Free Doctor Who: The Sea-Devils by Malcolm Hulke Page A

things are sinking ships.’
    ‘These things, as you call them,’ said the Doctor, ‘are an intelligent form of life. I’ve already explained that they used to be the masters of this planet—’
    There was a knock on the door, and W.R.N. Writer Jane Blythe looked in. ‘Excuse me, sir. Mr. Trenchard would like a word with you.’
    Hart looked up. ‘Didn’t you tell him I was busy?’
    ‘He said he’d only be a moment, sir.’ Jane lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘He’s just outside, behind me.’
    Captain Hart tried to put a good face on it. ‘All right. Wheel him in.’
    Jane stepped to one side, and ushered in Trenchard. He advanced on Hart with outstretched hand. ‘Got a minute, old chap? Just wanted to talk to you about the golf tournament—’ He stopped as he saw the Doctor and Jo. ‘I’ll be blowed! I thought you two left the island yesterday.’
    ‘We got delayed,’ said Jo.
    ‘Taking a look round the island, eh? Charming place, what there is of it.’ Trenchard returned his attention to Captain Hart. ‘Look, John, I don’t want to butt in, but about next weekend: we are rather relying on you to play, you know.’
    ‘I’ll do my best,’ said Captain Hart. ‘But if we happen to get a sudden flap on...’ He left the rest of the sentence in mid-air.
    ‘Then I’d better arrange to have a reserve standing by,’ said Trenchard. ‘What sort of player is that fellow Griffiths?’
    The Doctor listened patiently while the two men discussed the relative pros and cons of various local golf players. He noticed how Hart seemed to be trying to get rid of Trenchard, whereas Trenchard was almost deliberately prolonging the conversation. It occurred to the Doctor that Trenchard seemed extremely nervous, and he wondered why.
    While Trenchard played for time, the Master was busily helping himself to sonar spare parts in the Naval Base’s store-room. It was a long hut containing rows of metal shelves. In this one place there was almost every electronic spare part he would ever need for the apparatus that he intended to construct back in his room at the château. By good luck he had found a small duffel bag in a corner of the store-room, and he was carefully filling this when Chief Petty Officer Smedley happened to come in. Smedley was more than a little surprised at the spectacle of a commander who was literally getting his hands dirty.
    ‘Excuse me, sir,’ enquired C.P.O. Smedley, ‘but should I know you?’
    The Master, quite unperturbed, continued with his work. ‘You most certainly should. Haven’t you been informed that I was coming?’
    ‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ said Smedley.
    ‘Special audit,’ said the Master, stowing an expensive ohm-counter into the duffel bag, ‘Ministry of Defence.’ He looked further along the shelf and selected a low-voltage relay unit. He was about to put this into the bag when he paused, pretending only now to have noticed that the Chief Petty Officer was still standing there. ‘Well, carry on, Chief.’
    Smedley was very worried. Years of naval training had taught him to respect officers without question, and this visitor was a very high-ranking officer indeed. But he just could not believe what he was watching. ‘If I may be permitted to ask, sir,’ he said, trembling slightly, and with visions of very shortly becoming an able seaman once more, ‘may I see your pass?’
    ‘Captain Hart’s preparing it now,’ said the Master. ‘He’ll be here with it in a moment.’
    ‘Captain Hart is coming here with your pass, sir?’ Smedley could not understand this at all. If a pass was to be sent, and that in itself was odd enough, the captain would have it sent by one of the ratings. ‘If it is all the same to you, sir,’ said Smedley, ‘I shall have to double-check that, sir.’ He had now shown enough insolence to a commissioned officer to lose him his chief’s hooks, if not actually to have him confined to a naval prison. He turned to the wall telephone