Doctor Who_ Toy Soldiers Part 8

She'd tried to find out where the toys came from - they certainly weren't made in the factory - and was informed by Mrs Milsom that they were brought in at 6 a.m.

So she'd waited outside, seen the three lorries pull up, seen the crates unloaded. At considerable risk to her dignity, she'd chatted up one of the loaders, and had discovered that the crates contained only the empty cardboard boxes that the bears were packed in, together with the other packing materials. After that she'd watched the factory for a complete twenty-four-hour period, seen nothing, and practically fallen asleep at her work-bench the next day. During work hours, on the pretence of finding lavatories or simply being lost, she'd sneaked around the premises as much as she dared, but found nothing. Finally, three nights ago, she'd broken in at 2 a.m.

and made a thorough search, only to discover that the building wasn't guarded and there was absolutely nothing whatsoever of a suspicious kind on the premises. Not so much as a secret door, let alone an intradimensional gate.

She'd made a detailed ground plan and included it in her next report to the Doctor. He'd said 'thank you' very nicely, but had failed to vouchsafe any information in return. He hadn't even told her how Chris and Roz were getting on in France.

Benny was beginning to wonder if he would ever tell her anything at all. But then, that was the Doctor. You worked with it, you put up with it. Presumably he did know what he was doing; he just didn't like sharing that knowledge with anybody else.

She remembered the fluffy toy in her pocket, wondered what it meant. Perhaps something would happen today - it was about time.

She glanced at the clock. Only ten past eight. Two hours and fifty minutes until she could even have a cup of tea. And it would be the same tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. Every day except Sunday, and then all she would want to do was sleep. Over the last two weeks Benny had begun to realize how women like Vee - potentially spirited, intelligent, interested in life - could become aggressive, domineering gossips. There was simply nothing else to do if you were born to this kind of life. She looked up at Vee -on the front bench, hunched over her work, talking fiercely to one of her neighbours, and wished she could get through to her, help her. But she knew she would probably never get the chance. She didn't even have the option of standing next to her.

Lil and Barbara were talking as they packed, their hands moving automatically, just as Benny's were beginning to do after two weeks of practice.

'Bert used to say that the worst thing were gas,' said Lil.

'Just as well it were a sh.e.l.l got 'im in the end. He wouldn't've liked to have died of gas.'

'Bob says the Irish haven't got gas,' said Barbara.

'Least, that's what they told him.' She paused, and sighed.

'Still, I'd like him home. It's not right. I thought he'd be demobbed before Christmas - but he said the rest of his regiment were going to Ireland, so he had to go too.'

Benny tried to remember who had won the war in Ireland and found she couldn't. All that she could remember was that it had been vicious and b.l.o.o.d.y, and had gone on one way or another for the best part of a century. She wondered if Barbara's young man would come back, and if so when.

'You're quiet this morning, Benny,' said Lil suddenly. 'Is you really seeing that pieman?'

The enquiry was friendly enough, but Bernice knew that any answer she gave would be repeated all round the factory. It was typical of the Doctor, she thought, to pick a 'cover' that was probably a lot more obvious than just materializing the TARDIS in a park at midnight and having a chat. Carefully she said, 'Well - sort of. He's not really my bloke, but I'm sort of seeing him.'

Lil laughed, said quietly, 'Well, there's not many blokes around now, so it's share and share alike, eh?'

Benny looked down at the teddy she was packing, avoiding Lil's gaze. She wondered whether it wouldn't be a bad idea for her workmates to think she was having an affair with a married man, which was clearly what Lil was implying.

It would explain a lot of things, particularly when she had to go over to the Suttons' again, or do anything else that didn't fit in with her 'cover story'. But on the other hand - Her thoughts were interrupted by a shout from Mrs Milsom. 'Quiet on the floor now! Get on with your work, everyone.'

We aren't being noisy, thought Benny resentfully. And we are getting on with our work. But as the talking amongst the benches died away, Lil whispered, 'Inspection!' - which explained everything.

Benny kept her head down for a while, until the footsteps and the mutter of male voices were close enough for her to risk glancing round. When she did, she barely controlled a gasp of shock. Talking to the familiar, portly figure of the factory manager, Mr Kelvine, was a slim, tall young man in a tweed suit, whose face Benny recognized instantly. It was the face Madame Segovie had seen last night, the face in the photograph on the mantelshelf. The face of Charles Sutton.

I have to do something now, thought Benny. Right now.

Before he disappears back through the whatever-it-is and the whatever-it-is disappears with him.

Lil was staring at her. 'What's up?' she asked simply.

Benny realized that her amazement must have shown on her face. She looked at the teddy bear she held in one hand, at the piece of tissue paper in the other. She deliberately dropped both items and then, with a somewhat theatrical groan, fell to the floor.

