'Right, all of you, out of here,' the Doctor announced.

Amazingly, most of the men shuffled towards the door, as though they had been waiting for someone to take charge.

One man stayed with Denman. The Chief Constable was sitting on a beige couch, a look of crushed innocence on his face. The man with him stood and moved towards the Doctor, holding out a hand.

'Deputy Chief Constable Savage,' he said briskly. 'And you are...?'

'A friend,' said the Doctor, moving past the man without acknowledging his outstretched hand. Hill, who had followed the Doctor into the room, gave Savage a respectful sideways glance but otherwise said nothing.

Denman looked up as the Doctor approached. The policeman had that same faraway look that the Doctor had seen in the eyes of men suffering from sh.e.l.l shock in the First World War, and on the faces of the victims of the sonic ma.s.sacres in fifty-first-century Brisbane. Some things didn't change through time.

'You came,' he said, his voice thin and wasted.

'Of course,' said the Doctor, sitting beside Denman. 'You should try to get some rest.'

'I'm all right,' said Denman.

'No you're not.' The Doctor tapped the gla.s.s of whisky in Denman's hand. 'You should either drink that, or pour it in the sink. Don't sit there playing with it.'

'You're right,' said Denman, downing the drink in one.

Colour began to flood back into his cheeks. 'She was...' he began, but got no further.

'I know,' said the Doctor, as Denman crumpled into his arms. The Doctor held him tightly, as Denman buried his head against the little man's shoulder. Savage and Hill fidgeted nervously. 'Put the kettle on,' said the Doctor, and both men moved simultaneously to the door, their expressions mirroring each other's embarra.s.sment.

Denman raised his head, his eyes red and swollen, his face wet with tears. 'Why?' he asked, as if a simple answer to that question would make everything all right again.

'The message she left was quite clear,' replied the Doctor in a soft voice, remembering the terse words written in lipstick on the cell wall. 'That "they" were getting at you through her.'

'Shanks?'

'Yes. And she wanted to save you in the only way she could,' said the Doctor. He paused. 'You had a close relationship?'

'Yes. It was perfect.'

'No relationship is ever perfect,' stated the Doctor brutally.

He could almost see the memories pa.s.sing across Denman's tear-stained face. 'If there were... problems, it was because of Hexen Bridge.'

'No,' said the Doctor firmly. 'You can't blame everything on your heritage. None of us can. We each have to accept a measure of responsibility.'

Denman shook his head against the gentle pressure of the Doctor's words. 'But I tried so hard to protect her.'

'Perhaps too hard,' said the Doctor. He sighed. It was too late for recriminations. 'Ah, look,' he said brightly, as Savage and Hill came back into the room. 'Tea.'

'And then, when she was fourteen, she broke her collarbone doing gymnastics at school,' said Denman, the trace of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth. He stopped. 'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I've got to take a leak. Help yourself to more tea.'

When he had climbed the stairs, Hill and Savage both looked accusingly at the Doctor, who continued to sip Earl Grey from a mug.

'What the h.e.l.l are you playing at?' said Savage angrily. 'It can't be right, encouraging him to bare his soul like this.'

'I disagree,' said the Doctor.

'And you're an expert, are you?' countered Hill.

'As it happens, yes,' replied the Doctor. 'But that really isn't the point. He's lost the one thing in the world that mattered to him. To deny she ever existed would be to seal over a broken heart with an Elastoplast.'

Savage stood and paced the room. 'I want to know who you are, for a start,' he said, menacingly.

'Me?' said the Doctor. 'Oh, I'm just a traveller.'

From above them there came the sound of a flushing toilet and the heavy footfall of Denman descending the stairs.

'Now, where were we?' he said, arriving at the living-room door with a weak smile on his face. 'More tea?'

'Ian,' said Savage, 'for Christ's sake...'

Denman looked at Savage curiously. 'No tea, then.

Something stronger?'

Savage shook his head in exasperation. 'Who is that man?'

he demanded, pointing at the Doctor.

'That's the Doctor,' said Denman. 'He's going to help us catch Kenny Shanks.'

'And how the h.e.l.l is he going to do that?' continued Savage.

'Breaking and entering,' announced the Doctor sharply.

'The man's mad,' said Savage.

'No,' cut in Denman. 'It's us that have been mad. We should have gone after Shanks years years ago. It might have saved us a lot of grief - and a few lives.' ago. It might have saved us a lot of grief - and a few lives.'

