Doctor Who: Ribos Operation (8 page)

‘Too remarkable, Highness,’ Sholakh agreed. ‘They must be
working together.’

‘However, Sholakh, that Jethryk nugget is large enough to
make a man wealthy beyond his wildest dreams...’

‘Sufficient to power an entire fleet for several campaigns,
Highness,’ Sholakh added, turning to his master with shining
eyes.

‘Therefore they cannot be aware of its true value...’ the Graff
concluded as they approached the top of the flight of steps
leading down to the Relic Chamber. ‘Keep a close watch on
Garron, Sholakh. If he is playing games with the Graff Vynda Ka
he will bitterly regret his folly.’

Sholakh nodded, smiling and rubbing his armoured hands
together in anticipation. As they started to descend the steps the
curfew gong began to sound, filling the Citadel with its warning
clamour and sending the citizens hurrying homeward under the
bleak twilight of Ribos.

The Captain of the Shrievalty paced impatiently around the
Relic Chamber listening to the throbbing vibrations of the gong
in the Citadel Tower above. All except one of the globes had
been extinguished and the Shrieves were waiting to secure the
chamber for the night. He was just about to give the order, when
Garron burst through the doorway bathed in sweat, his whole
body heaving breathlessly.

‘Good... good timing...’ he gasped.

‘Where is the money?’ the Captain demanded in a low voice,
not without a trace of suspicion.

Garron looked round in dismay. ‘My colleagues should be...
be here any moment... I do assure you, Captain,’ he panted,
forcing a smile.

The Captain rattled his keys and stared at Garron’s
flustered, perspiring face. ‘This is totally irregular...’ he
murmured, glancing at his waiting Shrieves as the gong boomed
relentlessly from the tower.

At last the Graff Vynda Ka stalked into the chamber
accompanied by Sholakh.

Garron swept up to them. ‘Greetings most esteemed sirs,’ he
cried, adding in an undertone, ‘remember, Highness—you are
merchants from the North.’

The Graff nodded with undisguised disdain.

‘The money?’ the Captain rapped out urgently. Sholakh
handed him a large sealed purse, and the

Captain hurried across the chamber to one of the pillars
supporting the vaulted roof. Selecting an elaborately patterned
key from his ring, the Captain inserted it into a cleverly
concealed lock and swung open one of the stone blocks like a
door. He stuffed the bulging purse into the hollow section and
slammed the block shut. As soon as the lock had grated home,
Garron waddled over and thrust a document and a stylo into the
Captain’s hand.

‘If you would be so kind,’ he beamed, ‘just a signature on
this receipt.’

The Captain hesitated, looking warily at the Graff Vynda
Ka. Suddenly the Curfew gong went silent. Hastily the Captain
scanned the paper.

‘Let me hold these for you...’ Garron murmured, taking the
keys while the Captain painstakingly scrawled his name on the
document. Unseen by anyone, Garron deftly slipped one of the
keys into the folds of his furs.

Taking back his key-ring, the Captain gave Garron the
receipt and marched away to supervise the nightly ceremony.
‘Prepare to release the Shrivenzale,’ he ordered.

Garron paled visibly. ‘A fascinating ritual, Highness, but one
which we are not privileged to witness,’ he beamed. ‘We most
return at once to our quarters.’ He gave the Graff the receipt
with a flourish.

The Graff Vynda Ka and Sholakh turned on their heels and
strode away. Thanking the Captain profusely, Garron bowed low
to the Relic Cabinet and scuttled out. He was late for another
vital appoint...

‘Hypothermia can kill,’ Romana complained through chattering
teeth, winding the Doctor’s enormous scarf tighter round her
neck and shoulders.

‘So can loose talk,’ the Doctor hissed, clapping his hand over
his assistant’s mouth as a small figure darted from the shadows
and dumped a large bag at the edge of the trap.

They crouched in the lee of the parapet and watched closely
as Unstoffe struggled to move the iron plate.

‘It’s our canny little friend with the treasure map...’ the
Doctor breathed.

Just then a much bulkier figure lumbered across the rooftop
and joined Unstoffe. ‘What kept you?’ he demanded
suspiciously.

‘Business,’ Garron snarled, helping his feebler companion to
open the trap.

At once a great roar and a cloud of warm, stale breath burst
into the freezing air over the shaft. The two figures clutched one
another in momentary panic. Then Unstoffe tipped the drugged
meat into the shaft and reluctantly dragged the rope ladder
from the sack. ‘Stay here and keep watch,’ the Doctor whispered,
slowly rising to his feet and throwing a leg over the parapet.

