NSA01 The Clockwise Man (Justin Richards) (v1.0)

by Doctor Who

'Aske said he was treating Repple. That he's his psychiatrist or whatever.'

  Wyse nodded. 'And that is his delusion. Aske believes himself to be a bril iant doctor of the mind, treating a friend who suffers from terrible delusions brought about, if I recal the story correctly, by a fall from a horse.' He looked from Rose to the Doctor and back again. 'It isn't Repple who believes himself to be something he is not and is aided and abetted in this by his friend. It is Aske.'

  With that, Wyse excused himself. 'Time is marching on,' he said, 'and so must I.' He set the cat down on the floor. It opened a surprised eye, watching Wyse as he left, then slinking off after him.

  'Doesn't matter,' Rose decided when he had gone.

  'What doesn't?'

  'Aske and Repple. None of our business real y.'

  'Interesting though,' the Doctor countered. 'Aren't you curious to know the truth?'

  'You don't think we just heard it?'

  'He said himself, it's just hearsay. Maybe Dastaria does exist – some out-of-the-way country lost between the cracks on the maps. Who knows?'

  'Who cares?' Rose responded.

  The Doctor's response to that, if he had one, was interrupted by Crowther. He coughed politely as he arrived to take Rose's breakfast tray. 'Excuse me, Doctor, but you have a visitor.'

  'Real y? Who?'

  'It is a Miss Heart. She says you met last evening, sir. I'm afraid that since she has not been vouched for by a ful member of the club, as you and Miss Tyler have been, she is only permitted so far as the public gal ery. If you would fol ow me?'

  'You coming?'

  'And play gooseberry to you and the Painted Lady?' Rose said. 'It's you she wants to see, not me.'

  'Jealous?' the Doctor asked innocently.

  'I'l wait here and finish my tea,' Rose said. 'Don't want to cramp your style.'

  The Doctor grinned.

  'Such as it is,' Rose finished.

  The grin vanished. The Doctor leaned forward and took Rose's hand. 'It's you that needs the fashion tips,' he said. 'Come on.'

  'Beth didn't say anything about someone being kil ed,' Rose told the Doctor as Crowther showed them into the public gal ery, off the main foyer.

  'Beth?'

  'The maid. You remember, you sent her to wake me up.'

  'Oh yeah. Beth.'

  'People hospitalised, traumatised, al sorts of other "ised"s. But she never mentioned dead-ised.'

  'P'raps Beth doesn't know.'

  The room was long and narrow, barely more than a wide corridor. one side was almost entirely taken up with large windows, the other had paintings hanging the length of it. Down the middle of the room were various pieces of sculpture. Nothing modern, Rose noted. There were classical women looking as if they'd just got out of the bath, and heroic male figures with muscles – and everything else –rippling.

  Melissa Heart was standing just inside the door, her back to them. She was admiring one of the statues, a woman poised with one arm in the air. Long sheetlike robes were sculpted round her, seeming to emphasise rather than disguise the female form. There was an odd similarity with Melissa Heart, standing there in her long, thin dress. She held a long, thin black cigarette holder to her mouth, trails of smoke wafting up towards the ceiling.

  Rose wondered what the woman looked like under the mask. She imagined she was about to find out as Melissa Heart turned. But she was not. It was difficult to tel whether she was wearing thick white make-up with stylised red swirls painted on it, or whether this was another thin, face-tight mask. But whichever it was, her true features were once again shrouded in mystery.

  The position of two of the red curls, lifting from the edges of the mouth, made it seem as if the woman was perpetual y smiling. 'Why, Doctor, and Rose. How kind of you to see me.'

  'Yes,' the Doctor agreed simply.

  'How can we help?' Rose asked.

  'Oh, but you can't. At least, not just now. Not yet.' The emotionless mask continued to smile at them.

  'But I can help you, I think.'

  'Real y?'

  She gestured with the cigarette holder towards an upright chair standing against the wal close by. A dark leather jacket was draped over it. 'Yours, I believe.'

  The Doctor al but leaped across the room and snatched up the jacket. He slipped it on. 'It fits!'

  'I thought it might.'

  'I mislaid it last night,' the Doctor said, his expression suddenly as unreadable as Melissa's.

  'I had reason to cal on Lady Anna this morning, and she asked if I would return it to you. I confess, I did rather relish the chance to renew our acquaintance.'

