The truth was that, nestled in the foundations of the Tower of London, had been the UK control centre for UNIT – the UNified Intelligence Taskforce – a first-line defence against alien incursions. No one had been prepared to admit that publicly, of course, and so the legal team that Dorothy had employed successfully overcame every other objection to the building’s construction, and now an elegant tower of glass and steel loomed over the ancient walls of flint and stone.

Dorothy’s reason for locating her headquarters here had been simple: it provided a clear view down onto the private roadway that led to UNIT headquarters. Being able to track the number of vehicles going in and out had given her early warning of any possible unusual activity. She had never imagined that just a few years later the entire organisation would be mothballed on the orders of Whitehall. The official protests from Geneva went on, but the fact remained that UNIT was over and the Earth less defended.

If Brigadier Bambera had stayed in charge of UNIT then perhaps things would’ve gone differently. But poor old Winifred was still listed as ‘missing in action’ following a Sea Devil attack on a classified military listening post just off the South Wales coast. Dorothy had set up a search protocol on her computer for any report mentioning Bambera by name, but if the brigadier had been located, then someone was keeping it quiet.

‘I should’ve set up in Cardiff,’ Dorothy muttered.

Turning away from the window, she made her way to the well-equipped open-plan kitchen and turned on the kettle. As soon as the water had boiled she made herself a cup of strong, black coffee, snatched up the remote that was sitting on the counter top and started to flip through channels on the wall-mounted TV.

It never ceased to amaze Dorothy that television companies could turn out so many hours of utter trash. It was hardly surprising that this stuff was relegated to the small hours of the morning schedule. As she clicked from channel to channel in search of something that could keep her engaged for an hour or so, a familiar face appeared on the screen and Dorothy gave a groan of despair.