Part 7 (1/2)

'Don't do that,' she added. 'It makes you look like a kid.'

'Sorry.'

'Now, what is it?'

'Well, it was the spike. The murder weapon.'

'What about it?'

'Well, when I bagged it, I noticed that it had a scratch on it.'

Forrester thought back. 'Yes, I remember. So what?'

'Well, I couldn't help noticing that on the probe, it didn't. Not when she was committing the murder.'

She tried to remember the picture on the screen. 'It was very fuzzy,' she said dubiously. 'You couldn't possibly tell.'

'But I could!' he said excitedly. 'You could see it from all angles on the probe screen. Nothing. Not a scratch anywhere.'

'So so what are you saying?'

He looked down at the table. 'I'm saying that the spike we bagged is a real one, and the one on the record is a simulated one. I'm saying that the real one has a scratch but the simulated one is perfect. Too perfect.'

'Let me get this right. You're saying '

'I'm saying that I think the mind probe record was faked,' he muttered, too low for the rest of the Adjudicators to hear.

'You what what? Are you mad?'

'Mind probe records can be faked. You know that.'

Forrester couldn't believe what she was hearing. 'Yeah, but do you know what sort of technology is needed? Do you know how much it costs?'

He nodded mutely.

'And you think anybody is going to go to all that trouble for an underdweller?' she added. She was lacing her words with as much sarcasm as she 47could possibly muster, and Cwej was wilting under it. 'So who's responsible, then?'

He shook his head silently. It looked to her like he was on the verge of tears.

G.o.ddess, what were were they teaching the kids at the Academy these days?' they teaching the kids at the Academy these days?'

'Fine,' she said, quieter. 'Let's hear no more about it then.'

'I know what I saw,' he insisted stubbornly, not meeting her eyes.

'Yeah, I know what you saw too. An illusion. Something that wasn't there.'

'Easy way to check.'

'Yeah?'

'Go back through the mind probe record.'

'No,' she shouted. 'I am not pandering to your sense of the dramatic. The woman is the killer. I'm sorry if the tidiness of the thing offends you, but it's true. The simplest solution is usually the true one.'

'That's not true,' he said mulishly.

'It's street-true,' she snapped, 'and that's what counts.'

The walkway carried them back towards where they had left the TARDIS.

Bernice was quiet as she watched the towers slip past. What on Earth were they doing there?

'Odd,' the Doctor said from beside her, 'I don't usually have that effect on the people I talk to.'

'Perhaps,' Bernice said, 'we should try another approach. Any ideas?'

'The Imperial Landsknechte,' the Doctor replied. 'The champions of Earth, scourge of offworlders, defenders of the Empire.'

'Landsknechte? What, like marines? How do you work that one out?' she asked sceptically.

'The number burned into that poor Hith's tail. It's an Imperial Landsknechte identification number. They use them for prisoners of war. I noticed back on Oolis that Homeless Forsaken had one as well.

'And where are these records?'

'Er . . . not on Earth.'

'No,' she sighed. 'No, nothing's that simple, is it?'

'It's the only lead we have,' he replied, and scurried out to the centre of the walkway. 'We'll have to use the TARDIS to get to the planet Purgatory. That's where the records are kept.'

A thought struck Bernice with some force. 'Er, Doctor?'

'Hmm?' he said, glancing up at her.

'Haven't we gone past the tower where we left the TARDIS?'

He gazed around. 'I don't remember seeing it,' he said with some foreboding.48.

Bernice felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. 'Neither do I,' she said.

'Oh dear,' he said. 'Oh double dear. Oh double dear with whipped cream and a cherry on top.'

'You can say that again.'49.

Chapter 4.