Doctor Who_ The Burning Part 9

'Mmmm.' The man held up his work to catch the light, nodding with satisfaction.

'They had an automaton there that played chess.'

'Really?' The man continued to nod. 'That would not be too difficult. Some pre*set moves. Two players, a board. Plenty of room for the mechanism.'

'Except,' the Doctor went on, 'that it really did did play chess. A man, made of hollow metal with flexible arms. He sat beside a board and people paid to play chess against it. It usually won.' play chess. A man, made of hollow metal with flexible arms. He sat beside a board and people paid to play chess against it. It usually won.'

The man let the eyegla.s.s fall from his eye into his palm as he regarded the Doctor. 'Surely that is not possible.'

'That was why people paid. In fact it was very simple.'

The man leaned forward eagerly. 'Tell me.'

The Doctor shrugged. 'It was a midget.'

'I beg your pardon?'

'It was a midget,' the Doctor repeated. 'Hidden inside the metal man. He was quite good,' he added.

'That's cheating,' the man said, his tone betraying his contempt for the very idea.

'That was what the people said when they found out,' the Doctor admitted. 'Though given that the automaton is an imitation of real life, using a live person to imitate an automaton has a certain symmetry. Don't you think?'

The man grunted in a way that suggested strongly that he did not.

The Doctor shrugged. 'I thought you might be interested, that was all. Another example of the utility of smaller mechanisms. I can see that you're busy.'

'Feel free to look around,' the man said.

Thank you. I will.' The Doctor turned and looked back down the aisle of automata. The monkey had finished puffing smoke and was silent and still once more. Further along the line, a diminutive butler held a tray of gla.s.ses in one hand and a bottle in the other. A lion crouched over a terrified woman whose hand was up to ward off its jaws. A soldier stood, rifle shouldered. A steam train waited patiently on a circle of track on a table close to the door.

'Perhaps another day,' the Doctor said as he walked past the mechanical figures. 'When I have the time.' He turned at the door. 'Thank you,' he said.

The man glanced up again briefly, but the Doctor was already stepping out of the shop. He turned abruptly, and went into the antique shop next door.

It was an impressive collection, but not worth anything like what the man was asking. Garfield Gelt shook his head sadly and made an offer.

'Is that really the best you can do?' the man asked. He was a big man, broad and powerful, and the way he leaned forward was intimidating.

Gelt simply shrugged. 'I might manage slightly more.' He picked up a figurine made of silver and examined it for the third time. He sighed. 'Very impressive, I agree. But what can I say? The market just is not there for these... items. Not for something so...'

'Eclectic?'

'Yes, a good term.' Gelt looked up to see who had spoken. He had not heard the door of the shop open, but the voice was not the big man's. Sure enough. standing beside them was a newcomer. His eyes were wide with interest and intelligence, his face framed by a cascade of brown hair. Was there a hint of grey in it, or was it a trick of the light? Something about the man spoke of more years than his appearance would indicate.

'Why, it's Mr Nepath, isn't it?' The newcomer seemed surprised to find the big man there. He extended his hand, and the other man shook it warily.

'Doctor. What brings you here?'

'Oh this and that. One thing and another.' He pushed past Nepath and examined the items spread across the counter. 'Quite a collection.' He turned to Nepath. 'Are you selling? I thought you valued your bric*a*brac more highly than mere money.'

'Some duplicate items. Close matches, that's all,' Nepath said. his eyes narrowing. 'Hardly bric*a*brac.'

'My apologies.' The Doctor picked up a smooth sphere of metal cloisonne finished. 'Chinese?' he asked.

Nepath took the sphere from him and replaced it on the counter. 'Tibetan.'

'Of course. So how much do you want for it?'

'Now wait a moment, sir,' Gelt said quickly. He did not want to see the items disappear from under his nose. They were worth rather more than he was offering, he knew. They might take a while to sell, but eventually he would more than make his money back.

'Are you interested in them, Doctor?' Nepath asked, cutting across Gelt.

The Doctor seemed to consider a moment. Then he shook his head. 'Not in these,' he said. His fingers brushed against a figure of the G.o.ddess Kali fas.h.i.+oned from bronze. 'Beautiful though they are.' He paused, and looked closer. 'Interesting,' he murmured.'

'What?' both Nepath and Gelt asked at once.

