'No, not bottom bottom. It's still better than not being listed at all. Earth is included for a very important reason.' Dittero Shandy smiled. 'In the eighth century the third princess Tabetha of Cerrenis Minor once spent a weekend here.'

There was an embarra.s.sed silence. Or, at least, the delegates stopped talking. The traffic of Lewisham continued to bustle around them. A car thumped out some ba.s.s-heavy garage.

'A weekend?' said Charlton. 'That's quite long.'

'Sorry,' said Fitz. 'That's it it?'

Dittero nodded. 'She spent weekends on quite a few planets. According to historical records, she didn't like this one. Found it gauche gauche.'

'Gauche? Where did she stay?'

125.

'Here. The terran settlement of "Lewisham".'

'So that's why you brought us here,' surmised the Doctor.

'Precisely,' said Dittero. 'At least this place has some heritage. The rest of the planet is a. . . cultural abyss.'

'So why, then, should any of us want to buy it?'

'You're not buying it for the fixtures and fittings! We're looking at a complete top-to-bottom terra-regeneration. What is significant about this planet is its location location.'

'And it has a nice moon,' added Question Intonation.

'Ooh,' said Welwyn as he joined them in a swish of crushed velvet, followed by Trix. 'A moon! What's it called?'

'They call it, "the moon",' Dittero answered.

'Well,' said Welwyn. 'We'll have to change that that for a start.' for a start.'

'What if I were to tell you,' said the Doctor, not just addressing Dittero but all the delegates, 'that I had seen Earth's future? That it not only survived, but prospered?'

Dittero was unmoved. 'Seems rather unlikely.'

'What would Earth be worth then? It would still be under the protection of Galactic Heritage they may even make it Grade 3! You wouldn't be able to develop it, or sell it. You would be the proud owner of a white elephant.' He noticed Vors.h.a.gg looking puzzled. 'No offence.'

'White elephant? That is what you think, Doctor,' exuded Dittero. 'However, probability forecasts '

'Have been wrong before. I have have seen the future,' the Doctor said. 'Which means I make very wise investments.' seen the future,' the Doctor said. 'Which means I make very wise investments.'

'Oh.' Dittero said. 'You have a magic looking-gla.s.s, do you?'

'Something like that, yes.'

'And we are supposed to take your word for it?'

'Ask your friends here,' the Doctor replied. 'Ask them if they're interested in buying the Earth now.'

Question Intonation whirled as though it would rather be elsewhere. Vors.h.a.gg swiped at the pavement with his spiked tail. One of the Micron's legionaries checked his earphone and shook his head.

Only Poozle remained upbeat. 'I want to purchase the Earth!'

Dittero turned back to the Doctor. 'You see? '

The Doctor grinned a checkmate grin. 'You're not going to get a very good price with only one bidder. No one else is interested, Dittero. It's a bad buy bad buy.'

Dittero gave a light cough, opened a tele-door and said, 'As we seem to be wasting our time here, I advise we return to Utopia.'

126.

The Doctor beckoned to Fitz for his attention. Welwyn, Dittero and the delegates made their way through the tele-door, Question Intonation voicing some theories regarding albino pachyderms.

'What is it?' whispered Fitz. The Doctor looked around as though he had something he didn't want to share with the rest of the group. 'I want you to go with them,' he said, nodding and smiling at Vors.h.a.gg. 'Find out who killed our walrus friend.'

'While you. . . ?'

'Trix, Charlton and I have other matters to attend to.'

'Sorry? What other matters?'

'Finding Nimbit's murderer will provide part of the jigsaw. We need to find the other parts before we can '

' see the big picture?' suggested Trig.

'You want me to do the whole Colonel Plum in the study with the bent piping business?' said Fitz.

'It's Colonel Mustard, but yes.'

The Doctor was up to something. He was playing one of those games where you only found out what the rules were afterwards, after he'd broken them.

'How will I find you?'

'We'll find you,' said the Doctor.

A cough from the doorway made Fitz turn. It was Dittero. 'If you and your colleagues are quite quite ready. . . ?' ready. . . ?'

'Just coming,' said Fitz. 'My, er, a.s.sistants have other business to attend to, elsewhere. Bit of stuff that needs sorting out. You know how it is.'

'I have absolutely no conception of "how it is",' said Dittero, 'but as I also have no interest, it immaterial immaterial.'

Fitz walked back through the tele-door, and abruptly he was inside the conference room and Lewisham High Street occupied a rectangle behind him.

'Fitz,' called the Doctor. 'Good luck. And remember it's always the one you least suspect.'

The c.o.c.ktail lounge had an immaculate, just-unwrapped look. Plush leather chairs, spotlit tables, steps rising up to semi-circular booths. There were part.i.tion fences of pine and heavy-leafed pot plants.

