Doctor How and the Deadly Anemones

by Mark Speed

  “That is, like, such a racial stereotype!”

  “And precisely because you recognise it, that makes it a valid observation. The Eastern Europeans are also a great deal harder-working than native Brits, and set up in jobs that you people are too lazy or fussy to do. Hence the reason these fellows can adopt the personae of cleaners from Eastern Europe so successfully.”

  The duo emerged from the bathroom. Each was carrying a sealed transparent bag. One was quite compact and contained Mrs Plensca’s bones. The other was fuller, and held her husband’s more substantial remains.

  “All done, boss,” said the one who seemed to be in charge, with a cheeky wink to Kevin. His colleague opened a black rubbish bag and put the smaller body-bag into it. “Done to Rindan standard, with ritual blessings. For you, Doctor, special rate. Is two thousand with receipt, sixteen hundred cash.”

  “Well, you know I need the receipt, Grk.”

  Grk shrugged. “Is all same for me. VAT cost me four hundred with receipt. Taxman take off honest man, innit?”

  “My point is that the Rindan embassy will have to foot the bill and I need to show them a receipt.”

  “Is not my problem, boss. I not kill no one. Asides, no one else can do job. Maybe you want boy here do job. Yes? He know Rindan ritual blessings performance for deaths?” He indicated Kevin with a nod.

  His colleague was trying to stuff the transparent bag containing the lower half of Mr Plensca into a black garbage bag. He tried bending the legs at the knee, but rigor mortis had set in and he had to give up. He took out a second black plastic bag and covered the out-of-towner’s pale green feet with it. He tied a third bag around the package and seemed satisfied with the resulting package.

  “Asides,” said Grk, wiping his nose on the back of his sleeve. “You give me money, end of month you take money from me for rent, get money from Rindan embassy. Pfft! Doctor How win every time.”

  The Doctor fumbled for his wallet and began counting out notes. “Yes, but I pay taxes in every blasted jurisdiction I do business in, Grk. And I have all the responsibility being a Time Keeper entails. You’re carefree.”

  Grk rolled his eyes out of the Doctor’s field of view. “Hey, Kev. Maybe you work for Grk, yes? You not sick when you see this mess. Is good stomach you have for human. You need learn Squill, talk with co-workers other systems out-of-town.” He reached out and squeezed Kevin’s upper arm, then prodded his stomach. “Ah. You not so fit, no? Too much piri-piri or fried chicks, yes? Eat fries food. Not enough exercise. Listen – if things not working out with Doctor laters, you do gym one month and maybe you come work for Grk. Yes? I teach you proper job you can take anywhere in Pleasant universe. Proper work. Man job. Yes?”

  “Uh, yes. Sure.”

  “Is good.” Grk winked at Kevin.

  “He’s not travelled much,” said the Doctor, counting out a wad of twenty-pound notes into Grk’s waiting hand. “To be honest, he’s lost outside South London.”

  “That’s not true!” said Kevin hotly.

  “He’s been to Brighton a few times,” said the Doctor. “I suppose that counts as pretty far out in some respects.”

  Grk pocketed the Doctor’s money, wrote out a receipt on a pad. “Iiiis for yoooouuuu, Doctor,” he said in a smooth voice as he scribbled. He tore away the top copy, handed it to the Doctor and tucked the pad away into his overalls again. The Doctor folded up his receipt and put it in his wallet. “Thank-you-very-muuuuuch,” said Grk. “Always a pleasure for the beezness.” He shook the Doctor’s hand. He shook Kevin’s hand, met his eyes again and gave a conspiratorial wink. “Don’t forget Grk’s offer, yes?”

  He picked up the bag of cleaning equipment they’d arrived with, and opened the door for his silent but smiling colleague, who exited with the unearthly remains of the consul and Mr Plensca tucked under his arms. “Ciao laters!” he said over his shoulder as the door closed behind him. Kevin heard their footsteps recede down the hall to the lift; none of the human residents of the building were aware of the events of the morning, or of the grisly deaths of the Plenscas.

