Ace gave him a look. "How will she know?"

"The Timewyrm still has parts of the TARDIS within herself remember, and I have a Timewyrm implant lodged in the telepathic circuits. TARDIS and Timewyrm are linked: Since I'm linked to the TARDIS, I'm linked to the Timewyrm as well."

"Forever?"

"Until one or the other of us is destroyed," said the Doctor matter-of-factly.

"So the TARDIS can always take us to the Timewyrm?"

"Well, that's what I'd hoped. Unfortunately, it doesn't seem o be quite that precise."

"How do you mean?" "Well, let's say, wherever the TARDIS takes us, the Timewyrm won't be far away or will be arriving sometime soon. . ."

"Or will have left quite some time ago?" suggested Ace. "Hence our little trip to Occupied Britain?"

The Doctor nodded. "Let's hope we have better luck this time." He knelt down and began rooting through a little-used storage locker in the base of the console, emerging eventually with a dusty stone pot. "There you are, Ace. Something for your sore nose and fat lip."

She unscrewed the lid. "It's almost empty, Doctor. There's just a little dab of some kind of cream left in the bottom."

"A little dab is all you need. Try it."

"All right. I need to clean up anyway. I might have a swim as well..."

After a quick dip in the TARDIS pool Ace returned to her quarters for a shower and a change of clothes. She was about to leave when she saw the Doctor's stone pot standing on her dressing table. She put a little of the cream on the end of her finger and smoothed it into her nose and upper lip.

The results were astonishing. The redness and soreness vanished straight away and her skin looked not only as good but better than before. Still clutching the pot she rushed back into the main control room, where the Doctor stood brooding over the console, comparing its readings with those of the time-path indicator.

"This stuffs terrific, Professor! Where on Earth did you get it?, "Where on Karn, you mean!"

She studied the symbols carved round the side of the pot. "What does all this mean?" The Doctor took the pot. "It's Old High Gallifreyan. It says: Dr Solon's Special Morbius Lotion. Guaranteed to Contain Genuine Elixir of Dr Solon's Special Morbius Lotion. Guaranteed to Contain Genuine Elixir of Life. Manufactured Under Licence by the Sisterhood of Karn." Life. Manufactured Under Licence by the Sisterhood of Karn."

"Well, it's terrific! You could make a fortune!"

"I doubt it, the production rate's too low. They only make one pot every hundred years. . . "

The rise and fall of the central column was starting to slow down.

"Nice timing, Ace," said the Doctor. "We're nearly there."

"Nearly where, Professor? And nearly when?"

"That, my dear Ace, is very much the question."

The Doctor took his black leather coat from the hatstand. "This will probably still be in fashion." He nodded towards the hatstand. "I got you something suitable from the wardrobe room."

Ace took down a fawn trenchcoat and a soft brown felt hat and put them on. "How do I look, Professor?"

"Romantic and mysterious."

Ace studied herself in the long mirror. "I look like Marlene Dietrich on a bad day. Professor?"

"What?"

"If we're landing in Germany, they'll all be talking German, won't they?"

"It seems very likely."

"Well, I skived off most of my German lessons - and I never even took the exam.

"Don't worry, you'll manage. You always do, don't you? You didn't take O-level Cheetah either."

"I suppose you speak fluent German?"

"I speak fluent everything," said the Doctor. "Come on, we've arrived."

2: REVOLUTION.

MEMO TOP SECRET.

Suitable as the Subject seems in many ways, I still have grave reservations. He is deluded and unstable and ever p.r.o.ne to paranoia. The prospect of complete breakdown cannot be discounted. You urge that his enormous mental energy makes him particularly suitable for the Project, yet this energy is in itself a matter of some concern, since its source continues to elude us. Nor is he easy to control - as witness the proposed attempt at a coup. However, my recommendation is that we allow it to proceed. When it fails, as it almost certainly will, the Subject will be defeated and vulnerable, and ripe for the Process.

In addition the attempt at a coup will provide valuable data as to the Subject's behaviour under stress. For this reason it is imperative that you keep the Subject under close observation at all times.

The TARDIS had materialized in an alleyway just off along narrow street lined with tall old houses. From the end of the alley came the rumble of excited voices. On the street corner a crowd was gathering around a man in a shabby raincoat. He stood on a wooden box, surrounded by a bodyguard of armed men. Beside him was an immensely tall and dignified old man in a brown hunting jacket. Behind them both stood a young man in uniform, staggering under the weight of a huge swastika banner.

