Doctor Who: The Eight Doctors

by Terrance Dicks

  'Look, it's just business, right? Keep out of it, or youll get hurt.'

  Remorselessly the Doctor continued his summing-up.

  'Do I also gather that you now intend forcibly to administer drugs to this young lady so that she will be unwilling or unable to hamper your activities?'

  'That's right. What are you going to do about it?'

  'I must ask you to come with me to the local authorities...' He glanced inquiringly at Sam.

  'Coal Hill Police Station,' she said quickly.

  The Doctor nodded. 'To accompany me to Coal Hill Police Station, surrender those drugs and make a full confession.'

  There was such authority in his voice that, just for a moment Baz actually found himself moving to obey.

  Suddenly getting hold of himself he turned to the largest of his gang.

  Mo did all the gang's heavy work. Mo would smash this prat who dared to talk to him, to him, Baz, like he was dirt.

  Like he was - nothing...

  'Sort him, Mo!'

  Mo rushed up reaching out for the Doctor, who stepped forward, took hold of Mo's right wrist and and made a complicated-looking circular movement.

  Mo performed a complete somersault, and landed flat on his back, all the breath knocked out of him.

  For a brief moment, the Doctor recalled flying through the air, picking himself up and facing a many-armed, glowing-eyed being in a huge, misty cavern.

  'Concentrate, Doctor,'said the creature sternly. 'Remember, centring, circularity, focus and balance. Use them to turn your attacker's strength against him. Handicapped as you are, you should be able to do better than this!'

  And with time and practice he had done better, recollected the Doctor, pleased that at least one fragment of memory had been restored to him. In fact he had become extremely adept at Venusian Aikido. Few two-armed lifeforms could claim as much.

  As Pete, Little Mikey and Baz closed in for the attack, the Doctor moved gracefully amongst them pulling here, twisting there...

  Amidst yells of rage and pain, three bodies flew through the air in a kind of involuntary ballet - all landing on Mo who was just struggling to get up.

  The Doctor turned to the astonished Sam. 'Shouldn't you be back in school?'

  Sam glanced at her watch. It was eleven o'clock.

  'I suppose I should, really.'

  'Off you go then. I can deal with these four.'

  'You certainly can. Thanks.'

  She looked at him for a moment. He was a very good-looking man. Pity he was barmy. With a nod of farewell, Sam slipped through the open gate and disappeared.

  The Doctor looked at the pile of bodies, which started disentangling itself into four badly shaken youths.

  No one seemed very anxious to return to the fray.

  In fact, Mo was edging away, making for the exit.

  Before he could speak there came the sound of a car engine. He went over and looked through the open gate.

  'Cops!'

  He dashed straight out of the gate and started running.

  They all heard the wail of a police siren. Reacting to a familiar stimulus, Baz and his boys scrambled to their feet, dodged through the cluttered junkyard and vanished over the back fence with amazing speed.

  Still feeling bemused, the Doctor watched them go. Ought he to try and stop them? Perhaps it was none of his business.

  But then - what was his business?

  What was he doing here anyway?

  As he turned to go back in theTARDIS, his foot brushed against something.

  It was Baz's plastic bag. He stooped down and picked it up, just as a blue-clad figure ran into the yard.

  A few minutes earlier, Constable Bates who was old and cynical, and Constable Sanders, who was new and keen, turned into Totters Lane in their area car .

  Bates was letting Sanders do all the driving - the experience was good for the lad. He was just about to point out that it was tea-break time when young eagle-eye Sanders had to go and spot some local scrote running out of Foreman's Yard.

  'Look!'

  Sanders switched on the siren and put his foot on the accelerator.

  Bates shrugged. 'Just some kid messing about.'

  'That gate was locked yesterday,' snapped Sanders. 'Must be a breakin at the very least!'

  'All right, all right,' grumbled Bates.

  'It's not exactly the Great Train Robbery, is it?'

  By the time the police car screeched to a halt outside the junkyard, the running figure had disappeared around the corner.

  Sanders jumped out of the police car and ran into the yard, followed at a more leisurely pace by Bates.

  They found an oddly dressed, long-haired man standing in front of an obsolete police box, a plastic bag in his hand.

  Sanders desperately wanted to whip out a Magnum and scream, 'Freeze, scumbag!' - but that wasn't how you did it over here. Dropping a hand to his baton he said, 'May I ask what you're doing on enclosed premises, sir?'

  The man looked baffled. 'I'm not really sure. I just sort of - arrived.'

  Bates took in the strange costume, the vague, staring blue eyes.

  Another one released into the community a bit too soon, he thought.

  More out than in, these days.

  'What's in the bag, sir?' persisted Sanders. 'Is it yours?'

