Doctor Who: Players: 50th Anniversary Edition

by Dicks, Terrance

  Dekker got in the front beside the Op, the Doctor and Peri got in the back, and the little car drove away.

  Von Ribbentrop struggled painfully to his feet.

  He touched the swelling bruise on top of his head and winced. Dazed and semi-conscious, he staggered into the Embassy hallway. He looked round, taking in the full extent of the disaster.

  Sergeant Schultz lay bleeding and unconscious close to the front door.

  Heinz Muller, his driver and bodyguard, lay in a spreading pool of blood at the bottom of the stairs.

  The girl, of course, had gone.

  Von Ribbentrop felt a sudden stab of panic.

  The list!

  He patted his tunic pocket and the wad of folded flimsy paper crackled reassuringly.

  At least he still had the list…

  ‘It’s called the Chicago speakeasy technique,’ explained the Doctor, proud of his new expertise. ‘It’s what you might call simple but effective!’

  ‘How does it work exactly?’ asked Peri.

  ‘Somebody makes all the fuss he can to distract people at the front of the house, while somebody else smashes their way in at the back!’

  ‘Well, it seemed to work, anyway,’ said Peri. ‘Thank you all very much! And thank your little friend for me too, Dekker.’

  They were in the sitting-room at Hill Street, enjoying pre-dinner drinks. The Op had simply faded away.

  ‘Why wouldn’t he come in even for a drink?’ asked Peri.

  ‘Jimmy’s not all that social,’ said Dekker. ‘I think this place is a little too high-toned for him.’

  ‘Where did he go?’

  Dekker smiled. ‘He’s around.’

  The Doctor began studying the list that Peri had taken from von Ribbentrop.

  ‘Is that thing important?’ asked Dekker.

  ‘Important is hardly the word,’ said the Doctor.

  Peri looked disappointed. ‘Sorry. Old von Ribbentrop seemed so worked up about it I –’

  ‘You misunderstand me, Peri. I meant that “important” just isn’t an adequate description.’ He raised his voice for effect. ‘Vital, crucial and earth-shattering would be far more appropriate.’

  ‘What is it exactly?’ asked Dekker.

  ‘It’s a list of names, some of which I know and some of which I don’t. Names and certain specific instructions,’ said the Doctor. ‘Peri, tell me again what von Ribbentrop said on the phone.’

  Peri thought for a moment.

  ‘He said, yes, yes, Count, he understood. He said he had the list, it was for the Fuehrer. And he said something about a signal from the fort, tomorrow night.’

  The Doctor looked at Peri and Dekker. ‘This may be the key to the entire conspiracy!’

  He fished in his pocket, took out two visiting cards and went over to the telephone.

  ‘Operator, I want to make two urgent calls. One to a Colonel Carstairs and the other to Mr Winston Churchill…’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  TRAP

  ‘I ALREADY KNOW many of these names, Doctor,’ said Carstairs.

  The Doctor nodded. ‘I rather thought you would. They’re all Nazi sympathisers, I take it?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Carstairs grimly, ‘Either open or hidden. People we suspect might operate as spies in the event of war, or be collaborators if, heaven forbid, we were ever occupied. Quite a few of them are already under surveillance.’

  ‘Indeed,’ mused the Doctor.

  Carstairs looked up from the list, his face grave. ‘But there are other names here… Names I would never have suspected.’ He stood up and began pacing about the room. ‘If all these people are Nazi sympathisers – and to be on von Ribbentrop’s list they have to be – well, things are far worse than I thought. There are names here from Parliament, the Police, the Army, the Civil Service… An appalling number of members of the aristocracy… And not just here in London either, but all over the country. It seems the country’s riddled with potential traitors!’

  It was the following morning, and the Doctor and Peri were in the sitting-room of Carstairs’ little house in Chelsea, waiting for Winston Churchill. The Doctor had been unable to reach him the previous evening, and had simply left a message that Peri was safe and that he had important news.

  This morning Churchill had been tied up in a meeting in Downing Street. He had promised to join them for an urgent conference as soon as he was free.

  Dekker and the Op were off on business of their own.

  An attractive woman in her forties came into the room carrying a laden tray. ‘I thought you might like some coffee and biscuits,’ she said in a high, clear upper-class voice.

