'It wasn't your fault,' the Doctor reassured Polly once they were clear of the hospital. 'Caleb must have been exerting some kind of mind control on you. The way the real Polly snapped awake the moment you fired the gun shows that. You must have been able to summon up the strength to turn the gun away from me, despite what he was telling you. He still made you pull the trigger, though. You could say he was a victim of his own success.'

Chapter Ten.

The lavishly decorated bar of the Regent Hotel was usually fairly empty, but as night settled in it began to fill up. By the time Polly got down there it was bustling with businessmen, tourists and all the other guests who made the building come alive. The atmosphere in the bar was relaxing. It was a place where you could get away from it all without ever feeling lonely.

'A Flaming Hero, please,' she said. 'And no ice.'

The barman smiled and reached for a whisky bottle.

'Charged to room 208, yeah?'

Polly nodded, trying to raise a smile. She'd been here for just over half an hour now, but was already on her third cocktail.

'Easy, duchess,' said a familiar voice. 'You'll be on the floor if you're not careful.'

Polly turned to see Ben's smiling face, and gestured for him to sit on the stool next to her.

'Sorry,' she said. 'I just wanted a drink or two. It's been a rough day.'

Ben looked at her understandingly, paused for a while, then reached over and asked the barman for a pink gin. He tipped the barman, then took Polly's hand and squeezed it gently. 'Are you OK?' he asked.

'Is it that obvious?'

Ben pointed towards her drink. 'It's that important, obviously. The Doctor told me what happened. It wasn't your fault, you know.'

Silence. A moment or two to think things over. And then: 'I killed someone, Ben.'

More silence. 'No you didn't. The Doctor told me what happened. That bloke Caleb killed himself. He was just using you. It doesn't matter whose hands were actually on the trigger, he still pulled it.'

Polly took a sip from her drink. 'I know,' she said finally.

'But that doesn't make it any easier.'

'I know it's hard, but you know what they say time heals.'

'I'm sure it does, but that won't stop me from feeling terrible today.'

Ben pointed to her drink. 'Neither will that, you know.'

Polly managed a slight laugh. 'You can talk.'

Ben smiled, compassionately. 'I'm a sailor. I'm allowed.'

'I keep seeing him when I close my eyes, you know? I've never killed anyone, always abhorred the idea, yet tonight someone is in the morgue because of me.'

Ben looked as if he was struggling to find comforting words.

'But he was an alien or something. He tried to kill the Doctor and messed with your mind, don't forget that.'

Polly thought back to how Caleb had managed to reach inside her, thought about the vulnerability she had felt, thought about her helplessness to resist as Caleb twisted her thoughts to fit his will.

'I hate him, Ben. I'm not mourning him at all. I'd barely met the man, yet I killed him. I'm upset because I killed. For the first time in my my life I ended another. But I'm not sorry he's dead. life I ended another. But I'm not sorry he's dead.

What he did to me... I'm not sorry.'

Ben reached over and gave her a hug. She realised she was crying into his shoulder. 'I'm not a killer,' she sobbed. 'I'm not.'

'I know,' Ben reassured her. 'It'll be OK. Just let it all out.

Don't bottle it up. You'll be OK.'

Polly broke their embrace and stood up, draining the rest of her drink.

'Never again,' she said. 'Never again will anyone control me like that. I'm me, and I'm not a killer, I'm not a slave, I'm not an adoring fan. I'm not what Caleb tried to make me.'

As she walked out of the bar, she prayed that she wasn't.

Back on the second floor of the hotel the Doctor was sitting cross-legged in the middle of his room, flicking eagerly through the pile of gossip magazines Ben had managed to purchase and using a magnifying glass to get a more detailed look at some of the photos in them. Issues of Stars Stars, Confidential Confidential, Whisper Whisper and and Hollywood Hollywood, littered the floor, along with a stack of recent newspapers.

'How's it going, Doctor?' Polly asked.

