The officer led them both into the station. 'Like it or not, we're going to have to explain ourselves now,' said the Doctor, a note of resignation in his voice. Then he brightened. 'But this could be the very place we want to be.'

Fitz frowned. 'How do you mean?'

'Well if anything odd is going on, then the police are the most likely people to know anything about it.'

Not in Fitz's experience, but then, these were the police of a foreign country three decades into his future. Efficiency and integrity may well be their watchwords.

Inspector Bengt Nordenstam finished his fifth cup of coffee of the day, and wished he'd had something substantial for lunch. He sat in the office of the District Chief of Police in Strangnas. The District Chief himself had gone back to the farm with Andersson and the girl. Leaving him with the thing they'd found. It was in the mortuary now, stinking out the place. He tried not to think about it, and turned his attention to the laptop computer on the desk in front of him. He was in the middle of writing a report to the State Criminological Laboratory in Stockholm. A report on what was already being called the Strangnas Incident: the disappearance of six local people. Well, six and a half but Nordenstam tried not to think about the half.

The flickering screen seemed to be taunting him. However hard he tried, he couldn't make any sense of the disappearances. No crime had been committed, he was sure of that. This was no kidnapping, or the work of a serial killer.

So what was it?

One of the local officers had already suggested alien abductions. Nordenstam had immediately put him on filing duty. He wasn't going to have any of that talk. Ten years in the Criminal Investigation Department of the Swedish State Police Board had instilled in him a trust that was close to love in two things: empirical evidence and justice. You can't argue with empirical evidence, with the facts; in a world that was accelerating towards the millennium with more and more bizarre and motiveless crimes taking place even here in rural Sweden, Nordenstam found comfort in facts. Facts were the basis of justice. If you could prove a felon had done a thing, then he had done it, and that was that. Lack of evidence, of proof, was an irritation to Bengt Nordenstam.

But this case, which had dragged him from the city a week before his annual holiday in Greece, was different. So different from the usual saddening toll of suicides, murders, alcohol-fuelled fights, feuds, vandalism, theft and drug addiction which were becoming more and more commonplace these days. The facts were there, yes, but they didn't mean anything. Six inexplicable disappearances. And now the equally inexplicable appearance of a creature that looked as though it had hopped from the screen of the latest Hollywood special-effects showcase. Only this beast was real.

So did this evidence point to the world of the paranormal? He couldn't believe it. He wanted no part in the cult of the unexplained. That was for the craven and the credulous. And he was neither. Everything could be explained.

A nagging voice in his mind whispered: but could it?

He offered up a silent prayer: please, G.o.d, let the disappearances have a rational explanation. Let the creature be a very clever prank, a chimera made somehow by medical students from Uppsala with too much time and soft drugs on their hands. Please. He could handle that. It was, if not rational or excusable, at least explicable.

He typed a word into his laptop, but the word was nothing to do with the case.

There was a knock on the door. Nordenstam quickly deleted the word on the screen. Must be seen to be professional at all times. 'Come in.'

A young local officer opened the door and popped his head round. 'Sir, there's been an incident outside the station.'

Nordenstam sat up straight, instantly alert, trying to remember the officer's name. 'What sort of incident?'

The young officer Karl Hansson, that was it stuttered slightly as he answered. 'Nothing nothing strange, sir; a disturbance of the peace. Two tourists. They say their friend's gone missing.'

Nordenstam stood up, sc.r.a.ping his chair across the floor. Not another disappearance. He slipped on his jacket over his shirt to hide the sweat marks under his arms, and followed Hansson along the corridor to the front desk.

There, waiting patiently, were the two men Hansson had been talking about. The one on the left was tall and gangly, clad in a loose white shirt. His face was sullen and distrustful. A student, maybe from Uppsala, down for the holidays like the Bergman girl and her unfortunate fiance? There was something odd about him, as though he were deliberately following the fashion of twenty-odd years ago.

His companion was sporting an even stranger get-up, his clothes seemingly aping the style fashionable Stockholmers were wearing at around the turn of the century. He had the face and att.i.tude of a film star: wide blue eyes alive with intelligence, an aquiline nose and a sensitive mouth.

Nordenstam was instantly on his guard. This had all the hallmarks of a practical joke, and Nordenstam didn't have time for that. He stepped up to the counter and immediately took control of the situation. 'Good afternoon, gentlemen. I'm Inspector Bengt Nordenstam of the Criminal Investigations Board. What can I do for you?'

'That rather depends,' said the well-groomed man in English. 'I am the Doctor and this is my friend Fitz Kreiner.'

Nordenstam raised his eyebrows. 'Doctor? Doctor what?' he said, also in English.

