The Doctor squeezed through the narrow brick corridor, his mind still sifting through all the various pieces of the mystery that he had landed in. Scopolamine was the latest clue, and he was certain that the fact that it was a drug that had been used by the Nazis was significant.
The drug, the bombing raid, a Home Guard battalion stationed here in the war, an alleged battle with giant insects … Whatever had happened here during the 1940s was going to be key to understanding what was really going on. There was one more bit of the puzzle that he still didn’t have, though.
The science park.
He stopped. ‘Hold on a minute, Kevin.’
‘What is it?’ said Charlie’s muffled voice from behind him. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘This science park. Tell me about it.’
Charlie stared at him incredulously. ‘You want to talk about that now?’
‘Can you think of anywhere better?’
‘He’s right,’ said Kevin cheerfully. ‘The bugs are never going to look for us down here, and no one in the village knows about it. No one except me and Baz Jones, that is … And his mate Derek Farmer. And perhaps the Roberts twins. But other than that …’ He regarded the Doctor curiously. ‘What was it that you wanted to know?’
‘Bert Mitchell mentioned someone called Jason Clearfield. What can you tell me about him?’
‘He wears a mask!’ said Kevin, his eyes shining. ‘Like in The Phantom of the Opera!’ His face fell. ‘The stage version, though, not the Hammer film. It would have been so much cooler if he wore a mask like the Hammer film. Or the Universal one—’
‘Is this really relevant?’ interrupted Charlie impatiently. ‘Yes, the man wears a mask. Apparently he suffered horrific burns in an industrial accident. It doesn’t mean he’s some kind of a monster!’
‘No, it doesn’t,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘But it also doesn’t mean that we should discount the possibility of him being behind this just because the idea of a masked scientist breeding giant insects seems improbable. We’ve already ascertained that these creatures have been tampered with genetically. That means access to laboratories, complex machinery and chemicals.’
‘And don’t you think that someone would have noticed that by now?’ Charlie took a deep breath. ‘Look, I was over there last week. Clearfield showed me around …’
‘Why?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘An attempted break-in. Some of the locals had a bit too much to drink on Friday night and tried to force the door to one of the laboratories.’ Charlie gave the Doctor a pointed stare. ‘The idea that they’re breeding monsters on the industrial estate is a very old joke around here.’
The Doctor was silent for a moment, then nodded, and the three of them continued their slow progress along the passageway.
Despite Charlie Bevan’s reassurances, the Doctor had already decided where his next port of call would be after he had talked to Robin Sanford. He had an appointment with Jason Clearfield.
Calf muscles protesting at the effort, Clara threw herself forward, crashing painfully onto the tarmac as the camera finished it sweep and started its inexorable journey back the other way.
For several seconds she held her breath, waiting for any indication that she had been spotted, but the car park remained deathly quiet.
‘You really like cutting things fine, don’t you?’ whispered Angela angrily.
Clara let her breath out in a rush and peered around the bin to look at where the bright red sweater fluttered in the midday breeze. ‘Now we just have to see if it worked or not.’
Sure enough it didn’t take long for someone to spot the flash of colour, and there was a whirr of servos as all three cameras turned to focus on the spot where the sweater was caught. Moments later there was the sound of heavy footsteps, and a dozen or so of the white-coated technicians appeared from around the corner of the far building.
One of them, a young man who Clara didn’t think could be that much older than herself, reached up and tugged the sweater free.
‘They have escaped into the fields.’ There was no emotion to the voice. It was just a statement of fact. ‘They must be trying to get back to the village.’
The man tilted his head to one side, almost like a dog listening to something, then nodded and started to push his way through the hawthorn hedge, seemingly oblivious to the sharp thorns that tore at his exposed face and hands. The others followed and soon they had formed a ragged line, spreading out through the fields as they searched for Clara and Angela.
Angela let out a deep sigh of relief, and was about to step out from their hiding place when Clara motioned to her to stay still.
‘Wait …’
Moments later, several of the giant mosquitoes droned overhead, joining the humans in the fields in their search.
‘All right, we’ve shaken them off,’ said Angela quietly. ‘So, how do we get inside? March up to the door and knock?’
‘If the Doctor was here, I might just go with that,’ said Clara wistfully. ‘But I think I spotted another alternative.’
Checking that the cameras were still pointing at the gap that had been created in the hedge, Clara led Angela back through the industrial estate until they were looking once more at the building from which their pursuers had emerged.
‘I noticed it earlier,’ said Clara, pointing at a fire escape door set into the end wall of the building.
