Doctor Who_ World Game - Doctor Who_ World Game Part 11
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Doctor Who_ World Game Part 11

They were certainly a tough lot, and Wellesley kept them in order with discipline that was as ruthless as it was effective. Military offenders were flogged. Looters were hung.

On the other hand, he took care that, as far as possible, his men were well provisioned and well supplied. So long as his soldiers followed his orders he led them to victory, and got as few of them as possible killed in the process. They didn't exactly love him but they were always glad to see his tall figure and beaky nose on the battlefield.

The two men were talking, or rather one was talking and the other listening. Lord Nelson was holding forth animatedly and at some length on the state of the country and on affairs on the continent.

The more taciturn Wellesley listened patiently, though not without an occasional comment of his own. He criticised Vice-Admiral Calder's recent fleet action against the French Admiral Villeneuve. 'It was feeble, my lord, feeble! He failed to make a dash at the enemy the kind which produces the conclusive victory your lordship has taught the British public to expect.'

Nelson agreed enthusiastically. 'I have always told my officers, no captain can do very wrong if he places his ship alongside the enemy!' He was equally ready to pronounce on military affairs. 'Sardinia, that's the place, Wellesley,' Nelson said. 'They should send you with an expedition to attack the French in Sardinia, that's the weak point.'

Wellesley listened with polite amusement as the excited little admiral held forth on the dithering and incompetence of the Government and the proper conduct of the war. Yet he was far from bored. On the contrary Nelson's analysis of events was shrewd and well-informed.

It was significant, thought Wellesley, that the Admiral's concerns extended far beyond Naval affairs, and the fate of the ships under his command. He understood that naval warfare, all warfare, was inextricably linked with politics and diplomacy. It occurred to Sir Arthur Wellesley that the same was true of military affairs. There were lessons to be learned here...

The Doctor and Serena posted themselves close to the entrance of the Colonial Office. From time to time the Doctor looked impatiently at his watch, as if waiting for someone who was very late.

Finally yet another carriage arrived. A man wearing an official uniform of some kind and carrying a small packet, got out and went into the Colonial Office.

'Come on said the Doctor urgently. 'This is it! That was, what's-his-name, Valmont.'

'The man in the Countess's carriage,' said Serena. 'I know. What are we going to do?'

They were already hurrying towards the Colonial Office.

'I must intercept him,' said the Doctor. 'You distract the porter.'

'How?'

'Insist on seeing Lord Nelson,' said the Doctor.

'How am I supposed to manage that?'

'I don't know. Improvise. Be dramatic. Say you're Lady Hamilton?'

They hurried into the foyer of the Colonial Office and a uniformed porter came forward to greet them. 'May I assist you?'

'That man who just came in,' said the Doctor urgently.

'Who was he?'

Such was the authority in his voice that the porter answered automatically. 'Official Foreign Office messenger with official documents for Lord Castlereagh ' He broke off.

'Here, what's it to you? Who are you?'

The Doctor dodged round him and sprinted up the wide Colonial Office staircase. The porter yelled, 'You, come back!' and made to set off after him.

But he was blocked by Serena, who flung herself into his arms.

'Madam, please...'

Serena grasped his wrists. 'I beg you, I must see Lord Nelson. It's a matter of life and death.'

The porter struggled to free himself, but Serena was surprisingly strong. 'His lordship is waiting to see Lord Castlereagh, madam. I'm sure he'll see you as soon as he's free.'

'You don't understand,' sobbed Serena, showing a talent for melodrama that surprised even herself. 'I am Lady Hamilton. I must see my hero before he departs for battle...'

The Doctor reached the top of the stairs in time to see the messenger disappearing through a door at the far end of the long corridor to his right.

He hurried after him.

Lord Nelson was holding forth on the proper conduct of the war. 'The Peninsula, Wellesley, that's the key. Boney's conquered so much territory that his forces are stretched far too thin, and the Spanish are unreliable allies at best...'

He was interrupted by a deferential tap on the door. It opened revealing a slim, handsome young man in the uniform of a Foreign Office messenger. He bowed low.

'My lord, Sir Arthur, my humble apologies for this interruption.'

He sounded, thought Lord Nelson idly, more smug than humble.

'Well?' snapped Wellesley.

The messenger held out a sealed packet. 'Vital documents from the Foreign Office. It is essential that Lord Castlereagh receives them as soon as possible. At present he cannot be interrupted, but if the first of you two gentlemen to see him would be kind enough to pass them over...'

'Damned cheek if you ask me,' grumbled Wellesley. He turned to Lord Nelson. 'That will be you, my lord. If you have no objection to being used as a messenger boy...'

'None at all,' murmured Nelson.

'Very well,' said Wellesley. 'You can put the documents on the table. His lordship will take them in to Lord Castlereagh.'

The messenger placed the packet on the table between the two men, bowed again and turned to leave.

A smallish black-haired man shot into the room as if fired from a cannon and tackled the messenger, bringing him down. Pinning down his opponent by sitting on his head, the Doctor yelled, 'Nobody touch that packet, it's a bomb!'

The porter burst into the room, accompanied by a younger colleague, Serena close behind them. The Doctor jumped up, dragged the messenger to his feet by the scruff of his neck and thrust him into the arms of the two porters. 'Hang on to him, he's an assassin!' Ignoring the struggling young man he studied the packet.

'Delayed action fuse, most likely,' he muttered. 'Just enough time for him to get safely away, matter of a few minutes probably.' He turned to the porters. 'I need a window, overlooking some kind of open space, as near as possible.

