by Mark Speed
“Quite gentle for something that size, actually,” said Ware, with the professional tone of a seasoned wildlife commentator.
“I’ll take your word for it,” said Kevin, reassured by the lack of concern shown by his companions, and impressed by Ware’s transformation from cowering cabbie to hardened adventurer. “But can we please get the hell out of here?”
“We’ll look just a tad conspicuous with a two-ton beetle on the roof,” said How. “Aside from that, this thing presents an obvious danger to the public. I have a duty to protect them.”
“It’s alright for you, this is going to cost me a packet.” Ware paused for thought. “What’s all this about, anyway? You’ve been preparing for this.”
“You haven’t heard a few odd stories in the shelters this last week?”
“Well, there’s always some tall ones, but… I heard one bloke had a hit-and-run early one morning out this way. Then there’s that stuff about Grove at the weekend.”
“Don’t tell me. You use Grove to service your vehicle.”
Ware’s affirmative answer was cut short by another massive jolt that caused them all to brace themselves. They turned as one to look out of the rear window, where the view was completely blocked by the underside of the creature’s body. The vehicle began to rock rhythmically on its suspension as the beast thrust itself repeatedly against the rear of the cab.
“You have got to be kidding me,” said Ware.
“What’s it doing? What’s happening?” asked Kevin.
“Ah. Not quite so street and savvy as you think, young man,” said the Doctor. “Have you ever been in a position where an excited male dog grabs hold of your leg?”
“Oh, man. Talk about bump and grind,” said Kevin.
“Dry-humped by a giant beetle,” said Ware, shaking his head. “This is worse than kicking-out time in the West End clubs on a Saturday.”
“How much longer do we have to –” began Kevin.
“I think that answers your question,” said the Doctor. “I’m afraid you’re going to need a paint job on the back as well.”
“Let’s hope it’s not like Earth mammals,” said Ware. “We can’t hang around all night whilst it has a smoke and a kip. Besides that, we’re going to have company soon.” He nodded his head at neighbouring houses, where heads were poking through curtains. “You can mask the Spectrel and a few other things, but the front of the house is going to take some explaining.”
“Despite what we’ve just witnessed, it’s a shy creature,” said the Doctor.
“Very Essex, though,” said Kevin. “Doing its business in the street.”
There was a scrabbling noise on the roof and the cab bounced violently again as the creature slid down over the bonnet, cracking the windscreen as it did so.
“Wham, bam, thank you ma’am,” said Ware. “Charming.”
The cab bounced up as the back of the beast slid off the bonnet. It scuttled up towards Ware’s garage and bulldozed straight through the doors, reducing them to matchwood.
“Like most cabbies, I’m sure you keep an illicit drum of diesel in your garage?” said How.
“Twenty-litre job, just in case of emergencies.”
“I’d say a post-coital snack for a monster like that is an emergency.”
“Damn right.”
In the glare of the headlights they saw the creature pierce the drum of diesel and suck greedily from it.
The Doctor grabbed Kevin’s wrist as he stretched out with his smart phone. “I don’t think so, Kevin.”
“But –”
“I know, I know. It would make compelling viewing on YouTube, and maybe do wonders for your channel’s popularity, not to mention your street cred. But there are some things people don’t need to see.”
The drum emptied, the creature hesitated and waved its antennae around a little. The Doctor wound down his window and held his Ultraknife at the ready. The creature scuttled back towards the cab in a series of quick moves. It stopped and waved its antennae again.
“I wonder what the recuperation time on one of those is?” said Ware.
“If it’s any help, it’s been four days since its last one,” replied the Doctor. “As I said, quite a shy creature at heart. Oh, there we go.”
The creature turned and scuttled back through the hole in the front of the house. There was the sound of more splintering wood, and large lengths of floorboard and carpet flew out into the garden. A three-foot plank, splintered at both ends, bounced off the windscreen. A few lumps of earth and clay were ejected from the hole, then an eerie silence descended.