  'Now I want a word with you about that,' said the Doctor. 'Apparently it's something called cocaine - crack cocaine.'

  He gave them a reproving glare.

  'Were you aware that this stuff was being peddled in your area? There was nothing like that going on in Coal Hill when I used to live here!'

  At the mention of crack cocaine, Sanders and Bates both drew their batons. Drugs often meant guns these days, even in London.

  'Just hand me the bag, please,' said Bates.

  'Yes, of course.' The man handed it over.

  Bates'looked in the bag, then turned to Sanders and nodded.

  'And where did you get this bag, sir?'

  'From a young man - he brought it here.'

  'They must have been using the yard for a drug deal,' said Sanders. "That kid I spotted was the look-out. He warned them and they all cleared off.'

  Bates looked at the oddly dressed stranger. 'This one doesn't seem to be in any hurry.'

  Sanders didn't want to miss the credit for catching a big-time dope dealer.

  'We'd better take him in.'

  'I really haven't got time to go with you now,' said the man calmly. 'I'm rather busy. Why don't you just take the drugs with you and I'll try to pop in later?'

  'I'm afraid it's not that simple, sir,' said Sanders. 'What's your name?'

  'You can call me the Doctor.'

  'Full name please, sir.'

  Another dormant memory revived. 'Smith. Doctor John Smith.' He gave them a worried look. 'Now I really must be off.'

  Sanders put a hand on the man's shoulder. 'John Smith, I am arresting you for being in possession of a controlled substance. You are not obliged to say anything, but if you fail to mention anything which you later rely on in your defence, that and anything you do say may be used against you.'

  The Doctor stared at him. 'What does all this mean? I don't understand!'

  'Let me put it in layman's terms, sir,' said Bates helpfully. 'Doctor, you're nicked!'

  Sam Jones slipped into the empty playground - break was over by now -

  and headed for the school buildings.

  She might still be in time to sneak into her next lesson - maths with old Pain.

  Or maybe she'd just cut it. Her attendance record was still pretty good -

  much better than most people's at Coal Hill School.

  She was about to go inside when a voice behind her said, 'Oi!'

  Sam gasped and turned round, heart thumping. She was suddenly afraid that Baz had managed to get there before her and was waiting in ambush.

  But it wasn't Baz. It was a stocky fair-haired young man in jeans and sports jacket. He might have been o
ne of the older pupils but he wasn't. He was Trev Selby, one of the younger teachers.

  'What have you been up to,

  Samantha?' Trev did his best to look

  stern - which wasn't easy with his round cheerful face and snub nose.

  'Nothing,' said Sam 'I had to pop out during break.'

  'To quote the school rules, "Pupils are required to remain upon school premises during break times.

  Anything in the way of 'popping out' is

  strictly forbidden."'

  'I didn't have much choice.'

  Trev Selby looked hard at her. She was clearly shaken up - much more so than was called for by being caught in a minor bit of rule-breaking. She looked worried and frightened - and Samantha Jones was usually pretty cool.

  'What's up, Sam?'

  'Nothing.'

  'Don't give me that.'

  Sam looked round. 'It's nothing, really.'

  Trev sensed that she was uneasy in the open playground.

  'Come with me,' he ordered.

  'Where?'

  'Staff room. It should be empty by now.'

  But the staff room wasn't empty, not quite. A tall young woman with black hair drawn back in a bun was sitting in the corner, marking a pile of essays.

  She peered over a pair of outsized glasses as Trev Selby marched Sam inside.

  'What's going on?'

  'I've brought Samantha in for a cup of coffee and a chat.'

  'You know that's against the rules.'

  'Tell me about it.'

  He went to the urn in the corner and poured lukewarm coffee for Sam and himself.

  'One for you, Vicky?'

  'Yes, I suppose so.'

  Vicky Latimer looked at him in amused exasperation. Like Trev she was one of the younger staff, but their temperaments were very different. Vicky was a believer in obeying rules and keeping up standards - hard work in present-day Coal Hill.

  Trev Selby just wanted to get through the day, or so he said. But he was a good teacher, almost in spite of himself, and he cared a lot more about the kids than he let on.

  'Sam's upset about something,' he said. 'Maybe you can get her to talk about it, Vicky - you know, girly talk.'

  'Chauvinist oaf,' said Vicky. 'What's the matter, Sam? Anything you can tell us about?'

  'Someone giving you a hard time?' asked Trev.

  Sam looked from one to the other.

  She'd lose all her cred if anyone found out. You just didn't talk to teachers, not about some things.

  But suddenly it all seemed too much.

  She nodded. 'Baz.'

  Trev frowned. 'Baz Bailey, the pill king? What about him?'

  'He thinks I've been grassing him up.'

  Vicky looked baffled.

