Telephone Company engineers were working on the other side of the square. They'd put up one of those mysterious little canvas huts that seem an essential part of all Telephone Company operations. Benton was so used to it that he didn't give it a second glance. He went up the steps and disappeared inside UNIT HQ.

Minutes later, Chin Lee emerged from the little hut and walked quickly away.

The Brigadier's reaction was all that Benton had feared.

'You lost lost her, Benton?' her, Benton?'

'Yes, sir,' said Benton miserably. 'She gave me the slip.

One minute I had her well in sight and the next...'

'She vanished in a puff of smoke?' suggested the Brigadier witheringly.

'No, sir. I got this sort of throbbing in my head... I must have fainted. When I came round she was gone.'

'Throbbing in the head?' snapped the Brigadier.

' Fainted? Fainted? You're too delicate for intelligence work, Sergeant Benton. You'd better go and lie down!' You're too delicate for intelligence work, Sergeant Benton. You'd better go and lie down!'

'Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.'

'Dismissed, Sergeant,' roared the Brigadier. 'Just get out of my sight!'

Benton turned and shot thankfully out of the room, almost colliding in the doorway with the Doctor and Mike Yates who were just arriving.

'I see you're in your usual sweet, affable mood, Brigadier,' said the Doctor.

Mike Yates gave an involuntary grin and straightened his face just too late.

'When you've quite finished grinning like a Cheshire cat, Captain Yates,' said the Brigadier icily, 'perhaps you would continue with your duties?'

'Sir!' Mike Yates snapped to attention, threw up a hurried salute, and left the Brigadier's office even more rapidly than Benton.

Quite unintimidated, the Doctor looked down at the Brigadier.

'Now then, Brigadier, in a moment you can tell me what all the fuss is about. But first...'

On the other side of the square from UNIT HQ a Telephone Company workman was working on a big junction box that stood on the pavement, attaching a small but complex circuit into the maze of wiring inside.

His task completed, the workman took a little black box from his pocket, extended its aerial, checked its functioning, then closed the aerial and returned the device to his pocket...

In the UNIT main office, Mike Yates took his ear from the receiver. 'Still there, Mr Carr? Oh, good. For a moment I thought we'd been cut off...'

The workman closed the junction box and went into the nearby canvas hut, which contained a rickety table and chair, kettle and tea-making equipment and not much else.

Taking the device from his pocket he stood it on the table, and extended the aerial again and switched on.

Mike Yates's voice could be heard, a little tinny, but perfectly clear. 'As I was saying, the escort will be under my command, and will consist of my Sergeant and four motor-cycle outriders.'

'Bit light isn't it?' grumbled a second voice.

'Considering the importance of this weapon '

Yates's voice concluded the sentence ' we'll only make ourselves more conspicuous if we surround it with a small army, won't we?'

'All right, I suppose you people know best.'

'Our rendezvous with you will be at 0815 hours.'

'You'll let me know the projected route?'

'I'll ring it through as soon as its finalised. Goodbye, Mr Carr.'

'Goodbye.' A click, and then silence.

While all this was going on, an extraordinary scene took place in the little hut.

The listener removed his cap and m.u.f.fler. He took off his grimy coveralls to reveal an immaculately cut Savile Row suit, a spotless white handkerchief in the top pocket.

Finally he slipped his hands under his chin and removed his face, peeling back the mask of the workman to reveal a very different set of features.

The face beneath the mask, although rather sallow, was distinguished in a somewhat sinister way, with heavy eyebrows, dark, burning eyes, and a neatly pointed beard.

It was the face of the Master.

A renegade Time Lord, dedicated to evil for evil's sake, and the Doctor's oldest and bitterest enemy.

The transformation complete, the Master took a fur-collared overcoat from the back of a chair, tossed it carelessly over one arm, and strolled out of the canvas hut, every inch the man of distinction.

Parked not far away was a luxury limousine, with a chauffeur as big and black and powerful as the car he drove.

As the Master appeared, the chauffeur sprang from the car, touched his cap and opened the rear door.

The Master slid gracefully into the back seat, sank back into the expensive leather upholstery, and produced and lit a large and opulent cigar.

Exhaling a cloud of fragrant smoke, he produced the listening device and settled back to wait.

The Doctor had refused even to discuss the problems of the Peace Conference until the Brigadier had heard and agreed to his own demands concerning Stangmoor Prison.

'All right,' said the Brigadier at last. 'All right, all right, Doctor. You win!'

The Doctor was taking no chances. 'You'll back my report to the Home Office calling for a complete ban on the Keller Process?'

'Yes.'

'And you'll chase up the Home Secretary to see he takes some action?'

