our
report?’
Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart was
just walking out of the front doors as they pulled up, tugging
his cap on to his head as crisply as ever. He saw Bessie and
strode towards them. ‘Doctor! Miss Grant!’
‘You were quite right, Brigadier.
The spear has every indication of being a PTN.’
‘A what?’ asked Jo, but neither
the Doctor nor the Brigadier were listening.
‘You’ve informed the High
Council?’ asked Lethbridge-Stewart.
‘I already have their authority to
remove the object for analysis. Immediately.’
‘But why not just ask them for
it?’ said Jo. ‘The museum, I mean.’
‘We tried,’ said the Brigadier.
‘They refused. This chap, Moxon, the owner of the collection.
Total recluse. Billionaire. Not used to taking orders.’
‘But can’t you make him?’
‘Private collection. We have no
power to order him to do anything.’
‘But surely if you explain what
it’s all about …?’ Jo asked. She stopped. ‘What
is
it all about, anyway?
What’s a PTN?’
‘Physical Temporal Nexus,’ said
the Doctor. ‘Very dangerous things indeed. Their origin is
unknown, but they are certainly alien and certainly ancient.
There are believed to be only a few in existence, and the High
Council is – how shall we put it? – more than keen to keep them
out of circulation.’
‘I see,’ said Jo, ‘I think. We’d
better get on with it then.’
‘Well put,’ said the
Doctor.
They headed into the UNIT
building. ‘What’s the plan?’ asked Jo. ‘Do you have a nice black
burglar suit in your wardrobe, Doctor? One with frills?’
The Doctor paused briefly, started
to raise a wagging finger towards Jo, then thought better of it.
‘The museum stands between a bank and an embassy building,’ he
said. ‘Both of which will be well protected. However, with all
due respect to my friends here, this
is
1973.’ He smiled at the Brigadier and
then walked on. ‘The room in the museum is without CCTV, laser
sensors or other motion detectors. It would be child’s play to
walk in and out, with a minimum of broken glass, but there are
simpler ways of entering and exiting a building without being
noticed …’
They’d stopped by a certain
familiar police box. The Doctor patted the side of the TARDIS.
‘… if you have one of these.’
Jo laughed.
‘What is it?’ asked the
Brigadier.
‘I just realised,’ she said.
‘Banks. Safety-deposit vaults. Museums. Art galleries. You could
get very rich in a week with this.’
‘Some of us have nobler
aspirations,’ said the Doctor sternly.
‘Oh, me too, me too,’ said Jo,
grinning. ‘Really noble. The noblest. It was just an idea. So,
we materialise in the room on the second floor of the museum,
smash the case, grab the spear and dematerialise again,
yes?’
‘Not quite,’ said the Doctor. ‘If
I may make one small adjustment to your otherwise excellent
plan, Jo? I took the trouble of getting the UNIT boffins to
prepare this.’
He stepped inside the TARDIS and
reappeared a moment later with a spear that looked just like the
one they were going to steal – with one small difference.
‘It has no runes on it,’ said
Jo.
‘Quite so,’ said the Doctor. ‘We
made this from photographs in the exhibition catalogue, but the
runes were unclear – hence the need for our visit today. As soon
as we complete the work on the spearhead, we can be off. Later
tonight, I hope.’
‘And we replace the spear with
this copy!’ said Jo. ‘That’s brilliant. They won’t even know
they’ve been robbed!’
The Doctor smiled. ‘Well, as long
as we don’t break any glass, they won’t.’
4
‘Well, here we are!’ announced
the Doctor. ‘Second-floor exhibition room of the Moxon
Collection.
Voilà
!’
He threw the TARDIS door open
theatrically, smiling broadly at Jo, who frowned and gave a
little prod of her finger to
report?’
Brigadier Lethbridge-Stewart was
just walking out of the front doors as they pulled up, tugging
his cap on to his head as crisply as ever. He saw Bessie and
strode towards them. ‘Doctor! Miss Grant!’
‘You were quite right, Brigadier.
The spear has every indication of being a PTN.’
‘A what?’ asked Jo, but neither
the Doctor nor the Brigadier were listening.
‘You’ve informed the High
Council?’ asked Lethbridge-Stewart.
‘I already have their authority to
remove the object for analysis. Immediately.’
‘But why not just ask them for
it?’ said Jo. ‘The museum, I mean.’
‘We tried,’ said the Brigadier.
‘They refused. This chap, Moxon, the owner of the collection.
Total recluse. Billionaire. Not used to taking orders.’
‘But can’t you make him?’
‘Private collection. We have no
power to order him to do anything.’
‘But surely if you explain what
it’s all about …?’ Jo asked. She stopped. ‘What
is
it all about, anyway?
What’s a PTN?’
‘Physical Temporal Nexus,’ said
the Doctor. ‘Very dangerous things indeed. Their origin is
unknown, but they are certainly alien and certainly ancient.
There are believed to be only a few in existence, and the High
Council is – how shall we put it? – more than keen to keep them
out of circulation.’
‘I see,’ said Jo, ‘I think. We’d
better get on with it then.’
‘Well put,’ said the
Doctor.
They headed into the UNIT
building. ‘What’s the plan?’ asked Jo. ‘Do you have a nice black
burglar suit in your wardrobe, Doctor? One with frills?’
The Doctor paused briefly, started
to raise a wagging finger towards Jo, then thought better of it.
‘The museum stands between a bank and an embassy building,’ he
said. ‘Both of which will be well protected. However, with all
due respect to my friends here, this
is
1973.’ He smiled at the Brigadier and
then walked on. ‘The room in the museum is without CCTV, laser
sensors or other motion detectors. It would be child’s play to
walk in and out, with a minimum of broken glass, but there are
simpler ways of entering and exiting a building without being
noticed …’
They’d stopped by a certain
familiar police box. The Doctor patted the side of the TARDIS.
‘… if you have one of these.’
Jo laughed.
‘What is it?’ asked the
Brigadier.
‘I just realised,’ she said.
‘Banks. Safety-deposit vaults. Museums. Art galleries. You could
get very rich in a week with this.’
‘Some of us have nobler
aspirations,’ said the Doctor sternly.
‘Oh, me too, me too,’ said Jo,
grinning. ‘Really noble. The noblest. It was just an idea. So,
we materialise in the room on the second floor of the museum,
smash the case, grab the spear and dematerialise again,
yes?’
‘Not quite,’ said the Doctor. ‘If
I may make one small adjustment to your otherwise excellent
plan, Jo? I took the trouble of getting the UNIT boffins to
prepare this.’
He stepped inside the TARDIS and
reappeared a moment later with a spear that looked just like the
one they were going to steal – with one small difference.
‘It has no runes on it,’ said
Jo.
‘Quite so,’ said the Doctor. ‘We
made this from photographs in the exhibition catalogue, but the
runes were unclear – hence the need for our visit today. As soon
as we complete the work on the spearhead, we can be off. Later
tonight, I hope.’
‘And we replace the spear with
this copy!’ said Jo. ‘That’s brilliant. They won’t even know
they’ve been robbed!’
The Doctor smiled. ‘Well, as long
as we don’t break any glass, they won’t.’
4
‘Well, here we are!’ announced
the Doctor. ‘Second-floor exhibition room of the Moxon
Collection.
Voilà
!’
He threw the TARDIS door open
theatrically, smiling broadly at Jo, who frowned and gave a
little prod of her finger to
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