It took them two hours to get back to Dagenham. To the Doctor's great irritation, Kevin and Ware insisted on stopping for fast food and eating it in the cab. Whilst his companions sat and ate, he'd gone in search of something healthier, returning with an apple, a banana and some raw nuts. This dietary choice was a source of more mirth for his cousin. Despite complaints about the chill from Kevin, the Doctor insisted on keeping the window open for the rest of the journey. He said it was to get rid of the smell of the fried food, but Kevin suspected it might be punishment.

"I shall have to have this suit dry cleaned," he said.

Ware caught Kevin's eye in the rear-view mirror. "He's got worse. You know that clobber he's wearing is all-singing, all-dancing and resistant to everything, don't you?" Kevin nodded. "Smells don't stick to it either. Tell me, does he still insist on the UV bath when you come in his house, and then make you wash your hands?"

Kevin shot an embarrassed glance at the Doctor before replying. "Yeah."

"Flippin' 'eck. It's not like he's vulnerable to any of the stuff you people carry. It's just the thought of it drives him crazy."

"You can never be too careful," muttered the Doctor.

"He's a real catastrophiser," said Ware, catching Kevin's eye in the mirror again. "A bit of a drama queen. The sky's always about to fall in."

"I'm conscientious, and always on alert. There's a difference."

"Hyper-vigilance and paranoia. That's another symptom of mental ill-health. He was the one who could never relax. Well, him and... rhymes with Scooby-Doo."

"Who is simply deranged," spat the Doctor.

"You are."

"No, it was a statement, not a question."

"Gotcha, Pete!"

"Oh, ha-bloody-ha."

They turned the final corner into the road where Ware lived. "Home, sweet home," he said.

"Not what your neighbours think," said the Doctor.

"Leave it out. You don't really get rich just because your house goes up in value. You have to live somewhere, don't you?"

"An extra twenty-thousand pounds would have helped your elderly neighbour's relatives pay her care-home bill."

Ware shook his head. "She had ample money to pay for as much care as she needed. What her relatives were really complaining about was the fact that there was twenty grand less for them to blow on new cars or holidays."

"Be that as it may, you might at least show some consideration by spending a small sum on tidying up your own house. I certainly can't believe you're struggling for money."

Ware pulled into the driveway of his house. He unbuckled his seatbelt and turned to the Doctor. "Right, I want no nagging in me own house. You ain't me mother."

"But I do care, Dave."

"I know. I know."

The three of them got out, and Ware made for his front door. Doctor How walked the few steps back to the road, and put his right hand on the badge over the radiator grill of the old cab that was sitting there – Where's Spectrel. Ware stopped on his front step and turned to look at his cousin. He looked down at his feet and put a hand over his glasses.

"You might at least have put her in the garage, David. For pity's sake. Even if you thought your future held nothing together, you might at least have done it for all you'd been through with her." The Doctor walked back up the path, put a hand on his cousin's upper arm and led him back to the abandoned Spectrel. When they were there, the Doctor took his cousin's right hand and placed it on the badge.

"Ow!" yelled Ware, whipping his hand away and flapping it.

Doctor How placed his hand on the badge, and in a soft voice said, "Stop it." He turned to Ware, who had his right hand under his left armpit, and was gritting his teeth. "Come." Ware shook his head. How gestured with his free left hand, and Ware reached out his right. How took it firmly again, keeping his own right hand on the badge. He addressed the Spectrel. "Now, please. I know you feel aggrieved. Daibhidh apologises, don't you Daibhidh?" Ware nodded. "I said, don't you, Daibhidh?"

"Yes. I'm sorry. Truly I am."

"Very well. Forgive him." He took Ware's hand and slowly slid his own hand away whilst replacing it with his cousin's. When Ware's hand was covering the badge fully he stepped away and walked back to where Kevin was standing, dumbfounded.

"What's that all about?" asked Kevin.

"Reconciliation. It will take some time. Let's go inside."

"It's locked."

"I have his key."

"I didn't see him give it to you."

"You have to learn many skills in my job." The Doctor unlocked the door and fumbled for a light switch. He found an old Bakelite one with a knob-and-pin mechanism. He turned it on. The dim light of the forty-Watt bulb couldn't suppress the scene it revealed.

