The guard glared at him. 'What?'

'Provisions,' repeated the driver patiently. 'Nosh! Food!'

'Back gate. You can't come in 'ere.'

'I can't go through the back gate either,' said the van driver reasonably. 'Van's too big.'

The guard shrugged. 'You'd better clear off then.'

'Now listen,' said the van driver persuasively. 'I've got a week's supply of food in there and booze for the Governor. Am I supposed to go back and say you don't want it? They'll think you're barmy.'

The guard said, 'Hang about.' He spoke into his RT set.

'Main gate, here. Er, Mr Mailer? I've got a big provision lorry here, food, booze, the lot. Do I let it in?'

A voice crackled from the RT. 'Yeah, okay. But I want him unloaded and out of here fast.'

The guard turned to the driver. 'Drive round the ring-road up to the main courtyard and unload. You'll find some blokes there to give you a hand. We've had a bit of trouble, see, and the Chief wants you out of here as soon as possible.'

'Don't worry, mate, less time I spend in there the better!'

The van driver got back in his van and revved up. It seemed to take rather a long time. While he was doing it, the rear doors of the van opened and three uniformed figures slid out.

The arched doorway was just big enough to admit the van and the three soldiers walked behind it unseen. Once inside, they jumped on the guards at the gate, knocking them out with swift efficiency.

The van trundled along the outer road that ringed the inner courtyard.

At a pre-arranged point it stopped, and half a dozen men, led by Sergeant Benton, scrambled out of the back and ran to a narrow gate set into the ma.s.sive wall.

The gate was soon open, and the men disappeared in the narrow cleft in the wall. They emerged from the darkness onto a long flight of steps that ended in a tunnel set into yet another ma.s.sive wall.

Ignoring the pounding in his head, Benton led his little party through the echoing darkness of the tunnel until they emerged into a little enclosed green. In front of them was another high stone wall the rear wall of the inner courtyard.

'Right,' shouted Benton. 'Ropes and irons!'

Two of the men produced grappling hooks on the end of long nylon ropes. They hurled the hooks over the wall. As soon as they were lodged fast, men began climbing upwards.

Meanwhile the provisions van drove up to a second checkpoint set in the inner wall.The main gate guard must have phoned ahead, because it was admitted without trouble.

The provisions van drove into the inner courtyard and stopped. Immediately it was surrounded by a little group of men, some dressed as warders, some still in their prison uniforms.

The cloth-capped driver jumped out of the cab and favoured the little group with a cheery wave. He went round to the back of the van and flung wide the doors, revealing not the expected supplies of food and drink but a tightly packed ma.s.s of UNIT soldiers, who leaped out of the van and piled into the astonished convicts, with fists and rifle-b.u.t.ts.

The van driver took a megaphone from the back of the van, strode into the centre of the courtyard and raised it to his lips. 'I am Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart of UNIT. This prison is now in military hands...'

The effect of the Brigadier's carefully prepared little speech was rather spoiled when an armed convict high on the wall took a shot at him and hit the megaphone instead, smashing it from his hands.

The Brigadier dived, rolled over, and came up with his service automatic in his hands, shooting the prisoner neatly off the wall.

This was the signal for the battle to begin in earnest and the fighting, although brief, was b.l.o.o.d.y.

Armed convicts began appearing from the doorways that led into the courtyard, and running along the walkways on top of the high walls that surrounded it.

The Brigadier and his men used whatever cover they could find, in alcoves and stairways and behind parked vehicles among them, the Brigadier noticed, the Doctor's beloved Bessie. Heaven help anyone who put a bullet in that!

As the Brigadier had predicted, the convicts, although surprisingly well supplied with weapons were untrained in their use. They blazed away wildly, wasting most of their shots, while the UNIT soldiers fought with deadly efficiency, using every sc.r.a.p of cover and shooting only when they were sure of a hit.

Convicts tumbled screaming from the high walls, rolled down long staircases, collapsed wounded or dying on the cobbles.

What really turned the tables was the arrival of Benton and his party on the top of the rear wall. From there they soon swept the walkways clear of convicts. The remaining convicts' nerve broke and they began to fall back.

In the condemned cell, the Doctor and Jo were listening to the sounds of battle in amazement.

'It seems to be right inside inside the prison,' said Jo. the prison,' said Jo.

The Doctor nodded. 'The Brigadier probably used the old Trojan horse trick. I only hope he can gain complete control before Mailer starts killing the hostages.'

Since they themselves were hostages, Jo found it easy to agree.

'Yes, Doctor,' she said. 'So do I!'

The Brigadier looked round the courtyard, and realised that the battle was over. Most of the convicts were wounded or dead, the rest were beginning to surrender. He ran to the checkpoint and saw a UNIT lorry driving up the road from the main gate. Reinforcements had arrived.

