Sarg held up his hand for silence. 'Since troubles never come singly, we have another old enemy to contend with.

There is a renegade Time Lord known as the Doctor.'

There was another fierce, angry mutter. The Doctor's name had long been hated amongst the Sontarans.

'The Doctor's people claim that he is a rebel and an outcast,' Sarg went on. 'We suspect that this may be a cover for the fact that he sometimes acts as their agent. The Doctor has frustrated our plans in the past. It seems likely that he is meddling in our affairs again. He has been in contact with the Rutans, and there is evidence that he too is seeking Karne, both personally and through agents of his own. His intentions are unknown but they are unlikely to be of benefit to us.

Priority Two! The Doctor and his agents must be found and destroyed.'

Sarg paused. 'Until both priorities are dealt with, we dare not strike. The search for all our enemies is in the hands of our security service and their agents.' He glanced at a silver-collared officer in the front row. 'I am a.s.sured that successful results are imminent.' There was an edge of irony in Sarg's voice.

'Meanwhile,' he continued, 'the War Wheel will proceed as if on routine patrol, moving steadily but circuitously towards Rutan territory. As yet we do not wish to alarm the enemy.'

He rose abruptly. 'That is all. You may go. Commander Steg, you will remain.'

The Sontaran officers rose, saluted and marched from the room. Steg remained, standing stiffly to attention.

Sarg scowled at him for a moment and then growled, 'Sit, Commander, sit!'

He waved towards a chair beside the command desk. Steg sat, though he still sat to attention. Sarg opened a drawer in the desk and produced two silver goblets and a stone bottle of the fiery liquor called vragg vragg. Filling both goblets, he pa.s.sed one of them to Steg. Steg took a cautious sip, gasped and put the goblet carefully down on the desk. You had to be careful not to spill vragg vragg. It was reputed to be able to eat through a battle-cruiser's hull.

Admiral Sarg drained his goblet and poured himself another.

'Do you know what the High Council of Admiralty think of this operation, Commander Steg?'

'No, sir.'

'They think it is the last mad scheme of a senile old fool.

When it fails, as they are sure it will, it will give them the excuse they need to replace me.'

Steg said nothing. He knew that no answer was called for.

'Do you know the main strength of our Rutan enemies?'

Sarg went on. 'They are single-minded. Indeed, they are a single mind. They think, they move, they strike as one. And how do we counter them? We become like them. We too become single-minded, monolithic. Right, Commander?'

Again Steg made no reply. It seemed safer.

'Wrong!' roared Sarg. 'As long as we think like the Rutans, we can never defeat them. Look at the history of this war. A battle won, a battle lost, another fought to a draw. A planet conquered, a planet lost. The battle line wavers to and fro and nothing changes. Nothing! I tell you it needs original thinking to win this war. A single bold stroke like this one! That is why I chose you to help me, Steg. If we succeed we shall be immortal. If we fail, we may well be executed by our own side!'

Sarg poured them both more vragg vragg.

'You had a certain amount of trouble on Jekkar, Commander, with a guerrilla leader called Smith?'

'Yes, Admiral.'

'You actually had him in your hands, but he escaped?'

'That is so, Admiral,' said Steg woodenly.

Sarg smiled. 'I thought it might interest you to know that the name "Smith" is a frequent alias of our enemy the Doctor.'

Steg thought of the scruffy little man with his querulous protests. The man who had fooled and defeated him.

'So that was the Doctor.'

'Since the Doctor is known to be concerned in this operation, it may be that your paths will cross once more.'

Steg's eyes burned red. 'I hope so, Admiral. I should very much enjoy meeting the Doctor again.'

6.

Trackdown Roz Forrester glanced impatiently down the long road. 'So where is he?'

Chris shaded his eyes with his hand. 'He's coming. Isn't that a dust-cloud in the distance?'

'No,' said Roz bluntly. 'Let's go back to Garshak and insist on a ride in a police wagon I gave him a big enough bribe to buy one! The Ogrons brought us here, they can take us back.'

Chris grinned down at her and saw the white spot poised just over her heart.

Chris's thought processes were sometimes a bit slow, but there was nothing wrong with his reflexes. He swept Roz out of the way with one arm, drawing his blaster at the same time.

A chunk of stonework exploded into dust, just where she'd been standing. Chris fired at the cloaked figure on the parapet and missed.

Another chunk of stonework exploded inches from his ear.

'Back inside!' yelled Roz, her own blaster in her hand.

'He's out of our range but we're not out of his!' Despite her words, she couldn't resist snapping off a quick blast herself. A window several feet below the parapet exploded in a shower of plasti-gla.s.s.

A ma.s.sive hand closed over her arm. 'Do be careful, that building is police property,' said Garshak protestingly.

'Someone up there's trying to kill us,' yelled Roz.

'Don't worry, it's all being taken care of.'

Garshak pointed upwards, and they saw a number of ma.s.sive figures closing in on their attacker.

'I spotted him from my window and sent a message across to the barracks,' said Garshak. 'They'll take care of him.'

Roz started to say, 'Tell them we want him '

Even as she spoke, the figure on the roof scuttled along the parapet straight into the arms of an Ogron policeman, who swung it high in the air, and hurled it straight over the edge.