  The Doctor jumped to his feet. ‘Lady Jennifer, how splendid to see you –’ He managed to bite off the word ‘again’ just in time.

  Carstairs gave him a puzzled look and said, ‘Doctor, Miss Brown, this is my wife Jennifer. Darling, this is the Doctor Smith I was telling you about.’ He gave the Doctor a thoughtful look and added, ‘Not our Doctor, of course, though the name’s the same.’

  ‘I can see that for myself, dear. How do you do, Doctor Smith, Miss Brown. And it’s just plain Jennifer, please. I stopped using the title when Jeremy and I got married.’ She smiled. ‘I’m waiting till Jeremy gets his knighthood!’

  ‘That’ll be the day,’ said Carstairs, smiling.

  Lady Jennifer – the Doctor found it impossible to think of her as anything else – served them all with refreshments and then tactfully disappeared.

  The Doctor picked up Ribbentrop’s list. ‘As you say, Colonel Carstairs, we have to assume that everyone on this list is a traitor-in-waiting. Now, the accompanying notes make it clear that all those named are to take certain unspecified actions “when they get the signal”.’

  ‘Von Ribbentrop said something about waiting for the signal from the fort,’ said Peri. She looked at Carstairs. ‘Sounds like some kind of military set-up. Maybe the Army’s going to try to carry out a coup d’etat?’

  ‘Nonsense!’ said Carstairs indignantly. ‘Oh, there are high-ranking military officers on this list, I admit, but the Army as a whole is perfectly sound, believe me, and so are all the rest of the armed services. Anyway, these days, most forts are historical sites for tourists, not active military bases.’

  ‘These people are spread out all over the country,’ said the Doctor. ‘How are they going to get a signal to all of them at one and the same time?’

  ‘Radio sets,’ suggested Peri. ‘If they all had receivers that could pick up some central transmission from this fort…’

  ‘Not very likely,’ said Carstairs. ‘The Broadcasting Corporation has more than enough trouble trying to cover the entire country. It’s hard to see how some amateur set-up could do it.’

  ‘Maybe they’re using the BBC!’

  ‘The British Broadcasting Corporation transmitting treasonous messages?’ said Carstairs, shocked. ‘Please, Miss Brown, some things are sacred!’

  Peri, who was sitting by the window, saw a black limousine draw up outside. Before the chauffeur could open the passenger door, a rotund figure in a black overcoat and Homburg hat clambered out of the back and climbed swiftly up the steps.

  ‘Mr Churchill’s arrived,’ said Peri.

  They heard the ring of the doorbell, and a moment later Winston Churchill bounded into the room, followed by Lady Jennifer. It was obvious that he was in a state of great excitement. Waving away the offer of coffee he said, ‘I bear grave news.’

  They all looked expectantly at him.

  ‘I was summoned this morning,’ said Churchill, ‘to attend an urgent meeting in Downing Street. The meeting was to discuss the momentous events of the weekend, and, in particular, to make various arrangements resulting from another meeting last night.’

  He paused impressively, as if making a speech in Parliament. His mystified audience stared back at him expectantly.

  The words ‘Get on with it, Winnie!’ came almost irresistibly to the Doctor’s
mind. Instead he said, gravely, ‘Please continue.’

  ‘In recent weeks, Mr Baldwin, the Prime Minister, has been conducting a series of negotiations and discussions with the King. Matters finally reached an impasse over the weekend. Late last night, I was summoned to attend. I may be out of office, but my counsel is still sought in times of crisis. That is why you were unable to communicate with me, Doctor.’

  ‘What happened, sir?’ asked Carstairs.

  ‘The King declared it his firm and unshakeable intention to marry Wallis Simpson and make her his Queen. Mr Baldwin informed His Majesty that this was unacceptable to the Government, the Church of England, and, indeed, to the British nation as a whole.’

  ‘I’m not sure about that last bit,’ said Peri. ‘From what I hear, quite a lot of ordinary people are on his side.’

  Churchill scowled at the interruption. ‘Ordinary people perhaps, Miss Brown. The more responsible elements, however, are solidly opposed to it.’

  In other words, the middle and upper classes, thought Peri mutinously. Some democracy!

  ‘What happened next?’ asked Lady Jennifer, who was always eager for royal news.

