Doctor Who_ The Hollow Men Part 16

The Doctor gave Trevor a quizzical look.

'A stupid West Country legend,' he continued, looking almost embarra.s.sed. 'The point is, I don't have to justify myself to you, or anybody.'

'Except, perhaps, yourself,' said the Doctor sitting and casually turning on the television. 'Ah, Men Behaving Badly.' Men Behaving Badly.'

'What exactly is that supposed to mean?' asked Winstone angrily, moving to the television and switching it off.

The Doctor ignored Winstone's question. 'How does Hatch fit into all of this?'

'Why didn't you ask him last night when you had the chance?'

'He's a complicated individual, isn't he?'

'Deep as the Earth's core is our Matt,' said Trevor, his anger subsiding. 'Listen, if he wants you in on the deal then that's fine, but you'll get nothing out of me. I'm just the poor b.l.o.o.d.y errand boy, all right?'

'"Do not all charms fly, at the mere touch of cold philosophy?"'

'Any fool can quote Keats,' said Trevor, turning away from the Doctor. 'What do you expect me to do? Trot out some Sh.e.l.ley, or some Shakespeare? Why should I play by your rules?'

'You fascinate me,' said the Doctor gently. 'Most of those in Hexen Bridge have been stunted by the limitation of the genetic pool. It's like society running in reverse. But you, you're different.'

'No,' said Trevor quickly. 'No, I am not. I'm just the same as all the rest.'

Suddenly the Doctor felt he was getting somewhere. 'Have you ever wondered why Hexen Bridge is so isolated?' he asked.

'n.o.body likes us. We're different.'

'Yes, but...' Once again the Doctor heard the elevator coming up, and he knew that the moment had gone. The doors opened and Shanks stepped out, accompanied by the woman in the white dress.

'Get me a drink, Maria, love,' he said. 'Make it a double. I need it after that palaver. All right, Trev,' he continued, clapping his hands together. 'You've got the stuff?'

'Behind you,' said Winstone, nodding towards the boxes.

'Great,' said Shanks enthusiastically. 'The rocket launcher an' all?'

'It's in the top crate.'

'And it can bring down a chopper from a range of three thousand metres?'

'It could bring down Concorde from that distance,' replied Trevor coldly.

'Excellent!' said a delighted Shanks. 'That I've got got to see.' to see.'

'Won't the Chief Constable be a little upset about that?'

asked the Doctor.

Shanks laughed. He sat beside the Doctor and placed an arm around his shoulders. The Doctor noticed a fleck of blood on the man's face, and a few stray spots on his cream jacket.

'I'd get that dry-cleaned, if I were you,' said the Doctor.

'Blood's difficult to remove. Cut yourself shaving?'

'Do you know what?' said Shanks, with a sickly grin on his face. 'I think it's about time I put you to good use.'

'I don't believe I'm doing this,' moaned Steven Chen, not for the first time. His face was like the skull of the moon against the blackness of the graveyard.

'Oh, don't be so yellow,' yellow,' snapped Ace. A look of horror crossed her face as she realised what she had said. Steven seemed hurt and bewildered, but made no comment. snapped Ace. A look of horror crossed her face as she realised what she had said. Steven seemed hurt and bewildered, but made no comment.

Ace paused, not sure if an apology would make things worse. Angry with herself, she clambered over the low wall that ran around the back of the churchyard, the torch beam flas.h.i.+ng in random directions. She looked back at Steven regretfully.

'You're weird,' said Steven, pulling himself over. The moment had gone.

'Listen, suns.h.i.+ne, compared to the locals, I'm flippin' well normal,' said Ace. She strolled up to the side entrance, a small door of oak studded with iron. 'This should be impressive.' She pulled what looked like a small lump of putty from her rucksack, and pushed it gently into the lock.

'Please tell me that isn't what I think it is,' said Steven, nervously glancing around him, although the church grounds were deserted but for the trailing shadows of the yew trees.

'It isn't,' said Ace. 'It's much better.' She placed a flat metal disc, no bigger than a watch battery, on the end of her finger, and showed it to Steven. 'Miniaturised timer and detonator.'

Steven paled.

'And this,' said Ace, holding up what seemed to be a thick patch of fabric, 'will make sure we don't wake up the whole village.'

'Oh, good,' said Steven. 'I'm glad. I'm standing here, in the middle of the night, about to break into a church, and I'm thinking to myself: Steven, we mustn't wake up the whole village. Oh no. We -'

'Steven?'

'Yes?'

'Shut up. You're getting hysterical.' And with that Ace slammed the pad and timer on to the explosive, and pulled Steven to one side. A moment later the church shook slightly, but there was no noise. It was as if the entire building had just suppressed a sneeze.

'I don't believe it,' said Steven, through clenched teeth.

Ace returned to the door. 'Oh, smart!' smart!' she exclaimed. The blackened pad had fallen to the ground, its job done. A wisp of smoke issued from the keyhole. 'Poor Mr Baber'll have to buy a new lock, but it's better than blowing the door to bits.' she exclaimed. The blackened pad had fallen to the ground, its job done. A wisp of smoke issued from the keyhole. 'Poor Mr Baber'll have to buy a new lock, but it's better than blowing the door to bits.'

Steven nodded in mute astonishment, and watched as Ace heaved open the door. She parted the thick velvet curtain immediately beyond, and strolled towards the aisle. There was some sort of security keypad towards the main entrance, and she tapped in some numbers. 'This switches off all the alarms. I watched what the vicar did with his fingers. Very useful if you want to borrow someone's PIN number.'

'You're outrageous,' said Steven.

