The Duke smiled. 'Never mind, my friend. There's only one solution. We shall have to have some more pancakes to accompany this delicious bacon.'

He accepted the chafing dish reverently, setting it on the table as if he was placing a sacrament on an altar. Ace had to admit that the bacon did smell delicious.

'More pancakes,' said the waiter happily. 'Yes, sir!'

'And sausages and a bowl of cream of wheat I think,' said the Duke. 'And when you have a moment perhaps you could bring me the lunch menu. And I imagine you serve ice cream.'

'Yes, sir!'

The Doctor and Ace said their farewells and left the Duke happily contemplating ice cream. They headed back down the swaying length of the train, through cars full of troops who stole glances at Ace's legs, towards the baggage compartment. 'Any questions, Ace?' said the Doctor.

'Yes. I still want to know who the h.e.l.l Uncle Sam is.'

123.

Chapter Ten.

Chapel of the Red Apocalypse In the shadowy seclusion of the baggage compartment they tore away the TARDIS's shroud of brown wrapping paper and went back inside, where the Doctor, with the aid of a yellow and crumbling 1944 Los Angeles telephone directory, an equally yellow and fragile gas-station map from the period and a sophisticated computer the size and shape of a glistening black pearl that projected a detailed three-dimensional map of the city, set their co-ordinates.

'Which address on Duke Ellington's list shall we investigate first?'

'Well,' said Ace, 'as much as I liked the sound of those drinking establishments, especially the less salubrious ones, I think probably that church-type place.'

'I agree,' said the Doctor.

The sun was setting as they arrived, painting the Los Angeles sky in shades of salmon pink and scarlet. They materialised among a verdant patch of shrubbery in the grounds of a large Mexican-style house. The grounds were screened from the road and neighbouring dwellings by a white brick wall topped with curved red tiles. The air in the garden was clean and clear and full of the smell of flowers. 'I was expecting smog,' said Ace, sniffing appreciatively at the evening breeze. 'It being LA and all.'

'That particular ecological nightmare is still some ten or twenty years away,'

said the Doctor, sealing the door of the TARDIS. There were trees and bushes all around, and these provided useful concealment for the incongruity of the blue police box. By the time they'd walked ten feet from it, the TARDIS was effectively hidden from sight. The Doctor studied the house. It was a cube-shaped dwelling with pink-and-white stucco walls, and elaborate arches over the windows and along a balcony that appeared to run around the entire second floor. In the centre of the flat roof was a curious domed structure.

The Doctor peered up at it. 'Astronomical observatory, by the look of it.'

'You mean they've got a telescope in there?'

'So it would seem.'

'For watching the neighbours undress?'

'Quite possibly. Now I suppose the thing to do is to cook up some kind of story to get us inside.'

125.'Why didn't we just land the TARDIS inside in the first place?'

'Because then we would have had to cook up an even more elaborate story to explain how we'd got inside.'

'I suppose you're right,' said Ace, following the Doctor across the neatly trimmed lawn, past lush flowerbeds shedding their delicate fragrances as the day faded around them. 'It doesn't look much like a church.'

'This is California, Ace.' They emerged from the palm trees fringing the garden onto a pink gravel driveway that led down in one direction towards a gateway in the white brick wall fitted with a black wrought-iron gate, and in the other direction up towards the front of the house. The Doctor turned and walked down towards the gate.

'Where are you going?'

'We just need to confirm something before we go any further,' said the Doctor. He reached for the gate and took hold of its black iron bars and pulled on them. The gate gently eased open with the creak of rusting hinges. 'Excellent,'

said the Doctor with satisfaction.

'So the gate opens. So what?'

'The gate is unlocked unlocked, Ace. We might have had some trouble explaining how we'd got inside if, say, it had been sealed with half a dozen formidable padlocks and a substantial length of chain.'

'You could always say you were Harry Houdini.'

'Right country, wrong period,' said the Doctor. Ace followed him back up the driveway towards the house, the gravel shifting under her shoes. From somewhere nearby there was the somnolent splash of running water.

'So what story have we cooked up?' said Ace.

'Hmm, good point.' The Doctor checked his pockets. He took out the small wallet he had shown to Duke Ellington. 'I still have this rather impressive-looking badge with me. It seems a shame to let it go to waste.'

