Nordenstam considered. If the Doctor really was from UNIT, really was used to dealing with the paranormal, the unexplained, then he was just what Nordenstam needed. And if he was involved with, or responsible for, the disappearances, Nordenstam didn't want to let him out of his sight.

He stood up, beckoning for the Doctor and Fitz to follow him. 'You want more evidence? Follow me.'

Fitz stared down at the dead creature, lying on a tarpaulin in the station's tiny mortuary. It was a mess, and it stank of rotting seaweed. He could make out the head: savage teeth in a circular mouth. It had a round, compact body, covered in black spines, and powerful hind legs. 'Looks like a kangaroo crossed with a cactus,' mumbled Fitz.

'Chupacabra?' said the Doctor, making tutting noises. 'No, no, no. A mutation?' His face was alive with interest, for the first time since they'd left the TARDIS. 'Where did you find our dead friend?'

'On a local farm. The farmer killed it while it was attacking his livestock.'

The Doctor bent to examine it, not the least put off by the smell. 'It's definitely alien,' said the Doctor.

'You think it could be chums with that dragonfly thing we saw in the forest?' wondered Fitz aloud.

Nordenstam looked sharply at him. 'You saw something? Another like this?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'No. An airborne creature, like a large insect.'

Nordenstam's square, lined face was creased in a mask of mixed incomprehension and bemus.e.m.e.nt, an expression Fitz was getting used to seeing on his travels with the Doctor. The 'either-you're-mador-Iam' look.

'Are you sure it's alien?' Nordenstam obviously wanted a rational explanation but it looked like there wasn't going to be one.

'Yes,' said the Doctor. 'Things are worse than I thought.' He grew silent, tapping his lips with his fingers.

'Well?' said Nordenstam.

The Doctor clapped his hands together. 'I think that the boundary between our dimension and another is breaking down. And I think it's being done deliberately. The disappearances, and the sudden appearance of alien creatures like this, are just the start. This has the hallmark of a full-scale alien invasion.'

Hang on, thought Fitz. That was jumping to conclusions rather too quickly. 'Can you be sure?' he said doubtfully.

The Doctor was pacing about, waving his hands in the air as if shaking drops of water from his fingertips. 'It all makes sense. What happened to the TARDIS they tried to kill me first because they knew I could stop them!'

'But they got Sam instead.' The thought of Sam at the mercy of such creatures was too horrible to contemplate. Fitz contemplated it anyway, and felt racked with guilt. If he'd never argued with Sam. If he'd got to her room earlier. If, if, if.

The Doctor spoke, breaking into his thoughts. 'Inspector Nordenstam, I want you to take me to where this creature was found right now. We haven't got a moment to lose!'

Chapter Five.

Missing People Fitz lifted the lid of the wood bunker warily. Taking a deep breath, he threw the heavy rubber cover back so it bounced on the rust-coloured side of the farmhouse. He stepped back quickly. Nothing emerged. He peered inside.

It was bare except for a few logs, fluttering skeins of spiders' webs, and a sour, damp smell. There a movement. But it was only a shiny black spider scuttling out of sight beneath a log, hiding from the sunlight that had invaded its dank domain.

Fitz slammed the lid back down, licking his lips. He was desperately thirsty, and dying for a smoke. The two desires warred within him. Should he go into the farmhouse for some water, or hang around here and have a quick drag?

He was on the brink of a decision when Inspector Nordenstam came round the side of the farmhouse, his face set. Nordenstam was a tall, fit-looking man in his fifties, with tanned skin, grey hair and a salt-andpepper moustache. His suit and tie were a soft pastel grey which reflected the sunlight brightly. Fitz's heart sank to see him. It was proving to be quite an effort, keeping up the pretence of being a UNIT operative. Fitz's imagination kept throwing up unhelpful images of rainy streets, tall men in long coats waiting near railway stations, exchanging packages and talking in code. Too many spy films.

Like Nordenstam, Fitz had never heard of UNIT before today. Just another reminder of how little he still knew about the Doctor. It didn't help that Nordenstam kept up an almost ceaseless flow of questions. Fitz had parried most of these by saying that UNIT's operations were top secret. The inspector had accepted this with a raised eyebrow and a twitch of his moustache, which made Fitz suspect that Nordenstam was stringing him along, waiting for him to make a big mistake.