'I know,' said Ace, turning towards the cupboard and the trunk in the back of the church. 'I'm looking for some photographs. The Rev said they were family snaps, but you wouldn't keep your shots of Margate beach under lock and key, would you?'

Suddenly Steven glanced nervously down the aisle. 'What was that?'

'What?'

'I thought I heard something.'

'Relax. If it's one of the villagers, we just leg it.' Ace paused, listening at the wind that shook the trees that surrounded the church. She sighed. 'Nothing. You're just jumpy.'

'I've never done this sort of thing before.'

'Part of growing up where I come from.'

'Not round here, it isn't.'

Ace rooted through the cupboard. 'Ah, here we are,' she said, pulling a sheaf of photographs from a shelf. She arranged them on the low table, glancing at pencil marks on the backs to place them in order. 'Interesting,' she said at last. 'Hexen Bridge, as photoed by Reverend Baber, and his dad before him.'

Each one was an elevated shot of the village, showing the cl.u.s.tered cottages and surrounding countryside.

'This one dates back to the 1940s,' said Ace. 'Just after the war.'

Despite the age of the photograph, Steven could see what had interested Ace. The ground surrounding the village was stained a darker colour than the outlying fields.

'What is that?' asked Steven. 'A different type of soil? Or a glitch in the processing?'

Ace pointed to the next one, from the mid-1950s. 'Whatever it is, it's bigger in this photo.' The picture was taken from a slightly different angle, but the dark, amorphous shape had clearly spread further. 'And in this one it's bigger still, and less circular.' The first colour photograph showed what seemed to be dark arms, trailing away from the village and under the soil.

'And this one's the most up to date,' said Steven. 'The dark stain is so large the edge is almost out of shot.'

'No wonder Baber wanted to hide these,' said Ace. 'They're seriously weird.'

Steven scratched his head, completely lost. 'I suppose it could just be some geological feature. A bit like those Roman forts that you can only see from the air.'

'What, one that moves?' scoffed Ace. She took up the pictures again, her face sombre. 'Hexen Bridge is right at the centre of something dark and nasty. And it's getting bigger all the time.'

Shanks's men held the Doctor down, clumsily tying a blindfold around his head and strapping something to his chest. Every verbal protest was met with a punch. The Doctor could feel feel Shanks in the background, orchestrating matters, but the men worked in mute obedience, dragging the Doctor through interminable echoing corridors before bundling him into a vehicle. Shanks in the background, orchestrating matters, but the men worked in mute obedience, dragging the Doctor through interminable echoing corridors before bundling him into a vehicle.

The seat beneath the Doctor was uncomfortable and basic, the Doctor concluding that he was in a van. The engine coughed into life at the third attempt. An ear-splitting metallic scream followed that could only have been garage doors opening. The van lurched forward.

The Doctor tried his best to count the junctions and corners along the way, but there was little else to indicate that they were travelling. The interior of the van seemed to have been soundproofed, and Shanks's men sat either side of the Doctor in complete silence.

'I've always enjoyed mystery tours,' said the Doctor brightly.

There was no response beyond a snort of irritation from one of Shanks's men.

The van began to slow, and the Doctor felt movement around him. He was about to ask if the journey was over when the sliding doors opened with a crash, and the Doctor found himself falling through s.p.a.ce.

There was a blurred rush of fresh air and noise, then the awful impact of concrete on the Doctor's back.

He lay on the ground, dazed, for some moments. Then he tugged at the blindfold, desperate to ward off unconsciousness. Eventually his vision cleared, revealing a clock face at the top of an ornate tower. It was seven minutes to midnight. From the noise, he seemed to have ended up somewhere in the city centre.

The Doctor tried to move, and his head throbbed angrily.

He'd have been better off battling the Cybermen or the Daleks. Human beings seemed to specialise in this type of mundane torture.

Young people were moving around him, shouting loudly.

Some stopped to look at the Doctor, but their voices were distant. Only occasional words filtered through the haze.

'...all right, pal?'

'Lousy tramp.'

'Look at 'im...'

The Doctor finally pushed himself upright. It felt as if his head would explode.

'Where am I?' he asked, sitting with his face in his hands.

He hadn't expected anyone to answer.

'You're on Lime Street.'

The Doctor sat bolt upright. He put a hand to his ear and found the tiny metal speaker placed there.

'Don't try to s.h.i.+ft it,' said the voice in his head. 'It's the only thing keeping you alive.'

The Doctor stood up, a frantic terror filling him. 'Can you hear me?' he whispered.

'That's a big Ten-Four!' It was Shanks's voice.

'Where are you?' asked the Doctor looking around him, bewildered.

'Nowhere close,' said Shanks. 'But that's immaterial. I can see every move you make. Down to business. If you care to check your midriff, you'll find about four pounds of high explosives strapped there. Enough to blow you into a million pieces, along with anybody else within a couple of hundred yards. So don't be a hero, at least for the sake of the innocent clubbers around you, OK?'

The Doctor found the Semtex taped to his stomach, glancing all the while at the oblivious people who streamed past him. 'You think you can bully your way to success, Shanks,' he said in a calm, cold voice. 'But you will fail. I promise you that.'

'Yeah, yeah, whatever,' said Shanks casually. 'Thing is, Doctor, I need you to do me a favour, and seeing as you're in the area...'

The Doctor felt his throat tighten as he considered the limited options open to him. 'What do you want me to do?' he asked cautiously.

'Half a block down on your right you'll see a nightclub called the Pit. Apt name. Run by a villain from the top estates called Corkhill who needs teaching a lesson...' Shanks's voice trailed away, and the Doctor began walking in the direction of the nightclub.

'What do you want me to do when I get there?'