"Oh, man," said Kevin. "I've seen homes like this on TV, innit? He's a hoarder."

"It's symptomatic of his mental state."

The carpets had gone out of fashion in the late Fifties. The wallpaper, peeling off in places, looked slightly older. To the right of the door there was a pile of papers on top of a couple of old cardboard boxes that had split open and let their contents spill out. On the stairs were more piles of paper, plus an assortment of odd objects – a spare sock, a spent light bulb, a flashlight without its end, and empty of batteries. A mouldy towel hung over the banister. The place smelled musty and damp, with a strong overtone of stale cigarette smoke.

"It's a miracle the electricity is still on," said the Doctor. "It's also rather a worry – this place is so badly in need of rewiring it's a fire hazard. And I am not going into the kitchen," said the Doctor.

He edged his way past a couple of piles of degraded cardboard boxes full of paper, and opened the door to the front room. He turned on the light and went in, followed by Kevin. Their feet made a curious Velcro-like sound on the carpet as they walked to the centre of the room, feeling the stickiness tugging at the soles of their shoes. The smell in the hall was just a hint at the stench they now faced in the living room.

There was a twenty-year-old television and a VCR in one corner, and a filthy sofa with a low table in front of it. The table was piled with dirty dishes and mugs. The space between the sofa and the window was filled with a heap of discarded fish and chip wrappers and beer cans.

"I've been in a flat like this once," said Kevin. "Old neighbour my Mum used to drop in on. Spent all his pension on drink. The carpet was exactly like this. Like walking on flypaper, innit?"

"It's utterly revolting. We need to get him out of here. He'll never get better if he stays."

"He ain't gonna come, boss. People like that are fixed in their ways."

"How did they get your neighbour out?"

"Feet first."

"My point entirely. He needs to be in a better environment than this. I'm hoping that communing with his Spectrel will kick-start something within him."

"Pardon the mess," said Ware, stepping into the room. "My cleaning lady jacked it in a while back. I think she wanted danger money. For myself, I just can't be bothered. I just got... tired."

"How are things with your Spectrel?"

"Could be better, to be honest." Ware glanced at his watch. "I should be on shift now."

"For the love of God, Daibhidh. Do you still think your only duty is to anonymous taxi passengers in London? Is it to your bank balance? Even if you won't rejoin the battle, you might at least make more of an effort."

"She's too weak!" shouted Ware, taking a step towards Doctor How. "She's just about gone." The echo of his voice seemed to hang in the air for a couple of seconds. Then he fell forwards onto the Doctor, who staggered under his weight. Ware sobbed great heaving sobs as the Doctor manoeuvred him towards the grimy sofa, which he fell back onto. He lifted up his feet and curled into a ball, weeping and moaning softly.

"I'm a pessimist by nature," muttered the Doctor, to no one in particular, "but why is it that everything is always so much worse than I thought it would be?"

"Like, what happened?" asked Kevin.

"What like happened," said the Doctor, "is that he neglected his Spectrel for too long. She got as weak as he did. And then she was hacked. That's what like happened."

"Like, don't take it out on me."

The Doctor shut his eyes and slowly opened them again. "Sorry. I think I just have the one option." He pulled out his Tsk Army Ultraknife, concentrated on it for a second and then put it back in his pocket. He left the room.

Kevin dithered, then decided that wherever the Doctor was going had to be better than being alone in a stinking room with a man – or Time Keeper – in his fifties sobbing his heart out. The front door was open, and he slipped out into the cool night air, savouring the freshness of it, and looked around for the Doctor.

There was a red telephone box on the pavement outside. The light inside was bright – so bright that he couldn't see in – and yet the light didn't illuminate the area immediately around it. Even the black letters of the backlit TELEPHONE sign were indistinct due to the brightness of the light behind them. The obtrusiveness of the light made it difficult to see what was beyond it. As he walked slowly past Ware's black cab, he noticed that the telephone box was not reflected in its windows or polished paintwork. Thoughts of vampires crept through his imagination.

"Doctor?" he called.

"What now? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Well, no."