The Doctor looked up from his reading. 'Oh, not that good, not that bad. There must be some clues somewhere in these, I'm sure.'

'Those rags are riddled with info on all the celebs,' Ben pointed out.

'And that's exactly why the answers must be here,' the Doctor said. 'I just need to put all the pieces together in order to work out what's going on.'

Ben walked over to the sink at the side of the room, poured Polly a glass of water, then made sure she was sitting comfortably on the sofa. The Doctor appeared to be unaware of any distress in his friend, so Polly guessed that either her crying hadn't affected her make-up, or that the Doctor was simply too absorbed in his work to notice.

'First, we have a man murdered,' the Doctor announced, as if he was the detective addressing the suspects at the end of an Agatha Christie novel. 'Now, while Harold's death is indeed tragic, that sort of thing is unfortunately not out of the ordinary in these parts.'

'Yeah, but it's not every day a tourist gets accused of being the killer,' Ben reminded him.

'Of course, but I was soon exonerated once the so-called real killer was found. Let's think this through. The man the police call the murderer is someone they've been wanting to pin a crime on for a long time. And then we come to the hospital, to Caleb Rochefort's blood.'

'Please,' Polly said. 'Don't mention that.'

The Doctor turned to her. 'I'm sorry. I think uncovering whatever Caleb was is the key to all these mysteries, though.'

'So you think he's an alien?' Ben asked, trying to catch up with events.

The Doctor was noncommittal. 'I'm not sure, Ben. I'm hopeful we'll find out soon enough, though. And then we have Dying in the Sun Dying in the Sun, the film that has intrigued us all. A film that Caleb starred in. Is the connection a coincidence, I wonder?'

'But what can we do now?' Ben asked. 'We can't find out any more from De Sande, and we've exhausted pretty much all our leads, haven't we?'

'I have to get to the bottom of how Dying in the Sun Dying in the Sun really affects the people who watch it,' the Doctor announced. 'I have to learn what those behind it are really planning. Nothing feels right about this. It's far more than just an impressive film, I'm sure of it. If only I could prove my suspicions. Caleb may or may not have been an alien, but there's certainly some kind of supernatural presence at work here, something that ties everything together. If only we could figure out what it is.' really affects the people who watch it,' the Doctor announced. 'I have to learn what those behind it are really planning. Nothing feels right about this. It's far more than just an impressive film, I'm sure of it. If only I could prove my suspicions. Caleb may or may not have been an alien, but there's certainly some kind of supernatural presence at work here, something that ties everything together. If only we could figure out what it is.'

Ben walked over to the pile of magazines and began to ruffle through them. 'These should be useful, Doctor. There's tons on the actors from Dying in the Sun Dying in the Sun. Interviews, scandalous gossip from anonymous sources and, what's more, according to the people I was speaking to down by the cinemas all of the cast members' careers were pretty much dead until recently.'

'Really?' said the Doctor. 'Yet now these periodicals seem to be full of them. There's a centre spread on Mr Rochefort in one, a page of rumours about De Sande's love life in another, and an article on a former waitress called Hannah Wyatt, which mentions nothing about the film apart from her being given a small role in it at the last minute. None of the journalists writing in these publications seem to know anything about Dying in the Dying in the Sun Sun, but they're obsessed with the actors in it.'

'Maybe De Sande's people are just good at promotion?'

Polly suggested.

'I'm sure they are, Polly, but I don't think that's the reason behind the sudden surge of interest in the actors.'

'Look at this picture of Caleb,' Polly said, holding up a photo-spread for the Doctor and Ben to see it. 'He looks wonderful here... so tall, so muscular. Just how he looked before I shot him.'

'Oh Pol,' Ben said, snatching the magazine away from his friend. 'Stop reading that, you'll only be torturing yourself.'