  “You’ve got a finger in every pie, Doc. Ain’t ya?”

  “You’d expect that if I’d set up shop here a couple of thousand years ago.” The Doctor was texting on his phone.

  “But it’s like you control the whole out-of-towner economy.”

  “Hardly – I just rent apartments to most of them. As I explained before – it needs careful regulation. You can’t have out-of-towners just living anywhere and everywhere, can you? Someone needs to keep an eye on everything.” A text came back to the Doctor and he gave something between a smile and a grimace.

  “But why South London? Why Streatham Hill?”

  “Some other time. Our next appointment is with someone who doesn’t get out much. Not much of a walk from here. And by all accounts you need to work on your fitness.”

  The Doctor took one last look around the dead consul’s apartment, turning off and unplugging appliances as he went. Then he ushered Kevin out of the door and locked it behind him. Kevin looked down the corridor at half a dozen identical doors and let his imagination wander.

  Tooting is Balham’s poorer neighbour to the south, and home to more recent human migrants from the more easterly corner of the British Empire. As they made it over the busy crossroads at Tooting Bec Underground station and into Tooting proper, Kevin raised a hand in the direction of Trinity Road. “Is –?”

  “No,” said the Doctor. “She’s not named after a road.”

  “That’s not what I was going to ask. I was going to ask if it’s because she can transform into different things.”

  “No. She’s not named after the Holy Trinity. The area of religion and extraterrestrial life is a minefield. There’d be pandemonium if they knew what you know.”

  “Great for Scientologists, surely?”

  The Doctor sniggered. “They’re already a laughing-stock throughout the Pleasant universe.”

  “Well, what or who is Trinity named after then?” “July 16th, 1945.”

  “What was that?”

  “Mankind’s first nuclear explosion. It was called Trinity.”

  “You mean she’s some kind of radioactive mutant? A cat who was bitten by a radioactive spider? Like Spiderman?”

  “Oh, Kevin please. Attributing everything to radiation is such a lazy way of thinking. It’s cheap science fiction at its worst.”

  “Well I don’t bleedin’ know, do I?”

  “I’ve told you before, she comes from a forest planet. I call her Trinity because she’s a one-being nuclear war – a game-changer. You’ve seen what she can do.”

  “Gotcha. I can see that.”

  “And sometimes a deterrent.”

  “Yeah. Trinity. The nuclear option.” They strode on silently for a few seconds. Kevin noticed they were getting near St George’s Hospital. “Like, now I totally get what a native South Londoner you are, Doc.”

  “Really?”

  “Totally. The boys in my ’hood have got their attack dogs – their pit bulls and that. You has like got Trinity.”

  The Doctor harrumphed. “It’s not at all like that.”

  “It so is, man. It is so utterly and totally equivalent! In fact, Trinity’s been around a lot longer than this whole status-dog thing. You’re like the guy who invented it, man!” Kevin was bouncing around the crowded pavement now, laughing. He slapped his hand on the Doctor’s back. “You’re the man, Doc.” A few passers-by regarded the odd couple, and Kevin wondered how many were from out of town.

  “Oh, for heaven’s sake,” said the Doctor. “Right, down this street here.” They cut off Tooting Broadway towards the hospital. The street had seen better days.

  “Are we going to the hospital, or the cemetery next door?”

  “Neither.” The Doctor stepped through a gate into the small concrete garden of a terraced house. There were three buttons at the front door and he pressed the lowest one. There was a crackle and the Doctor stated
his name. The door buzzed and they went through into the hallway. There was a door straight ahead and one off to either side.

  “How can you have a two-storey house split into three flats?” Kevin wondered aloud.

  The door to their left buzzed and the Doctor opened it. A wave of cool, dank air drifted out. “Cellar,” said the Doctor, and started down the stone steps, which turned immediately to the right so that they led in the direction of the rear of the house. “Come on,” he called back. “And shut the door, will you?”

  “There’s no light. Doesn’t your Ultraknife have a flashlight function?”

  “Of course it does, but it would be bad manners. You’ll just have to tread carefully. Follow me. And keep your head down because the ceiling’s a bit low.”