'Right, so a Fed it is. Or a G-man.' The sound of water splashing was growing closer. It seemed to be coming from the side of the house to the left of the impressive black marble staircase. The staircase led up to a front door surrounded by an archway of black tiles. There was a large rectangular bra.s.s plaque on the wall beside the door. 'By the way, what is a Fed or a G-man?'

'Federal agent or government man. The terms are pretty much interchange-able. They allude to agents of the FBI.'

'I always wanted to be in the FBI,' said Ace. She could now read the plaque beside the door: The Chapel of the Red Apocalypse The Chapel of the Red Apocalypse. 'Blimey. Apocalypse? That's cheerful.'

'Doomsday cults have always exercised a peculiar appeal to a certain sort of mentality.'

126.'Not just an apocalypse, mind you,' said Ace. 'But a red one.' The sound of running water abruptly stopped and a small man came around the side of the building, dragging a length of garden hose behind him, rolling it up as he went. He was bald, with wire-framed spectacles, wearing neat black trousers and a white shirt open at the neck. Incongruously, he was also wearing a ragged and dirty pair of tennis shoes. He looked up at the Doctor and Ace and smiled.

'Good evening,' he said. 'I thought I heard the gate.'

'It's a little late to be calling, I know,' said the Doctor.

'Heavens, no. Glad to have the company.' The little man finished rolling up the hose and placed it inside a large red ceramic urn that stood beside a pile of neatly stacked lumber. He took a handkerchief from his pocket, meticulously dried his hands with it and then shook hands with the Doctor and Ace.

'My name's Albert. I'm the caretaker, gardener and all-purpose handyman around here. I'm looking after the place while the Storrows are away.'

'The Storrows being the people who run the chapel?'

'That's right. Run it and own it. What can I do for you?'

'My name's Smith,' said the Doctor, lying smoothly. 'And this is my a.s.sistant Miss Eckhart.'

'Call me Acacia,' said Ace.

Albert bobbed his head thoughtfully, as though savouring the syllables.

'Beautiful name,' he declared, and suddenly Ace felt ashamed about lying to him.

'We're here on a matter of considerable importance,' said the Doctor.

'Not too important to discuss over a cup of coffee, I hope,' said Albert. 'Come on in. The Missus will have a pot on the go or I'm a Chinaman.'

The Missus turned out to be an enormously fat woman in a blue-and-white striped dress that put Ace uncharitably in mind of a circus marquee. Her name was Elina and she was huge; at least twice the size of her husband. Her cheeks were bright red and she fanned herself cheerfully with her hands as they were introduced. 'You'll have to pardon me,' she said. 'This slave driver here has had me chained to a hot stove all day.'

'It smells lovely,' said Ace. The house was full of the aroma of freshly baked bread.

'Nothing like a home-made loaf,' said Albert. 'It beats that ma.s.s-produced stuff all to Hades.'

'This place doesn't look much like a chapel,' said Ace. In fact it looked like a pleasant suburban home.

'Oh, all that religious cult stuff is in the temple,' said Albert, making a contemptuous gesture of dismissal with his hand, as if sweeping all such religious cult stuff away.

127.'And where is the temple?' said the Doctor.

'In the bas.e.m.e.nt,' said Elina breathlessly. 'You should take a gander at it.'

'We'll show these folks around in a minute,' said Albert. The Doctor had shown him his badge and credentials outside and the man had seemed duly impressed.

'The things that went on in that temple,' said Elina, addressing Ace in the sort of confidential voice reserved for prime gossip. 'I couldn't begin to tell you. And the couple who run this place. . . '

'The Storrows,' said the Doctor.

'That's right. What a pair.' Elina raised her eyebrows. 'They're not right in the head. You know what I mean. Crazy.'

'Crazy like foxes,' said Albert. 'Look at all the dough they're making from this operation.'

'Fleecing the gullible,' said Elina.

'A fool and his money. . . ' said Albert.

'Are soon parted. OK. But that's no excuse. And the sort of things those Storrows got up to.' Elina's eyes widened dramatically. 'You have to see the temple and also that observatory up on the roof. Those are the places where all the strange goings-on go on.'

'We'll show them around in a minute,' said Albert. 'But right now come on through.' He led the Doctor and Ace from the small hallway into the front parlour, a room full of antique French chairs and divans poised on their clawed feet on a thick white carpet. 'Have a seat, please. Could you rustle up some coffee for the folks, sweetie?'