Once he'd skirted around the phone box, Kevin could see that the Doctor was somewhat stretched. He was standing on the bonnet of the cab, with the tip of one finger on its badge and the other touching the crown symbol above the TELEPHONE sign, which was at the very limit of his reach.

"It'd be a lot easier and faster if I could put my whole hand on both of them," he said.

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like I'm doing, lad?"

"Um. Is it kinda like when you have to jump-start a car with another one?"

"Yes, it's kinda like that," the Doctor panted. "And before you point it out in your own wonderfully literal way, yes: I'm kinda like a time-travelling breakdown recovery service." He paused to catch his breath again, and winced. "And I can tell you it's not particularly pleasant being the wiring. Thankfully, Daibhidh's Spectrel should shortly recover enough to be able to take a transdimensional feed off mine."

"Right. Of course. Anything I can do to help?"

"Thanks for offering. I'm tempted to say that you could start by taking out my cousin's trash. Ouch! Excuse me. If you go back in and make sure he's not doing anything stupid, I'll join you in... Oh, about another thirty seconds, I should think. Then I'll have to jump back to this in a few minutes for a final go."

"Gotcha. It's pretty cool that you've got your Spectrel here, Doc."

"I'm so glad you got something out of this little jaunt today, Kevin."

"So will we be taking the Spectrel back home, yeah?"

"I very much doubt it. I'm afraid we'll have to get Daibhidh – sorry, Dave – to pull himself together enough in order to drive us home."

"I could drive us!"

"I'm sure you could, but you don't have a licence."

"Couldn't you, then? Don't you have a licence?"

"If you think I'm touching that greasy, bacteria-breeding-ground of a steering wheel, or sitting on that filthy seat, you'd better think again. Nearly done." He winced again, then let his fingers go from the two Spectrels. He jumped down from the bonnet, then shook the life back into his arms and hands. "Whoof! Hopefully the top-up should be much easier." He patted the telephone box gently and whispered "Thank you," affectionately. "Come on, let's see how David is."

Ware was sitting up on the sofa when they got back to him. His face looked bleary. "How is she?"

"Getting better. It'll be a little while, but she'll get there. Then there's going to be a period of rehabilitation and recovery."

Ware nodded. He reached out and clasped his cousin's hand. "Thanks. I mean that."

Doctor How cleared his throat. "Look, we need to get you out of this place. The sooner the better."

"I ain't got nowhere else to go."

"I meant that you could come and stay with me for a while. Get yourself together."

"But..."

"I don't see any other options. Do you?"

"Nah. I suppose not. Let me get a few things together."

"Just bring enough for tonight. We can come back tomorrow for the rest. It's getting late. Change of clothes and a toothbrush, that's all." He turned and muttered to Kevin. "God alone knows if he's got anything fresh. And I dread to think what the toothbrush will be like."

"I heard that," shouted Ware. From upstairs came the sound of heavy footsteps, and of drawers being opened and closed.

"Still got his superior senses," whispered the Doctor. "That's something. I imagine his sense of smell must be compromised, though."

"Nah, you just get used to it," called Ware. A cupboard door slammed.

"I could bring a house-bot over here tomorrow," said the Doctor. "It could clean the place up, put a lick of paint on it, and he could move back in by the end of the week. Yes. That's what we'll do."

"Are you, like, not worried about the neighbours?" Kevin nodded his head towards the open front door.

"Not especially. First, I'm sure they're glad someone's taking an interest in him. Second, I've got the light on."

"You mean the one that...?"

"Yes, the one that makes people's memories a bit fuzzy."

"But won't I –"

"No. You're fine. You're exempted. At least for now."

"What do you mean, 'at least for now'?"

The Doctor gave Kevin a look that told him he was still on probation.

"Ready," called Ware, and thudded his way down the stairs. He had changed into a clean set of identical work clothes, and was holding a blue plastic carrier bag.

"I suppose we're not going to the Riviera," said How.

"Anonymity. Isn't that what you always wanted for us?"

The Doctor's arms shot out, as if to steady himself. "Did you feel that?"

"Aren't they doing fracking somewhere?" asked Ware.

