Part 26 (1/2)

The door into the bar was locked, or bolted. Peri guessed that the back door of the pub would be barred too. They had been taking no chances on her escaping. That left only one route. Up the stairs. She raced back, just as Liz emerged from the smoke. Liz grabbed at Peri as she ran past, caught at her, almost managed to take hold. But Peri pulled free and started up the stairs, two at a time. Behind her, Liz Trefoil began to follow with slow deliberate steps.

Madge Simpson sat in her kitchen, snuggled inside a towelling dressing gown. The kettle was on. A mug stood ready beside it with a tea bag stuffed inside. She tried to make sense of the girl's phone call. She had seemed confused, distressed. And then there was the screaming, the shouting before she was cut off.

Never one to panic, Madge considered her options carefully. She could call the police, but she wasn't really sure what she could usefully tell them. She could ignore it and go back to bed, but her conscience was unlikely to allow her to sleep much afterwards. She could wait for the girl to call again, a.s.sume that there was nothing more wrong than a broken connection. Or she could call the ministry and see if anyone there knew what was happening. But she was loath to do that - she knew that Sir Anthony had not wanted anyone but herself to know where he was. There would be a reason for that. With Sir Anthony there was a reason for everything.

The kettle started to boil, and she came to a decision. She would make the tea, give the girl another few minutes to call back. And if there was still nothing, Madge would call the one number she did have. Perhaps, just perhaps, she would be able to get through. If not...Well, she would worry about that when she needed to.

Janet Spillsbury was sitting on a laboratory stool, her fingers knitted together in her lap, twisting all the time. She stared straight ahead, her pupils tiny dots in her wide, pale eyes. The Doctor spared her the occasional glance as he worked. He did not want her to succ.u.mb completely to the alien influence without his realising, though he had no idea what to do if and when she did. Sheldon was sitting cross-legged on the floor, rocking back and forth and humming. The sound was just loud enough to be annoying. The Doctor tried to tune it out, almost succeeding. Sheldon was nursing his healing hand, clutching it close to his body. Stubby fingers had sprouted from the stump of his new palm. It was somehow fascinating to watch the genetic healing process, and at the same time grotesque.

The Doctor tried to concentrate on the view through the microscope. It was a sample of blood he had taken from Sheldon's new arm. That had seemed like the best place to start hunting for the alien material. Sir Anthony was standing nearby, his old, grey eyes watching the Doctor intently, as if a.s.sessing his progress, his proximity to success.

Eventually the Doctor looked up. 'I think I've managed to isolate the Denarian material,' he said, with a certain amount of pride. He gestured for Sir Anthony to take a look. He did.

'Means nothing to me,' the elderly man confessed as he stepped away from the bench. 'What's the next step?'

'Well, I've doctored this sample, if you'll forgive the expression.' The Doctor grinned. 'Now I can synthesise a solution of the pure alien material.'

'Thought that would be the last thing we need,' Sir Anthony grumbled.

'Yes,' the Doctor said with exaggerated patience. 'But once we have that, we know what we're fighting and I can develop an antidote, something that will neutralise it genetically.'

'Simple as that?'

The Doctor raised an eyebrow. 'I very much doubt it,' he confessed. 'Now, could I have just a little bit of peace and quiet, do you think?'

As he worked, the Doctor tried to ignore the sound of Sheldon's humming, the intense stare of Sir Anthony, the nervous movement of Janet's fingers. He slotted two test tubes of material into a centrifuge and turned it on. And frowned.

It was making the most peculiar noise. A high-pitched buzzing. Almost like...

And it did not seem to be coming from the centrifuge at all, now he came to listen properly, the Doctor decided.

Insistent, regular. Almost like...

Almost like a mobile phone ringing.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Doctor saw Sir Anthony reach into his jacket pocket. He fumbled for a moment, then the sound stopped.

He had his phone.

Hidden in his pocket.

And the Doctor had sent Peri back to the main island to get it.

Suddenly a lot of things were clear to the Doctor. Not least that he needed help. 'So,' he said without looking up from the centrifuge, 'you do have your phone with you. And it can get a signal even down here.'

Sir Anthony was standing absolutely still. Sheldon had stopped humming. Janet's fingers were still. The centrifuge spun to a halt.

'That's why you really came here, to Dorsill, isn't it?' The Doctor went on, still not looking up. He removed the test tubes from the centrifuge and placed them carefully in a wooden rack beside it on the workbench. 'Not that I think you knew, not really. Any more than you really, consciously knew you had the phone with you when you sent Peri off to find it.

You've been consciously struggling to ascribe motives to your subconscious actions all along, haven't you?'

He did look up now, fixing Sir Anthony with a steely stare. He had a.s.sumed the man's eyes were pale with age.

Now he could see how wrong he had been. 'I guess you must have been infected even before Packwood.' The Doctor took a step towards Sir Anthony. 'That's why it's you that is the host for the controlling, sentient part of the Denarian. Isn't it?' He reached out his hand suddenly. 'The phone please.'

Just for a second, the Doctor thought Sir Anthony was going to give him the phone. He reached into his pocket. But when his hand emerged, it was holding a small, flat pistol.

The Doctor hesitated. He was just too far away to grab Sir Anthony's hand. Too close to risk trying to dive away. So he stood still and slowly raised his hands, fingers splayed out. 'So why did you let me get this far?' the Doctor asked quietly.

'Partly because you're right, Doctor,' Sir Anthony told him. 'I really didn't know what I was doing. But I see it all now. I see the great vision that Packwood held. I see how it ends.'

The Doctor nodded as if he understood. 'Partly?' he prompted.

'And partly, Doctor, because I am an old man.'

'I wouldn't say that,' the Doctor murmured.

'I may have the advantages of the Denarian enhancement within me, but I fear that my frame is still brittle and frail. I can heal, I grow stronger, but for the moment I am still an old man who feels the cold.'

'Ah, of course.' The Doctor turned slightly to see Janet Spillsbury push herself off the stool and approach them. 'So you were waiting for Janet.'

'Or Peri,' Janet said quietly, behind him. 'But I was further advanced.'

'Peri?' The Doctor's eyes widened. 'You don't mean Peri is infected too?'

'Of course,' Janet said. 'Couldn't you tell?'

'Oh, Peri,' the Doctor breathed.

'Everyone is infected,' Sir Anthony said. 'Or will be.

Soon.' He turned slightly to address Janet. 'Would you do the honours, please?' As she moved to take the test tubes the Doctor had placed in the rack, Sir Anthony went on: 'I really must thank you, Doctor, for synthesising a pure Denarian solution. Most useful.'

The Doctor turned enough to see Janet push the needle of a syringe into one of the test tubes. She drew out a portion of the clear liquid into the syringe.

'I think it's only fair to point out,' the Doctor said, 'that I'm a little further on than I led you to believe.'

'Oh?'

Janet paused, holding the syringe upright, the needle glinting in the harsh lighting of the laboratory, a bead of liquid escaping from its tip and running down the side of the needle.

'Yes.' The Doctor smiled winningly. 'You see, that's actually the antidote, not the Denarian.'

Sir Anthony nodded. 'I see,' he said. 'You guessed that I was infected, so you synthesised the cure without letting on. Is that it?'