“That settles it. Back to yours,” said Ware, and took the handbrake off.
“Just a minute, just a minute,” said the Doctor, and got out. He headed for the rear of the vehicle.
“Where are you off to?” asked Ware.
“He’ll be wanting some fresh samples, innit?” said Kevin.
A few seconds later, a smiling Doctor How jumped back into the front passenger seat and closed the door. “Excellent. Already being analysed. Let’s go.”
Ware shook his head, put the cab into gear and reversed out into the road.
“You’re going to need a bit more than a paint-job – it’s gone through the metal in places. When it attacked Grove’s place it must have been raining.”
“Are you just going to leave the Spectrels here?” asked Kevin.
“Let me just correct you, Kevin. My Spectrel has decided to stay with my cousin’s for the moment. I doubt she’ll remain for too much longer – just enough to keep people distracted and give us a little time. Oh, here we go.”
Ware pulled in to the side of the road to let a police car roar past, blue lights flashing and siren wailing. Kevin twisted in his seat to see the car drive straight past the telephone box, which looked to him like a bright beacon in the night marking out the scene of devastation.
The taxi drove for a few more yards before pulling in again as two fire engines made their way up the street. They didn’t slow down as they passed Ware’s house. They reached the end of the street, to the junction with the main road back to London. As they looked to their left, the police car emerged from the parallel street that made up the banjo and turned towards them. It screamed past them again, back towards the house. Ware turned the wheel and they headed towards London.
“Wasting police time is a serious criminal offence,” said Ware.
“Perhaps they’ll arrest themselves after a while?” said the Doctor.
“Now that we seem to be safe, can you please tell me what’s going on?” asked Kevin. “Like, how did you know to turn the Taxi light on?”
“Elementary, my dear Kevin,” said the Doctor. “The only cab that wasn’t touched in Grove’s place had its orange light left on. So it seemed that it would have some kind of protective value. As it turned out, it would appear that the female of this species displays a similar colouring in roughly the same place. It might well be the case that our sign was many times greater than needed to trigger the mating response – but that’s all the better. Simple secondary school biology. You see the same thing happen in many Earth species, either with young or with mating pairs.”
“But it vandalised those other taxis!”
“Competing males. Why wouldn’t it? And it went straight for their major organs – or where their major organs would be. In their place it found fuel tanks filled with what it uses as food. So much the better, wouldn’t you say?”
“But, like, where did they come from?”
“It, Kevin. I think there’s just the one. At least for now.”
“Where?”
“No idea. But I think it was sent to look for my cousin here. Just as it was difficult for me to track him down, so it was for them. They got a few more particulars by hacking his Spectrel, then the rest was following clues. As for its tunnelling ability, I’d say that in the wild it lives off crude oil. Wouldn’t you, David?”
Ware nodded. “Of course it does. Hence the abil
ity to tunnel. Digs into underground reservoirs of oil, doesn’t it?”
“But wouldn’t it drown?”
The two Time Keepers laughed.
“Like, I don’t have your scientific background, do I?”
“Reservoirs of oil are held within rock,” said the Doctor. “It’s a common misconception that there are pools of the stuff. The oil itself is under pressure in porous rock strata. Drill a hole and there’s so much pressure the oil oozes out of the rock. This fracking stuff that everyone’s so heated about at the moment fractures the rock and lets more out into the holes. So it’s easier to retrieve deposits that aren’t under so much pressure. Get it?”
“Makes sense. So this thing is kinda like a worm, then? A worm burrows through the soil and digests the organic matter as it goes, doesn’t it?”
“Great analogy, young man,” said the Doctor. “See his qualities?” he asked Ware.
“Yeah, I get you, Peter.” Ware glanced round to make eye contact with Kevin. “You handled yourself pretty well there, mate. Most humans would have wet themselves. Or gone into shock or something.”
“Um, thanks.”