Quickly now!'

The younger porter, a little brighter than his bemused colleague,' said, 'Back along the corridor, sir, third window on the right. Looks out on the garden.'

Gingerly the Doctor picked up the packet from the table it wouldn't do to jar it and hurried down the corridor. When he reached the third window it was shut. He put the packet down carefully at his feet and struggled to raise the window.

Long unused, it opened a bare inch and then stuck. The Doctor heaved, but it was no good.

A voice behind him said, 'Allow me to assist you, sir.' He turned and saw Sir Arthur Wellesley.

'Please, go back to the anteroom,' said the Doctor. 'Better yet, leave the building and take Lord Nelson with you. If this thing goes off...'

Ignoring him, Wellesley thrust powerful fingers into the gap below the window and began to heave. The Doctor joined him, they both strained desperately and the window shot open with a protesting shriek.

It revealed a small walled garden with a stagnant-looking pond at the centre.

'Excellent,' said the Doctor. 'Now then...'

He picked up the packet, took careful aim and skimmed it through the window. It arced through the air, dropped in the exact centre of the stagnant pond with a scarcely audible splash and sank.

That was all.

Wellesley looked down at the Doctor with tolerant amusement. 'Didn't think it could really be a bomb, y'know.

Far too small to do any real damage. I'm afraid, sir, you may be in considerable trouble for destroying important Government papers.'

'Wait,' said the Doctor.

There was a deep muffled crump crump, the floor vibrated beneath their feet, windows rattled and shattered all around, and the blast thrust them back like an invisible giant hand as the pond erupted into a huge column of water. The column hung poised for a moment and then collapsed, showering the windows around the garden with water-drops.

'My God, sir,' said Wellesley, who seldom swore or blasphemed. 'If that device had exploded inside a small room...'

The Doctor nodded. 'England would have lost two of her greatest heroes.'

'One surely,' said Wellesley. 'I have had some small success in India, but my name is little known here in England.'

'It will be. Today the fate of England depends on Lord Nelson. One day it will depend on you. Never doubt it.'

Wellesley looked at him strangely. 'You are among the prophets, it seems.' He changed the subject. 'What kind of powder were they using? If I had something like that in my cannon...'

'It would blow them to pieces,' said the Doctor. 'The explosive was experimental, not currently available. Be content with the black powder you have. Your muskets and cannon wreak quite enough slaughter for the present age.'

They began walking back to the anteroom, and found concerned clerks and officials milling about outside.

Wellesley brushed them aside, ignoring their questions and they went inside.

Serena and the hall porter were talking to a bemused Lord Nelson.

'I assure you, my lord, the lady said said she was Lady Hamilton,' insisted the porter. she was Lady Hamilton,' insisted the porter.

'Nonsense,' said Serena. 'I said I was from from Lady Hamilton, with a message for his lordship. Her ladyship begs that you will return to her side as soon as you are free.' Lady Hamilton, with a message for his lordship. Her ladyship begs that you will return to her side as soon as you are free.'

Lord Nelson smiled. 'She already has my assurance that I will do so. Still, my dear Emma has always had a tendency towards the dramatic her early theatrical background, no doubt.' He took Serena's hand and kissed it. 'It was kind of you to bring the message. I hope these unfortunate events haven't caused you too much distress.'

He gazed into her green eyes and smiled, and Serena felt a flutter of quite unaccustomed emotions. She curtseyed.

'Not at all, my lord. It was a pleasure to be of service.'

Nelson turned to Wellesley. 'I collect that our friend's intelligence about the packet proved to be accurate?'

'You may say so, my lord,' said Wellesley dryly. He swung round on the porters. 'Where is our assassin? Safely incarcerated?'

'I'm afraid he got away, sir,' said the porter miserably. 'We had hold of him and somehow he just vanished.'

'You bungling fool,' said Wellesley. He looked ruefully at the Doctor. 'Have we any clue to the man's identity? Or that of his employers?'

The Doctor shook his head.

'For that matter, we have little clue as to your your identity, sir,' identity, sir,'

said Nelson gently.

'Well, I am usually known as the Doctor...'

'No shillyshallying, sir,' said Wellesley. 'Who are you? And more to the point, what what are you?' are you?'

The Doctor had foreseen that sooner or later someone would corner him with such a question. He had prepared an explanation.

'The Prime Minister runs a small private intelligence department,' said the Doctor. 'Those who belong to it prefer to remain as inconspicuous as possible.'

(Both these statements were perfectly true, reflected the Doctor. They just didn't apply to him. Of course, if anyone chose to assume that they did...) 'So, you're one of Mr Pitt's spies,' said Wellesley.

'The term secret agent is preferred in the profession,'

murmured the Doctor. 'An inglorious profession in many ways but then, both of you must be aware of the importance of intelligence.'

'Very true, sir,' said Nelson. 'I'd sacrifice another limb to know exactly where Villeneuve's fleet is heading.'

Wellesley nodded in agreement. 'The secret of success in battle lies in finding out what's on the other side of the hill. It's easier by far if someone comes and tells you.'

'You deserve both praise and reward for what you have done today,' said Lord Nelson. 'I shall see that Lord Castlereagh is made aware of how much we owe you.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'I should be grateful if my name were not to be mentioned in this affair. Let it be thought that you discovered and dealt with the would-be assassin yourselves.'

There was a note of authority in his voice which both men responded to instinctively. These days they were more accustomed to giving orders, but they were used to taking them too.

'Very well,' said Wellesley. 'If that's what you want.'