'Let me see that,' said the Doctor, taking the magazine from Ben's hands. 'She's right, you know.' He lifted the magnifying glass to the magazine. 'In this photograph Caleb looks exactly as he wanted people to think he looked. While I must admit this picture is clearly him, he looked somewhat different in the hospital. I've a strong suspicion this picture does not portray the true Mr Rochefort accurately.'

'He looked just like that before I shot him,' said Polly. 'At least I thought he did. After though... When he died, whatever ability he had to make us see him as more than he was fell away.

His true self, the man behind the star, was revealed.'

'Which leads to an obvious conclusion,' the Doctor said, his voice rising. 'Caleb had some kind of ability that made him appear more impressive than he was. Indeed it seems he was even able to fool the camera. The popularity of, and interest in, the cast of Dying in the Sun Dying in the Sun, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, could mean that the other actors in the film also possess this ability.'

Ben was finding the Doctor's theory hard to believe. He'd seen the film, seen the cast. They weren't aliens, they were human beings.

'So what do you think we should do now, then?' Polly asked.

'Well, tomorrow I'm going to see if I can force De Sande to reveal what's going on, but first I'd like to find out who really killed Harold. Somehow the two mysteries are connected, I'm sure of it. The gunfight at the restaurant involved a member of the Dying in the Sun Dying in the Sun cast and a wanted suspect for the murder. cast and a wanted suspect for the murder.

Reitman worked as a producer for Star Light Pictures, the same studio that made the film, and died just over a week before it will be released.'

'Come on, Doctor,' said Polly, incredulous. 'That's a bit of a tenuous link, isn't it?'

The Doctor smiled. 'We'll see, Polly. We'll see.'

In the reception area of Star Light Pictures the Doctor, Ben and Polly stood talking to a middle-aged woman who had, until four days ago, been Harold Reitman's personal assistant.

'Ruth,' the Doctor said, shaking her hand. 'How good of you to see me. I just wanted to pop by and express my grief. I know you two had worked together for many years.'

'Since the Depression,' the woman confirmed.

'I'm sorry,' Polly said.

'It's so sad,' the Doctor said. 'Why on Earth would anyone want to kill Harold?'

The woman shook her head. 'I've no idea. I don't think there was anyone Harold met who didn't think the world of him.'

'I don't suppose you have his family details do you, so we can send our condolences?'

Ruth looked at the Doctor with a puzzled expression. 'He never told you about that, huh? No, Harold has no contact with what's left of his family.'

'So what will happen to his estate now?' Ben wondered.

'I think he said it's all going to FOCAL. I sort of assumed you were from them, actually. Either them or Nathanson.'

'Nathanson?' the Doctor asked. 'Nathanson and Wolper, Harold's lawyers.'

The Doctor shook his head. 'No, we're not from them.

What about this FOCAL? What's that?'

The woman looked irked. 'Nothing. It doesn't matter. Just a charity.'

'What sort of charity?'

'Doctor,' the woman pleaded, 'I really don't know much.

Harold was always quite secretive about it. From what I gathered it's a fund-raising organisation of some sort. Harold used to be a very active member. I think it's a charity for actors and other workers in the industry who are going through hard times. I don't know anything else about it, though.'

The Doctor smiled. 'He always was a very generous man.'

The woman reached into a drawer and took out a small business card. 'FOCAL are organising the funeral too. Here's their address if you want to send flowers or anything.'

'Flowers?' the Doctor said, staring intently at the card. He handed it to Ben and pointed to a small illustration, a silhouette of a rose. 'Yes, flowers. I'm sure they'd appreciate that.'

The office of Nathanson and Wolper reminded Polly of a library. The musty smell of old wood and documents permeated the place and several rows of desks were neatly arranged in the middle of the room. Behind these sat various people making phone calls and inspecting legal documents.

'Do you think this will work?' Polly whispered.

The Doctor grinned. 'If Harold wasn't in touch with his family, then I doubt he'd have told his lawyers much about them. At least we'll know if there was anyone else who stood to benefit from Harold's death.'