Thorsuun stopped. 'Oh, Doctor, I felt that.'

'What?'

'Fear. The fear that ran through you then. Yes, you're right - with my knowledge of the multiverse, I can lead the Cat-People anywhere in time and s.p.a.ce.'

'Once you rea.s.sert your equality, of course.'

'Of course. I shall put this putrid little world and its ills behind me.'

'How come you're being so accommodating to them?

With your powers, I would have thought you could easily . .

. omit them from your plans?' The Doctor twiddled his bow-tie again.

Thorsuun coughed slightly. 'Yes, well, I needed a bargaining chip. They procured my RTC unit. We all have one - it stops us ageing. Without it, I'm beginning to grow older - at about the same rate as a human, so it doesn't matter too much. I'll get it back before long.' Thorsuun pursed her lips. 'a.s.suming that Chosan hasn't remodulated it too much. She's a great tinkerer, I've realized, but hopelessly flawed.'

'How do they work?'

'Very well, thank you. Especially when one or more are brought together.'

'I thought so. I used the two in the house to escape Atimkos's time-stop.'

Thorsuun stopped. 'Oh, and you didn't see fit to tell me.

Thank you so much. If I could get my hands on just one of those, I could get rid of Aysha and her moggies when they least expect it.'

'Well, forget it - I left them both there.' Patting his pocket, and feeling the shape of the little red book safely hidden, the Doctor smiled knowingly. 'Now, tell me about the others in your party.'

Thorsuun shrugged. 'Frankly, my dear Doctor, I don't give a d.a.m.n about them. Atimkos is a fool, dabbling in so-called arcanity trying to find the paths. He's disguised his 105 RTC unit as a pack of cards or something. How parochial.'

She ran a hand through her blonde hair and tried to look coy. The Doctor stared impa.s.sively back, so she gave up.

'With regard to the beacons, I think I've already found them.

The Cat-People can use them, I don't need to.'

'So, if you shut your eyes, it'll all go away. You can just forget Atimkos and the others. As if they don't exist.'

'That's basically it, yes.'

The Doctor spun Coates' cap around on his index finger, ignoring the man's attempts to s.n.a.t.c.h it back. 'There's a theory - rather appropriately called Schroedinger's Cat - that says something about probability waves and that if you shut something away out of sight long enough it ceases to change - it is everything at once, alive, dead, changing, not changing. You get the idea?'

'I am familiar with the concept.' She smiled.

'Well, old Schroedinger was theorizing that out of sight isn't just out of mind but out of the way of probable change.

We perceive what we see and when we don't see it, it ceases to alter until we next need it to. Is that how you see your people? Unchanging. Incapable of acting or doing their own thing unless you're there to actually see it? Isn't that dangerous?'

Thorsuun also made a grab for the hat but missed. 'This is irrelevant. All I need is my freedom.'

The Doctor spun the cap up and Coates caught it, shoving it into his coat pocket. 'Like his cap, Thorsuun. You can't see it, but it's still there no matter how much you pretend it isn't. You owe it to the others to help them off Earth as well.' He pointed at Coates's now bulging pocket.

'Schroedinger's Hat perhaps?'

Thorsuun sighed. 'Don't be such a smart alec. Charles!'

Coates looked up expectantly. 'Yes, Fraulein Thorsuun?'

'What has happened to George?'

Lotuss suddenly pushed herself forward. 'I dealt with him.'

Thorsuun lost her patience. 'd.a.m.n you, litter-runt, do you know how difficult it has been finding people who not only 106 accept working for me but aren't afraid to get their hands dirty?'

'George was,' muttered Coates.

'Quiet, Charles. Well?'

Lotuss puffed out her chest and her fur raised. 'One more word from you, and I blast you here and now.'

'Not only do you shoot Kerbe instead of him,' she pointed at the Doctor, who spread his hands apologetically, 'but now I learn you've killed George Smithers. Well, thank you for nothing.' Thorsuun pushed past Lotuss. 'Charles, where's the body?'

Coates pointed at the bag he was hefting. Thorsuun raised her eyes to heaven. 'Where are you burying it?'

'On the clifftop. No one goes up there. Well, except two youngsters I saw earlier but I think they went the other way.'

'Two young -' Thorsuun looked at the Doctor. 'And just where are our delightful Sixties debutantes, eh?'

The Doctor shrugged and shook his head. 'Young people.

They will go off on their own.'