'She's fainted!' Lil's voice. Other voices rose, and Benny heard Mr Kelvine asking something.

After a moment she half-opened her eyes, saw Charles Sutton leaning over her, an expression of sympathetic concern on his face.

'Has she been working here long?' he asked.

'We took her on with the third batch,' replied Mrs Milsom, from somewhere out of Benny's line of sight. 'Two weeks ago, it was.'

As Mrs Milsom was speaking, Benny saw something glinting on Charles's lapel. She opened her eyes wide, saw that he was wearing a badge with the design of a teddy bear.

Its green eyes glinted at her again.

No - not glinted - flashed flashed.

She sat up. At the same moment Charles seemed to notice the direction of her gaze, and looked down at the badge. The green eyes flashed again.

Charles frowned, then said, 'I think you need some proper medical attention, Miss - urn - '

'Summerfield,' replied Mrs Milsom, before Benny could open her mouth.

The badge flickered again. 'Yes,' said Charles, with the air of coming to a decision. 'I think you'd feel much better if you could sit in a well-heated room for half an hour and have a cup of tea.'

Oh-oh, thought Benny. And: maybe I should run away at this point. But she found herself nodding weakly, and saying, 'Thanks very much, I could do with a cuppa.'

Charles nodded, helped her up. He muttered something to Mrs Milsom, possibly about not docking her any pay. If he's bothering to do that, thought Bernice, then he hasn't definitely decided that I'm anything other than what I seem to be - yet. Which puts me one up in the game, because I'm absolutely certain that he's not what he seems to be, and have been from the first moment I saw him.

She allowed herself to be walked to the stairway at the back of the packing department and up the stairs to the offices. The accounts department was as she remembered it from her first day: full of young men in suits earnestly scribbling at their desks. Several of them greeted Mr Kelvine, who was following Benny and Charles, but none of them said anything to Charles, which Benny thought was significant.

From their surrept.i.tious glances and slight frowns, she guessed that they'd never seen him before today.

Beyond the accounts department was a plush carpeted corridor which, according to the ground plan Benny had made after her night expedition, led to Mr Kelvine's private office. Benny had of course looked in there on the night she'd broken in. She'd even cracked the safe, a fairly simple combination-lock type with no electronic parts. There'd been nothing strange about the room then.

The big oak door swung open, and Benny saw that there was nothing strange about the room now, unless you counted the teddy bear sitting on the corner of the polished wooden desk, its green eyes staring at her.

Charles sat her down in a big leather armchair by the fire, then said, 'Kelvine, get a cup of tea for us, could you?'

'Yes, sir.'

Benny caught the military tone of the brief exchange, and her ears p.r.i.c.ked up. But she studiously remained dazed-looking, and yawned widely.

'Would you like to hold the teddy bear?' said Charles suddenly. 'I know it sounds a bit odd, but I'm sure it will help you feel better.'

You bet it sounds odd, thought Benny. In fact it has the word 'TRAP' written all over it in very large, very unfriendly letters. I ought to say no, but I'm not going to find anything out unless - A warm, furry bundle was pushed into her arms.

'This is a very special teddy bear, Miss Summerfield,'

said Charles, crouching down so that his face was level with hers. 'I'm really rather proud of him - I designed him myself.

You could call him the prototype, I suppose.'

Bernice had an idea. 'I'd rather call him Frederick,' she said, both eyes wide open now, watching Charles's face.

There was not a flicker of emotion, suppressed or otherwise, to suggest that Charles remembered the name of his sister's favourite teddy bear. He simply said, 'I never thought to give him a name.'

'Perhaps it's a she-bear,' said Benny desperately.

'Perhaps she's called Manda.'

Charles frowned, but again showed no other emotion.

'What an odd idea. Female teddy bears. I wonder where you got that notion from, Miss Summerfield.' Somewhere in the middle of the last sentence his tone of voice had changed, the change from suspicion into certainty. His next words confirmed it: 'Who are you working for?'

Benny feigned innocence. 'I'm working for you, Mr Sutton. Or rather for Mr Kelvine, it was him as took me on.

Charles Sutton shook his head briskly, reached forward and made a grab for Benny's overall pocket.

Benny decided to stop him. She threw the teddy bear down, caught Sutton's arm and twisted it, almost succeeded in throwing him to the ground. Charles shouted in pain, chopped at her arm with his free hand. Benny landed a knee in his groin.

Charles fell back, his face screwed up with pain. Benny landed on top of him, put her knees firmly into his stomach and closed one hand around his throat until it was tight enough to hurt, but a little way short of choking him.

'Perhaps I can ask you the same question, Mr Sutton,'

she said. 'Who are you working for?'

