Doctor Who_ Toy Soldiers Part 16

Mathilde felt her body begin to shake. The chill returned to her belly despite the heat of her exertions. She opened her mouth to form a question, to ask for rea.s.surance, but her voice wouldn't work.

The body beneath her gave a shuddering breath, then was silent.

'Father?' Mathilde put her hands to the priest's chest, felt a warm, sticky fluid and sodden cloth beneath, but no movement. 'Father!' She began pummelling the body, shouting incoherently, until her hands and the front of her dress were covered in blood.

She started screaming then, screaming aloud to anyone who would listen, to anyone who would save her; but there was no answer. Mathilde remembered the priest's words: 'they have taken all the others'. She walked out into the road, began calling out the names of the villagers she knew. Then she ran up the main street, ran faster than she would have believed possible, because she knew she had to get away from it, get away before it came back, go to Louis and tell him

She saw the shadow in the road too late. It was only yards away. Mathilde froze in terror, stared at the huge, inhuman figure, the green eyes that seemed to glow in the moonlight, and began to beg for mercy.

But of course that was exactly the wrong thing to do.

Martineau looked like a good cop, Roz decided. But a good cop under pressure. It wasn't warm in the interrogation cell, but there were beads of perspiration on the man's forehead.

His uniform was creased and the jacket cuffs were dirty; it looked as if he'd been wearing it all night. He'd taken off his cap and put it down on the wooden tabletop, and was drumming his fingers on the brim. He looked tired, fed up and - Roz was fairly sure - a little bit frightened. His eyes were fixed on Chris, who was sitting opposite him, handcuffed to a chair. For some reason, Roz didn't rate a chair, though they hadn't forgotten the handcuffs.

Shame about that, she thought.

Now, these disappearances that you claim to be investigating,' Martineau was saying. 'They are happening all over Europe?'

'All over the world, sir,' said Chris.

Roz liked the 'sir'. It was just Chris being Chris, she knew, but it was a good piece of diplomacy too. They needed this man on their side, or they were likely to spend a long time in jail. Roz had already spent one night in the local cells and she didn't fancy any more.

'All over the world? Are the Reds behind it?'

'The reds?' Chris was bewildered.

Roz silently cursed the inadequacy of the Doctor's history briefings. 'We don't know who's behind it,' she said quickly. 'That's one of the things we're trying to find out.'

Martineau gave her a cold glance, then looked away. It was almost as if she didn't exist. She'd noticed that look amongst the gendarmes last night, and before that sometimes on the streets of Larochepot and Septangy: some people acted as if - well, as if she were an offworlder. She was more puzzled than offended. She didn't look look alien, did she? Her type was probably more genetically true to the average of this period than Chris's - yet Chris was invariably treated with respect. Even when they'd arrested him, they'd been polite. Her, they'd prodded and poked and treated like an animal. alien, did she? Her type was probably more genetically true to the average of this period than Chris's - yet Chris was invariably treated with respect. Even when they'd arrested him, they'd been polite. Her, they'd prodded and poked and treated like an animal.

'Do you have any idea what's happening to the people?

When they vanish, are they dead, or are they being taken somewhere?' There was a note of desperation in the gendarme's voice: Roz wondered if it was genuine, or whether the man was trying to appeal to their better nature.

She took another look at Martineau's tired face, and decided that something really was up.

'As far as we know, they're taken somewhere,' Chris was saying. 'We're not sure where.' He paused. 'But we did discover that they're using toy bears to disguise the apparatus.'

The gendarme's eyebrows shot up. Roz winced. So much for getting him on their side.

'The bears are the pick-up end of a matter transporter,'

Chris went on, apparently unconscious of the effect his words were having. 'It's probably a dimensional wormhole system.

The multicoloured flash is characteristic of that kind of device.

But if that's the case, the device depends on mm'x crystals resonating at a fixed frequency, which means there's no way of discriminating between one device and another in a given area once the field is applied. And it was applied last night, when Amalie's murderer was picked up. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd lost a few other people.'

There was a prolonged silence. Roz looked up at the high, barred window of the interrogation room, saw a strip of grey, cloudy sky. If Chris was right it would only need one signal to pick up every kid cuddling his or her teddy bear from here to London and back.

