Part 20 (1/2)

The hands of Big Ben's clock moved on to the hour. The bell itself interrupted the Doctor's thoughts as it ushered in the afternoon. 'I hope you're sure about your theory,' said Benny.

'I'd hate to think we were standing here while Jason robs a Midland and Westminster Bank or something.'

'That doesn't exist yet,' the Doctor said distractedly. 'And I'm sure. My homing device tells me that the TARDIS is 154 nearby, in St James's Park. Jason is coming here, to contact those in power.'

He crossed his fingers and tried to shake the feeling that he'd missed something.

155.

17.

b.u.t.terfly People.

Lawrence Murdock knew nothing of time travel, but he knew a little about cause and effect. He could have said less on the subject of air currents, but he did know about b.u.t.terflies. One night in the pub, it had been explained to him: that the flapping of a b.u.t.terfly's wings could cause hurricanes, although he didn't really understand how. And Murdock knew from the TV that hurricanes killed people, sometimes in great numbers.

So, one day in early 2002, after reports of a particular tragedy on the evening news, he knew exactly who to blame for the carnage.

Lawrence Murdock knew how to use a gun. But he wasn't too proficient at aiming one.

In the summer of the previous year, Mark Waring thought he had a better way of saving humanity. He stood in Trafalgar Square, shouting to the public in hope of their buying his newspaper and being thus converted. Most weren't open-minded enough to seek enlightenment, so when two blond men in their early twenties approached, Mark saw them as a chance to double his day's takings.

One of the men extended a hand and Mark took it warily. The fellow was wearing what seemed like a school uniform. His more normal friend hung back as though embarra.s.sed. 'I'm Jason,' the schoolboy said. 'Why do you sell those?'

'Because I believe in what they say,' Mark answered, surprised that the question should have been put.

'Believe in what, exactly?'

'In the Marxist critique of contemporary society, of course. In the abolition of archaic cla.s.s boundaries and the redistribution 156 of the means of production. The purpose of this paper is to open people's eyes to our hegemonic domination by the ruling elite and to hasten the day of revolution.'

'Fab!' Jason said, clapping his hands enthusiastically. 'A friend of mine is planning a revolution today. Want to come?'

Mark regarded him suspiciously. 'You running a poster campaign?'

'No,' said Jason, in the same puzzled tone which Mark had just used. 'We're raising a rebel army to take over the country.'

Mark stared.

'I thought you wanted that.'

Mark turned to the other man for some clue; perhaps a wry grin to show that his friend was normally considered insane.

But he was staring steadfastly up at Nelson's Column.

'Well? Isn't this what you're waiting for?'

Mark looked at his newspapers, the headline SMASH THE STATE emblazoned across each of them. He turned back to Jason, unnerved by the fanatical light in his eyes.

'Don't be stupid!' he said. Then he walked off as fast as he could manage without running.

'You don't understand,' Jason called after him, voice catching. 'We're making history!'

Melanie Bush stood in her own future, outside the unchanged landmark of Buckingham Palace, and wondered how things could look so similar and yet feel so different. She was only peripherally aware that, to the two women beside her, the events of 2001 belonged to tales of distant ancestors.

The Doctor returned from his short but intense conversation with a tourist. 'You were right,' he told Benny, disgusted with himself, 'we were wasting our time. Jason came here.'

'Second rule of warfare,' said Benny. 'Don't overestimate your opponent either.'

'I should have learned that from the Vardans.'

'So what now?' asked Roz (itching to get into action, Mel thought contemptuously).

'I know something Jason doesn't. Benny, Roz, I want you to stay here. Keep an eye on the TARDIS, in case the barrier 157 falters, and guard the palace. He'll be back. Mel, you're with me. We need to be in Sheffield and I'm afraid the quickest route is by train.'

'Can't I go?' Benny asked. 'The north of England was really quaint at this time.' She dropped into an unconvincing hybrid Lancas.h.i.+re/Yorks.h.i.+re accent. 'By 'eck la.s.s, tha's got a whippet in tha tripe bowl, bah gum.'

The Doctor frowned. 'What books have you been reading?'

Tina Matthews had been reading books about animal experimentation. That was why she wanted to change the world.

But she wasn't going to do it by listening to some jerk in short pants.

'Why not?' Jason pleaded, pursuing her along the road.

'Because you're nuts.'

'We can be nice to animals if that's what you want.' Jason tugged her elbow so that she dropped the leaflets she had been distributing. 'We can make you Princess with Responsibility for Wildlife, how does that sound?'

Tina swore as she knelt to gather the fallen papers. To her annoyance, he crouched beside her. 'What does it say on these?

”Stop Animal Experimentation”? We can do that.'

Abandoning the remaining leaflets, Tina got up to leave.

'Fine, then!' Jason said petulantly. 'Just don't blame me if we ”accidentally” pa.s.s a law banning all makes of shampoo that haven't been dripped into cats' eyes!'

Tina whirled around and punched him on the nose. She was rather pleased to feel it snap.

'Cruncher' Simpson didn't think of himself as someone who could alter history. Faces, yes but history, no. But he was looking at twenty years this time, so with nothing to lose, he might as well throw in with anyone who could make things difficult for the pigs. Just for a laugh.

'Right lads,' Dr Who said. 'Now we're out of that depressing prison, let's make plans for our glorious take-over.'

'Shouldn't we get away from here first?' asked someone. Dr Who gestured towards the doorway of Charing Cross police 158 station. It had been bricked up, Cruncher saw. Not that that surprised him; no more, anyhow, than had this strange man's elaborate escape plan, which had involved sleeping draughts in the guards' coffee and a collapsible battering ram which the desk sergeant had failed to notice in the incoming prisoner's pocket. Ten minutes after Dr Who's arrival, the nine occupants of the police cells were back on the loose. Some more so than others.

'Chris! Key!' Dr Who shouted, alarmed as two thugs bolted.

'I haven't told you what to do yet. Come back!' He whirled as another erstwhile follower shrugged his shoulders and sloped off. 'Not you as well, Giles. Get back here, Tony. Where's Kyle? What happened to the two Neils?'