  Churchill made another impressive pause. ‘The King announced that if this was the case, he would surely abdicate!’

  There were satisfyingly astonished gasps from most of his audience.

  The Doctor seemed unruffled. ‘Weren’t you and Mr Baldwin surprised?’ he asked.

  ‘I cannot speak for the Prime Minister, but I myself was astonished,’ said Churchill. ‘Up to now His Majesty has shown every sign of a most distressing obduracy. Indeed, he seemed fully prepared to defy both Government and Church.’

  ‘Suppose he’d persisted in that attitude?’ asked the Doctor. ‘What would have happened?’

  ‘It is hard to say, Doctor. National upheaval, perhaps, of the most appalling kind.’

  ‘It would certainly have been pretty sticky,’ said Carstairs. ‘But isn’t this good news, in a way, sir? I mean, it’s a pity things have come to this, but what with the King’s fondness for Germany, and Mrs Simpson’s links with von Ribbentrop – well, if he’d dug in his heels…’

  ‘Thank heavens he’s seen sense,’ said Lady Jennifer. ‘When he abdicates I suppose Bertie will have to take over.’

  ‘Bertie?’ queried Peri.

  ‘The Duke of York,’ said the Doctor, with an amused look at Lady Jennifer. To her, the royals were just a bunch of often troublesome relatives. ‘The King’s younger brother.’

  ‘Bertie’s terribly sweet,’ said Lady Jennifer. ‘But so shy, poor man. Of course, it’s understandable – he’s been overshadowed by his brother all his life. And that stammer! How he’ll ever manage public speeches…’

  ‘Perhaps he’ll rise to the occasion,’ said the Doctor solemnly. ‘People often do, you know.’

  ‘So they do,’ agreed Lady Jennifer. ‘And Elizabeth’s very practical and sensible, I’m sure she’ll be able to build up his confidence…’

  Cutting off the flow of royal family gossip with another scowl, Churchill said, ‘Something troubles you, Doctor?’

  ‘Yes, it does,’ said the Doctor. ‘The expression “Too good to be true” comes to mind.’

  ‘How so?’

  ‘Well, Peri’s right, you know. The vast majority of ordinary English people are behind the King. He was the People’s Prince for years, and now he’s the People’s King. They’re as besotted with him as he is with Wallis Simpson, so blinded by his charm they fail to see his faults. If he were to go over Baldwin’s head and appeal directly to the country…’

  ‘But he hasn’t!’ said Carstairs.

  ‘Exactly!’ said the Doctor. ‘Why hasn’t he? And don’t tell me it’s his sense of duty – by your own admission, that hasn’t bothered him much until now! So why throw in your hand when you appear to hold most of the cards?’

  There was a moment of silence.

  Churchill broke it. ‘You have some theory to propose, Doctor? Connected, I take it, with the reason for this conference?’

  The Doctor gave him an account of Peri’s rescue, and of the information they’d gained, and Carstairs showed him von Ribbentrop’s list.

  Churchill listened with concentrated attention, studying the list, scowling and shaking his head. Then he turned to the Doctor.

  ‘A sinister discovery indeed, Doctor. And if the King still maintained his posture of defiance, it would be more troubling still. Perhaps some rash action was planned. Perhaps the unhappy King was foolish enough to lend some dastardly scheme his support. But surely he has now repented of it? As Colonel Carstairs implies, his coming abdication defuses the situation.’

  ‘If his repentance is genuine, yes. But suppose it isn’t? You yourself spoke of the obstinacy of the weak.’

  ‘But all is arranged, Doctor,’ said Churchill. ‘Arranged largely in my presence, last night and this morning. Arranged, in my view, with precipitate speed. I begged all parties to take more time, to consider matters more fully but, alas, my advice was ignored. The King gave his full consent to all Mr Baldwin’s proposals. The Instrument of Abdication has been drawn up and will be signed tonight. The King has asked to make a farewell broadcast to the nation and Mr Baldwin has agreed. Arrangements are in hand with the British Broadcasting Corporation even as we speak.’

  ‘Really?’ said Lady Jennifer. ‘The first royal broadcast! How exciting! We must be sure to listen. Is the King going to that funny-looking building in Portland Place?’

