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Doctor Who_ Cats Cradle_ Witch Mark - Andrew Hunt [65]

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immediately slapped them back on to the wheel. 'This gets better and better!'

Jack was puzzled. 'Who mentioned unicorns?'

'A vet in Gwydyr. He vanished in mysterious, not to say ominous, circumstances shortly after he contacted me. I was supposed to meet him tonight.'

'Kidnapped? '

Stevens nodded gloomily. 'Could be. Tell me about this centaur of yours?'

Jack ran through the events of the previous day. Suddenly Stevens jerked the car to a halt.

'Hughes burnt the centaur?' he cried.

'Hughes?'

'The policeman. He burnt it? What the hell was the man thinking of? A living sentient being and he burnt it? I shall want words with him about that.' He put the car back into gear and set off again. By now they were approaching the junction in the village. Ahead of them they saw ...

'The van! That's the van.'

'You're right.' Stevens held back on the accelerator pedal and they followed the old transit van at a distance. It pulled to a halt outside Constable Hughes's house and a figure got out and darted across the road into the house. The van moved on again with its unseen attendant following.

'We must find out where they're taking David,' Jack insisted when Stevens suggested that they should stop and question Hughes.

'Yes, I suppose so.' They followed for a couple of miles and then without warning the van gathered speed and disappeared round a corner in the road. By the time Stevens had accelerated suitably and got round the bend, the road was empty.

‘Dammit , where the hell have they gone?’

‘There must be a turning off the road.’

‘Well, did you see anything?'

'No.'

'We'll drive back and see if we can find where they went.' He performed a U turn, riding up on the verge of the narrow road and heading back.

Between a narrow alley of low stone walls leading up to a crossbar gate, they found the van. Stevens pulled over, blocking the van’s way out. He regarded it carefully and then, having come to the conclusion that there was nothing to be feared, he got out of the car and cautiously approached.

He tugged on the scarred chrome handle of the rear door. A second, harder tug opened the stiff door and the stench of stale nicotine came at them in a cloud. A cigarette end smouldered into ash on the floor but there was nothing else inside.

'They got away,' cursed Jack.

'Yes.' .

'So what do we do now?'

'Let's go back and see what we can get out of Hughes. '

Stevens stopped outside the small cottage and turned to his companion in the passenger seat.

Maybe it would be better if you stayed here. I'll go and see what I can do.'

He went up the steps and rapped on the door for the second time that day. An oblong of light, surrounding a bulky silhouette appeared in the darkness. Stevens blinked against the imposition on his retina.

'Oh, it's you. Did you track down any of those people?' Hughes asked.

'People? Oh no. Can I come in constable?'

'I suppose so, boyo. Come on in.’

Hughes showed him through to a small living room where a television flickered without sound in a corner. On the screen a small woman was chatting amiably to another woman wearing a strange hat.

'Just watching Elinor,' Hughes shrugged. He went over and turned off the set. 'Sit down.' He gestured towards one of the two worn seats. Stevens settled himself, with a little difficulty, between the stiff arms of one of the chairs.

'I'll get straight to the point. Do you know anything about a centaur?'

'A centaur?' Hughes feigned surprise. 'Now what do you mean by that?'

'Come off it. I'll put it another way, you do know something about a centaur and that's why you burnt it to death last night.'

Hughes chuckled. 'You've been listening to those barmy American boys, is it?'

'There's nothing barmy about it, Hughes.'

Hughes rose from his chair belligerently. 'Oh yes? Have you seen this centaur, boyo? Eh?'

Stevens faltered, some of his confidence gone. 'No, but ... '

'Now look, Inspector Stevens, I've been in touch with the lads in Gwydyr and they told me all about you. You're in charge of some sort of crackpot branch of Scotland Yard and have almost no

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