"Didn't feel as deep. Get in the cab and let's go. I'll lock up then do the last energy transfer for your Spectrel."

"Nah, she'll be alright for another night out on the street. You'll do yourself an injury giving her another jolt tonight. Let's just get back to your gaff, Peter."

Ware and Kevin left the house and got into the cab. The Doctor had a quick look around and turned the lights off. As he stood in the doorway, he heard Ware start the cab's engine. The headlights went on, catching him in the edge of their glare. He felt a distinct tremor under his feet. He paused for a couple of seconds, but there was nothing more. He glanced around the darkened hall one final time and then shut the door. He locked it, checked that it was secure and then turned to the idling cab.

Kevin lowered his window and said, "Come on, Doc. We haven't got all night."

Ware honked lightly twice, and Kevin laughed.

The Doctor smiled and took a couple of steps towards the cab.

There was a crash from inside the house, and the sound of splintering wood. Doctor How whipped around to see the sofa burst through the front window and tumble into the garden. It came to a stop upside down against the wall. He took a couple of steps back, pulled out his Ultraknife and held it towards the house.

"Get in the bleedin' cab and let's go!" yelled Ware.

"I want to know what it is. Kill the headlights."

"Kill the headlights? You'll kill us all. Get inside, Pete." Nevertheless, Ware turned off the headlights.

"Get in, Doctor!" shouted Kevin.

The wall beneath the living room window collapsed outward in a cloud of dust, and the radiator that sat underneath it fell with a resonating clang onto the rubble. Water gushed out of a piece of broken central heating pipe.

A pair of black antennae waved through the dust. They were followed by two interlocking pairs of black mandibles two feet wide that scythed back and forth in the night air.

"Oh, you absolute beauty," said the Doctor, lowering his Ultraknife a fraction.

"Oi, nutter! Get in the bleedin' cab, will ya?" Ware turned the headlights back on, lighting up the rest of the creature. It was six feet wide and six feet tall, with a rounded shiny black body.

"I wish you hadn't done that," said Kevin. "Get in, Doc. Let's go!"

"It's after you, David. Or your Spectrel. Or your cab. Or all three."

"Well, I don't want to stick around and find out which, do I? Get in, you bleedin' maniac!"

The Doctor opened the door and got in the front beside his cousin, who jammed the vehicle into reverse just as the creature edged forward a few feet, to where the cab had been two seconds before.

"Wait!" said the Doctor. He slammed the cab into neutral and jerked the handbrake.

"What the hell are you doing? This ain't no Spectrel – it's an ordinary bleedin' cab! We could get killed here!"

The creature jumped forward and grabbed the bumper. The cab shook violently, and Ware cracked his head on the steering wheel.

"Turn your Taxi light on!" said the Doctor.

"You what?" Ware tried to wrestle control of the gearstick and handbrake back from the Doctor. "You're mental!"

The creature twisted the front bumper, tipping the vehicle onto its two left wheels. The bumper gave way, and the cab slammed back down onto all four wheels. The creature held the bumper over the bonnet. It scythed its mandibles and the metal sliced neatly into two pieces, which bounced off the bonnet and rang loudly as they fell to the drive.

"Let's go, Doctor!" screamed Kevin.

"Turn the orange sign on, you oaf! It's our only hope!"

"You could kill it with your bleedin' Ultraknife!"

The creature put its front legs further up the bonnet, its mandibles twitching inches from the front windscreen.

"It's no use to us dead," said the Doctor. "Now turn the sign on!"

Ware flipped a switch and the mandibles were lit by the orange glow of the Taxi sign. The creature stopped moving.

The trio sat with bated breath, their front field of vision engulfed by the black mass of the creature. The Doctor clicked a few times with his Ultraknife.

"What are you doing?" whispered Kevin.

"Photographs."

"What do you think it's doing?" whispered Ware, mirroring his cousin's sudden calmness.

"Thinking. Thinking very primitive thoughts, I hope," said How.

The cab juddered as the creature shifted. Then it sank on its suspension as it took the full weight of the creature, and they could hear the underside of its body scraping across the roof. Its long legs scraped against the side windows, found the door pillars, and pushed against them.

"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 ability 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."