‘Where are you going now?’ Romana asked, not at all happy
at the prospect of being left alone on the tower with two
criminals.

‘I need to pop into the Relic Chamber before our friends get
there,’ the Doctor whispered, swinging himself silently over the
stone coping.

‘But Doctor. that creature down there... Romana protested
agitatedly, grabbing at his sleeve. ‘Laurel and Hardy have just
taken care of that for me,’ he grinned. ‘Before your time, my
dear...’ he added in response to Romana’s blank expression, and
dropped abruptly out of sight.

‘What if he’s missed it?’ Unstoffe objected, dubiously eyeing
the key which Garron had just pressed into his clammy little
hand.

‘My boy, I was palming keys before you were even born,’
Garron chuckled encouragingly. ‘Anyway, he’s got a dozen like
that one.’

‘In that case, it better be the right one,’ Unstoffe retorted,
‘’cos I’m the mug who has to go down there.’

Garron squeezed his thin arm and beamed. ‘And very proud
of you I am, too,’ he said. ‘Now you’d better get going.’

At that moment another monstrous growl split the air.
Unstoffe hesitated. ‘Give it another five minutes...’ he pleaded.
‘You haven’t seen those teeth.’

Romana crouched in the darkening shadows, fuming at her
inability to fathom the Doctor’s eccentric and unpredictable
behaviour, and at her failure to keep his attention focused on
their important assignment. As she watched the activities of the
two figures by the trap, she took out the Locatormutor Core and
gripped it tightly with both hands, steeling herself to use the
sensitive instrument as a bludgeon, should the need arise.

The Doctor waited until the Shrieve picket had marched away,
and then darted down the worn steps to the lobby outside the
Relic Chamber. Cautiously he approached the huge doors,
noting as he passed that the shutter winch was in the ‘open’
position.

‘Stay where you are,’ rang a powerful voice.

The massive young Shrieve sentry was barring his way.

‘Oh... not asleep yet?’ the Doctor asked sympathetically.
‘Well, I couldn’t sleep either,’ he grinned, immediately
discarding any idea of tackling the towering figure confronting
him.

‘You are under arrest. The Curfew has sounded.’ the
Shrieve announced, his huge hands gripping the sturdy pike
shaft as if they were about to snap it like a twig.

‘Yes, I heard it. It gave me quite a headache,’ the Doctor
frowned, racking his brain for a speedy tactical move. He knew
that he had only a minute or two before Unstoffe reached the
chamber.

‘Where are you from?’ the young giant demanded. ‘The
North,’ the Doctor smiled, ‘The South...’ he went on in
desperation as the Shrieve took out a crude whistle from his belt
and put it to his lips.

‘Oh please don’t wake everybody up on my account,’ the
Doctor said earnestly, rummaging in his pockets and holding up
the little dog whistle by its silver chain. ‘This model is so much
more effective...’ he murmured, swinging it rhythmically to and
fro. ‘So much quieter... much quieter... so quiet...’ His sonorous
voice rose and fell in time with the oscillations of the tiny whistle.

The young Shrieve tried to tighten his grip on the pike as he
fought off the instant drowsiness, his eyes sweeping from side to
side and flickering at each swing of the glittering object in front
of them.

‘You must be so very sleepy...’ the Doctor suggested gently.

All at once the pike clattered onto the flagstones. The
swaying Shrieve immediately jerked his drooping head upright
again: ‘I’ve been sleep... ing all day...’ he murmured. ‘Why
should... I want... to sleep... now?’ And he lurched forward, his
huge arms poised to envelop the Doctor and crush him to pulp.

His slight frame quaking with apprehension, Unstoffe edged
past the colossal bulk of the Shrivenzale slumped on the floor of
the antechamber and ducked under the raised shutter. Crossing
to the Relic Cabinet, he quickly secured the suction cup to the
front panel and then dissolved the colourless gum he had earlier
used to reseal the panel with acid from a small bulb. After
waiting a few seconds he lifted the heavy panel out of the frame.
Then he reached and took the jethryk nugget out of the case
with sweating and trembling hands. Stuffing it into the pouch on
his belt, he began to scurry round the dark eerie chamber,
scanning the pillars for the hidden keshule. The single globe
above the cabinet gave so little light. Frantically he searched,
frequently stopping to listen to the raucous breathing of the
Shrivenzale in case the beast should stir.

