Part 4 (2/2)

'I'll deal with this, thank you, Miss Peyne.'

With a squeak of tyres, an ancient wheelchair rolled from the shadows. The man sitting in it was pale and gaunt, with wisps of grey hair lying untidily over his head. The wheelchair slid to a halt and the man looked up at the Doctor quizzically.

'I'm Nathaniel Morton. You have business with me?'

His voice was weak and wavering but his eyes blazed with a fierce intelligence and Rose got the impression of someone very dangerous trapped within that frail body.

The Doctor pulled the wallet holding his psychic paper from his pocket and handed it to Morton. 'Dr Jones. From Cardiff. Conducting a survey of medical facilities in the area. Surprise inspection. Hope you don't mind.'

Morton took the wallet and studied the paper. There was a long awkward pause and Rose held her breath. Then Morton abruptly snapped the wallet closed and handed it back to the Doctor.

'You'd better come into my office.'

Gripping the wheels of the wheelchair, Morton spun it on the spot and rolled back into the gloom of the house. The Doctor and Rose followed. There was a loud bang as the door slammed behind them and the clatter of keys in the lock as Miss Peyne locked the door. Rose tugged at the Doctor's sleeve. 'Didn't think it was going to work that time!' she whispered.

'Yes, wasn't sure myself for a moment. And I don't think Miss Peyne was too keen about letting us in.'

'G.o.d, she couldn't have a better name! How scary was she!'

'I know!'

They followed Morton down the dark hallway, their footsteps echoing off the high ceilings. At the end of the pa.s.sage was a wide staircase, with weak light filtering through a tall window on the landing. Rose jumped as two pale figures padded down the stairs, their faces 40 hidden by surgical masks, long lab coats flapping behind them. There was an unpleasant smell of disinfectant as the figures hurried past them, vanis.h.i.+ng down another corridor. Rose s.h.i.+vered. She didn't like places like this. It reminded her of the old people's home her gran had had to go in for a little while before she died: a stale, soulless place full of people with dead eyes and no hope. Her mum had made her promise that she'd never put her in a place like that. Morton rolled to a halt in front of a heavy oak door and pushed it open, gesturing for the Doctor and Rose to enter. They stepped through into a large, gloomy office. The walls were mostly lined with bookcases that groaned under the weight of heavy tomes and dust motes glinted in the shafts of weak sunlight that cut across the room. Wheeling himself across to a large wooden desk, Morton shuffled papers to one side. Rose glanced around the room nervously. The walls that were free of books were hung with huge, ugly paintings. Jars with strange twisted forms stood on gla.s.s-fronted cabinets and trays of surgical instruments gleamed on tables.

'Sit down please, Dr. . . Jones, Miss Evans, and tell me what I can do for you.' Morton regarded them balefully.

The Doctor slid into one of the old leather chairs, seemingly quite at home.

'We're interested in the work you're doing here, Mr Morton. And the effect it might be having on the local community.'

'This is a rest home for the elderly, Doctor, nothing more.'

'An unusual place for a retirement home, surely? A bit out of the way?'

'The clients in my care are wealthy. They have a desire for solitude, somewhere they can spend the twilight years of their life without prying eyes and unwelcome questions.' The threat in his voice was obvious. 'As for any effect on the community, I'm sure I don't know what you mean.'

'One of the locals seems to think that whatever you're doing here is affecting the well-being of their children. You don't exactly seem to have gone out of your way to fit in. I can't really see you and Miss Peyne joining in the local darts night down at the Red Lion.'

41.'This community is averse to change, Doctor, to anything new. And forgive me, but if I wish to keep myself to myself that is hardly any concern of yours.'

'And the noise of ravenous creatures roaming the hills doesn't disturb the rest of your clients clients at all?' Rose chipped in. Morton gave a bl.u.s.tering laugh. 'Creatures? Really, young lady. . . ' at all?' Rose chipped in. Morton gave a bl.u.s.tering laugh. 'Creatures? Really, young lady. . . '

'And the death of a young man on the sh.o.r.e, that's no worry to you either?' The Doctor's voice was harsh now.

Morton's smile faded.

'If there had been such a death, then it would be a matter for the police and not for a doctor.'

The two men glared at each other across the desk for a moment, then the Doctor broke into a broad smile.

'Quite right!' He rose from his seat. 'Well, thank you for your time, Mr Morton. Most helpful. I hope that we haven't disturbed you too much with our unwelcome questions. Miss Evans. . . '

The Doctor hauled Rose from her seat and thrust her towards the door. Morton struggled to extricate his wheelchair from behind the desk. The Doctor waved a hand at him.

'Please don't bother showing us out. I'm sure we can find our own way.' He bundled Rose out of the door into the hallway. 'This is right, isn't it?' he called back over his shoulder.

They hurried along the dark pa.s.sage, heading past the staircase and down another corridor. In the distance they could hear the ringing of a bell a relic of the time when the house was full of servants, no doubt and Morton's voice calling for Miss Peyne.

'Did you see which door those two in the masks went into?' asked the Doctor.

'This one, I think.' Rose pointed at an ornate oak door.

'That's what I thought too.'

There was a flare of blue light and a high-pitched whine as the Doctor pressed his sonic screwdriver to the lock. The door swung open and they slipped through into the room beyond.

42.Rose stared in horror at the room before her. It was long and highceilinged. Tall windows lined one wall and an elaborate chandelier hung from an elegant ceiling rose. It had obviously been a dining room of some kind for the rectory's previous owners, but Nathaniel Morton had found another use for it.

The tall windows were shuttered and dark, the chandelier disused and covered in cobwebs. Beds lined the walls, bathed in pools of soft light from concealed sources. Stacks of gleaming medical machinery hummed and bleeped quietly, while transparent tubes and arm-thick cables snaked their way across the scuffed and faded parquet floor and along the peeling skirting.

But it was the figures in the beds that made Rose stop and stare. Six of them, silent and motionless, faces pale even against the white of the sheets and pillows, their breathing shallow and faint. Four men, two women: old, no, ancient, their skin almost transparent, their hair wispy and silver. Thin, positively skeletal hands rested on the blankets covering them, while needles protruded obscenely from their veins. The entire room smelt antiseptic, clinical.

White-coated figures padded softly from bed to bed, adjusting tubes, peering at machines, their faces masked and anonymous. The Doctor and Rose walked between the beds, watching as one of the nurses if that's what they were jotted down a set of readings from one of the machines.

'What are they doing to them?' Rose whispered.

The Doctor shook his head. 'I'm not sure.'

When he moved as if to examine a sleeping figure, the white-coated attendants immediately turned as one, pus.h.i.+ng him backwards. The Doctor held his hands up. 'All right, all right, I was only looking. I wasn't going to touch.'

The door behind them swung open again and Rose turned to see Miss Peyne pus.h.i.+ng Morton down the length of the room. The old man had a face like thunder.

'What are you doing in here?' he hissed.

The Doctor tried his best to look apologetic. 'Took a wrong turn. Sorry about that. Thought we were heading for the front door and 43 ended up here.'

'You have no right to be in here. No right at all!' Morton was almost shaking with fury. 'You could have caused incalculable damage.'

Rose suddenly felt guilty. Perhaps this was just a nursing home after all.

'Look, we didn't touch anything. But what's going on here? Who are these people?'

'No business of yours!' snapped Morton. 'As I told you, we came here for seclusion and that is what we want. Seclusion. Now, get out!

Both of you!'

The Doctor shot a quick glance at Rose, then nodded. 'Of course. Sorry for the intrusion.'

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