  'That's nice,' Rose said. She was rewarded with a brief glance from the blank face.

  'You didn't happen to check the pockets, did you?' the Doctor said, rummaging inside them.

  'Of course not.' Her voice too was devoid of expression.

  'That's good.' He drew out the sonic screwdriver and held it up so she could see it clearly. 'Stil , everything seems to be here.'

  'How intriguing. What, may I ask is that?'

  'Novelty corkscrew,' Rose told her.

  'Or something,' the Doctor added. 'Found it in the street outside Sir George's. You don't know who might own such a thing?' He held out the sonic screwdriver, as if inviting her to take it.

  'I real y could not say.'

  Melissa Heart reached out, but the Doctor pulled away his hand and slipped the device back into his jacket pocket. 'Thought not,' he said. 'Wel , thanks. And bye.'

  'We mustn't keep you,' Rose said. 'I expect you're busy.'

  'Not at all.' If she was offended, there was no way of knowing. 'You must cal on me some time. Both of you,' she added in a tone that implied she did not for one moment mean to include Rose. 'My house is not far away. Perhaps you know it? Anthony Hubbard's old house on Veracity Avenue.'

  'We don't,' Rose said. We've not been here long.'

  'You are travel ing together?'

  'We're inseparable,' the Doctor said.

  'Then I shal leave you together. No doubt I shal see you again soon.'

  'No doubt,' the Doctor echoed. 'Thanks for the coat. I must cal in and thank Sir George and his wife as wel .'

  Melissa Heart hesitated. Only slightly, but enough for Rose to notice. She knew it would not have escaped the Doctor.

  'I'm sure there's no need,' Melissa said, pausing in the doorway.

  'I'm sure you're right,' the Doctor agreed. Because now they al knew that however Melissa Heart had got the Doctor's coat, it was not from Sir George or his wife.

  'It is al circumstantial. The sonic device, the detected power, the fact they are always together.' Melissa Heart sighed behind her mask. The dark figure sitting beside her in the car did not reply. Her fingertips stroked down the pale surface of her mask. 'Damning, but not conclusive. Not yet. And I must be sure.

  To go through this, to suffer... And innocent people have died. Too many people. I cannot be responsible for more.'

  Her eyes were burning behind the mask as she studied her companion's equal y blank face. 'We need to be absolutely sure. There is a maid cal ed Beth. I heard the girl say she spoke with her. This maid may know something. May even know which of them it is. I have a description from one of the other staff.' It had been easy to get – the pretence of a friend for whom Beth had worked. Was it the same girl – what did she look like? When did she finish for the day? So very easy.

  The blank-faced figure listened to its instructions. It said nothing, and when Melissa Heart had finished, it bowed its head slightly in acknowledgement. As it moved, the staccato clicking of its mechanism was like the ticking of a clock.

  FIVE

  A brisk walk had cleared the cobwebs from Wyse's mind. He liked to walk through the familiar landscape of London. There was a faint mist in the air, the beginnings of a smoggy day to come. His breath came in brisk clouds of its own as he walked back towards the imperial Club, his gloved hands clasped tightly behind his back and his head down in thought.

>   He was being fol owed, of course – he knew and accepted that. He ignored it, and concentrated on more urgent and immediate matters. But even these were sent scurrying from his mind when he saw the body.

  Wyse had taken a shortcut down a back alley round to the rear of the club. The al ey opened into a yard behind the building. The various staff came and went through the back entrance, so as not to have to go through the main members' areas. Wyse counted himself as almost staff. He was on first-name terms with them al . He had been here longer than any of them, even longer – just – than Repple and Aske. Him and the cat. He smiled at the thought.

  And that was when he looked up, and saw the legs sticking out from behind the dustbins.

  'Oh no,' he sighed, shaking his head and hurrying across the yard. The body was stretched out between dustbins and wall. One of the bins had been overturned, perhaps in a struggle, and debris from it littered the ground. What a way to die, he thought sadly – littered with old papers, apple cores, potato peelings... The cat gave a startled hiss at the sight and ran across the yard to take shelter by the door to the club.