' Yes Yes, Doctor! And if that doesn't do any good, I personally will go down to Stangmoor and blow the wretched machine up. Now, are you or are you not, going to help me with this case?'

The Doctor beamed at him. 'My dear Lethbridge-Stewart, your wish is my command. If there's anything I can do to help, you know you have only to ask!'

'Thank you,' said the Brigadier through gritted teeth, and jumped to his feet. s.n.a.t.c.hing up his cap and swagger stick, he headed for the door.

'Where on Earth do you think you're going?'

'To see the new Chinese Delegate Fu Peng.'

'Fu Peng?' said the Doctor thoughtfully. 'He must be Hokkien.'

The Brigadier paused in the doorway. 'No, no, Doctor, he's Chinese! Come along!'

With the Doctor close behind, the Brigadier marched through the outer office. As he pa.s.sed, Mike Yates rose to his feet and held out a sheaf of papers. 'Sir '

'Later,' snapped the Brigadier, and pa.s.sed by without breaking his stride.

The Doctor paused, giving Mike a sympathetic smile. 'I can see it's going to be one of those days!'

Mike grinned, and the Doctor said reprovingly, 'Cheshire cat, Cheshire cat, Captain Yates!' He followed the Brigadier out of the office.

Mike Yates sat down again, and picked up the phone.

'Get me transport will you?'

The Master sat at his ease in the back of his limousine, puffing luxuriously at his cigar. The little black box with the aerial lay on the seat beside him, and from it came Mike Yates's voice. 'Transport? Captain Yates here. I'd like you to lay on a four-man motor cycle escort and a jeep for 0700 hours. I'll be taking the party down myself.'

'Righto, sir.'

Again, there was a click and then silence.

Suddenly the Master leaned forward, staring intently out of the window.

Two men were coming down the steps of the big house on the side of the square. One was a tall man in Army Officer's uniform. The second, even taller, wore a flowing cape, and had a shock of untidy white hair.

The Master stroked his beard, his lips drawing back in a smile that was very like a snarl.

The Doctor! His ancient enemy, trapped as he was himself on this miserable planet. Trapped, and soon like the planet itself, due to be destroyed by the Master's vengeance.

5.

The Pistol Despite his high rank, the new Chinese Delegate wore the simple collarless tunic made popular at that time by China's revered leader, Mao Tse-Tung.

He sat at his desk, stern-featured and scowling, studying papers, refusing even to look up as the Brigadier and the Doctor were shown in to his suite.

Standing before the desk, the Brigadier extended his hand. 'Mr Fu Peng? I am Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart of UNIT Command. I'm in charge of all security arrangements.'

Fu Peng ignored the outstretched hand.

Restraining his annoyance, the Brigadier went on. 'And this is the Doctor, our Scientific Adviser.'

The Doctor stepped forward, bowed, and produced a string of melodious syllables. To the astonished Brigadier they began something like. 'Wah-pye chiah lu-lai...'

He lost track of the rest.

Immediately Fu Peng looked up, an astonished smile spreading over his heavy features. The Doctor was speaking fluent Chinese, and not only Chinese but the Hokkien dialect of Fu Peng's native province.

(What the Doctor had actually said was, 'This humble and unworthy person welcomes you, and delights in your safe arrival.') Fu Peng rose, bowed in return and spoke in the same language. 'Thank you for your courtesy and for your welcome. It is I who am delighted to meet such a charming person in this barbaric land.' For the sake of courtesy, Fu Peng continued in English. 'It is rare to meet a Westerner who knows our language.'

'Thank you,' said the Doctor modestly. 'I fear that my Hokkien is somewhat rusty.'

'On the contrary, it is excellent.' Fu Peng clicked his fingers, and an aide scurried from the room. 'Please be seated.'

The Doctor sat. 'Well, it's many years since I had a chance to speak Hokkien. The last time, I remember was a conversation with Tse-Tung. It was on the Long March, I remember and...'

Fu Peng gave him an astonished look. 'Tse-Tung! That is the personal name of our Chairman, Mao Tse-Tung.'

The Doctor nodded and said casually. 'He himself gave me leave to use it.'

Deeply impressed, Fu Peng bowed again.

The Brigadier had been standing there ignored all this time. 'Well, gentlemen,' he said hopefully. 'If we could just discuss the immediate problem?'

No one took any notice.

Fu Peng's aide came back into the room, carrying a heavy tray which bore all the requisites for the ceremonial serving of Chinese tea.

Fu Peng turned to the Doctor. 'You will take tea with me?'

The Doctor rose, bowed, and said something that sounded like, 'k.u.m-Siah.'

Fu Peng snapped an order to the aide, who carried the tray over to a table by the window.

Fu Peng waved the Doctor to a seat. 'You have heard of the great tragedy that has befallen my countryman?'