The 'Doctor' waved his hand in a dismissive gesture. 'Doesn't matter.' He leaned against the counter, staring straight at Nordenstam. 'Who was the young lady who recently left this station?'

Nordenstam tried once more to a.s.sert his authority. 'I think I should be asking the questions.'

'What was her name?' said the scruffy fellow. He looked quite distressed. Under the influence of something? 'Was it Samantha Jones?'

An English name. 'It was not.'

Fitz swore and looked crestfallen. The Doctor patted his shoulder.

Nordenstam exchanged a glance with Hansson. He was probably thinking the same thing. Nutters. Publicity seekers. The best tactic would be to humour them, trick them into revealing what they were really after. 'Is that the name of your missing friend?'

'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'Yes it is. She went missing in the forest.' He exchanged a glance with Fitz and Nordenstam intuitively knew that he'd made it up on the spot, said the first thing that had come into his head. Perhaps they knew more about the disappearances than they were letting on.

He motioned for Hansson to open the hatch in the desk and let them through. 'I think we'd better continue this conversation privately.'

Once they were all seated in an interview room, Nordenstam felt more comfortable, more in control. He could observe the pair more closely, a.s.sess them. The scruffy one, Fitz Kreiner, was nervous and truculent. The Doctor seemed completely at ease.

'You realise the seriousness of what you're saying? Reporting a missing person when six others have already vanished?'

'Yes, yes, yes,' said the Doctor. 'Now can you tell me about the other disappearances? Was anything strange witnessed at the scene flashing lights, strange, erm...'

'Whirlpools in the air?' added Fitz tentatively.

Nordenstam shifted in his seat. How could they know this? 'The husband of one of the victims reported a flash, like lightning.'

The Doctor frowned. 'Unusual.'

Nordenstam felt a rush of anger. Of course it was unusual. 'I think you'd better tell me exactly who you are, and about the disappearance of Miss Jones.'

Fitz frowned. 'Are we under arrest?'

'Of course not,' Nordenstam said coolly, noting the young man's guilty tone of voice.

The Doctor told Nordenstam that Samantha Jones was an English tourist staying in Stockholm. A week ago, she'd gone on a trip to Strangnas and went for a hike in the forest with her friend. She hadn't come back, and her friend had reported a strange glowing tunnel in the air.

'And what is your connection with Miss Jones?'

'No special connection,' said the Doctor airily. Nordenstam did not miss Fitz's reaction to this he blinked rapidly and looked down at his lap.

He then knew that everything the Doctor had said was a lie. If anyone had gone missing, then the district police would have heard of it. 'Now come on, Doctor. You come in here, reporting the disappearance of an English tourist, and then claim to have no connection with her?' He glanced from Fitz to the Doctor. 'Is she special to one of you?'

'She's special to both of us,' said the Doctor sharply.

Fitz put his head in his hands and groaned.

Nordenstam couldn't help but smile. 'Gentlemen, it is not for me to intrude, but you must appreciate that I do need to know more about your... connection with the missing person.'

'It's not what you think,' said Fitz, rather defensively. 'She's a friend.'

'Of course. And how am I to know that you had nothing to do with her disappearance?'

Fitz sighed in exasperation. 'This is getting us nowhere.'

The Doctor leaned forward across the table between them. 'Would it smooth the way if I told you that we're investigators from UNIT, the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce?' He sat back, grinning widely.

Nordenstam had never heard of UNIT, and said so.

If this fazed the Doctor he didn't show it. 'You may not have heard of us. We don't exactly advertise our services. No recruitment drives, no adverts in cinemas, none of that. We were set up to deal exclusively with unexplained or extraterrestrial phenomena. I'm their scientific adviser and Fitz is my a.s.sistant. We were sent here specifically to investigate the disappearances.'

The unexplained. Nordenstam gritted his teeth. He clung to the facts. 'But the first disappearance happened in the small hours of this morning. How could you have possibly heard of it?'

'Miss Jones vanished a week ago,' said the Doctor. 'We've been hereabouts ever since. We tried to keep it quiet, but now that six more people have vanished we decided to come in and help the police.' The Doctor smiled, as if he'd solved everything.

If only he could, thought Nordenstam. 'So how did you get to hear about the disappearance of Miss Jones?'

The Doctor and Fitz exchanged a glance. Nordenstam watched them narrowly.

'Sam Jones wasn't really a tourist. She was she is a UNIT operative investigating UFO activity around this area,' said the Doctor.

Nordenstam frowned. 'I haven't heard about that.'

'You wouldn't,' said Fitz. 'We've tried to keep the whole thing quiet.'