'I hope you're not trying to pa.s.s this off as genuine fifteenth century work,' the Doctor said to Nepath. He winked at him. 'A seventeenth century copy, surely. The increased emphasis on the shape of the bowls she holds is unmistakable. See how shallow they are, how the flames spring up from them.' He continued before Nepath could respond: 'So why are you selling? Short of storage s.p.a.ce in Lord Urton's house?'

'If you must know,' Nepath said, 'it is a question of cash flow. You know the problem, I feel sure.'

'No, actually.' The Doctor smiled at Nepath.

Gelt cleared his throat. He upped his offer, enough he hoped to regain Nepath's interest. 'Three hundred and fifty,' he said. 'No more.'

'A good price,' the Doctor agreed. 'If that's guineas.'

Gelt felt a sudden b.u.t.terfly of panic. Were the two of them working together? Had this Doctor come in so as to get the offer increased?

'Unless you would care to improve on it, Doctor,' Nepath said.

The Doctor smiled and shook his head. 'I think not. But thank you all the same. I do have an interest in such things. But in genuine artefacts.' His eyes widened. 'Not bric*a*brac.'

Nepath flinched.

Gelt felt hurt despite himself. 'Do you mind, sir?'

'What would you be interested in, Doctor?' Nepath asked softly.

The Doctor's reply was equally quiet. 'What have you to offer?'

Nepath's fingers drummed on the top of the counter a moment. 'You are a man of means, I take it.'

The Doctor shrugged, raised an eyebrow. 'Men of means don't advertise the fact,' he said modestly. He brushed a speck of dust from his stained coat.

'I shall be needing further funding shortly,' Nepath said. His voice was slightly hesitant, as if he was unsure whether to confide in the Doctor or not.

'For the mine?' the Doctor asked.

Nepath nodded. 'Modern machinery is expensive.'

'And you are in a hurry.'

'I see we understand each other.'

'I doubt it.' There was an edge to his voice, though the Doctor was smiling thinly as he said it.

'I am having an exhibition of the more, shall we say, unusual unusual items in my collection. At the Grange.' items in my collection. At the Grange.'

'How nice for you.'

'Only those who can appreciate their true value are invited.'

'Together with their wallets, I a.s.sume.'

Nepath blinked, one side of his face convulsing with the movement, as if it was stiff and hinged to the eyelid in some way. 'You are a man of rare insight. Perhaps you will see something that interests you?' He reached inside his coat and drew out a card. He handed it to the Doctor.

'Perhaps I shall.' The Doctor put the card inside his own jacket pocket without looking at it. 'How nice to see you again, Mr Nepath. I trust your business here is successfully concluded?' Without another word, the Doctor turned and walked from the shop.

'I hope that he is correct in his a.s.sumption,' Nepath said.

It took a moment for Gelt to realise that Nepath was addressing him. 'Oh, yes sir. Indeed, sir. Let me find the cheque book.' As he handed over the money order, Gelt asked: 'Was he right?' He pointed to the figure of Kali. 'Is it a late copy?'

Nepath took the cheque. 'Oh yes,' he admitted. 'He was right. About that.'

After leaving the antiques shop, Nepath went straight to the bank. The Doctor watched him emerge a while later. He was not actually counting bank notes, but it was apparent to the Doctor what he had been doing. Keeping well back and in the lengthening shadows of the early evening, the Doctor followed.

As the Doctor had suspected, Nepath was making for the railway station. The Doctor watched from an adjacent platform as Nepath spoke with a porter, followed the directions he was given, and arrived at length beside a goods train. Beside the train were several men impatient men from the way they shook their heads and stamped their feet. One of them spoke with Nepath, and the Doctor saw the money exchange hands.

He did not wait to see the train unloaded or the machinery put on to the waiting carriages for transport to Middletown. He lingered just long enough to satisfy himself that it was indeed mining equipment that Nepath was buying or more probably putting a deposit down for. That would explain why he needed an amount of money today and would need a great deal more in the near future.

There was a cab waiting outside the station and the Doctor clambered in without giving the driver a glance. Once on his way back to Middletown he examined the invitation card which Nepath had given him. He had no intention of buying anything at the exhibition. But he did have every intention of attending.

Chapter Nine.

Souvenir The chairs were arranged in a semicircle around the main display table. For the moment there was nothing on it apart from a felt cloth. As they arrived, the guests had been allowed to browse the display cases and cabinets round the walls. Each of the items was labelled, and it was explained that the items for sale were all marked with a reserve price. If they were not priced, they were not for sale. Not for any amount of money.