'Hi. My name's Tim. Are you two all right?'

Ben was gasping for breath. 'Yeah, thanks, mate. I think you saved my life. Where'd you come from anyway?'

Polly was staring at the man called Tim. 'I . . . I know you?'

'Pol?' Ben got up, putting his weight on Tim's shoulder.

'Where from?'

'I don't know. Have we met?'

Tim smiled. 'I don't believe so. Not in this life, anyway.'

Polly was s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g her face up. 'There's something . . .

It's just out of reach.'

Ben smiled sheepishly at Tim. 'Sorry, mate. She's a bit weird at times. Probably saw you in one of her dreams.'

Tim nodded. 'Maybe she did.'

'Yes. Yes, a dream.' Polly put her hand to her mouth.

'Ben! My dream. The cat-thing. This man was in it. It's all coming back to me now.'

107.

'Anyway,' said Tim, 'what were you doing that I needed to rescue you from the drop?'

'Getting a shock, weren't we, Ben?' said Polly pointing at Coates's dig.

Ben shrugged. 'Yeah. That's right. Look here.' He dropped to the newly set earth. 'There's something buried here. Clothes.'

'Murder?' asked Polly.

'Could be, d.u.c.h.ess, could be. But why just the clothes?'

'Distracts the dogs,' said Tim. 'If you bury the clothes and the body separately, the dogs will find one or the other but rarely both. Once the scent is tracked, they find it difficult to start again. Besides which, a body with no clothes means no ID. And clothes with no body doesn't prove murder.

Someone knew what they were doing.'

'Blimey, mate, you a detective or what? Proper little expert, ain'tcha. I know someone who'd like to meet you.

You could play Watson to his Sherlock.'

'Ben, I think we should tell the Doctor about this.'

'OK, Polly. Let's head back. You coming, mate?'

'Yes, Mr Jackson, I think I should. We need to report this to the authorities.'

The three of them set off. Ben decided to keep the conversation going as Polly had gone very quiet and withdrawn. He noticed she was walking with her face down, watching her feet. 'What d'you do for a job then, Tim?'

'I'm a witch.'

Ben stopped. 'You're joking?'

Tim shook his head.

'But you can't be a witch. I mean, where's your broomstick?' Seeing the lack of reaction, Ben tried a different tack. 'I thought men were warlocks anyway.'

'Not at all. Witchcraft - white witchcraft, which I study - goes back far beyond gender tagging. No, I'm a witch. Of course if you'd like me to supply a cauldron, a black cat, some frogs' tails and go "hubble, bubble, toil and trouble" I could. But it wouldn't do much except look stupid.'

108.

'Oh. Right.' Ben looked to Polly for support but her face was giving nothing away. 'So, how d'you cast a spell?'

'Candles. Chanting. Psionics mainly. I also use tarot cards and have been known to decipher dreams.' Tim looked over at Polly. 'Or use them.'

Ben looked from one to the other. 'Anyway, mate, here's the back of the Grange. Got to watch out for the man with the gun.'

'A warden?'

'No, a university bloke actually. There's something weird going on 'ere, and I bet our murder is connected.'

'Well,' said Tim. 'Let's go.' He strode ahead but Ben hung back and touched Polly's arm. 'What's up, d.u.c.h.ess?'

'Ben.' Polly stared at him with her big blue eyes wide open. 'Ben, how did he know your name was Jackson?'

'Tickets, please. Thank you, sir. Tickets, please. Yes, all in order. Thank you. Thank you. Yes, change at Piccadilly, cross to Victoria and then change again at Preston. Thank you, ma'am. Yes, that's fine.'

Thorsuun sank deeper into her seat. The door to her coach slid open and shut.

'Tickets, please. Thank you, sir. Yes, that's fine.'

Thorsuun looked out of the window.

'Ticket, please, madam.'

'I don't possess one, little man-thing.'

The ticket collector sighed. 'Where did you get on the train? You can buy one from me now.'

'Euston. But I don't need one.'

The ticket collector smiled with the weary patience of someone who dealt with this situation every twenty minutes.

'And why don't you need one?'

'Who needs them?'

'Everyone who travels, madam.'

Thorsuun pointed to one of the people whose ticket had already been punched. On his knee was a wicker carry-case with a mewling kitten inside.

Thorsuun loathed cats. 'Does that creature need one?'

109.

'No.'

'Why not?'

'Because it's an animal.'