  ‘Apparently not,’ said Churchill. ‘It appears that the mountain now has the technical ability to come to Mahomet. A temporary broadcasting studio is even now being assembled.’

  ‘At the Palace?’

  Churchill shook his head. ‘No, no,’ he said, rather impatiently. ‘The King has asked to make the broadcast from Fort Belvedere. He felt he would be more relaxed there. Apparently it is technically quite feasible and the Corporation has agreed…’

  ‘The fort?’ interrupted the Doctor. ‘What fort?’

  ‘Fort Belvedere, the King’s private hideaway,’ explained Lady Jennifer. ‘Down at Sunningdale, in Berkshire. He’s had it for years. A big house on the edge of Windsor Great Park – sort of a mock-castle. It was somewhere to get away from the Palace – and a place to take his girl friends. They say Wallis has pretty well taken it over these days…’

  She broke off, realising that the Doctor and Peri weren’t listening. Instead they were staring at each other in mutual excitement.

  ‘I’m sorry, Carstairs,’ said the Doctor. ‘It seems nothing is sacred after all.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Lady Jennifer in mild surprise.

  The Doctor turned to Churchill. ‘The signal,’ he said. ‘It’ll be transmitted to the nation from the Fort!’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  PREPARATIONS

  NOT MANY PEOPLE can arrive unexpectedly at 10 Downing Street, demand an immediate meeting with the Prime Minister, and be shown inside – but Winston Churchill was one of them. Within ten minutes of his arrival he was facing Stanley Baldwin in his private office.

  Baldwin was a dull, cautious man, who looked and sounded like John Bull. He had always disliked and distrusted the excitable and volatile Churchill.

  ‘Well, what is it now, Winston?’ he asked peevishly. ‘You above all people should know how busy I am today. This morning’s meeting…’

  ‘It is with regard to this morning’s meeting that I have come to see you, Prime Minister,’ said Churchill. ‘You may regard our present encounter as a continuation of it.’

  ‘But everything has now been settled.’

  ‘Possibly,’ said Churchill, adding with sinister emphasis, ‘but there have been certain developments.’

  In a brief and eloquent speech, without mentioning the Doctor by name, he told Baldwin of von Ribbentrop’s list, and the Doctor’s theory. By the time he had finished, Baldwin was gazing at him in utter horror.

  ‘This is a lunatic idea. Win
ston, even for you!’

  ‘Perhaps so,’ said Churchill. ‘But I urge you to consider, Stanley – possibly, just possibly, it is the truth.’ Wagging his finger at the horrified Baldwin, Churchill went on: ‘Consider the consequences for the country, if a sequence of events such as those I have postulated should indeed occur. And consider also. Stanley, the consequences for you yourself.’

  ‘What consequences?’ asked Baldwin warily.

  ‘His Majesty still has some fondness for me,’ said Churchill. ‘However, you he has never really liked. And since you are currently engaged in an attempt to thwart his desires and frustrate the dearest wish of his heart… Well, like many weak men, he has a vindictive streak. In your case, Stanley, I should hazard that a firing squad would be a distinct possibility…’

  Baldwin looked appalled. For some time his mouth moved in silence as he attempted to find words to protest. Eventually, he sighed and looked the other man in the eyes.

  ‘What can I do, Winston?’

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘But if there is anything, anything at all in what you suggest…’ Baldwin shook his head, worriedly. ‘Either action or inaction could have the most terrible consequences!’

  ‘I did not say that nothing should be done, Stanley,’ said Churchill. ‘I said that you should do nothing.’

  ‘But I don’t understand…’

  ‘Leave everything to me,’ said Churchill calmly. ‘I suggest that you develop a diplomatic cold, which will render you unable to attend tonight’s ceremony. Since I was a participant at last night’s meeting, it is natural that you should delegate me to attend in your place.’

  Baldwin looked at him with an expression of dawning hope. ‘Go on, Winston.’

  ‘If I am wrong, and nothing untoward occurs, then no harm has been done.’

  ‘And if you are right?’

  ‘Before I leave, you must give me full written authority to act as I see fit to preserve the security of the state. I shall need a similar document for Colonel Carstairs.’

  Baldwin hesitated. ‘But suppose things go wrong? Suppose whatever measures you take become public? There could still be the most appalling scandal…’