Elina winked at Ace. 'See what I mean? Slave driver!' she bustled out as the Doctor and Ace looked for somewhere to sit. The furniture was all so delicate and fragile-looking that Ace was reluctant to put her weight on any of it. She could just imagine the crunching sound of a priceless antique breaking. Albert had solved the problem by sitting on a footstool. But it was the only one in the room. So when the Doctor chose a low silver-grey love seat, Ace perched on it beside him. This way if it broke at least it would be half his fault.

'Now, how exactly can we help you, sir?' said Albert.

'You said you're the caretaker here?'

'Me and my good lady, that's right. We've looked after this place ever since it shut up shop.'

'And when was that?'

Albert frowned. 'Must be coming up for a year now.'

The Doctor looked disappointed. 'This chapel has been closed for the last year?'

'Yes sir. The folks that run it, the Storrows, took off for Mexico on what they call an extended vacation. Seems like this war doesn't trouble some people.

128.Doesn't stop them having their fun and taking their leisure.'

'I don't suppose there's any way of trying to trace any regular members of the, er, congregation who used to attend here frequently?'

Albert's face lit up. 'Now there I can help you.' He rose from the footstool and went over to an ivory-coloured escritoire and opened a drawer, taking out a large photo alb.u.m with a marbled orange paper cover. He gave it to the Doctor, who opened it on his lap and began leafing through it. 'Lots of well-known folk used to come up here,' said Albert, returning to his perch on the footstool. 'You'd be surprised. Movie stars, singers, football players, jockeys, all kinds. The Storrows liked to keep photos of all the famous ones.'

'Excellent, excellent,' said the Doctor, leafing through the alb.u.m. Ace leaned over as he stopped at a page. Gazing out at them from a stylish sepia photograph was the moody and beautiful face of Lady Silk.

'Bingo,' said Ace.

Albert hopped to his feet and hurried over to take a look. 'Her!' he said.

'That j.a.p-a-n.a.z.i traitor! Is she the one you're after?'

'Indeed.' The Doctor nodded, studying the picture. It was inscribed in the same indigo ink and flowing female hand as the photo they'd seen in Ray's apartment. It read, To a new day dawning To a new day dawning.

'Isn't that something,' exclaimed Albert excitedly. 'I'm tickled to hear it. If I can help you put that wicked female under lock and key I'll be only too delighted.' His wife came back in, carrying a tray with a coffee pot, cups, a loaf of bread and several plates. Albert looked at her. 'You'll never guess who these folks are after, Elina. That Lady Silk character. You know. The traitor.

The singer. They're going to lock her up and throw away the key. And we're going to help!'

'Now, pumpkin,' said the big woman. She set the tray down on a low, frail-looking white table with ornate gilt trim. 'Don't get so het up. You know you have to mind your blood pressure.'

'To Hades with my blood pressure. We're going to help bring a traitor to justice.'

'A commendable sentiment,' said the Doctor. 'But I'm afraid this photograph on its own isn't much help. It merely confirms that Lady Silk once regularly attended this chapel.'

'Oh, we've got a lot more than that,' said Albert happily. He bounced up from his stool and went back to the escritoire. As his wife poured coffee and sliced bread, he tugged open another drawer and took out a zipped leather folder. The bulging folder was so large that he had to work carefully to extract it from the narrow drawer. 'Wait until you see this!' He came and plopped the folder down on the love seat between the Doctor and Ace.

'What is it?' said Ace as the Doctor unzipped it.

129.'Correspondence,' said Albert. As the Doctor opened the folder, envelopes began to spill out onto the love seat. 'Letters from the poor fools who used to come here. Who knows, there might be something from that Lady Silk jezebel.

It might be just what you're looking for.'

'It might indeed,' said the Doctor, sifting through the growing pile of envelopes. They had all been neatly slit open and were all shapes and sizes and colours. The handwriting on the envelopes, addressed to the Storrows at the Chapel, was of an equally extraordinary variety and, to Ace's mind, looked uniformly eccentric, as if only weirdos were involved. Then suddenly she spotted a pale lilac envelope addressed with blue ink in a distinctive script.

The Doctor saw it at the same time. 'Ah!' he said.

'Here's another one,' said Ace, rifling through the pile and plucking out another lilac envelope in Lady Silk's distinctive handwriting.

'Have you found something?' enquired Elina. She sat down on a spindly chair near the love seat and Ace took note of the fact. If that enormous woman could sit on these things then Ace might as well stop worrying about damaging the furniture.

'You bet they have,' said Albert. 'They're going to apprehend a fugitive from justice and we're going to help them.'