'Never you mind. The point is the Doctor is warned. I must stop him before he stops us. I shall have to take extreme measures.'
'I don't want to know about that, ma'am. I'm an engineer, not a politician or an assassin. Is the new engine component ready? Unless it's installed, and unless it works, the trials will be a disaster. I never got the propulsion problem licked, you know, that's down to you. And there's not much time.'
Realising she had been rather hard on him, the Countess gave him one of her brilliant smiles. 'Don't worry, Mr Fulton, the unit will be in place and it will work. Your trials will be a brilliant success. Your Your trials, remember, nothing to do with me.' trials, remember, nothing to do with me.'
'You deserve some of the credit ma'am, and a share of the profits. I've got this deal with the Emperor, I get fifty per cent of the prize money for every ship we help to capture...Do you know he tried to fob me off with twenty per cent? I sure wasn't having that. Once this proposition really gets going, I reckon the profits will be enormous...'
'They're all yours. All I want is to see Nelson dead and the British defeated.'
'I don't much care who dies, or who's defeated,' said Fulton frankly. 'This isn't my war. All I want is to see my submersible working. If the Emperor doesn't back it, I'll take it to the British. This time next year I may be attacking Napoleon's fleet with it.'
'That wouldn't suit me at all,' said the Countess. 'You concentrate on your current project, Mr Fulton and don't talk to anyone else. If you'll excuse me?'
She moved away, leaving the Grand Salon and passing through a series of anterooms until she reached a small empty chamber with a balcony. She went out onto the balcony and stared up at the starry night sky.
She took a small silver sphere from the bosom of her dress, activated it and waited. It beeped softly and she spoke. 'Listen carefully. Something must be done about the Doctor. He's becoming a serious impediment to my plans.'
She lifted the sphere higher and listened intently for a moment before replying: 'No, we've tried and failed. You You must provide the means to do it. Something he doesn't expect, and won't be able to deal with.' She waited for the reply, then went on: 'Yes, tonight...' She listened for a few moments more and then said, 'That sounds very satisfactory. must provide the means to do it. Something he doesn't expect, and won't be able to deal with.' She waited for the reply, then went on: 'Yes, tonight...' She listened for a few moments more and then said, 'That sounds very satisfactory.
I'll transmit his exact co-ordinates later...'
The Doctor swallowed his last mouthful of chicken pie, brushed away the crumbs and took a final swig of champagne.
'Delicious,' he said. 'You really can't beat French cuisine, you know. The flavour of those tiny little chicken pies...Exquisite!' He looked around hopefully. 'I don't suppose there are any more of them around?'
'Doctor, please,' said Serena. 'Everybody's going home and I want to go too, I'm very tired. I do not want to hang around all evening while you finish off the leftovers.'
'All right, all right, sorry! Let's be off,' he said. He stood up and leaned over Serena to help her rise.
Serena recoiled, waving her fan.
'What's wrong?' asked the Doctor, hurt.
'I'm sorry it's well it's your breath. It must be those things you were eating.'
The Doctor laughed. 'Probably garlic,' he said. 'Always features largely in French cuisine. Eat some yourself then you won't notice it.'
'No, thank you,' said Serena firmly. 'Just breathe away from me for a bit!'
They made their way through the now-thinning crowd in the Grand Salon, along the mirrored corridors and down the great marble staircase, collecting their hats and cloaks from yet more footmen in the foyer.
They came down the steps of the main entrance and out onto the square cobblestoned courtyard in front of the Tuileries Palace, an area so vast that Napoleon often used it to review his troops.
At the moment, the courtyard was filled with the carriages of the departing guests, driving up and collecting them as they waited in little groups at the foot of the steps.
'Ah,' said the Doctor. 'Here's something we didn't think of transport! We haven't got round to setting up our own carriage yet.'
They had walked to the palace, strolling through the pleasant summer evening, but it was later now and the streets were growing dark. And Serena was tired.
'We could walk back, I suppose,' said the Doctor. 'Though I don't suppose you'd care to.'
'Not if I can avoid it.' She looked down at her fashionable shoes, which were really little more than slippers. 'These shoes weren't made for walking, it was bad enough coming here. Can't we pick up a hansom cab in one of the streets nearby?'
'We can try, but we'll be lucky to get one on the Emperor's reception night.'
'We should have come in the TARDIS.'
'I thought about it,' admitted the Doctor. 'But quite apart from the embarrassment of being seen arriving or leaving it seems a bit undignified to use a TARDIS like a taxi.'
Serena was getting impatient. 'Isn't the Emperor supposed to be the finest administrator in Europe? Surely he can administrate a carriage home for us?'
'I'm sure he can,' said the Doctor. 'Not personally, perhaps, but no doubt one of his household could help. We'd better go back inside and ask one of the footmen.'
They were about to remount the steps when a small, plain black carriage pulled up in front of them. The driver, muffled, despite the heat, in a high-collared coat and soft hat leaned down from his box.