The man on the box was making a speech, and the Doctor and Ace edged closer to listen. The speaker was Adolf Hitler, a younger version of the famous face but even then with lank black hair falling over his forehead and that same scrubby moustache.

It was a wild, rambling speech, sometimes muttered, sometimes shouted, and Ace wasn't all that impressed. The crowd seemed to like it, though.

"There is a race," screamed Hitler, "which, for thousands of years, has not possessed a state of its own, but has instead spread over all the world.

They are not peasants or farmers, instead they have conquered the money markets, beginning in poverty and now rich in vermin, vice and pestilence, grimly determined not to serve us but to rule. I say these Jews must be swept away!"

Ace gave the Doctor an angry look. "Did you hear what he said?"

"That's telling "em" said a mild-looking man beside them. "b.l.o.o.d.y yids, they get all the money and all the jobs!" Ace swung round angrily on him but the Doctor grabbed her arm, shaking his head. Reluctantly Ace subsided.

Hitler rambled on, turning his attack to the post-war treaty that had taken German territories and was forcing her to pay crippling reparations. "Follow me!" he screamed. "Follow me and these evils shall be swept away, and Germany will be great once more. Germany awake! To the War Office!"

The excited crowd roared and the procession set off down the street. In front went the man with the swastika banner. Behind him marched Hitler and the tall old man. Behind them marched a tall fat man and a much slighter one looking, thought Ace, curiously like Laurel and Hardy.

Behind this leading group came a motley crowd of supporters, some uniformed, some not, some with rifles and bayonets, others brandishing revolvers. Despite the presence of all these weapons, there was a cheerful, holidayish feeling in the air, as though most of the crowd were just out for a lark.

Ace grabbed the Doctor's arm. "What's happening? What's he doing?"

"Seizing power, or trying to."

"Is he going to make it?" "Come and see."

The street was so narrow that it acted like a funnel, jamming the procession into a tightly packed ma.s.s. As they followed the crowd the Doctor said, "We're in Munich, Ace, in 1923. The whole country's in an uproar, and Hitler and his gang are trying to stage a coup."

"Who's that other one - the tall old man?"

"General Ludendorf, a big hero from the First World War. He's just a figurehead really, doesn't know what's going on."

They were near the end of the narrow street now, and Ace saw that it opened out into a big public square. Blocking the entrance to the square was a cordon of green-uniformed police, armed with rifles.

"That square's called the Odeonplatz," said the Doctor. "They have to cross it to seize the War Ministry on the other side."

"But the cops won't let them?"

"Not if they can help it. Their problem is they don't want to open fire in case they hurt old Ludendorf. He's still a public hero."

The head of the procession came nearer and nearer to the cordon of police. The police raised their rifles. One of the men close to Hitler rushed forward shouting, "Don't shoot! General Ludendorf is here!"

A policeman shouted, "Halt! Halt and turn back!" Laughing and cheering the procession surged forward - and the police opened fire. They didn't shoot into the crowd, though. Instead they aimed their rifles downwards and fired at the granite paving stones. Chips of stone and ricocheting bullets struck the front ranks of the procession, and straight away the would-be revolutionaries turned and ran, Hitler among them. Ace saw him stumble and fall, and the crowd trample over him.

"Up here!" yelled the Doctor. He grabbed Ace's arm and they retreated up the steps of a big old house. From the shelter of the doorway they watched the chaotic scene.

The rattle of rifle fire was still coming from the direction of the police cordon and the crowd was streaming down the narrow street in full retreat.

The air was full of screams and shouts, and Ace saw people forcing their way into shops and houses, kicking in windows and climbing through - anything to get off the street.

Most of the crowd had moved past by now, though here and there bodies had been left behind on the ground, some moaning and twitching, some lying still. They saw the fat man who'd been one of the leaders of the procession stagger away across the square, clutching at his stomach.

"There goes poor old Goering," said the Doctor. "One of those granite splinters got him... Ah, here's our man!"

A muddy figure was crawling along the pavement towards them, sobbing with pain. It was Adolf Hitler. He was bruised and battered, and obviously in such pain that he was scarcely able to move.