Nordenstam noticed Fitz and shaded his eyes. 'Found anything?'

Fitz shook his head. 'Nope. But I wasn't really expecting to.'

He had agreed to help Nordenstam and the local police search the farm, for want of anything else to do.

Nordenstam slapped the side of the farmhouse. 'Nor have I, nor any of the others.'

Fitz wished the Doctor would turn up. Since returning to the farm over an hour ago, the Doctor had been dashing off all over the place, taking soil samples, generally behaving like a manic one-man whirlwind. Good to see him keeping busy, but he was little help to Fitz right now.

'I'd rather not come across any more of those creatures, though,' said Fitz, with heartfelt relief.

Nordenstam picked up on this instantly. 'Why not? I thought you UNIT people were used to such things. Besides which, we're armed.' Nordenstam opened his jacket to reveal a jet-black pistol snug in a calfskin holster.

'Well, I'm not,' said Fitz, spreading his arms to show the lack of weapon. 'We UNIT operatives prefer to use wits and diplomacy.'

Nordenstam shook his head in obvious wonderment. 'Even against senseless beasts? Come on, let's go inside and get something to drink.'

He turned and headed into the farmhouse.

There was a sudden machine-gun clatter overhead a helicopter. Fitz ducked instinctively, but there was no need it was way overhead, its rotors a blur against the blue sky.

Nordenstam let out a long, sighing breath. 'They're still searching for the missing people. I just hope they're successful.'

As they reached the door of the house, it opened and a tall, blonde girl in a yellow T shirt and shorts came out, stopping short at the sight of them.

Fitz couldn't stop himself from gaping. This must be the girl he had mistaken for Sam, but on closer inspection she was nothing like her. Taller, more muscled, her skin tanned a glossy brown. Her eyes were blue, like Sam's, though somehow different smaller, and with fine blonde lashes which looked almost white in the sunlight. Her mouth was a lot smaller than Sam's, the lips darker and fuller. She met his stare with a cool expression of defiance.

Fitz felt the first stirrings of l.u.s.t. 'h.e.l.lo,' he said, putting on his best smile.

She brushed past them, carrying herself like an athlete.

She must have seen the look in his eyes. He instantly felt guilty. Fancying someone at a time like this? Still, he couldn't help it. It was human nature. His nature. 'What's her problem?'

Nordenstam's features hardened slightly. 'Her fiance is one of the missing people. That's her "problem". And ours. We ' There was a sudden, insistent bleeping from inside his jacket, and Fitz watched as he produced a sleek, black oblong of plastic. He pressed a b.u.t.ton one of many on the front of the thing and spoke into it in Swedish.

Must be a phone, realised Fitz. A phone without a cord? Well, this was the future...

Fitz watched as Nordenstam's tanned, lined face slowly broke into an expression of total astonishment. Fitz could hear the voice at the other end of the line, an excited babble. Nordenstam said something in Swedish and then put the phone away.

He looked at Fitz, his eyes wide. 'They've found something. In the forest.'

Fitz gulped. Could it be Sam? 'One of the missing people?'

Nordenstam shook his head. 'No. Nothing like that, though I wish it was. Come on this should be your area of expertise.'

Nordenstam set off at a run towards his vehicle, a big jeeplike thing, sleek and powerful-looking. Fitz was used to cars with things sticking out of them, shiny metal radiator grilles and goggling headlights. Nordenstam's vehicle, a dark fir-green affair with matt-black radiators and b.u.mpers, looked to Fitz so advanced that he wouldn't be surprised if it could fly.

He hauled himself up on to the pa.s.senger seat beside Nordenstam. The vehicle chugged into life and they set off along the road that ran under the timber store. Fitz craned round in his seat, hoping to catch a glimpse of the Doctor, but there was no sign of him. Where was he? Had he gone back to check on the state of the TARDIS?

The TARDIS. Perhaps that was what they had found.

'Are you all right?' said Nordenstam. 'You look a bit pale.'

'I'm fine,' answered Fitz. What if they had found the TARDIS? What would the Doctor say if Fitz managed to get the TARDIS taken away? His need for a smoke intensified.