'Doctor Dupont and Lady Serena? Special guests of the Emperor?'
The voice was throaty and gruff.
'That's us,' said the Doctor.
'Emperor's sent this carriage for you. Thought you might be in need of it.'
'That's very thoughtful of him,' said Serena.
'Emperor thinks of everything, my lady,' said the driver hoarsely. There seemed to be some kind of obscure amusement in his voice. 'If you'll be good enough to get in?'
The Doctor handed Serena into the coach and climbed in beside her, and the carriage set off, jolting over the cobbles.
The Doctor reached up and pushed open the little trapdoor in the roof.
'Rue Chantereine, please driver. Number six.'
The driver spoke over his shoulder. 'I know where you're going, Doctor.'
The voice seemed different somehow. Clearer and younger this time. But how could that be?
Serena was looking out of the window. Now that they were out of range of the palace illuminations, there was little to be seen in the darkness of the Tuileries Gardens.
'The route seems rather strange, Doctor.'
The Doctor looked out of the window and saw that instead of heading down the driveway that led to the road, they had curved around the palace, and were rattling through the huge dark gardens that were behind it.
'Hey, driver!' he called. 'Where are we going?'
'Short cut through the Tuileries Gardens,' said the curiously altered voice. 'Privilege of the Emperor's guests.'
Again the Doctor and Serena had the feeling that he was laughing at them.
The carriage rocketed on at a reckless speed and soon they left the fountains and flowerbeds of the formal gardens and found themselves carried deep into a little wood. The carriage reached a clearing and pulled to a halt.
'Out you get, Doctor,' said the coachman. 'This is as far as you go!'
'See here, my man, I don't know what you're playing at,'
said the Doctor as he got out of the carriage.
The coachman jumped down from his box. 'Don't you, Doctor?'
Serena descended from the carriage and peered at the coachman's face.
'I thought, so. It's him, Doctor Valmont. The one who was waiting in the Countess's carriage at Fort Carre. The one who carried the bomb to the Colonial Office.'
And indeed it was. The driver threw back his collar and swept off his broad-brimmed hat, revealing petulant, sulky features. 'You'll spoil no more of our plans!'
'Won't I?' said the Doctor grimly. 'And how do you propose to stop me?'
'Oh, it won't be me, Doctor,' said the sneering voice.
'There's someone waiting to meet you.'
'You'll do for now,' said the Doctor and grasped him by the shoulders.
'Time for you to answer a few questions.'
Valmont broke free, stepped back and lashed at the Doctor with his driving whip. Dodging, the Doctor grabbed the whip and wrenched it from his hands.
Suddenly Valmont turned and leaped back up into the driving seat. Shaking the reins and yelling, he set the carriage in motion. It shot forwards and disappeared down the shadowy woodland path, leaving them alone in the clearing. The Doctor turned to Serena. 'Now what was all that about, I wonder?'
'Seems rather a petty trick,' said Serena. 'Going to all this trouble just to strand us in the woods.'
'I think there's a bit more to it than that,' said the Doctor.
'We'd better walk back...'
He broke off, realising that Serena was staring fixedly over his shoulder. Her face was frozen into a mask of unbelieving horror.
The Doctor whirled round, still holding the whip.
Something stood watching him from the shadows at the edge of the clearing. Something very tall and skeletally thin, wrapped in a long black cloak. Its long cadaverous face was dead white and its eyes glowed red.
It smiled horribly, revealing long white fangs.
The Doctor wanted to turn and run but somehow he couldn't move.
Reaching out hungrily with long, clawlike hands the vampire sprang at the Doctor's throat.
Chapter Eighteen.
Vampire
The ferocious speed of the vampire's attack knocked the Doctor over backwards. The vampire landed on top of him, sharp bony knees in his stomach, clawlike hands tearing open his collar, fangs seeking his throat...
Breath knocked out of him, the Doctor gasped...
The creature released him and retreated hissing.
As the Doctor scrambled to his feet it sprang forward again, and the Doctor lashed at it with the long driving whip. It fell back, but only briefly.
Vampires feel little pain.
For a moment they circled each other, the vampire poised for another spring.
The trouble with vampires is that since, in a sense, they're already dead, they are very hard to kill. Decapitation is effective, or the traditional stake through the heart. What he needed, thought the Doctor, was an axe, or a nice sharp stake neither of them easy to lay your hands on in a crisis.
He hadn't even got a crucifix.
Suddenly he realised the solution was in his hands.
As the vampire sprang high in the air, the Doctor grasped the hickory shaft of the whip with both hands and broke it with savage force, snapping it off near the hilt. Casting aside the whip part, he lunged up at the descending vampire thrusting the jagged stump into its chest.
There was a crunch of splintering bone. The vampire gave a high scream and collapsed onto its back, clutching at the protruding hilt.