'We must move from here.'

He got up and began to follow a weaving path under the mushrooms. Jo followed, taking care to place her feet where he did.

There was a sudden swish of wings above her, and a bright light shone in her eyes. She ducked, flinched, almost cried out.

'They're harmless,' whispered Akram, touching her shoulder. 'At least, they haven't attacked me yet.'

'How long have you been here?' asked Jo.

'Almost three days. I was with Monsieur Benari's "special force".

There were a thousand of us. He sent us to kill all the Gilteans of the FLNG, you know.' He stopped walking, leaned against the trunk of one of the mushrooms. '"Top Secret", of course. As if it matters now.

You are UN, you say?'

Jo nodded.

'Everybody hates the UN. But I like the UN. You do what you can for world peace. It is not easy.' He paused. 'You don't have a cigarette, I suppose?'

Jo shook her head. 'Sorry.' She grinned, gestured down at her muddy clothes. 'And if I did it wouldn't be worth smoking, would it?'

She paused. 'What happened to the other men?'

Akram looked away. 'You do not want to know.'

'I do want to know,' Jo insisted. She paused. 'I'm the scientific advisor to UNIT.' Well, she thought, his a.s.sistant; but it's better to sound impressive at this point. When the young man still didn't speak, she added, 'It was this place that we came to see. I need to find out all I can.'

Akram looked at her. He seemed to be weighing her up.

'Very well, I will show you,' he said at last.

He led the way across the forest. The light grew steadily brighter; in places, the fungi themselves seemed to be glowing. Finally they came to a downward slope of bare soil across which blew warm, sweet-scented air.

'It smells nice,' said Jo, but Akram shushed her with an upraised hand. Then he pointed down the slope.

The roof was low, making it difficult to see, but Jo could just make out a row of amber spheres. They were shaped like the Carvol capsules that her mother used to give her when she had a cold. It was hard to judge their size, but she reckoned that they must be at least six feet across.

Very cautiously, Akram slithered down the slope. Pieces of loose earth trickled down ahead of him, making tiny clattering sounds; every time this happened, he stopped. Jo followed, trying to make no sound at all.

They were about halfway down when she realized that the blobs had faces.

No: the remains of faces. Pieces of purplish skin, flayed out across the top, crudely delineating a mouth, a nose. Eyes, half-buried in the glistening amber flesh. Jo gasped, saw one pair of eyes turn to look at her. She covered her mouth to stifle any further sound, but the eyes lost interest, rolled slowly away.

Akram tugged at her arm but she ignored him, forced herself to look in more detail. She realized that not all the honey-globes had been human: she could see patches of coa.r.s.e camel-hair on one, whilst another, much smaller, globe sprouted a single, forlorn, black feather. Faint brown shadows within the amber must be the internal organs of the original human and animal bodies. Jo wondered why they were being kept alive like this.

Akram tugged at her arm again, pointed along the row of amber spheres. Jo saw a pair of waving antennae moving slowly towards them.

'They have heard us!' hissed Akram. 'We have to go!'

But Jo had seen something else: two pairs of raised mandibles behind the antennae. And a body being carried between them. A body dressed in a familiar cape, purple jacket and frilly magenta shirt.

'It's the Doctor!' Jo hissed. 'He's my friend! Akram, we've got to help him!'

'And how do you suggest we do that?' said the young man. 'If we go down there, we end up like my friends and yours.' His hand was still on her arm, tugging her upwards.

Jo could see the Doctor's face now. His eyes were closed, and what looked like a rime of ice had formed on his skin.

She looked round, gave Akram her best smile. 'Please. I've seen the Doctor like this before. That time he nearly died. We have to save him. We have to do something something.'

Thirteen.

FThe Brigadier looked at the bloodstained bandage on his arm. The Sakir Sakir's aim had been precise: the bullet had nicked the flesh of his arm, covering it with red, human, blood. The old man had been satisfied after that, had apologized profusely and provided a bandage and some water.

Which was all very well, thought the Brigadier, but it wasn't going to mend the hole in his arm, or buy him a new uniform jacket.

The sound of voices raised in anger returned him to the present. He looked up, saw that the Sakir was arguing with his son again - the Brigadier couldn't follow the rapid, colloquial Arabic, but gathered that it was something to do with moving the encampment. The Brigadier didn't blame them for wanting to move. One look at the aliens' structure from ground level had been enough to convince him that UNIT should have investigated it earlier. Despite its apparently crude construction, the mound was larger and more impressive than, for example, the Axon s.p.a.ceship - and that had caused enough trouble. He could understand the Arab's fears in the face of it. He had almost forgiven the Sakir Sakir's rather drastic method of checking that he wasn't one of the aliens.

Almost, but not quite. Even after two hours, his arm hurt too much for that.

Around him, tents were being folded, guns loaded and checked, petrol drums and smaller plastic containers of water loaded on to jeeps, all to the accompaniment of much shouting and cursing. The Brigadier realized that they were definitely moving on. He pushed himself to his feet, took a few steps towards the Sakir Sakir and his son, who were talking about jeeps and petrol. and his son, who were talking about jeeps and petrol.

'Excuse me.'

The younger man looked round sharply, but the Sakir Sakir carried on talking. carried on talking.

The Brigadier remembered his diplomatic training and switched to Arabic. 'I don't think we should move from here yet.'

The Sakir Sakir broke off in mid-sentence, frowned. 'Why not?' he asked in English. broke off in mid-sentence, frowned. 'Why not?' he asked in English.

'The Doctor is in that - building, whatever it is. We need to find out what has happened to him. I can't order your people to stay of course, but I would gready appreciate it if you could render some a.s.sistance pro tem pro tem, until I can contact my people in Rabat.'

The younger man, the one with the Omar Sharif moustache, shook his head violently. 'We have decided we must go. It is not safe here.

Even I am convinced of that. You can come with us and share our water until your people come for you, but we can do no more than that.'

The Brigadier looked away for a moment, out across the jumbled rocks glaring in the late morning sun. He knew that he probably wouldn't even reach the alien installation if he tried to get there on his own, let alone get in. These people had weapons, fuel, water, knowledge of the desert. They would probably be almost as useful as a UNIT battalion - at least until they got in. Then it would probably be down to the Doctor.

a.s.suming the Doctor was actually in there.