Fitz approached the large, reptilian shadow hunched on a barstool.

Vors.h.a.gg weighed a tumbler in its hand. It seemed unaware of Fitz's presence, its attention fixed on the reflections that danced within the gla.s.s.

'Hiya,' said Fitz, sliding himself on to the next barstool. A Zwee behind the bar turned towards him while polishing a schooner. Fitz said, in his best Humphrey Bogart, 'Bourbon for me, and the same again for my scaly friend.'

127.

Vors.h.a.gg turned to Fitz, its two bulging snake eyes emerging from the gloom. 'You're wasting your time.'

'What?'

'I couldn't have killed Nimbit.' Vors.h.a.gg tossed the contents of its gla.s.s over its tongue. 'Even though I wanted to.'

'So you admit you had a motive?'

The snake eyes narrowed. 'A motive?'

'He was a rival bidder.'

Vors.h.a.gg snorted. 'You humans are always suspicious. Not all races are as devious as you.'

Fitz watched the Zwee clink some ice into his bourbon. He collected it and sipped. 'And you're not, I suppose?'

'The Vors.h.a.gg are. . . direct.'

'So you're not in compet.i.tion with Poozle, and Micron '

'I'm not as wealthy as the Micron. I'm wasting my time.'

'But you said you wanted Nimbit dead?'

Vors.h.a.gg gave another snort, this time of laughter. 'Of course I wanted Nimbit dead. I want everyone everyone dead. I want you dead. I want that estate agent dead. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to slaughter you all.' dead. I want you dead. I want that estate agent dead. Nothing would give me greater pleasure than to slaughter you all.'

Fitz edged away from Vors.h.a.gg as the lizard continued, 'I can picture myself doing it. I could break your back with one flick of my tail. Or grip your neck in my teeth and make your vertebrae snap, one by one. Or lift you with one claw and hurl you across this room so hard your guts would be mash mash.'

Fitz swallowed. 'Right. You're in touch with your anger. Like that.'

'I'm imagining it right now. I'm imagining sticking my teeth into your craw and sc.r.a.ping away at your bones.'

'You're completely, completely innocent. Of everything. Never doubted you.

Forget I asked.'

'But I can't can't,' snarled Vors.h.a.gg. It indicated the white box on the side of its skull. 'Because of this.'

'And that's a '

'De-aggrifier. While I can still dream of calamity and mayhem, I can't make those dreams reality.'

'I see. You mean that box is like a control unit?'

'Sometimes I think it does control me,' admitted Vors.h.a.gg. 'Do you know what it's like, to have the desire to inflict pain, but to be unable to carry it out?'

'Haven't been there myself,' said Fitz.

'I could not have killed Nimbit. Because this device,' he sc.r.a.ped a claw across the surface of the plastic box, 'prohibits me from any violent action any violent action.'

'Must be a b.u.mmer.'

128.

'It is,' said Vors.h.a.gg. It collected its drink from the Zwee and raised it in toast to Fitz. 'Thanks for the drink, human.'

'Don't mention it.'

'You are. . . unusually. . . sympathetic. Most beings fear the Vors.h.a.gg. They think we are. . . "evil".' A bead of phlegm dripped from Vors.h.a.gg's tongue.

Fitz made the great effort of not watching it dribble on to the bar.

'No, you're just misunderstood, I can see that.'

'Do I frighten you, Fitz?' Vors.h.a.gg leaned forward. Fitz could feel the creature's hot, reptile-house breath upon his face. He could see its rows of gnarled, jagged teeth.

'You scare the living s.h.i.ts out of me, mate.'

Vors.h.a.gg smiled. 'Thanks. That makes me feel better. I have underesti-mated you, Mr Kreiner.'

'Ta.'

'I would still smash your body into a pulp if I could, though.'

'Don't mention it,' said Fitz. 'Please, don't mention it. The point is, it's part of who you are, and that's beautiful.'

I'm looking out of the window of my cabin. Outside lie a million stars, constant dots in the blackness. As the research station rotates, the stars rise up, out of view.

I've no idea where I am. According to Charlton, it's important that the location of the research station remains a secret. There are people opposed to his work and he's paranoid about them finding his hideout.

We're all keeping secrets. I haven't told the Doctor about Martin, but it's become one of those 'unsaid' things. He won't ask, so I won't tell him, so he won't ask. Instead he just looks at me as though I've disappointed him.

What's really annoying, though, is the way that he sees through the disguises. Always has done. Not just the make-up and wigs, the other disguise.

He looks straight through the Trix MacMillan disguise and sees me. The real me.

Shift of focus, and I'm no longer looking at the constellations, I'm looking at the Doctor, who has materialised behind me.

'Don't knock,' I say.

'I did knock,' he replies. 'Your mind must have been occupied.'

'I was about to go to sleep.'