Ace and Steven sprinted into the churchyard, dwarfed by the gravestones and carved angels painted a sulphurous yellow by the approaching dawn. A wall encircled the area, beyond which glimmered the village's few street lights. The wind brushed through the yew trees, bringing the sounds of movement from within the church.

'I'll give you a bunk up,' said Steven, locking his hands together as he stood at the base of the wall.

'And then what'll you do?'

He paused, ignoring her question and glancing back at the church. 'Am I dreaming, Ace, or is this really happening?'

'It's all seriously real.' Ace pushed the torch into her rucksack, and threw it over the wall. It landed with a satisfyingly soft thud.

'How big's the drop?' Ace asked.

'Only one way to find out,' replied Steven.

'OK,' said Ace, placing her foot in Chen's hands. With a grunt he hoisted her upward. The wall, bleached by the elements, had crumbled in places, but the covering of ivy and gra.s.s held it together. Ace pushed her boot into a gap where the mortar had fallen away, and pulled herself on to the top of the wall. She reached down towards Chen. 'Grab my hand and.'

Her words trailed away. Back towards the church, a dark figure was tugging itself through the hole in the window.

'What's the matter?' queried Steven.

'Nothing,' said Ace hurriedly, looking back towards Chen.

'Just get up here. Now.' Now.'

Steven held on to Ace's arm. She could feel his pulse racing.

Behind him, the straw man stepped into the graveyard, and began trudging in their direction.

The sound of breaking gla.s.s, though m.u.f.fled by a thick woollen sweater, seemed enormously loud in the darkened corridor of the office building.

Denman withdrew the sweater and reached carefully through the smashed pane, fumbling around for the lock.

'd.a.m.nation,' Denman said as the door refused to budge.

'Hang on.' He lifted a size-ten boot and kicked at the door.

Once. Twice. Three times. Finally, it burst inward.

'Subtle as a b.l.o.o.d.y brick,' said Hill, shaking his head. 'Mr Savage told me not to let you do anything stupid, you know,'

he said as the Doctor followed Denman into the office of Stanley Road Holdings, the front company for Shanks's organisation. 'My pension could be on the line here!'

Denman ignored him. 'The night watchman should be here around seven a.m.,' he said, checking his watch. 'We've got fifteen minutes at most.'

Hill moved to the window, looking down the eighteen storeys to the car park below. 'Shanks is hardly going to leave anything incriminating lying around.'

'That remains to be seen,' said the Doctor, opening the filing cabinet closest to the door with a bent paperclip and a triumphant flourish. 'Ah!' he exclaimed with such excitement that Denman rushed across the office.

'Have you found something?' asked Denman.

'Yes,' said the Doctor, proudly. 'Files. Lots of them.'

Denman breathed deeply. 'Containing...?'

The Doctor opened the first green suspension file and took out a bundle of paper. He waved the sheets with delight at the two policemen. 'I had a feeling he wouldn't bother to hide it. There's nothing incriminating in this, unless you know what you're looking for.'

'Would you care to elaborate?'

Just as the Doctor seemed ready to, Hill turned back from the window. 'Time to get out,' he said quickly. 'Someone's coming.'

'Quick, out the fire exit,' snapped Denman. 'We'd better have got something important,' he told the Doctor. 'This is probably our only chance.'

'We've got everything we need,' replied the Doctor, stuffing the paperwork into his jacket.

Megan Tyley was the lightest of sleepers. It was both a blessing and a curse. When her children were young, she had never lost a minute's sleep through worry, as she knew she would hear the slightest cry of distress.

On the other hand, any noise from the street, whether it was a motorcycle accelerating, or cats fighting, would jolt Megan into sharp wakefulness. And then she would lie there, listening to her husband snore. In, out, in, out, in - long pause. She sometimes wondered if he'd ever stop breathing, there and then, while she was listening to him.

But the next breath always came, a rasping snort that went on for ever.

And when the snoring ceased to be amusing, she would turn things over in her mind, desperate for sleep. She would think of how she'd redecorate the living room, if money were no object; or what laws she'd pa.s.s, if she were in charge; charge; or how she'd arrange the shelves at Safeway, if it were down to her. or how she'd arrange the shelves at Safeway, if it were down to her.

And then she'd think of her children, and cry herself to sleep.

Now, as Megan Tyley sat bolt upright in her bed, the blood pounding with sudden wakefulness, her first thought was Billy.

No, Billy was... gone.

Megan Tyley got to her feet and shuffled over to the window. She stared across at the church which she cleaned once a week, the source of not a little pride.

Two people were clambering over the large northern wall, and she could just make out the smashed window behind them. Little vandals! They can't get away with that, she thought.