‘Don’t be such a defeatist,’ the Doctor answered. ‘We’re only prisoners because I thought it was the best way of getting answers.’

Donna stared at him suspiciously. ‘You’re trying to tell me you allowed them to capture us?’

‘Of course.’ He looked at her innocently. ‘I thought we’d meet up with Susan that way. I should have known she’d have escaped, of course. And since she’s now investigating DA‐17, it seemed to me that it was my duty to check on what Haldoran thinks he’s up to. And allowing us to be taken to him was the obvious method.’

Donna was feeling more and more uncertain now She was wavering between fear and hope – but at least there was hope. ‘I thought this was none of your business,’ she said finally.

‘That was before the Dalek Artefact.’ he answered. ‘That changes everything. I have no option but to act now.’ He smiled. ‘As long as you’ve no objection to accepting help from a non‐Earthman, that is.’

Donna managed a weak smile back. ’Personally, I’m all for it,’ she assured him. ‘Just as long as my father never finds out you’re an alien.’

‘I promise not to tell him.’ The Doctor’s eyes sparkled as he held up a slender, wandlike object. ‘A little proof that I really can get us out when I wish. My sonic screwdriver.’

David scowled. ‘Didn’t the guards take that away from you?’ he objected.

‘Yes,’ the Doctor said with a grin. ‘But I’m most adept at sleight of hand. You should see my Las Vegas act sometime.’ He hardly seemed to move his hand, but the device had vanished again ‘I can do wonderful things with coins, too. But they took all of those.’

Hope was starting to win out in Donna’s mind now. He seemed to be more than a trifle eccentric, but there was something about the Doctor that made you realise that there was more to him than what you saw. A little like his TARDIS, really – when you penetrated the surface, there was far more than you dreamed possible.

The runabout came to a halt, and a moment later the doors were flung open. Four armed guards stood there, rifles aimed at the prisoners. ‘Out,’ one of them said.

Donna’s stomach knotted, as she prepared for what was bound to happen. The fear was back in full force now that she was so close to Haldoran.

The Doctor hopped out of the runabout, and looked around, acting for all the world as if he were a tourist on some trip. ‘Leeds Castle,’ he exclaimed cheerfully ‘One of my favourite places. Though I don’t think much of the fresh decor. It ought to be light Middle Ages, you know, with perhaps just a hint of Regency.’

‘Shut up,’ the guard said. ‘You ll be told when it’s time to talk.’

‘Most kind.’ The Doctor held out his hand to help Donna down from the runabout. Her eyes darted about the all‐too‐familiar walls and buildings of Castle Haldoran.

Hell was about to be revisited. But at least this time she had company.

The Doctor took her hand in his. ‘Brave heart,’ he murmured.

Susan couldn’t help feeling flashes of déjà vu as she was led by the Dalek through the corridors of the complex that was DA‐17. It wasn’t simply a shaft, she realised, but a small city of some kind. It was so similar to the one in which she’d been trapped on the Dalek homeworld of Skaro. Completely metallic, with long corridors, slightly too low to stand comfortably, since they were built to Dalek height. Doors that slid upward when activated. And no decorations or windows of any kind. Claustrophobic and inhospitable.

So what was it doing here on Earth? Clearly the Daleks must have constructed it during their invasion, but why go to all that trouble? She glanced at the Dalek in front of her, and immediately dismissed any thoughts of escape. But where would she go even if she could somehow overcome it? They had passed several dozen other Daleks by this point, all of them intent on their own arcane functions. The only minor relief for Susan was the presence of the broadcast‐power receiver on the Daleks’ backs. This ensured that they couldn’t travel very far from their source of power, which had to mean they were limited to being inside this underground complex, at least for the time being.

‘You couldn’t all have survived down here all of this time,’ she said suddenly. ‘You were all killed off thirty years ago.’

‘Answers are unnecessary,’ the Dalek informed her. ‘You do not need to know.’

‘Perhaps not,’ Susan conceded. ‘But I want to know. How did you survive?’

‘We did not,’ the Dalek replied. ‘You will speak only when given permission. You have not been given permission.’

‘But –’

The Dalek swivelled around suddenly, its gun‐stick pointed firmly at her. ‘A prisoner is needed for interrogation. It need not be you. You will be silent until told to speak, or you will be exterminated.’

Susan swallowed, and then nodded her understanding. Daleks, as ever, were blunt and to the point. And totally without interest in, or mercy towards, their victims. The Dalek swung back around, and continued to lead her deeper into this maddening, mysterious complex.

Tomlin waved his arms in the air to stop the approaching runabout. It came to a gentle halt about ten feet from where he stood in the ruined road. Moving with calm, Tomlin approached the vehicle, recognising the colours of Barlow on the bonnet. He bent down to smile at the driver, a young man.

‘Thank you for stopping,’ he said politely. ‘Do you know who I am?’

‘Uh, yes, sir,’ the youngster replied. ‘General Tomlin, sir.’

‘Very good,’ Tomlin said approvingly. He brought his pistol up and fired once scattering the man’s brains all over the back seat of the vehicle. ‘I have greater need of this than you do.’ He pushed the corpse out of the door, and clambered behind the wheel.

He set the runabout in motion, and turned it back down the road, heading for Castle Haldoran.

‘There’s a message from General Craddock, my Lord,’ the operator called.

Haldoran looked up from his map and nodded. ‘And what does he want?’ he asked.

‘To speak to you, my Lord. Says it’s urgent.’

‘Is it, indeed?’ Smiling to himself, Haldoran walked over to pick up the proffered headset. ‘What is it, Craddock?’

‘My Lord,’ the soldier’s voice replied, ‘I’ve been observing the effect of the Dalek weapons. They’re tremendously effective.’

‘That I already knew,’ Haldoran snapped. ‘Come to the point.’

‘I want the next batch issued to my men, my Lord,’ Craddock replied bluntly. ‘Barlow has enough of them already.’

Haldoran’s smile widened. As he’d hoped, there was a wedge between the two men. Perfect! ‘I’ll give your request some thought,’ he promised. ‘Now, get back to taking my capital.’ He returned the headset to the operator, and strode back to his war table grinning at Estro. ‘It looks like Portney gets to keep his hands,’ he said cheerfully. ‘At least for now Craddock is demanding the next set of Dalek weapons for his men.’

Estro smiled back. ‘And you plan to give them to him?’

‘Certainly not,’ Haldoran answered. He turned back to the radio operator. ‘Call Barlow and tell him that he can come back here in person and pick up the next hatch of weapons.’ He smiled at Estro. ‘That should make the rift even stronger,’ he said. ‘They’ll both work for me, but they won’t work with one another, of that I’m certain.’

‘A sound decision,’ Estro agreed.

A guard entered the war room and saluted. ‘Sir, a batch of prisoners has arrived. They were taken at DA‐17.’

‘Were they indeed?’ Estro purred. ‘With your permission, my Lord, I should like to interrogate these prisoners personally I need to know how much London’s men know about the Artefact.’

Haldoran inclined his head in permission. ‘Take Downs with you,’ he decided. ‘He has a… wonderful capacity for extracting information.’