Waving the lorry forward, the Brigadier yelled, 'Come on! I'm going to find the Doctor.'

He ran for one of the doors that led into the main building.

The cell door was flung open, to reveal Mailer. He was both angry and frightened.

'Come to give yourself up?' asked the Doctor affably.

'Shut up and listen. If you want to stay alive, do exactly as I say.'

'Well?'

'You two are going to walk out of here in front of me.

Tell those mates of yours that either I get out or I chop you down.'

'They won't listen,' said Jo.

'Too bad for you if they don't,' said Mailer flatly.

'Now, come on.' He waved his automatic.

They walked through the deserted corridors in a little procession, first the Doctor, then Jo, then Mailer.

'No heroics,' warned Mailer. 'I only need one of you to get me out of here.'

They were descending a short metal staircase when Jo, with more courage than good sense, tried to be heroic after all. She flung herself backwards at Mailer's legs, yelling, 'Now, Doctor!'

But the Doctor had no time to do anything Mailer was too quick. He fell back onto the steps, one arm round Jo's throat, and his automatic still covering the Doctor.

'Too bad, Doctor,' he said softly. 'I warned you I only need one of you...'

The Doctor watched helplessly. He saw Mailer's finger tighten on the trigger.

The Doctor braced himself and heard the roar of an automatic pistol fired at close range...

14.

The Reunion To the Doctor's astonishment he did not however feel the impact of the bullet. Instead it was Mailer who fell, shot down by the Brigadier, who stood at the foot of the steps.

The Doctor drew a deep breath. 'Thank you, Brigadier.

Do you think that just once you could manage to arrive before the nick of time?'

'I'm glad to see you too, Doctor. Are you all right, Miss Grant?'

'Yes, I'm fine.'

The Doctor looked in amus.e.m.e.nt at the Brigadier's overalls and cloth cap. 'I see you've changed your job!'

The Brigadier smiled. 'Rather an effective disguise, don't you think?' Clearly he had enjoyed his brief masquerade.

Sergeant Benton hurried in, beamed at the sight of the Doctor and Jo, wondered if he ought to salute the cloth-capped Brigadier, and decided he'd better play safe.

The Brigadier returned the salute, touching a hand to the rim of his cloth cap. 'Did you get the Master?'

'Sorry, sir, no sign of him. He seems to have got clean away.'

'What about the missile?' asked the Doctor.

'Not a sign of it, Doctor.'

The Brigadier looked aghast. 'Isn't it here?'

'No,' said the Doctor decisively. 'It most certainly is not.'

The Brigadier looked crestfallen. 'Oh! I rather a.s.sumed it was.'

'Well, Brigadier,' said the Doctor caustically, 'apart from losing the missile and the Master, you're doing very well.'

The Master had prepared his own escape route from the prison, and he was well on his way soon after the first shot was fired.

At this precise moment he was stepping out of his limousine outside the hangar.

The rocket, now a.s.sembled on its mobile launch-pad stood outside the hangar doors.

The Master's little team of mercenaries were standing by. At a nod from the Master, they operated the controls.

Slowly the great pointed nose of the rocket pointed skywards. It looked, thought the Master, like a great bird, poised and ready to fly.

The Doctor was pacing up and down the Governor's office.

'I tell you, Brigadier, the Master has got to be found.'

The Brigadier, now back in uniform, was studying a map. 'I happen to be rather more concerned with finding that missile, Doctor.'

'Surely it comes to the same thing '

Sergeant Benton came in and saluted. 'Excuse me, sir, everything in the Prison is pretty well back to normal.

Convicts are back in their cells, prison staff released and back in uniform and we're moving the wounded out now.'

'Very good, Sergeant.'

'We found this chap hiding in the medical wing, sir.' A UNIT soldier shoved Barnham forward. He'd managed to get himself dressed in prison uniform again, but hp still wore the same confused, child-like expression. He 'You may not find the Master all that easy to mop up,'

grumbled the Doctor.

'Oh I don't antic.i.p.ate much trouble, Doctor.'

'He's got that nerve gas missile, remember. He can aim it at London or any city in Europe, come to that.'

'Don't worry, he isn't going to get the chance. Aren't you coming with us?'

'No, not for the moment. I've got to find a way of destroying that Machine of his. If I step up the voltage in those coils...' The Doctor began muttering obstruse calculations to himself.

The Brigadier said, 'Well, I'll leave the Machine to you, Doctor and you can leave the Master to me!'

The throbbing of the box was reaching a crescendo now and the restraining coil was red hot and sending off smoke and flame. An energy-storm whirled through the Process Chamber, sending chairs and tables flying through the air.