Ware’s cab crunched to a halt in Doctor How’s drive just before midnight. They got out to inspect it. Apart from the missing front bumper, there were scrape marks all over the paintwork and windows, plus a few dents in the roof. The rear looked as if someone had thrown paint-stripper at it. “Well if that’s what it does to its girlfriends,” said Ware, “then I bet they’re an endangered species.”
A chink of light appeared from between the curtains of Mrs Roseby’s bedroom window.
“Come on, let’s get inside,” said the Doctor. He let them into the porch and insisted on two UV baths back-to-back. “No offense, David,” he said as he let them into the hallway.
There was a flash of black, and Ware was pinned to the porch door. He screamed.
“Doctor, stop Trini!” yelled Kevin. “She’ll kill him!”
“Argh!” shouted Ware. “Get orfm—” His cries were muffled by Trini, who – appearing as a large black cat – had her paws on his shoulders and her jaw in his face.
“Doctor!” shouted Kevin.
The Doctor leaned back against the banisters and laughed.
Ware grasped Trini’s head in both hands and pushed it away from him. “I missed you too, but I just hate it when you do that.”
“Careful, Trini,” said the Doctor, catching his breath. “You don’t know what you might catch.”
Trini relented and jumped down, rubbing herself against Ware’s legs, purring deeply. He reached down and stroked her. “Good girl. Fifty years on and you ain’t changed a bit, my darling.” Ware surveyed the hallway. “And this place ain’t changed none, either. I’ll give you that, Peter – somehow your style is always contemporary.”
“Good taste never goes out of fashion,” said the Doctor, subduing a proud smile.
Ware wandered over to the paintings. “And these will be worth a ton more money now, eh?”
“Those will never have a price put on them, David. Given me by friends. The other things I’ve collected on the way I feel free to trade.”
Ware turned to Kevin. “You want my advice, son? You stick with Peter. Brightest of the bunch. We’ve all done pretty well, but he’s a master. Buy what he buys when he’s buying, sell what he sells when he’s selling.”
“Still got your Hockneys?”
“Yeah, thanks for the tip. Must’ve been the last one you gave me.”
“I hope they weren’t in the house.”
“Gawd, no. Vault. Always surprised you never bought his work.”
The Doctor wrinkled his nose. “As I said, good taste never goes out of fashion. Still, I’m sure they’ll appreciate even more when he passes on.”
“You guys are no better than thieves,” said Kevin.
“I beg your pardon?” said the Doctor.
“Pretty easy to speculate on the art market if you’re a time traveller, isn’t it? See what the prices are next year, travel back in time and buy it. Sell it in the future.”
“Heavens, no. We’re strictly forbidden by intergalactic treaty. We’re trusted and licenced to travel in time, and we’d not want to lose that. No speculation allowed.”
“What? Why?”
“It would distort markets. Besides, if I bought a load of gold when I thought the price was going up, then it would drive up the price at that point. When I came to sell in the future it would depress the price. Thus, I wouldn’t make the killing I thought I would, would I?”
“Yeah, but futures contracts.”
“Same thing, dear boy.”
“Art, then.”
“If I bought Constable’s Hay Wain direct from the artist it wouldn’t have the same cachet as it does today. The absence of that piece from the market might mean that all of his work was devalued.”
“Yeah, but you could bring another piece back.”
“Ah, then the paint and canvas wouldn’t age correctly. For older objets d’art, the carbon dating would show it was younger than it should be. Sorry, Kevin. You’re not going to get rich by temporal smuggling or speculation.”
Ware laughed. “That’s put a dampener on a little scheme at the back of your head, eh?” He ruffled Kevin’s afro hair.
“All I’m getting is expenses!” said Kevin.
“Bleedin’ ’ell!” said Ware. “You’re paying them now, Peter?”
“Sign of the times,” said the Doctor. “Decay of society. His mother even wanted some kind of apprenticeship contract.”