  'Crowther!' Wyse yel ed. 'Anyone! Quickly, I need some help here.' But he knew that wasn't true. Beth was dead, he could see that – her throat crushed and bruised and her eyes staring up blankly at the clouds. Wyse reached out and closed them gently. He could hear the thump of running feet, the gasped comments and questions. 'So close,' he murmured. 'So close to the club.'

  'Oh my...' The usual y unruffled Crowther turned away, face as grey as his remaining hair, hand to mouth.

  'Get a doctor,' Wyse said. 'No,' he decided. 'Get the Doctor.' If anyone could tel what was real y going on here, the Doctor could.

  They sat in their usual little island of chairs and sofas by the table with the chess set. Rose was pale and quiet, the image of the dead girl stil imprinted on her mind. Beth's voice and nervous laughter stil echoing in her ears.

  The Doctor and Wyse were talking quietly but urgently. The Doctor had quickly examined the body, reminding them he was not a doctor of medicine. Even so, he was sure that the girl had been dead for an hour at most, probably a lot less. The marks on her neck were like the marks on Dickson's the night before. But deeper, darker, and more damaging.

  'Have you any idea what is happening here?' Wyse asked.

  'You think I might?'

  Wyse shrugged. He looked old and drawn, as if finding the girl's body had sapped some of the life from him too. 'You seem like a man with insight. This has to be stopped. A few attacks, the odd person knocked out... Wel , that's bad enough, of course. But, Doctor, a girl has died. Out there behind this club. On our very doorstep.' He took a long, deep breath. 'We cannot just sit by and do nothing.'

  'The police,' Rose said, looking up for the first time. 'They'l ...'

  'They'l do their best,' Wyse said. 'But do any of us real y think that will be good enough?' He turned to the Doctor, looking straight into his eyes. 'Do you know something, Doctor? Anything? About al this?'

  The Doctor held his gaze for several moments. Then he stood up, hand to forehead, sighing and sad. 'Enough. I know an innocent girl's dead. I know whoever – whatever – did this has to be stopped.

  That's enough.'

  'And what do you propose, Doctor?'

  The Doctor sat down again, leaning forward from the edge of the chair. 'There's more to this than we know or guess. And you,' he pointed at Rose, 'need a distraction. It's terrible and brutal and unfair, but moping won't help.'

  'I like moping. When people get kil ed.'

  'We need to be alert, aware, sparking with ideas.'

  'Fat chance.'

  'And I stil want to see the British Empire Exhibition.'

  'Ah!' Wyse perked up at this. 'It's very good actual y. Lots on, you know. And the new stadium is a glory to behold.'

  'You go then,' Rose told him, looking away.

  'Oh, I've been. I'd welcome the chance to go again, mind. But I fear the police wil want to take a statement from me.'

  'From you?' Rose frowned, looking at him.

  'He did find the body,' the Doctor pointed out.

  'Oh. Yeah.'

  'I reckon we should avoid making statements,' the Doctor went on, looking meaningfully at Rose. 'It'd only confuse them.'

  'You'l enjoy the exhibition,' Wyse said gently. 'I would like to join you, but I expect they'l delight in keeping me hanging around for a while just to demonstrate how important they are. The Doctor's right, my dear. It'l take your mind off things.'

  Rose didn't like being cal ed 'my dear'. But somehow coming from Wyse in such a disingenuous manner, it seemed friendly and kind rather than patronising. 'OK,' she said.

  'Triffic!' The Doctor clapped his hands together and leaped to his feet 'You get your cloak, and I've already got my jacket back.' He paused, lips pursed as he thought. 'Let's cal in on Sir George on the way and thank him for returning it.'

  'Except you know he didn't.'

  'We ought to be sure,' he said. 'Or we're being unfair too.'

  Rose sighed. 'I suppose. Hey,' she thought suddenly, 'I wonder if Freddie wants to come to the show. I doubt he gets out much.'

  'That's true enough,' Wyse agreed. 'Poor little fel ow.'

  'Let's ask,' the Doctor said. 'Come on.'

  The only hint Dickson gave that he had ever even seen the Doctor or Rose before was a slight widening of his eyes. He seemed to have completely recovered from his ordeal of the previous evening, deigning to acknowledge this with a neutral, 'Very wel , thank you,' in response to Rose's enquiry.

  'If you wil wait in the drawing room, I'l see if Sir George is at home.'

  'You'd think he'd know,' Rose said as Dickson marched off stiffly down the hall. She poked her head round the drawing-room door to watch him go.