Charles smiled, and spoke calmly, despite the fact that it must have been hard to breathe. 'I work for the Recruiter, Miss Summerfield.'

It was clear that he expected her to let him go straight away after that: the expression of surprise on his face when she didn't was almost comical.

'OK. And I work with the Doctor. Happy now?' No change of expression: the Doctor wasn't that famous wherever it was that the Recruiter operated, then. Benny loosened her grip on the man's throat slightly. 'Perhaps you could tell me a little bit more about this Recruiter?'

Charles's eyes moved towards the desk, and suddenly Benny realized. The desk The desk. It hadn't been there when she'd broken in that night.

'So what's in the desk?' she asked Charles. 'Or should I say what is is the desk?' the desk?'

But a slight tension in Charles's body, a sudden movement of his eyes away from the desk and in the direction of the door, made Benny realize that she'd forgotten something.

Kelvine.

She started to jump up, but it was too late: even as she got her balance and turned to face the door, it slammed open and she found herself facing Mr Kelvine, carrying not a tea-tray, but a dark-grey service revolver. He glanced down at Charles who was still lying flat on the floor, a hand ma.s.saging his throat.

'Alive or dead, sir?'

'It's all right, Sergeant,' said Charles, getting up. 'There's no need to kill her. She hasn't been through training yet.' To Benny, he added, 'Miss Summerfield, if you would like to give me whatever it is that you are keeping in your pocket, I would be very grateful.'

Benny hesitated, then drew out the grey fluffy rabbit that the Doctor had given her and handed it over.

'I hope it bites you,' she said.

Charles turned the toy over in his hands a few times. Its amber eyes flickered, in time with the eyes of the teddy bear badge on Charles's lapel. He turned it towards the desk, and the flickering quickened noticeably.

Bit late for that now, you silly little sod, thought Benny crossly. I know where it is now. Trouble is, I can't do anything about it.

Charles was nodding slowly as he watched the performance of the Doctor's toy. Suddenly he bent down and picked up the teddy bear that Benny had been holding earlier, which had fallen to the floor by the fire. The green eyes, Benny saw, were now definitely glowing. He thrust the toy into Benny's arms. Benny became aware of a curious thing: although a moment before she had been afraid, tense, every muscle ready to jump to safety should a chance offer itself, now she could feel the tension slipping away, to be replaced by a pleasant feeling, a feeling that everything was going to be all right.

'What's going on?' she asked dreamily.

'You will be trained, then you will be a.s.signed to a unit,'

said Charles.

Benny noticed that the electric light on the wall behind Charles had begun to blur, blue on one side, red on the other. As she watched, the entire room dissolved into a swirling mixture of colours, leaving only Charles and Sergeant Kelvine solid and real. In her arms, the teddy bear was warm, almost hot: its eyes glowed a fierce, electric, green, and seemed to be staring at her.

Once they've got the controller installed, thought Benny, a teddy bear is all they need. How clever.

She made a quick calculation: I was packing a teddy bear every two minutes, that's thirty an hour, nearly three hundred a day. Nearly two thousand a week. There are forty of us, and the factory's been open for six weeks. So that's about half a million children.

For some reason the fact didn't disturb her, though, when she thought about it, the fact that it didn't disturb her did did disturb her. disturb her.

But not very much.

The booming of gunfire interrupted her thoughts: the polychromatic display behind Charles and Sergeant Kelvine was beginning to settle down. Benny wasn't really surprised to feel a slight change of gravity, to see a grey sky, the flicker of sh.e.l.lfire, a high tangle of barbed wire surrounding her on all sides.

And thick, glutinous mud under her feet.

'If you could come with me, please,' said Charles Sutton, shouting now over the pounding of the guns. He led the way towards a hole in the ground: Benny could see the beginning of a flight of steps leading down. The mud clutched at her shoes and the hem of her skirt. The air was cold, and stank of rot and sewage.

Charles led the way down muddy wooden steps into a dimly lit bunker. The walls and ceiling were covered with metal sheets, perhaps a crude attempt at armour plating. The ceiling was so low that Benny and Charles had to bend almost double to avoid banging their heads on it. Sergeant Kelvine, with the gun, stayed at the bottom of the steps.

'I must apologize for the poor reception facilities,' said Charles. 'All I can say is, they're no worse than those that I endured. When we begin bulk recruitment, things will be much better laid out, I can a.s.sure you.'

'Bulk recruitment?' asked Benny, remembering her earlier calculation. She felt the tension return to her body, the soothing feelings disappeared. Suddenly she was afraid, confused, and angry. Half a million teddy bears from one factory in England alone. Half a million children. And how many other factories are there? In how many countries?

Doctor, you should be listening to this!