‘OK …’ Angela wasn’t convinced. ‘And you think that they’re just going to leave it unlocked.’
Clara just smiled. ‘Come on.’
They hurried over to the door. The metal frame on one side was scuffed and bent.
‘Looks like someone has already tried to have a go at this …’
‘That was some of the local farm hands,’ explained Angela. ‘It got a bit boisterous after karaoke night at the Wheatsheaf last week.’ She pulled at the door half-heartedly. ‘Well, what a surprise, it’s locked. So, unless you’ve got a set of skeleton keys …’
‘Nope.’ Clara grinned at her. ‘But I do have a hairpin!’
As Angela kept watch, Clara started work on the lock. Moments later it opened with a satisfying click.
Angela looked at Clara with surprise. ‘There’s more to you than meets the eye! Who taught you how to do that?’
‘A young lady called Jenny Flint.’
‘A professional thief?’
‘Nope. Victorian chambermaid. Come on.’
Ignoring Angela’s bemused expression Clara swung open the door. The interior of the building was dark and silent. Hoping that she wasn’t making a serious mistake, Clara caught hold of Angela’s hand and the two women stepped inside.
Kevin peered through the metal grille that marked the end of the tunnel, checking to see if there was anyone around. ‘All clear,’ he whispered, heaving on the ancient cast iron. The grille swung inwards and Kevin scrambled through, pushing the branches that concealed the tunnel entrance out of the way. The Doctor scrambled up after him followed by the Constable Bevan.
As the Doctor checked to see whether the coast was clear, Kevin regarded him curiously. He wasn’t like anyone else he had ever met. He looked old – probably the same age as Kevin’s grandfather – but there was something about the energy that blazed in his eyes that made him feel a lot younger.
No. Not younger.
Different.
Kevin shivered. He reached into his satchel, unclipping the top of the Tupperware box and scooping up some of the slime that coated the bottom. Being outside again was making him nervous.
Constable Bevan snatched the box from him. ‘Don’t use it all,’ he said, puffing with the exertion of the climb through the tunnel. ‘The Doctor and I are going to need some of that stuff too, you know.’
He scooped up a blob of the slime with his fingers and smeared it through his thinning hair.
‘Blooming heck.’ He grimaced. ‘This stuff smells disgusting.’ He held out the box to the Doctor. ‘Your turn.’
The Doctor stared at him for a moment, and then lifted the silver tube that he had been using to light their way through the tunnel and twisted a tiny control set into its side. ‘Or, I could just adjust the settings on this to generate a sonic umbrella that will create the same effect, but without the need for us to coat our scalps in the rotting juices of a dead insect?’ He turned and gave Kevin the quickest of winks. ‘Now, which way to Robin Sanford’s house?’
Strangely reassured by the Doctor’s wink, Kevin pointed down the road ahead of them. ‘It’s this way.’
Protected by the Doctor’s sonic shield, the three of them made their way cautiously down the hedge-lined road. The further they got from the centre of the village, the narrower the road became, until it was no more than a single track, the tarmac surface cracked and full of potholes.
‘Mr Sanford doesn’t get a lot of visitors, I take it,’ said the Doctor.
Charlie Bevan was looking nervously at the ever-more unruly hedges that were starting to close in around them.
‘Like I said, he tends to keep himself to himself.’
‘He came to our school once,’ said Kevin, remembering a history class from the previous year. ‘He was meant to be giving a talk about the Home Guard, but some of the other kids started to make fun of him. Asked him to tell them all about the giant insects and he got angry and had to be taken away by the headmaster.’ He paused for a moment. ‘I guess people might listen to him a bit more now. We should get him to come in again.’
As they reached the end of the road, the hedges started to give way to woodland and open fields once more. Robin Sanford’s house was an old farm but, with the exception of the main house, all of the outbuildings were dilapidated and choked with ivy. Kevin remembered playing here with his friends when he was younger. To begin with Mr Sanford hadn’t minded – in fact Kevin had vague memories of being shown things like old bullet casings and cap badges – but as the man got older he had become far less tolerant of people coming onto his property.
Motioning to Kevin and Constable Bevan to stay in the shadow of the encroaching trees, the Doctor made his way slowly across the farmyard towards the main door of the house.
He was about halfway across the yard when Kevin suddenly caught sight of movement in the doorway. The letterbox was swinging slowly open. As Kevin watched, two metal tubes emerged through the slot.
As the realisation of what the tubes were struck home, Kevin rushed forward, shouting out a warning.
‘Doctor! Look out!’
His words were drowned out by the sound of both barrels of the shotgun firing in unison.