Doctor Who - Target Novelisations - 155 - The Evil of the Daleks by John Peel;David Whitaker

Author:John Peel;David Whitaker
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science Fiction, General, Fiction
ISBN: 9780426203896
Publisher: Doctor Who Books
Published: 1993-10-14T07:00:00+00:00

There was only Mollie, the cook and a couple of menservants left. Plus Maxtible’s daughter, and that strange fiancé of hers. And how could any of them think that what was happening in this house was normal? They must surely all suspect something. He looked down at Toby’s corpse and shook his head. ‘No. I won’t do it.’

‘That is an order,’ the Dalek said.

Grasping Waterfield by the elbow, Maxtible dragged him away from the Dalek a few paces. ‘My dear fellow,’ he said with urgency in his voice, ‘we must do as they say. We can’t anger them. Do you want to end up like that unfortunate fellow? How will you help Victoria then?’ He bent down and pulled a large dust cloth from beneath the work-bench. ‘Wrap the body in that.’

Waterfield shook his head once. ‘No.’ His voice was dull and lifeless.

‘But we must!’ hissed Maxtible. ‘Have you lost your mind? Don’t you want to see your daughter again?’

The scientist shook himself, and a slight sob escaped his lips. Then he bowed his head and picked up the sheet.

With heavy steps, he moved to Toby’s corpse. He spread the sheet on the ground, then fell on his knees beside the body. Maxtible came to assist, and he heard Waterfield muttering to himself, ‘No end to all this evil. No end.’ He stared at his fists. ‘The hands of the Devil . . .’

This was just so much nonsense to the Dalek. ‘Dispose of the body,’ it repeated. ‘Obey.’ Then, certain they would do as they had been ordered, it turned and re-entered the cabinet.

Maxtible slapped Waterfield angrily on the arm. ‘What’s the matter with you?’ he snapped. ‘Can we be blamed for all the things that have happened here?’ The scientist ignored him and continued to position Toby’s body on the sheet, then started to wrap the dust cloth about it. Irritated by his companion’s attitude, the financier stormed on, ‘No English judge or jury would find it in their hearts to convict us of a solitary thing.’

A strange, almost serene, expression in his eyes, Waterfield shook his head. ‘It will never come to that,’ he replied with certainty.

‘And what is that remark supposed to mean?’ growled Maxtible.

‘I have one purpose left in my life and one purpose only.’ Waterfield completed wrapping the body and stood up. ‘That is to see my daughter out of the clutches of those foul creatures. When that is achieved, I shall surrender myself to the authorities and confess my part in all that has happened.’ He bent to grip the edge of the cloth and started to drag the wrapped body towards the door.

Maxtible watched him warily. Then his hand went to a drawer in the work-bench. He opened it a few inches and groped within, watching Waterfield all the time. His hands closed on the Webley pistol he kept in there for emergencies. It was one swift movement to transfer the gun to his jacket pocket, and he closed the drawer silently.

Looking up from his exertions, Waterfield said: ‘You must help me.

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