  'He knows. He's asking if Sir George wants to see us,' the Doctor replied from inside the room.

  Rose turned to join him. But as she did, she caught sight of something moving through the balusters on the landing above. It reminded her of when they were leaving the night before, and she could guess what it was. Or rather, who.

  'Hi, Freddie,' she cal ed.

  'Hel o,' he replied, a little sheepishly. He stood up and looked down at her over the rail. 'Have you come back for the coat?'

  'I've got it back.' The Doctor was beside Rose in the hallway now. He opened his jacket and jiggled it, just to prove he was telling the truth. 'See. Why don't you come down and join us for a minute?' Freddie hesitated. 'Come on, it's you we've come to see, real y.'

  Making up his mind, Freddie made his unsteady way down the stairs. He did not have his crutch with him, but held tight to the railing al the way down. He dragged one leg slightly as he walked stiffly across the hal , but otherwise there was nothing to suggest he had trouble walking.

  The Doctor led them into the drawing room. 'Yes, the kind Miss Heart brought my coat back,' he said.

  'I saw her with it,' Freddie said, sitting down and giving a quiet sigh of relief. 'I saw...' He frowned and paused. 'I heard... lots of things,' he finished. He looked at Rose, his eyes moist. 'Is it true?'

  'You listened to the grown-ups last night?' the Doctor asked.

  Freddie nodded.

  'Some of it's true,' Rose said.

  'What Father said about me? About being the real Tsar?'

  'Didn't you know?' Rose asked.

  Freddie shook his head. 'No. Maybe. I don't remember.'

  'What do you remember?' the Doctor asked. His tone suggested he was just making conversation, but Rose could see that he was staring intently at Freddie.

  The boy looked away. 'It was a long time ago. I remember the boat, and meeting my new father for the first time. And I remember how happy Mother was to come to England. She cried.' He bit his lip at the memory. 'And I think I remember my old father. He was nice and kind too. He had a big black beard, and he was always smiling. He carried me everywhere, so I wouldn't fal and hurt myself. And he said he would talk to the men outside the b
arn where we had to sleep that night. But then Mother said we had to go, we had to leave him behind. Mother carried me then, and that was nice. But I missed Father's soft voice and his strong arms.'

  'When was this?' Rose wondered.

  Freddie looked straight at her, his face pale. 'When Father shouted, and the men shouted too. When we heard the shooting.'

  'Freddie.' The voice was quiet and calm and reassuring. 'Cook has made some cake.' Freddie's mother was standing just inside the doorway, and Rose wondered how much she had heard. 'Why don't you go and ask if you can have some?'

  The boy grinned suddenly, and got to his feet. 'Thank you,' he said, walking stiffly across the room. He stopped in front of his mother.

  She tousled his fair hair and smiled at him. But Rose could see too the sadness in her eyes. 'You'l be al right? You can manage?'

  'Yes.'

  'Go on then.'

  She waited until the sound of Freddie's slow footsteps was gone before corning over to join the Doctor and Rose. 'I worry so much about him,' she said quietly. 'Even before, it was difficult. But when the revolution came, and Theo...' She shook her head. 'George has been so kind.' She blinked away the memories.

  'It's been hard for you,' the Doctor said.

  'Yes,' she said simply. 'I see you have recovered your coat, Doctor.'

  He nodded. 'Yes, thanks. Melissa Heart said you asked her to return it to me.'

  Anna frowned. 'Real y? Wel , perhaps Dickson found it and saw her. Sir George is working in his study, I'm afraid. He does not like to be disturbed, but if you wish to see him...'

  'That's OK,' Rose said. 'We're off to the British Empire thingy.'

  'Exhibition,' the Doctor explained as Anna looked confused.

  'I have not been,' she confessed.

  'That's al right.' The Doctor grinned. 'Not your empire, is it.' His grin froze. 'Sorry.'

  'We wondered if Freddie wanted to come along,' Rose said quickly. 'He'd enjoy it.'

  'I'm sure he would. You are very kind.'

  From her tone, Rose could tell that the answer was no. 'You can come too. It'd make a nice day out.'

  'A kind thought,' Anna said. 'But I would worry so much. He...' She paused, considering how to phrase what she wanted to say. 'It would not be safe for him, I fear.'