  “Apparently you can see in the dark, Doc. Well I can’t. I’m only human.”

  Kevin shut the door and took his first tentative steps around the corner by the light leaking through the gap at the bottom of the door. The stairs were steep, the tread narrow, and the stairwell itself only a couple of feet wide. He heard the Doctor stepping confidently on the stone below him and then walking across level ground. Not wanting to touch the wall, he brushed his left forearm against it and edged down, a step at a time, feeling the way by putting the backs of his heels against the risers as he lowered his feet. His eyes grew more accustomed to the darkness, and when he finally reached the bottom he could see that there was a dim green light emanating from a flat object on the ceiling. He kept his eyes off it so that they would adjust further and saw the Doctor standing in the opposite corner. Minding his footsteps, he walked over to join him and turned to face the same way that the Time Keeper was facing.

  “Man, it’s so damp in here,” he whispered. “The walls are actually wet with slime, Doc. I stand by what I was saying this morning. You’re a bit of a slum landlord.”

  “Shh.”

  Kevin jumped. A figure had appeared in the doorway opposite. Or perhaps it had been there before and his eyes hadn’t been able to pick it out in the gloom. The figure was of a stooped old man, dressed in robes. His white hair and beard were matted and tangled, masking his facial features.

  “Greetings, Doctor.” The voice had no echo in the cavernous room. Instead, it seemed to reverberate outwards from the walls.

  “Greetings. This is my new assistant.”

  “Ah, Kevin. Welcome. I heard you acquitted yourself well yesterday.”

  “Acquitted? Nah, that was months ago. It was more like they dropped the charges in the end, to be honest. Oh.” Kevin cleared his throat. “Oh, you mean I acquitted myself well in the spot of bother we had yesterday? Well, yeah. Thanks. I didn’t realise the word was out on the street.”

  “Hmm,” said the figure.

  A drop of water fell from the ceiling and made no noise as it hit the slimy floor.

  “As I mentioned, I need your help,” said the Doctor.

  “The great Doctor How needs my help. It is a rare thing indeed.”

  “Yes, a rare thing. Only a being with your particular skills could assist us in this rather awkward matter.”

  “I’m intrigued, Doctor. Go on.”

  “I’ll be blunt. I don’t think you ever met the Plenscas. New Rindan consul and her husband. Nice couple. They were staying in Du Cane Court. The long and short of it is that they got themselves eaten by some polyps they’d been growing for their holy week. Whilst that’s a tragedy in itself, it does present me with a slight inconvenience. The polyps…”

  “Have escaped into the human culture.” The figure sighed. “How utterly tiresome.”

  “Quite. Whilst they’ve just eaten a fairly substantial meal –”

  “The honourable consul and her husband.”

  “Exactly. I rather fear they’ll have a spurt of growth and –”

  “Start eating the local flora and fauna.”

  “I couldn’t have worded it more delicately myself.”

  “Like, you mean eating people. Yeah?” said Kevin.

  “If you must be so direct, yes,” said the Doctor.

  “And this is where I can be of assistance?”

  “I was rather hoping you would.”

  “Hmm. I don’t get out much these days. I prefer to stay here. Especially with summer approaching. Energy conservation is an underrated activity, you know. Especially in one’s retirement.”

  “I appreciate that. You also have the advantage of not being – how can I put it? –substantial enough for the polyps to even attack.”

  “Hmm. I’m probably toxic to them too. So if they did manage to take a piece it’d be the last thing they ate.”

  “Yes. So, what do you say? Are you in?”

  “I can’t do it all by myself. At least, I don’t think so. One needs two entities for this sort of thing, and… as I say, I need to conserve energy.”

  “Trinity says she’s up for it. She likes the taste of them.”

  “Dear Trinity. Yes, I would very much like to work with her again.”

  “Excellent. Can I just… leave you to it then? Obviously I’ll have a chat with Trin and the three of us can liaise. I mean, you can drop me a text and I’ll see what I can do to get Trin to you as and when you need her.”