At last he found the keyhole behind the pillar. ‘One million
gold opeks...’ he breathed as he unlocked and opened the stone
block and grabbed the sealed purse from the niche.

At that moment something clattered heavily against the
chamber doors outside. Instantly Unstoffe crammed the purse
into his pouch and flattened himself against the pillar...

Staring into the Shrieve’s glazed eyes, the Doctor slowly backed
away front the lumbering youth, still swinging the silver whistle
on its chain. Suddenly the huge arms closed round him in a
suffocating bear-hug and he was swept off his feet like a dummy.
But just as suddenly the Shrieve’s prodigious grip loosened. He
slid to his knees and pitched forward full length at the Doctor’s
feet.

Hugging his bruised ribs, the Doctor ran to the doors and
within seconds had opened the massive locks with his tweezers
and burst into the Relic Chamber. At once he saw that the
cabinet had been broken into and that the Jethryk was missing.

‘Too late...’ he muttered angrily, darting across to peer into
the black rectangle of space beneath the shutter.

Something flew past his back. Even as he turned he heard
the huge doors slam shut and the bar lock into place on the
other side. Furious with himself, the Doctor hammered
helplessly on the thick wooden doors. Then he heard the
piercing blasts of a whistle from the lobby outside. At the same
instant, a stentorian bellowing and shrill scrabbling sound burst
from the antechamber beyond the shutter.

In three enormous strides the Doctor crossed the Relic
Chamber and flung himself under the shutter. Frantically he
reached out in the pitch darkness to find the end of the rope
ladder which he guessed must surely be there. As he searched
with blindly groping hands, he found himself suddenly
showered with sparks as the Shrivenzale’s flashing claws slashed
through the blackness towards him...

Garron peered anxiously into the shaft as the Shrivenzale’s
enraged roars and the crash of its tail grew more and more
savage.

‘Pipped at the post...’ he muttered in despair, wringing his
hands and clutching his head. ‘What a scheme... a wasted
talent...’

Something stirring in the darkness made him pause. The
rope ladder was swaying and creaking. Garron screwed up his
eyes to see what was happening and a figure climbed rapidly
into view.

‘Unstoffe... what went wrong?’ he cried.

‘Pretty well everything...’ boomed an unexpected voice, and
the Doctor’s head popped up suddenly in the trap opening.

Instantly recovering from the shock, Garron went to release
the clips securing the ladder to the grappling hook.

‘Don’t move—we have you covered,’ the Doctor cried.

‘Who has?’ Garron laughed scornfully.

‘We have,’ Romana declared, striding across the rooftop,
brandishing the Locatormutor Core like a shillelagh as the
Doctor climbed up out of the shalt.

Garron smacked himself on the forehead. ‘I just don’t
believe it...’ he muttered, staring uncertainly at the strange
weapon in Romana’s hands. ‘Alliance Security Agents. Well I’ll
be...’

Slowly Garron got to his feet, shaking his head sadly. ‘It’s all
right.’ he murmured at last, ‘I’ll come quietly. It’s a fair cop...’

In complete silence the Doctor and Romana marched
Garron at a cracking pace through the deserted alleyways on the
outskirts of the city. As they entered the winding lanes leading
towards the arched gateway, their prisoner grew more and more
apprehensive. At last he could contain himself no longer.

‘Where are you taking me?’ he asked, in a faint falsetto voice
quite unlike his customary confident tone.

‘To the TARDIS,’ the Doctor replied. ‘There are one or two
loose ends to be tied up.’

‘The... the TARDIS?’ Garron echoed, with frightened
glances at his two escorts. ‘What... what happens there?’

‘All kinds of things,’ the Doctor said sternly. For example...’

Before he could continue a dozen heavily armed Levithian
Guards emerged from the snowdrifts ahead and blocked their
path.

‘For example.’ the Doctor repeated, trailing into silence as
he slowed to a halt. He stood staring wide-eyed at the line of
laser-spears, his hands sunk deep into his pockets and his feet
shuffling the snow idly.

‘We were expecting you, Garron, you and your accomplices,’
rapped the Graff Vynda Ka’s harsh voice behind them. They
turned. The Graff and Sholakh were standing in the middle of
the street flanked by more Guards whose black metallic armour
gleamed stark and sinister against the snow.