"Is he wounded?" asked Ace. "Seriously, I hope?"

The Doctor shook his head. "Just bashed about a bit. Come on!"

To Ace's amazement, the Doctor ran down the steps and helped Hitler to rise, supporting him as he staggered along the street.

For Adolf Hitler the pain of defeat was even fiercer than the agony in his shoulder. The people he had tried to lead to glory had broken and fled. And what had happened to him? Not gloriously killed, not even honourably wounded. Simply knocked to the ground, and trampled into the mud - by his own followers as they ran away! He became aware that someone was helping him to his feet. The someone had a companion, a girl.

"What are you doing, Professor?" she called, her voice disapproving.

"Helping someone who's hurt," said the man. "Come on, let's get him into the doorway."

The girl came to his other side and they half-led, half-carried him up the steps and laid him down in the doorway.

Hitler stared wildly up at them. The man was small and dark with penetrating grey eyes, the girl young, round-faced, not unattractive. He had never seen them before in his life.

The man said, "Are you wounded?"

Hitler shook his head. "My shoulder - I fell." He winced as the stranger unb.u.t.toned his muddy trenchcoat and felt inside. "Thought so - left shoulder's dislocated. Not too serious, but agonizingly painful."

"Good," said the girl in that same hostile voice.

Hitler stared up at the man. "Are you a doctor?"

"You might say I'm the Doctor," said the little man modestly. "Just let me turn you over." With swift confident movements, he turned Hitler face down.

He put one hand on the bony shoulder blade, grasped the left arm with the other and pushed and pulled at the same time. There was a moment of intolerable agony and Adolf Hitler screamed.

Slowly the tide of pain receded. Hitler struggled to sit up. "I've reset your shoulder for you," said the little man briskly. "A bit rough and ready - but it'll have to do." He s.n.a.t.c.hed the scarf from around Hitler's neck, and used it to put his left arm in a rough sling. "It will be better now, but you still need medical attention and rest."

Hitler said hoa.r.s.ely, "I have friends nearby - another doctor, waiting in case of trouble. There is a yellow Fiat, parked in the Max-Josephsplatz. . . "

"Then we'd better get you there," said the Doctor. "Walk as steadily as you can. Try to look like an innocent bystander."

They helped him down the steps and set off along the gla.s.s-strewn pavement, supporting him between them.

As they walked along Hitler muttered, "I don't know you. Are you party members, supporters?"

The girl said, "Not on your -"

The man waved her to silence. "No," he said. "Just casual pa.s.sers-by. You might say we're observers."

Deep inside Hitler's mind something alien stirred, writhing in impotent rage.

She sensed the presence of the enemy, close, so close - and his mind was closed to her, it spurned her. But her time would come...

Hitler came to a sudden halt, staring blindly in front of him.

"What's the matter?" said the stranger.

Hitler became aware of the grey eyes staring into his own. He shook his head to clear it and turned away. "Nothing. I get these dizzy spells - the strain. . ." He moved on, looking despondently around him. His brief attempt at revolution was already over. The dead and wounded were being taken away, and people were coming cautiously out of their houses to see what was happening. It was finished - and he had failed. Was it worth going on?

As they moved along the street, a dark figure scuttled behind them at a safe distance, dodging from tree to tree like a giant black spider.

The Doctor shook his head, oppressed by strange forebodings. He felt as if his enemies were gathering around him.

Max-Josephsplatz was only a few streets away, and the yellow Fiat was waiting, parked on the other side of the square. Hitler stopped at the corner, gazing intently at the Doctor. "I shall always be grateful for your help. I should like to repay you but I have nothing to offer." He laughed bitterly. "Half an hour ago I hoped to rule Germany - now I am a hunted fugitive. I shall be lucky to escape arrest, perhaps even execution... I have failed, totally. I shall commit suicide - it is the only honourable thing to do!"

He heard the girl mutter something that sounded like "Good!" Once again the little man silenced her. He put a hand on Hitler's shoulder, the good one, and looked deeply into his eyes.

"Listen to me. You have failed today, but you will not always fail."

Hitler stared at him. "What do you mean? How do you know that?, "One day you will rule Germany. Not for many years, but that day will come. When it does, we shall meet again. All I ask is that you remember me!"