Doctor Who: The Invasion by Ian Marter Page A

actually took potshots at a UNIT helicopter?'
    Routledge leaned on his desk, smiling wryly. 'Alistair, your chaps were trespassing over their restricted area. What do you expect?'
    'Oh, for heaven's sake, Billy, if Vaughn can't trust my mob then he must have a skeleton in the cupboard.'
     
    The Major-General looked up sharply at this, his green eyes showing a momentary fear. 'I'm sorry. There is no action I can authorise,' he declared in an official tone.
    Lethbridge-Stewart forced himself to calm down. 'Look, I know Vaughn's a powerful chap but there should at least be a discreet inquiry into his organisation,' he proposed reasonably.
    Routledge started to blink rapidly. He mopped his forehead with a spotted handkerchief and cleared his throat awkwardly. 'It isn't our province,' he stalled, loosening his club tie and undoing his top shirt button.
    'Then whose damned province is it?'
    Routledge waved his hands about ineffectually. 'All you've given me is vague reports, Alistair. No conclusive evidence.'
    This was too much for Lethbridge-Stewart. 'No evidence?' he shouted incredulously. 'What do you need, Billy? Corpses?
    Wreckage?' He stopped, noticing that a sickly pallor had crept over Routledge's face. 'What's the matter, Billy? Are you all right, old chap?' he asked with sincere concern.
    Routledge dabbed at his glistening brow again. 'Course I am...
    It's nothing...' he mumbled. 'Probably all a terrible misunderstanding.
    Leave it with me, Alistair. I'll talk to the Home Office.'
    The Brigadier waved his gloves dismissively. 'Talk's no good.
    I want immediate action, Billy.'
    Routledge clutched at his temples and shook visibly.
    'Impossible!' he shouted adamantly.
    The Brigadier leaned across the desk, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. 'What sort of a hold has Vaughn got over you?' he murmured ominously.
    For a few minutes Routledge remained silent, slumped awkwardly in his chair. Then he suddenly sprang up. 'Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart, your forces will take no action whatsoever without my personal authorisation!' he hissed dangerously. 'That is an order.'
    Taken aback by this abrupt transformation, the Brigadier stood to attention. 'General Routledge, you can override my authority but not that of UNIT Central Command, sir,' he declared through clenched teeth. 'I shall telex a full report to Field-Marshal Thatcher in Geneva and act according to his instructions. Good day, sir.'
    With that, he turned smartly on his heel and strode out, jamming his cap firmly on his head.
    Routledge sank shakily into his chair. After a while he touched a button on the videophone and the neat secretary appeared on the screen.
    'Yes, General?'
    With a supreme effort, Routledge pulled himself together. 'Get me International Electromatix Headquarters. Mr Vaughn. Top priority scramble...' he snapped, struggling to preserve his composure.
     
    As Tobias Vaughn, closely followed by Packer, strode purposefully out of the private elevator into his London office, the videophone was bleeping urgently on the desk. At Vaughn's touch the screen flickered and the pale tense features of William Routledge appeared.
    'This is priority scramble, Vaughn.'
    'Yes, Routledge, what is it?' Vaughn demanded impatiently.
    'I'm busy.'
    'Listen, Vaughn, Lethbridge-Stewart's started stirring things up and I can't prevent him,' Routledge blurted out.
    Vaughn snorted contemptuously. 'Nonsense, pull yourself together. You have the authority to...'
    'I have no jurisdiction outside this country,' the General interrupted. 'He's sending a report to UNIT Command in Geneva.
    They're bound to investigate. I must say your staff were a bit heavy-handed.'
    Vaughn threw a furious glance at Packer who was hovering at the window. 'Listen, Routledge, when will Geneva make a move against us?'
    The General closed his eyes and pressed his fists against his temples. 'I think they... I think... they...' he stuttered feebly.
    'What the hell's the matter with the man?' Packer