Nordenstam shook his head. How could they expect him to believe any of this? Where was the evidence? He was beginning to get a floating feeling in his stomach, a feeling he'd learned to trust, a feeling he always got when people were trying to deceive him. 'This is the talk of fantasists. Of hoaxers!' He realised he was shouting. 'How can you expect me to believe any of what you're saying?'

The Doctor leaned across the table and Nordenstam was struck by the look in his eyes, a compelling look of absolute authority. 'Inspector, people have gone missing and you can't explain it. Before the day is out I have a very, very, very strong feeling that you're going to have to start believing things that previously you would never have even considered possible.'

Nordenstam blinked, and pa.s.sed a hand in front of his face. Hot in here. He mustn't let these weirdos get to him. But who were they really? What was UNIT? There was one thing he could do there was one thing they had to have by law, and if they didn't produce them he could lock them up and never have to look into the Doctor's eyes again. 'Have you any ID? Proof of the existence of this UNIT?'

The Doctor began delving into his pockets. Nordenstam tensed; of course, he should have searched them but the Doctor produced nothing more threatening than a laminated pa.s.s, sliding it across the desk towards him. 'That's my UNIT pa.s.s the picture on it is a bit out of date, I'm afraid.'

The picture was of a completely different person a dignified-looking man with a shock of white hair.

'Get that checked,' he said, handing the pa.s.s to Hansson, utterly confident that it would be bogus. Then he would have reason to arrest them.

The Doctor called out after Hansson. 'You need to contact Brigadier Winifred Bambera, in Geneva, or her replacement.'

'Got that?' said Nordenstam, suppressing a grin. He had the upper hand again.

'I don't know why you're smirking,' said the Doctor, his face set. 'I'm deadly serious.' He leaned back, narrowing his eyes, a smile playing across his lips. 'The investigation isn't going well, is it? You have no idea what's causing the disappearances. Am I right?'

Nordenstam should have been angered by this, but the Doctor's low, hushed tones, his compelling eyes, drew him in but not totally. 'Neither do you.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'No. I don't know. But I can make some pretty shrewd guesses.'

'And...?'

'I conclude that we're all in dire danger.'

'Really.'

Nordenstam ma.s.saged his temples with his fingers. The day had taken a wild and unexpected turn. He turned to Fitz, so that he didn't have to look at the Doctor. 'And what have you got to say?'

Fitz sniffed and shrugged. 'Nothing. Only that, if anything weird is is going on, we're your best hope.' going on, we're your best hope.'

Nordenstam had had enough. This was getting him nowhere.

Then Hansson opened the door without knocking. His young face showed a trace of excitement. 'Sir, I've faxed the UN. The Doctor's story checks out. There is an outfit called UNIT, and they do have a scientific adviser called the Doctor.' He handed the pa.s.s back to Nordenstam, then left the room.

Nordenstam slid the pa.s.s towards the Doctor. 'How do you explain this photograph?'

The Doctor frowned. 'How do you mean?'

Nordenstam sighed. 'Well, it's not you, is it? I think you're an impostor. Where did you get this pa.s.s from?'

The Doctor slammed his fist down on the table, rising from his chair. 'There's no time for this! You've got to trust me!'

'Sit down!' barked Nordenstam. 'Do you realise the trouble you're in? Masquerading as a UN official?'

The Doctor sat down, glowering. 'I'm not masquerading. I am the Doctor.'

'You must believe him,' said Fitz.

There was a knock at the door. 'Come in,' said Nordenstam.

It was Hansson again, with a thick buff folder. He placed it on the desk. 'The photographs, sir.'

Nordenstam's pulse quickened. At last, they were here. Pictures of the scenes of the disappearances. Perhaps if he showed them to this Doctor and his friend, they would be prompted to confess. He reached across and opened the file. Black-andwhite photos spilled out over the desk.

The Doctor and Fitz hunched over the desk, examining the photographs.

One showed a wooden cabin, its front half missing, the interior revealed like a doll's house with the front removed. A shallow crater was scooped out of the earth.

Another showed a house, its side sliced away. There was a pair of legs in the middle of the room, sliced off just above the knee.

Nordenstam sighed wearily. 'Olla Wenberg. Married with three daughters.'

The Doctor's face crumpled. 'Terrible, terrible.'

'What do you think is causing this?' muttered Fitz.

The Doctor sighed. 'Could be any number of things. Luckily it's fairly localised at present. Something is going round taking chunks out of reality.'

'Like that hole I fell into.'

'Chunks out of reality,' muttered Nordenstam wearily. 'Is that your conclusion?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'I need more evidence.'