Ware whistled. He took Kevin by the shoulders. “Wisdom is beyond price. My companions haven’t done too badly in the past, either. But just a hint. When you do travel in time, you will notice the bigger trends. You can’t lose money by following the bigger trades. You understand me?”
“Not really.”
“Look, at the turn of the nineteenth century every smart-arse on Wall Street was buying the shares of the companies that cleaned up the horse manure in Manhattan. It was a sure bet – all the predictions were that the place would disappear under ten feet of the stuff after a year without them. A decade later, they were all bust. Why?”
“Uh. Motor vehicles?”
“Good lad! Same thing goes with other stuff. People’s houses kept blowing up because of gas lighting. Mr Edison comes along with electricity. Get it? If my cousin takes you to the future and you see driverless cars, the last thing you want to do is spend four years of your life doing the Knowledge to become a London hackney carriage licence-holder.”
“Yeah. Got it. Hey, Doc – when can we go ten years in the future?”
The Doctor laughed. “We can only go where and when our missions take us.”
“But we might never go ten or twenty years into the future!”
“Ah, but you can always read a history book when you go further.” The Doctor switched focus, as if tapped on the shoulder. “Oh. My Spectrel has returned, David. Without yours, alas.”
The other two followed him down into the basement, where his Spectrel stood in the corner, gleaming. He pressed his hand against the crown above the door. “Good news and bad, David. The good news is that mine is now in touch with yours transdimensionally – although she’s still not able to take a power feed because I couldn’t do that last jolt. The bad news is that she’s just about to be taken into custody.”
“Taken into custody?” asked Kevin.
“Half-inched?” asked Ware.
“Guess who by?” asked the Doctor.
“Don’t tell me. MI16,” said Ware.
“Still around after all these years,” said the Doctor. “Relentless. How terribly tiresome.”
Chapter Ten
Thickett was bouncing up and down on his toes again. Before that morning at Grove’s, Peterson had never seen him do it in the eight years they’d been working together.
“This, Miss Peterson, is the state of the art,” said Thickett, as he ran an admiring finger over the
curve of the front wing of the black cab. “Something we dare only dream of.” The flickering red and blue lights of the emergency vehicles made his grin look even more manic than it was. “Oh, this is a beauty alright. I’ve waited my whole career for this.”
When they’d got to the scene, Peterson had been more interested in the glutinous liquid in the driveway. Unfortunately, the water coming out of the burst central heating system had washed all but a corner of it away, but she’d still managed to get a tiny sample, which was now safe in the car. Her colleague had shown no interest in the fact that it was four days fresher than those taken that morning, and that it hadn’t been diluted with dirty rainwater. Instead, he’d taken a cursory look at the damaged house and garage, then become fixated on the black cab standing on the road outside.
“The telephone box was right next to it, do you see? One witness says she vaguely recalls a tall man in a suit touching the box and the car. Another witness says that there might have been three or four of them. That’s them, you see? That’s Doctor How, and his assistant. And another Doctor and his assistant. Do you understand what this means, Miss Peterson?”
“Yes. It means that two of these Time Keepers are talking to each other. In person.”
“Exactly! Exactly! That means they’re up to something, doesn’t it? They’re on the move again. There has to be a reason for it.”
“The reason seems obvious to me.” said Peterson. “Something demolished this house, smashed up the adjoining garage, then disappeared back down underneath the house. Maybe it was looking for something, or someone. It didn’t find it, so now it’s on the loose again. Or maybe it was after the Doctor and the Doctor fought it off and then left? Maybe it managed to get one of them before they fought it off? Maybe what I have in my sample is the blood of the thing that attacked them? And according to eye-witnesses this thing was rather big and scary. Unfortunately, their memories are fading as fast as the fluids that it left behind.” Despite the coolness of the night air, the rest of the glutinous liquid had evaporated. “And it looks like it managed to attack the vehicle the Doctor was travelling in. And, correct me if I’m wrong, the vehicle was a black cab – what’s left of the bumper matches this one.”