Doctor Who: Target - Novelisations [023] - The Doomsday Weapon by Malcolm Hulke

Author:Malcolm Hulke
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Tags: Science-Fiction - Doctor Who
ISBN: 9780426103721
Publisher: Target Books
Published: 1986-02-14T23:00:00+00:00

12

The Bomb

Jo turned to escape, but suddenly the control room of the IMC spaceship was full of IMC men who had been hiding. She and Winton had walked into a trap.

‘Grab them,’ ordered Dent, and the IMC men pinned the prisoners’ ands behind their backs. ‘Now let me explain our mining methods,’ said Dent. ‘We use a lot of explosive charges – bombs, if you like. These bombs are exploded by remote-control radio. A charge set ten or twenty kilometres from here can be made to explode by a touch of this button.’ Dent put a finger on to a button on the control console. He turned to Jo. ‘Your friend the Doctor will be invited here. I shall explain that if he does not retract his ridiculous story about attempted murder, I shall press this button. I shall also explain that you and your companion will be killed instantly if I am moved to press that button.’ He then turned to his men. ‘All right, carry out the exercise.’

The IMC men set to work binding their prisoners’ arms and legs, and gagging them. Then big plastic sacks were brought in, and Jo and Winton each put into one.

After that Jo was conscious of being carried down a corridor, into the open, and then being driven on some vehicle for a distance over the rough terrain. When the sacks were removed they were by the ruin of a small single-room stone building. It had no roof or door or windows. They were still surrounded by IMC men, who quickly removed the gags and untied their arms and legs. Then they were frog-marched into the ruin. Two IMC men inside were gently putting a plain metal box down in the middle of what had been the floor. A third IMC man was using a sledge-hammer to drive into the floor a metal spike with a big ring in it. Now an IMC man quickly put a manacle on to one of Jo’s wrists, and another manacle on to one of Winton’s, then attached chains from them to a ring on the plain metal box; and, having done that, he attached another chain from the box to the metal spike driven into the floor. The attachment of Jo and Winton to the metal box – obviously a bomb of some sort – and of the box to the spike in the floor was done in under a minute, and without a word being spoken by the IMC men. The job done, the IMC men stepped back, and the one who seemed to be in charge came forward and adjusted a control on the side of the box. Immediately, a light started to flash on top of the box. Under the IMC badge on this man’s tunic as his name and rank in small letters, ‘Security Guard Allen’. Winton wrenched wildly at his manacles, tautening the chain that held him to the metal box.

‘I wouldn’t do that,’ cautioned Allen, ‘unless you want to blow yourself to bits.

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