  “Of course. Don’t expect me to sort this one out in the next few hours, or maybe even days.”

  “No, not at all.”

  “I don’t move as fast as I used to.”

  “I appreciate that.”

  “I am getting quite old now.”

  “But I do have every confidence you’re the right entity for the job,” said the Doctor, brightly.

  “You flatter me, Doctor.”

  “Not at all.” The Doctor fished around in his pocket and took out a tiny triangular wafer. He tossed it towards the figure, who didn’t even attempt to reach out and catch it. The wafer fluttered to the floor without a sound. Kevin saw it glint in the faint light and then disappear.

  “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yes, a communicator. Let’s keep in touch a little more closely. Trin has one.”

  “Roger. Wilco,” said the old man with a tinge of humour. “Can I persuade you to stay for refreshments?”

  “It’s very polite of you to offer, but you know I can’t possibly. The toxicity. Deadly.”

  “I understand. But I have to offer.”

  “Yes, you do. Thanks again. Cheerio.”

  “Au revoir, Doctor.”

  The Doctor turned to Kevin and, with a new brightness to his voice said, “Excellent! Let’s be off.”

  Kevin turned to the figure to say goodbye, but it had disappeared. “What the –?”

  “Come. Upstairs.”

  Kevin followed the Doctor upstairs, feeling a strangeness clawing at his back from the gloom; the unexplained gnawing at his imagination. If he’d been on his own he would have run for his life. He glanced around and even the faint green light had gone, leaving complete darkness.

  A wash of light blinded him as the Doctor opened the door to the hallway, and warm air wafted into his face as he trotted up the last few steps into the dryness. “Quick,” said the Doctor, ushering him out and then closing the door behind them.

  “Who the hell was he?”

  “Oh, no one.”

  “You can’t say that.”

  “No, really, that was no one.”

  “I get tired of your riddles sometimes. Be straight with me if we’re going to work together.”

  “Kevin, it was no one. Literally.”

  They made their way down the ten-foot path to the street.

  Kevin snorted. “So that person and the whole conversation was like a figment of my imagination, then? That is such a crock, Doc. And I have to say that you really are something else. You put on this whole image of being hard-done-by, saving the universe, being kind to everyone, the all-powerful protector and all that. And yet you’re a slum landlord keeping some old retired geezer in a filthy basement not fit for human habitation. I don’t k
now where you get your morals from, but you ain’t got the moral high ground on this one. If I knew who to report you to in out-of-town circles, I bleedin’ well would. Seriously. Tell me where the extraterrestrial branch of Age Concern is and I’ll file a report. I don’t care about no employment contract or nothing. You is an utter disgrace, man.”

  The Doctor smiled at him. “Finished?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” said Kevin. “Finito. Seen enough to know who the real Doctor How is.” For once, it was the Doctor who was walking briskly behind Kevin, who was making a beeline for the nearest Tube station.

  “You noticed all the slime on the walls?”

  “Yeah. And on the floor. Disgusting, man,” Kevin spat the words over his shoulder and upped his pace.

  “That was who – or what – we were actually talking with.”

  “Shove it, Doc. We was talking with an old geezer.”

  “That’s its – their – avatar.”

  Kevin stopped and turned. “No way. Avatar for what?”

  “For the slime that you just condemned as disgusting. It’s a colony of slime. A bit like jellyfish are colonies of cells. Admittedly, the one we’ve just visited is several orders of magnitude more sophisticated, but the principle’s the same.”

  “But they… they were an ‘it’. I mean, what do you call that?”

  “I usually call them Tim.”

  “Tim?”

  “Yes.”

  “But you can’t call a colony of slime Tim!”

  “They think it’s a rather nice name. I’ve found that most people called Tim are pretty amiable. And our Tim is pleasant enough, as you’ve seen. They’re very pleasant, in fact. But toxic, sadly. Very. In fact, highly – to pretty much everyone in the Pleasant universe. So much so that they’re lucky to be in the Pleasant universe at all. They weren’t always like that, and they have no malicious intent. So they are. In the Pleasant universe, I mean. Just not very welcome.”