Bjorn aimed the hose at the concrete pen, sluicing out the last remains of the slaughtered pigs. The police had taken away what was left of their bodies for a.n.a.lysis. The rest of the pigs were curiously quiet. Bjorn could sense their fear.

The concrete washed clear of blood, Bjorn laid the hose on the side of the pen and went to the tap to turn it off. The back of his thigh still hurt, he felt light-headed and his eyes ached, thanks to the whisky he'd been drinking all morning. Well, it helped him deal with things.

Bjorn went along the pens, stopping at each one and stroking the pigs, muttering comforting words. There would be no monsters tonight. They were safe. At least, he hoped they were safe. He picked up a young piglet, scarcely two weeks old, and held the little life in his large hands. It squealed and its trotters sc.r.a.ped against his shirt, so he put it back down with its mother.

He straightened up painfully, ma.s.saging his aching back. Some pains even whisky couldn't soothe. He looked down at the piglet. It had wormed its way between its litter-mates, snuggled against its mother, its wet mouth closing around a teat. So safe. What he wouldn't give, sometimes, to be in such a state of blissful ignorance. Ignorant of loss. Ignorant of how life just goes on, and on. Ignorant of the realisation that pain doesn't go away as you get older, but becomes part of you, part of your personality, and there is nothing you can do about it.

As he stood there, he became aware of a figure standing in the doorway, a tall silhouette against the oblong of bright sunlight. How long he had been there Bjorn could not tell. He squinted and stepped towards the new arrival.

'h.e.l.lo, I'm the Doctor,' said the newcomer, in English. He walked further inside. 'How do you do?'

Bjorn didn't reply. He didn't like speaking English. He was of the opinion that visitors to his country should make at least some attempt to learn the language.

The stranger wandered up and down the pens. 'I see you take good care of your livestock.'

He was one of the police investigators, the one from the UN or whatever. Hadn't they bothered him enough?

Now he was inside the pen Bjorn could make out his odd old-fashioned clothes, his long brown hair and pale, intelligent face. Strange get-up for a policeman. Could he be in what they called 'plain-clothes' branch? But these clothes were hardly plain: they were like a theatrical costume. Whoever this Doctor was, he was more than he seemed. 'They need to be comforted,' said Bjorn defensively.

The Doctor leaned over the side of a pen to look at the pigs, his face alive with interest. 'Of course they do.' To Bjorn's incredulity, he began making little piggy 'oink-oink' noises.

'Look,' said Bjorn, feeling uncomfortable in the presence of an obvious madman, as not even he, who loved his pigs, made 'oink-oink' noises. 'What do you want want?'

The stranger stood up and faced Bjorn. His long, handsome face was scarred with confusion, his eyes wistful and distant. 'What do I want?'

Bjorn felt his temper rising. 'Yes, what do you want? You've taken the bodies away, I've told you what happened, you've got the thing that did this. What more could you possibly want?'

The Doctor didn't seem to have heard a word he was saying. He stood, staring into a dark corner of the pen, seemingly oblivious of everything. 'I want her back,' he whispered.

Bjorn was instantly on his guard. Those words formed the very core of his own being. He looked at the Doctor with fresh suspicion, and not a little fear. 'What did you say?'

The Doctor stepped up to Bjorn, reached out and grabbed him by the shoulders. He talked quickly, quietly, his voice a whisper, his eyes gleaming in the gloom, his words stabbing like a knife of ice into Bjorn's heart. 'You've lost someone close to you. I can sense it. It was an accident. You live in such pain, blaming and torturing yourself. You know what it's like and I think I'm going through the same thing. You see, my best friend's gone missing and I think she might be dead and ' The Doctor stepped back with a sharp intake of breath, his hand flying to his mouth. 'I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Sometimes I just can't help myself.'

Bjorn was finding it difficult to breathe: there was a pain in his chest and he badly wanted to be away from this madman. 'What are you talking about?'

The Doctor apologised again. 'It's my friend, Sam. She's vanished, gone. I'm not dealing with it too well.'