  'Informing on him - to the police,' translated Trev. He turned to Sam.

  'Why don't you just tell him he's wrong?'

  'He'd never believe me?'

  'Why not?'

  'Because he's quite right.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'Baz is right,' repeated Sam patiently.

  'I've been grassing him up.'

  Chapter 2

  Information Recieved

  Detective-Inspector Foster drew a deep breath.

  'Now then, sir, let's just go over it all again, just to make sure I've got things straight.'

  They were at Coal Hill Police Station in a small interview room. The bottom half of the room was painted dark blue, the top half a hideously clashing pink. Some Home Office psychologist reckoned the pink had a soothing effect on people.

  Foster just found it irritating. Then again, after twenty years in CID, he found most things irritating, though he wasn't supposed to show it. A big, solid, hard-faced man, Foster was perpetually simmering with suppressed rage, a human volcano in a smart blue suit and sober tie.

  At a smaller table in the corner sat Detective-Constable Ballard, in charge of the tape recorder.

  The tape recorder irritated Foster too - it meant it was harder to add those artistic little improvements to a statement that made things run so much more smoothly in court. Made you wonder whose side the law was supposed to be on...

  Detective-Constable Ballard irritated Foster as well. He was too young, too thin, too well dressed and too well educated. But what was irritating Foster most of all at the moment was the prisoner, with his long hair and outlandish clothes. Nothing very unusual about that these days. But there was something strange about this particular prisoner.

  He sat on the other side of the scarred wooden table looking vague and abstracted, as if his mind was far away. He'd answered all Foster's questions politely and helpfully. But the story his answers added up to...

  'Let's begin with the matter of your identity,' said Foster.

  'I've already told you - you can call me the Doctor.'

  'What kind of doctor?' interrupted Ballard. 'What do you claim to be qualified in?'

  'Practically everything.'

  'Your name,' said Foster. 'We need a name - for the records.'

  'I told you that too - Smith.'

  'First name John?' said Ballard.

  'That's right? How did you know?'

  'Just a lucky guess.'

  'Doctor John Smith?'

  "That's right, you've got it.'

  'How about giving us your real name?'

  'Oh no, I couldn't do that,' said the Doctor, looking shocked.

  'Why not?'

  'It's secret. Confidential. They used to call meTheta Sigma at the Academy, but that was more of a nickname really. I always use Smith when I'm on Earth.'

  'Very well,' said Foster through gritted teeth. 'We'll stick with Smith - for the moment.' He drew a deep calming breath. 'Now, you were found on enclosed premises, at 76, Totters Lane, in close proximity to an obsolete police box, which you insist is your personal property.'

  'Indeed it is.'

  'Where did you get it?'

  'I'm not sure - but I've had it for a very long time.'

  'What's it doing in Foreman's Yard,' demanded Ballard. 'Did you take it there?'

  'No, no,' said the Doctor. 'Quite the reverse, actually.' He beamed at Ballard, pleased with his little joke.

  'NEVER MIND THE BLOODY POLICE BOX!' roared Foster. 'I DON'T GIVE

  A BRASS MONKEY'S - ' He broke off short, gulped, drew another deep breath and said mildly, 'Let's leave the police box aside for the moment, sir.

  What about this?'

  He gestured to Ballard, who handed him a plastic bag. 'For the benefit of the tape, I am holding up a plastic bag, containing a considerable quantity of a substance I believe to be crack cocaine. Is this your property as well, Doctor?' 'Certainly not.'

  'It was found in your possession.'

  'It was found in my hand,' corrected the Doctor. "That doesn't mean I own it.'

  Foster looked at his notes. 'According to your story, the bag was formerly in possession of a youth who, in company with several others, was intimidating a young girl. You intervened, there was some kind of altercation, the police arrived and the youths and the girl fled. The bag got dropped in all the fuss, and you picked it up - just as my officers arrived?'

  'That's it exactly,' said the Doctor.

  'Well done! Well, if that's all...' He stood up.

  'SIT DOWN!' bellowed Foster, slamming his hand on the table so hard that the tin-lid ashtray bounced up in the air.

  The Doctor sat. 'You want to watch those sudden adrenaline surges, Inspector. Not good for you, you know.'

  In a strained, mild voice, Foster went on, 'If you could just spare us a little more of your valuable time, Doctor?'

  'Oh, I've got plenty of time,' said the Doctor. 'I'm aTime Lord, you know.'

  'How did I know that?' he asked himself softly. 'But it's true!'

  'The youth with the drugs,' said Ballard. 'You say his name was Baz?'

  'That's what the others called him.'

  'Was he previously known to you?'

  'Never seen him in
my life.'

  'And you say this Baz dropped the bag during your -altercation?'

  'I suppose he must have done. I picked it up immediately afterwards.'