Doctor Who: The Trial of a Time Lord : The Ultimate Foe by Pip Baker, Jane Baker Page B

this flippancy was all an act.
    ‘Secret, Mel? Secret?’ He was still grinning.
    Evasive responses irritated her. ‘Don’t patronise me, Doctor!’
    ‘Is that what I’m doing?’
    ‘I’m on your side, remember.’
    ‘A stout ally.’ A twinkle. ‘Not a very appropriate description, eh?’
    ‘Better than usual. At least you’ve not referred to me as an elephant.’ A joke he made frequently.
    ‘Because of your fantastic memory, Mel.’
    She had this phenomenal capacity for total recall. Odd, really, that computer programming should be her profession since computers had virtually made memory redundant; at least, where facts and figures were concerned.
    The outstanding ability intrigued the Doctor. It had also proved invaluable to him on many occasions; the most recent being when he had been battling against those Vervoids. That was when the ‘elephant’ joke had begun.
    ‘Memory like an elephant’ was a ludicrous comparison –
    the ton weight pachyderm and the feather-weight girl!
    ‘I’m not short on intuition either. And I know you know something you’re not telling me.’
    ‘Do I, Mel? I wonder.’
    Gallantly gesturing her to precede him, he held open the door to the balcony.
    Mel was right.
    He was harbouring a secret.
    At least, a suspicion.
    One that involved both Mr Popplewick and the Valeyard...
     

18
Two-faced
    An unseen sentinel saw the Doctor, Mel, Popplewick and Glitz descend the Fantasy Factory’s stairs and troop across the yard. The matching blackness of the concealed observer’s tunic, gloves, and beard, blended with the darkness shrouding the niche in which he lurked.
    The Master exercised, for him, herculean restraint as he watched his eternal foe lope past well within range of the TCE... just one blast and an exquisite consummation of revenge would be realised. Clemency was not an ingredient of that restraint: the flintlock poking Popplewick’s spine meant a greater victory was within grasp.
    The fretful bureaucrat led the unsuspecting exodus to the gated entrance of a kiln: a bulbous, bell-shaped edifice that tapered into a soot-soiled chimney starkly silhouetted against the lowering night clouds.
    ‘This is the abode of our revered Mr J. J. Chambers, sir,’
    announced the corpulent Popplewick.
    ‘So he’s been here all along! I’ve misjudged Mr J. J.
    Chambers alias the Valeyard.’
    Alias? Chambers? Valeyard? Mel was nonplussed!
    Not the Doctor. He was blithely heading into the kiln.
    ‘Hey wait! Stop and think before you go barging in–!’
    The Doctor ducked through the entrance.
    ‘How he’s managed to survive for nine hundred years beats me!’ she complained, trailing after him.
    The unseen sentinel now awaited the next act in the drama.
    The actors remaining on stage were Glitz and Popplewick.
    Glitz lowered the flintlock. ‘We had an agreement, remember. I’ve played my part and delivered the Doctor.
    Now for the pay-off. The cassette.’
     
    ‘My gun first, Mr Glitz.’ Their clandestine arrangement, made in the office, had been followed to the letter, but Popplewick did not trust the wily Glitz!
    ‘After I’ve got the Matrix Tape.’ Glitz was also practised in the art of deception!
    ‘That, my dear sir, was not our agreement.’
    .’It is now, old fruit.’
    ‘I really cannot countenance such exoteric improbity.’
    ‘Cut the flowery spiel, fat man, and hand over the goods!’
    ‘Oh, very well!’ With an impatient gesture, Popplewick extracted the cassette. ‘But I take exception to this questioning of my integrity.’
    Grabbing the cassette, Glitz returned the gun. ‘Nice doing business with you, Mr Popplewick.’ Then an afterthought: a venial self-justification. ‘Oh, present my apologies to the Doc. Tell him I haven’t sold him down the Milky Way cheaply.’
    ‘I am sure that will be a consolation to him in his final moments,’ purred the clerk.
    ‘Can’t stop. Must toddle,’ chirped Glitz, moving off.
    ‘Sabalom Glitz!’ called