Most of it meant nothing to Sir William Grant. He pushed his ample form through the gap between the edge of the ring of chairs and a gla.s.s*topped cabinet and made his way to the central seat. Whatever Urton had organised for him, whatever this chap Nepath had to show, it had better be good. He was a busy man. A visit to the barracks at Ambleton might be overdue, but there was no point in admitting he would have had to make the journey anyway. Let them believe he was there entirely for this exhibition. Whatever it turned out to be.

As he waited impatiently. Grant looked round at the other guests. Most were obviously men of means. They wore expensive suits and talked in low voices. They nodded at various items on display. and made scratchy notes in small pocket books. Lord Urton stood by a door at the back of the room, strangely reticent. Usually he was a social man, but today he seemed withdrawn, reserved.

As Grant turned his attention to the table in front of the chairs, a man sat down in the seat next to him. The man seemed as disinterested as Grant himself, stretching out his legs towards the table. Grant turned to look at the man. His face was set in a neutral expression, and his dark hair cascaded down over the shoulders of his bottle*green velvet jacket. He looked almost completely out of place amongst the suits and the polished shoes. His eyes were closed.

Before Grant could look away, one of the man's eyes opened and stared at him. Then the other. The man sat up straight, drawing his legs in. 'You're not interested in the displays?' he asked, his tone mild and polite.

'No more, it seems, than you are.'

'So why are you here?'

'I could ask you the same question.' Grant felt slightly put out by the man's interrogation. He turned away in an attempt to close the conversation.

'No, no.' He was not to be put off. 'I asked first.' The man leaned slightly across so that his shoulder nudged against Grant's 'Come on,' he encouraged, his head bobbing in mock*conspiracy. 'You can tell me.'

Grant shrugged him off. 'Do you mind, sir?' he said loudly. Several heads turned as people reacted.

The man sighed and stretched out his legs again. 'Sorry,' he mumbled. 'Just being friendly.' He crossed his ankles and folded his arms as if sulking. Then suddenly he was upright again, extending his hand. 'I do apologise, I haven't introduced myself. I'm the Doctor.'

Grant shook his hand quickly. 'Grant,' he grunted back. 'Sir William Grant.'

'Delighted.'

They sat in silence for several moments. Around them, the guests continued to examine the displays.

'What are you a doctor of?' Grant asked eventually. He was bored. Even talking to this Doctor was better than sitting in silence and drawing attention. Better to seem engaged in conversation. Keeping busy.

'Well, actually,' the Doctor said slowly, 'I don't really know.' He stared off into s.p.a.ce for a moment, then shrugged and sighed. 'I hope it's something impressive though,' he added quietly.

'Don't know?' Grant said in surprise.

'But that's enough about me. what about you?' The Doctor turned on his chair, drawing one leg up underneath himself and facing Grant. 'What do you do? What's your disinterest here?' He grinned suddenly.

'I am responsible for equipment procurements for the army, sir,' Grant said in what he hoped and intended was a suitably impressive tone. 'I am here by invitation. I must confess I am not entirely sure why Lord Urton felt this exhibition would be of use, but he was most insistent I come.'

'Good old Urton.' The Doctor swung round again. 'I think we're about to begin the auction,' he said.

As he finished speaking, the door beside Lord Urton opened and a man entered the room. He was a large man, with a craggy face and grey hair that was brushed immaculately. He strode purposefully to the table in front of Grant and the Doctor and waited. It did not take long for others to notice he was there. They began to drift towards seats, and before long there was a silence of antic.i.p.ation.

'Good afternoon, gentlemen,' the man said. 'I am Roger Nepath. and I thank you for coming, just as I thank Lord Urton for his hospitality. Many of you have come a considerable distance, and I know you will not be disappointed.'

As he spoke, Urton removed a piece from one of the cabinets and carried it to the table. He set it down in front of Nepath. It was a bronze figure, about eight inches tall. A naked woman, her hair tied back. She was dancing, one hand on her hip, the other held aloft. In the upraised hand, she held a bowl of fire.

'A bronze statuette from Mohenjodaro. Over four thousand years old,' Nepath said. 'I trust you have all had ample time to examine her. You will have noticed that she is a ritual dancer, naked apart from the necklace and bangles, wed to the temple G.o.d.'

There was a general shuffling as people leaned forwards in their seats. Several already had their pocket books raised, ready to bid.

But Nepath was not yet finished. 'She was discovered in seventeen ninety*three by the Daniells brothers in the cave temple of Kanheri. The temple was hewn from the living rock by '

'Is the fire significant?'