Bjorn thought of Kerstin, sitting inside the farmhouse, refusing to be consoled about the loss of Johan. What was it the police had told him? Five other people had vanished. No one Bjorn was close to, but then he rarely spoke to anyone these days. And now this Doctor's friend. That would explain his odd behaviour. He didn't like to think how he had been, in the days, weeks and months after Nina's death. 'That sort of thing is never easy to deal with.'

The Doctor nodded, and just stood there, head bowed.

Bjorn wanted to console him, but he knew there was nothing he could say because he had been there himself. He sighed. Whatever was going on was creating ripples like a stone being thrown into a still, silent pond. And, like it or not, he was at the centre, right where the stone had landed.

But something else was bothering him. 'How do you know that I've lost someone? Did Kerstin tell you?'

The Doctor frowned. 'No, no, no, she didn't tell me. I don't fully know. I get flashes, insights into people's lives.' He stepped closer to Bjorn, his face now animated, compa.s.sionate. 'You really should forgive yourself. You're going to live for many years yet and you shouldn't spend them consumed with regret and remorse.'

'Do you think I don't know that?' said Bjorn, realising that his voice was shaking. 'But I don't know how to forgive myself.'

'How did it happen?' said the Doctor.

Bjorn hadn't spoken about what happened to Nina for years. Amazingly, he felt he could open up to this complete stranger. Something about him made Bjorn trust in him totally. So he stood there in the darkness, the warm smell of the pigs in the air, and told the Doctor how Nina had died.

There wasn't much to say. A few words was all it took to convey the pointless horror of his wife's death.

'A shotgun,' Bjorn said, his voice dull. 'Backfired. She died instantly. My fault. Should have checked it.'

The Doctor's face had hardened into a pale mask. 'A gun?' he said, spitting the word out. Bjorn nodded. 'But you shot the creature,' said the Doctor slowly. 'You used the gun. That's what you told the police.'

Bjorn was confused again. What was he driving at?

'I I had to kill it. It was trying to kill me, for G.o.d's sake!'

The Doctor winced. 'Of course you did. I'm sorry.'

They stood awkwardly for a moment. Bjorn suddenly had a feeling akin to being lost in the forest as a child, and then suddenly finding himself in a part he recognised. A feeling of mixed relief, and disappointment that the adventure of being lost was over. Shaking his head and rubbing his eyes, he composed himself. 'What did did you want in here?' you want in here?'

The Doctor waved his hands in the air in a vague gesture. 'Oh, only to see where that creature was found.' He sighed. 'It doesn't matter. There aren't any more of the things. We can at least be grateful for that.'

Bjorn motioned for the Doctor to leave. 'I'm not used to visitors my hospitality is a little rusty but you can have some coffee and something to eat, if you go to the house.'

'I'd rather have tea,' said the Doctor, smiling sadly. 'Coffee gets my hearts racing.'

He turned and walked from the pen.

Left alone, Bjorn felt a sadness well up inside him until his face crumpled and he began to cry. He crouched down on to the floor and let the sobs come. What had the Doctor said? 'You're going to live for many years yet...' The words had chilled him, made him see the long lonely road stretching out ahead of him. And at the end? Suddenly, Bjorn found himself laughing, laughing at himself, seeing how absurd it was to think in this way. He suddenly grasped that he was master of his destiny, that he could shake free of the past, if only he could try.

He stood up, yawned, and walked out into the sunshine. It was odd: at his core, he knew he was still miserable, still lonely and in pain, but there was an extra lightness to his step, and things looked brighter. He didn't know what the Doctor had done to him, if anything, but he felt... different. Things weren't so bad, after all. Johan would be found, and the Doctor's friend and the others, and then they'd all go away and leave him in peace again.

He limped up the hill to the farmhouse. He smiled as he remembered that he didn't have any tea, only coffee. Ah well. The Doctor deserved the best coffee he could make.

Fitz winced, and held on more tightly to the handle on the car door as they hit another pothole. They were driving along the same track he and the Doctor had walked earlier that day. The road was very b.u.mpy and it didn't help that Nordenstam was driving like a man possessed. The jolting and juddering had already caused Fitz to bite his tongue. Nordenstam was keeping up a staccato dialogue with another officer via the radio in the vehicle.