Part 15 (1/2)

His intuition hadn't betrayed him: the storm was thickening, like thick soup poured down the mountainside around the outskirts of the town. The winds were blowing harder, sweeping great plumes of snowflakes into the streets.

Leela would be finding her adaptability and survival instincts tested to the limit up there. At least she was in safe hands.

White Shadow troops were on guard at the store, keeping a small group of civilians at bay while Lieutenant Beard offered them rea.s.surances that everything was perfectly okay and there was nothing to see. The Doctor had his doubts. For now though, he was alone in finding something of interest opposite the store.

A brisk jaunt across the street took him to the lone truck, a civilian four-wheel drive affair, conspicuous only in that it had not been there when he had arrived with the Army.

Unlikely that government agents would have left anything too informative lying around in an unguarded vehicle. Still, the opportunity to find more details of the CIA operation here - without the need for all that verbal duelling with Captain Shaw - was simply too good to pa.s.s up. Especially as the agents' arrival was such a surprise to the Captain.

That the vehicle was locked was a very minor deterrent, given all that the Doctor could see through the lace-curtain of frost drawn over the windows.

Making sure Lieutenant Beard and his troops were properly focused on their job, the Doctor tried not to look too furtive as he picked the lock on the rear door. Within moments he was clambering inside and pulling the door closed.

Settling hack, he cast his gaze over the treasures littering the seat beside him.

He riffled through some of the doc.u.ments, quietly absorbing the top few pages of each; but most appeared to be dossiers on members or suspected members of the cult. He turned over a few of the gadgets, examining each with expert indifference.

Amongst all the leading edge surveillance and communications equipment, there was a graviton distortion sensor that was definitely not standard CIA issue.

As well as a raised brow, it prompted the Doctor to wonder unhappily about the number of s.p.a.cecraft the authorities mast have plundered. The Doctor considered confiscating it: the device was a possible - if imprecise - means of locating the TARDIS.

He returned it to the pile for now, and turned instead to the genuine prize of the cache, lifting it onto his lap and flipping back the screen. He wouldn't have a lot of time.

Rummaging through his pockets, he wondered if he happened to be carrying any kind of power cell he could readily adapt. He imagined CIA agents were the sort of people who might monitor battery usage on their laptop computers fairly closely Even if they were relatively careless with their storage arrangements.

Energy was currency in some societies, and he wouldn't want to be accused of stealing.

The wind was getting pretty loud, but Paul Falvi was listening to the whispers underneath. Somehow the absence of sound was making itself heard. Whoever said silence was golden needed to be here right now. Barnes probably wouldn't object to the extra company.

They both thought they'd heard Eastman's shout, but that had been long minutes ago.

Three more bursts of automatic fire might have come from Eastman or Pelham. If McKim or Bederman had been firing, they wouldn't have heard it anyway: the Heckler & Koch MP5SD was a submachinegun with a finger to its lips.

Time ticked by to the beat of blood in Falvi's temples. The wind played Chinese whispers with the possibilities running through his mind. Whether Pelham or Eastman, the howling silence was telling him he would never know an answer.

'You see anything?' Falvi fought to keep the panic from his voice.

'I - thought I saw something. Maybe. I don't know.'

Barnes retreated, drawing alongside Falvi. He could appreciate the closeness, but there were no thoughts of flirting in his head now. This was about security. And not any real security either, just a kid's false sense that because he was with his friend n.o.body could hurt him. Never mind that the friend was a kid no older or wiser than him.

For a while, he prayed to hear more voices, more shots cracking the cold air.

Beside him, Barnes held her rifle at the ready and scanned the woods. Great gusts blew in more snow to obscure even the closest trees. Even on his back Falvi could judge that they'd have ten or fifteen yards at best if anything did come at them.

Barnes raised the rifle to her eye. Lowered it straight after.

'What? What was It?'

'I - don't know. Maybe nothing. 'She shook her head, nostrils flared and mouth all tight.

'Hey, Barnes, give me a pistol. Help me sit up.'

She stared down at him. 'Are you nuts?' She was about to add something more, but Falvi saw the change of mind in her eyes. Maybe it was the plea she'd seen in his that did it.

Whatever, she slung the rifle and hooked her arms under him to start lifting. Falvi grit his teeth, but he let the pain out with plenty of volume all the same. In short time, he was propped against a tree, panting hard, and Barnes handed him her automatic.

She eased the rifle back off her shoulder and dropped down beside him and waited for him to flick the safety off before reaching over to clasp his left hand. She swallowed, then looked away. But she hadn't let go.

Now his arms were out of the sleeping bag, Falvi felt the cold all over. He searched around, waiting for the ghosts to attack from out of the white wood.

'You know,' he confessed, 'I only ever read that one bit of Lord of the Rings.' Lord of the Rings.'

Barnes pressed his hand tighter.

Falvi flinched and shuddered. Barnes' fingernails digging into his palm were like icicles. Then he remembered: she was wearing gloves.

He turned his head, his breathing galloping away from him, and he saw that she'd gone. She simply wasn't there. He looked down at his hand.

There wasn't time for anything else.

Chapter Eleven.

There was a rap of knuckles at the window.

The Doctor snapped the laptop shut. There was much more to be learned, but he would have to make do with other sources.

Lieutenant Beard stood back as the Doctor exited the truck. 'Hallo there,' the Doctor doffed his hat. He swung the car door closed behind him as a pretend afterthought. 'What can I do for you, Lieutenant?'

'Captain Shaw was wondering where you'd disappeared.

They could use your help inside.'

'Of course they could. Lead on.'

Whatever suspicions the Lieutenant was entertaining, the Doctor let him keep them. Tracks left by vehicles were already refilling with fresh snow. As the Doctor trudged through the miniature rifts, he retraced his path through the information he had gleaned.

Mines of information were much like the conventional kind: labyrinthine tunnels and if you didn't tread carefully you could cause a collapse. Negotiating his way around the hard disk hadn't been difficult, but sifting the files for relevant information had been like panning for gold in the Yukon. It was somewhat distracting, if vaguely flattering, to discover numerous references to unrelated UNIT cases, including several of those in which he'd had no small personal involvement. Fortunately, surprisingly few of the key files were encrypted and those that were unravelled themselves swiftly enough in the face of a home-grown decryption program the Doctor had found hanging on a custom toolbar That in itself was of pa.s.sing interest, because the interface looked to have been written by an enthusiastic amateur.

A curiosity, but an indispensable tool nonetheless The software trotted through a mult.i.tude of algorithms at once and blew down encryption walls without so much as a huff or puff.

The data confirmed what he had heard so far. Along with some behind-the-scenes secrets.

When Operation Afterburn was conceived in the early 60s, the CIA had been in possession of an extraterrestrial artefact they designated Prism. Grill Flame, their ESP/Remote Viewing programme, had confirmed the suitability of the device for a proposed application of those same researches.

Unfortunately for the Agency, the application required a formidable psychic talent, and the Cold War had thawed by the time the first viable candidates had graduated.