At last Martineau spoke. 'Our officers went to Larochepot in the early hours of this morning, to investigate last night's events and examine Madame Govier's body. They found the village empty of people. Everyone had gone, except the priest, who was dead.'

Roz noticed the way that, as he spoke, the gendarme watched Chris without seeming to: he wasn't too tired, then, not to be aware that this news might be no surprise to his suspects. Fortunately Chris's amazed 'Oh!' followed by a puzzled, 'I don't understand how they could do that,' was convincing enough. Roz was pretty sure that, in Martineau's position, she'd have been convinced.

But Martineau showed no outward sign of being persuaded either way. He simply stared into the middle distance, tapping his hands on the tabletop.

Roz decided it was time to make another contribution to the conversation, whether Martineau liked it or not. 'What I don't understand,' she said, 'is why they did it. They couldn't think of a better way to attract attention if they tried.'

Martineau looked at her, looked at her properly for the first time. 'You're right,' he said simply. 'Our concern, of course, is that if they are not afraid to show their hand so dramatically, then whatever it is they have planned -' He broke off, shrugged.

Roz nodded, finished his sentence for him '- is something big, and it's due to happen soon. Very soon.'

Martineau didn't reply, just stared at the desktop. Roz held her breath: it was a tough decision for the man to have to make, whether to trust them. If he got it wrong, a lot of lives were on the line.

'It might be worth checking on the toy shop, Parmentier's,' Chris said suddenly, apparently innocent of the subtext of the conversation. 'It's here in Touleville, on the main street - the address is on the last page of my notebook, the one you took last night. It's underlined. Ask them if they still have their stock - if they do, buy one and bring it here.'

Martineau still didn't speak: Chris looked over his shoulder, said, 'What do you think, Roz?'

Roz shrugged, gestured at the gendarme.

Martineau looked up. He took a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket, slowly wiped the sweat from his forehead, put the handkerchief away again. Finally he said, 'Perhaps it would be best if you looked at this shop for yourselves.' He paused. 'Under guard, of course; I will have to accompany you.'

Roz couldn't quite repress a slight smile. 'I think you'd better take our handcuffs off first, don't you?'

But Martineau didn't reply. He didn't even look at her. He just set about releasing Chris from the chair, as if she wasn't even there.

As soon as they arrived at Parmentier's, Roz knew that Chris's hunch had been right. The big window display was half empty. The lines of clockwork soldiers, of wooden and china dolls, were still there, but the centrepiece, the teddy bears' picnic, was missing its star performers.

'No teddy bears,' said Chris triumphantly.

A handwritten notice on the gla.s.s door displayed the message 'Closed for Stocktaking', but when Martineau knocked, a young woman in a pink-and-blue dress opened the door to them.

'You have come at last,' she said, addressing Martineau.

'Monsieur Parmentier is waiting to see you.' She glanced curiously at Roz and Chris, said, ' Bonjour Bonjour, madame, monsieur. I'm afraid we're - '

'They are with me,' said Martineau.

The a.s.sistant frowned, shrugged, then led them into the shop, locking the door behind them. Inside, her colleagues were indeed stocktaking, counting the rows and rows of dolls, toy soldiers, golliwogs, rocking-horses and wooden bricks.

Beside the elaborate airfield with its painted wooden biplanes that was set in the centre of the shop, one of the a.s.sistants was on her knees, notebook and pencil in hand, muttering, 'Thirty Fokkers, twelve de Havillands, so that's - '

Roz imagined Amalie in the shop, looking at the teddy bears, realizing, as she'd said, that 'these were the ones'.

She imagined her chatting to the a.s.sistant, swapping comments about the high price of food and the weather, and felt a lump rise in her throat. Amalie had brought so much suns.h.i.+ne to so many people. Even though she knew it was impossible, she felt as if she should grab hold of the Doctor whenever he turned up and tell him to go back in the TARDIS and collect Amalie, save her from dying - But she'd seen the woman die, and knew it couldn't be reversed, even with a time machine. She knew enough about what couldn't be reversed, what couldn't be avoided, now.

Enough to last her for the rest of her life.