' alive,' concluded Roz as the body plummeted down towards them. 'Ah well!'

The a.s.sa.s.sin landed with an unpleasant crunching sound, twitched briefly and lay still.

'Soriy,' said Garshak apologetically. 'They tend to get carried away.' He walked over to the shattered body and turned it over with his foot. They saw a long-muzzled, fur-covered face with needle-sharp teeth bared in a death snarl.

'Wolverine,' said Garshak briefly. 'One of Megacity's more vicious street gangs. Robbery and extortion mostly, but they do the odd contract killing if the price is right. They don't work cheap though.' He smiled at them, revealing his own yellow fangs. 'Looks as if someone very rich and powerful wants you dead.'

'You wouldn't have any idea who?' asked Chris.

'This Ripper you're trying to catch?'

'No,' said Roz. 'Not his style, he's too much of a loner. He does his own killing. What about these worried fat cats of yours?'

Garshak shrugged. 'It's possible. I was offered a handsome bribe to make sure you died in police custody. People do.'

'Why didn't you take the bribe?'

'I did but it wasn't as big as yours. I'll pa.s.s the word that you're harmless to the Megacity elite anyway. That may help take some heat off. But I'd advise you to watch your backs all the same.'

'We'll be watching all around us,' said Roz.

A hovercab came speeding down the road and slammed to the ground in a cloud of dust. A rat-like face appeared out of the front window. 'Downtown? Less go!' The driver noticed the shattered body in the road. Bright black eyes looked up at Garshak, and a long muzzle twitched. "Nother suicide, Chief?'

He turned to Roz and Chris. 'Don' worry, happens all the time. Prisoners in here seem to get very depressed. Any time you drive past Police HQ, you gotta zig-zag to dodge falling bodies.'

Garshak reached out for him with a ma.s.sive hairy arm, but Chris stepped in the way.

'Let him live, Chief, we need the ride.'

Roz and Chris climbed into the battered hovercab.

'Good luck with your enquiries,' said Garshak. 'Do let me know if I can be of any more help.'

'I don't think I can afford it,' said Roz.

The hovercab's motors roared, it rose a few feet in the air and sped away in a cloud of dust.

Thoughtfully Garshak watched it go. An unusual pair, and they'd told him a fascinating story. He didn't believe a word of it. He wondered what they were really up to. It might be very interesting, and very profitable, to find out.

In a part of town so disreputable that the Ogron police avoided it, and even the muggers worked in pairs, Lieutenant Gorsk of Sontaran Intelligence had set up his base in the cellar of a ruined building. With a com-unit and a field generator he could be self-sufficient for a very long time.

The cellar was in the bas.e.m.e.nt of a burnt-out bar whose owner hadn't kept up his protection payments. It was dank and gloomy, with green mould growing on the walls. Gorsk felt quite at home there.

The Sontarans had come to realize that once seen they were seldom forgotten a natural consequence, no doubt, of their striking and distinguished appearance. However, it was something of a disadvantage in intelligence work. Wherever possible they preferred to remain undercover, working through local intermediaries.

Gorsk's hand moved towards his blaster as he heard scuttling sounds in the rubble outside his cellar. He relaxed as a sinuous fur-covered shape, wrapped in a dark cloak and hood, appeared in the cellar doorway.

'Well?' he demanded.

'We failed. We attempted to kill them outside Police HQ but the Ogrons intervened.'

'It was not, perhaps, the wisest place to choose.'

'Your orders were to lose no time,' snarled the Wolverine.

'We shall kill them at their hotel; it will be easy there. I shall bribe the hotel staff and set up an ambush in their rooms.'

'No,' said Gorsk. 'There is a change of plan.'

'You no longer wish their deaths?'

'Not yet. We both hunt the same quarry and they are trained investigators. I shall let them lead me to the one I seek then we shall kill them all. Until then, I want them followed at all times. See to it.'

'As you wish. But they have caused the death of one of my pack-brothers. When the time comes, we shall rip out their throats and drink their blood.'

Chris and Roz spent the next few days in a prolonged pub, club, beer-hall and bar crawl. As Chris said, it was a tough job but someone had to do it.

They visited big flashy casinos where hundreds of punters threw their money away in well-rigged games of chance, or rather of no chance.

They spent hours and credits in overpriced underground bars where they could hardly see each other, let alone their quarry.

They were offered a wide variety of strange drinks and drugs, and the opportunity to indulge in a wide variety of perverted pastimes, some of which made even Roz Forrester blush.

It soon became clear that despite any rea.s.surances Garshak might have given, their presence in Megacity was still far from welcome. Heavy hints had been dropped that travel would be good for their health. Generous offers had been made to cover their travelling expenses to the distant planet of their choice.

The general opinion seemed to be that they would, in any case, be leaving Megacity soon, by s.p.a.ce shuttle or by body-bag.

Other kinds of persuasion had been tried as well. They were checking out a beer-hall in one of the poorer quarters when four burly miners swaggered in. They spotted Roz and Chris drinking quietly at a corner table, bought themselves beers, and went into a prolonged huddle.