Part 13 (1/2)

She heard Guy turn and walk away, into the spare bedroom. The door closed with a quiet, definite click.

Hot tears were escaping Anji's eyes before she could even try to stop them. She wanted to run to the room and say that she was sorry, and drag him back out and lay him down on the couch again and for them to carry on as before. But she couldn't. She stayed crouched where she was.

They made a good team, she decided. Him with the wisecracks about eggs. Her the chicken.

She rose shakily, wiped her eyes, drained her own mug in one grimacing gulp, and went into her bedroom. The sheets smelled safe and just of her, and the pillow was soft, so she cried into that.

Sixteen.

Night thoughts 'h.e.l.lo, honey, I'm home!' hollered Fitz as he came cras.h.i.+ng through the front door. It was gone one o'clock in the morning, he was knackered, troubled and had somewhat childishly resolved to wake up Trix the second he got back in after his long journey.

'How'd it go?' she called calmly from the bedroom.

Fitz sighed and wandered in. She was propped up in bed in a black T-s.h.i.+rt, engrossed in a chat show on the portable with a big box of chocolates beside her.

'Not great,' Fitz confessed. 'Basalt killed someone.'

'G.o.d, really?' Trix finally tore her eyes from the screen at that and popped another chocolate in her mouth. 'Who?'

'Some woman in her fifties.'

'Tell me what happened.'

'I'd rather not. Anyway, it's all fine and dandy, because the same woman was fit and well again half an hour later.'

Trix paused mid-chew. 'Have you been drinking?'

Fitz shook his head. 'It's mad. I know. But I saw tbe woman, terrified, bleeding, Basalt laying in to her. Then I called round once he'd left and... there she was!'

'An identical twin?'

'I thought maybe at first, but...' He shook his head. 'Timeless offers a safe murder service. A twin would be missed, surely. By her twin sister for a start.'

'Unless her twin was in on it...' Trix shook her head, apparently dismissing the idea. 'A double, then. Someone in make-up, to put people off the scent.'

'Maybe. She did say she was moving away...' Fitz wanted to believe such a rational explanation in a way. 'I don't know though. It was an exact double. Right down to the eyes...'

Trix shrugged. 'Clones, then. They're cloning people so they can kill them without any worries. The original is still about.' Her face darkened. 'Or maybe the clones are killing off their originals.'

Fitz stared at her. 'G.o.d, do you think so?'

'I think...' Trix stared into s.p.a.ce, apparently in deep thought. 'I think I'll have a caramel cream next.'

'You'll get fat,' remarked Fitz, nonchalantly eyeing her slim form. 'In about a hundred years time.'

'Chocolate helps me concentrate,' Trix told him, her eyes glued again to the TV. Fitz took the admission with the pinch of salt he reserved for most things she came out with. 'No. Can't be clones, can it? Can you clone someone old? I thought they'd be a baby or something.'

'Out in s.p.a.ce you can do that, naturally,' Fitz a.s.sured her with a veteran's knowledge. 'I've seen it done. But I don't know about here.' He sighed. 'How is Basalt doing it? And why? If we were to kill this Nencini guy would another one breeze round half an hour later and act like nothing had happened?'

'Have a chocolate,' said Trix, and pa.s.sed him one.

He popped it in his mouth and grimaced. 'Marzipan!'

Trix nodded in sympathy and pa.s.sed him a tissue. 'Yeah, I hate those ones too.'

Fitz spat the chocolatey lump out into his hand. 'I wish I'd stayed in bed today.'

'Me too. I had a pretty c.r.a.ppy time.' She chomped down on a hard centre. 'If you're interested?'

'You're selling it to me.'

'I did some digging around on Nencini. Got in touch with some people I know.' She tapped her small, straight nose. 'They have access to all kinds of things. They make enquiries.'

Fitz gave her a sharp look. 'You're meant to be undercover! What if you're being followed? What if '

'Relax,' she sighed, and shushed him so she could catch the punchline of some film star's funny story. She chuckled. 'Susan Canons.h.i.+re got in touch with them. They didn't know it was me. The only thing they recognise is money. How do you think I got hold of all those forged doc.u.ments for us? Your driving licence, cash card...'

'I thought the TARDIS '

Trix shushed him, eager to catch the actor's next joke. Fitz stabbed impatiently at the flicker and turned off the TV. Trix glowered at him. 'It helps me '

' concentrate? Fine. But it doesn't help me, and I need all the help I can get, savvy?'

'All right.' She shrugged and turned to him, making a great show of giving him her full attention.

'So, you have friends who forge doc.u.ments,' he said. 'Big deal. How did they help you with the Italian?'

'They can access records. Births and deaths. They can fit you up with a dead person's or an emigrant's ident.i.ty, National Insurance number...'

'Suppose that's an a.s.set in your line of work,' said Fitz, p.r.o.nouncing the last word like it was dirty.

Trix just nodded. 'Not only is it easier to scab benefits off the government but it's ideal for the detail in all that early life stuff if you reckon your past's going to come under scrutiny.'

'So Ralf and Susan Canons.h.i.+re were... real?'

'Yeah. But they didn't make as nice a couple as us, believe me.'

Fitz didn't want to know any more. The idea of standing in a dead man's shoes made him feel somehow sordid.

'Did the Doctor know you were doing all this... illegal stuff?'

'He thought it was a good idea and trusted me to sort everything out,' said Trix. 'I told you. People like Basalt do their research, Fitz. If you're caught out...'

Fitz nodded. 'I guess so. So what did you find out about Nencini?'