Anyway, she reminded herself, they might not have access to a time machine any more.

Monsieur Parmentier was waiting in his office, a scowl on his face. He was a large, middle-aged man, wearing a black morning coat, a striped waistcoat and striped trousers.

'I reported the incident over an hour ago,' he said, without waiting for introductions. 'I cannot imagine what the police have been doing.'

'We have had other - ' began Martineau.

'What incident?' interrupted Roz. She wasn't going to let the gendarme take over the investigation just because he was wearing a uniform.

'"What incident?"' Parmentier looked at Roz, frowned, looked back at Martineau. 'I telephoned the police station!

Telephoned!' He gestured at the black instrument on his desk, as if he were especially proud of it. 'All the teddy bears in our stock are missing! They said they would come at once!'

'OK,' said Roz, 'so we're here now, so calm down. Has anything else gone missing?'

Parmentier frowned at Roz again, stubbornly replied to Martineau. 'I'm checking on that.' He gestured through the door, which had been left open, to the shop and the busily counting a.s.sistants.

'Any signs of forced entry?' chipped in Chris.

Parmentier actually looked at him as he replied, 'Not as far as I can tell. But these cat-burglars' he shrugged '- you know.'

'Cat-burglars?' asked Roz sharply. 'Some sort of offworlder?'

'No s.p.a.ce travel,' muttered Chris quickly, just at the same moment as Roz remembered it.

Parmentier - and Martineau - looked at them in evident bewilderment.

Roz said quickly, 'These teddy bears - who supplies them?'

'Universal Toys of New York.' Parmentier glanced at the floor. 'It is an American firm.'

'Not English?'

'No, definitely American. I can supply the address of their Paris branch if it helps.' He opened a drawer in his desk, removed a white printed card.

Roz looked at Parmentier's face as he handed the card over to Martineau, saw the beads of sweat on his forehead, the tension lines around his mouth. He's lying, she thought, and he's not very good at it either. Obviously his indignation, his prompt phone call to the police, had simply been an attempt to bluff it out. He knew there was something special about the toys that had been 'stolen'.

Martineau was examining the card; looking at it over his shoulder, Roz saw that it said 'UNIVERSAL TOYS - Charles Sutton, Sales Representative', followed by a printed address.

A tiny image of a teddy bear stared at her with two tiny, green-glinting eyes. She nodded to herself, glanced at Chris.

Martineau slipped the card inside his notebook.

'I think we'd better keep that,' said Roz quietly.

Parmentier glanced at her, then looked up at the gendarme, his face uncertain. 'Who are these people, Officer?'

'Private investigators,' said Martineau. 'They are a.s.sisting me in this matter.'

'But what have private investigators to do with this theft?

I didn't ask for them to be involved!'

Martineau turned to Chris. 'Perhaps you'd better leave for the time being, Mr Cwej. Let me handle this.'

Chris glanced up at Roz, who shrugged.

'Why are they involved?' Parmentier was saying. 'What are they doing?'

The panic in his voice was evident: Roz glanced at Martineau and saw that the man hadn't missed it. She raised her eyebrows fractionally.

Chris said, 'Monsieur Parmentier, did you know that the entire population of the village of Larochepot has disappeared?'

Roz turned, saw that Parmentier's face had crumpled, and knew that her partner had hit the spot. That was something Parmentier hadn't been told about by his comrades.

'But -' said Parmentier. 'But that's -' He began shaking his head, then stood up suddenly. 'Out of my shop!' he roared. 'Out now! - And you, Officer, if you don't mind. I will call on you later.'

Martineau nodded, grabbed Roz's arm. She shook off his grip, leaned forward, put her elbows on the wooden desk, and spoke quietly to the shop owner. 'How about if you tell us, Monsieur Parmentier? It might not be so bad. We might decide to forget all about your part in it if you just tell us what's happening.'

But even before she'd finished speaking, Roz knew she'd pushed Parmentier too far. He just stared at her, his pale face indignant, and said quietly, 'Get out. Get out of my office. Get out of my shop.'

Roz stood up straight and looked at Martineau, who ignored her and said to Chris, 'I think we must leave, Mr Cwej.'