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She started fidgeting. They’d left her long enough, surely? She started smoothing her hair down, worrying at the ends. She wondered what the drain was for. Some kind of water torture? She glanced upwards but couldn’t see any nozzle for water to pour out of. Oh. Maybe it was just used to drain other stuff, the room getting washed down after each session. OK, she wished she hadn’t thought of that. She swung her leg to and fro, the heel kicking against the chair, trying to focus on the simple action instead of where her thoughts were now going.

‘Sit still.’

She scowled. What could they do? At least they’d have to come in, if she carried on moving about. At least this waiting would be over. She stood up, unfolded her arms and looked defiantly towards the door.

There was a click as the lock was turned.

This was a bad idea, stupid. What was she doing, provoking them? She had no idea what they wanted, what they might do to her to get it and she had to provoke them? Waiting was good, waiting would be better. She sat back on the chair, folding her hands into her lap.

The door opened and a man stepped through.

‘Eric!’

Anji leapt up, grinning happily. All this time, she’d thought her interrogators were trying to psyche her out and really they’d been held up on account of her rescue arriving. She was halfway to the door when she felt a hand shoot out and slam her backwards. The back of her knees hit the edge of the chair, jolting her off her feet. She hit the concrete hard, her palms smarting against the rough surface. Even as she pushed herself up Anji felt her elbow being grabbed. She was yanked up, strong fingers cutting tightly into her bicep. She struggled to get her feet under her, regain her balance, but she was already being thrown back into the chair. She rocked backwards but the chair bit into her spine, unyielding.

‘Eric?’

He backhanded her and she fell from the chair again. She stayed on the floor this time, pushing her hair back from her face and staring at him in incomprehension. He was in the uniform of the party, buttoned up tightly. It was a disguise, obviously. He’d had to wear it to get into the building. And the blows too, except... wouldn’t he have pulled them, softened them?

‘Get up. Now!’

He was shouting at her. She grabbed the edge of the chair, hoist herself back on to it. She shook her head, flicking her hair back. Her jaw ached and she could taste copper now, where she had bitten her tongue. Staring at him, she spotted a name strip on the uniform. Burton. She frowned.

‘Eric...?’

‘Anji Kapoor.’ He walked in front of her, dragging a second chair into her view. He set it down carefully, facing her. He spent a moment with his eyes down, aligning the chair. He walked about it, trailing one hand along it. ‘You have a very curious file, Miss Kapoor. You appear out of nowhere six months ago. You stick to a story which makes no sense. Your papers are forgeries –’

‘Eri‐’

‘You will speak when I tell you to. So what I’m wondering, Miss Kapoor, is who you are working for?’

Anji stared up at him. This wasn’t play. This wasn’t some attempt to break her out of here. He’d been some kind of double-agent. That’s why he was missing. He’d disappeared all right, but because he’d wanted to. He walked around the chair and stood in front of her when she didn’t answer. She flinched as he raised his hand again.

‘Who are you working for, you stupid little black bitch?’

* * *

The market square was bustling, under a clear spring sky. Farmers were leaning on railings or against carts, debating the prices on their livestock. Many of the women were queuing for bread or meat. Around the edges, sat on kerbs or steps, were refugees. They waited with a kind of resignation for any charity that might come. Higher up the hill, old men sat around an ancient oak stump, discussing the approaching front lines. Discussing whether it mattered which side held the town. As the church bells started to clamour, the men slowly unfolded themselves and headed for the nearest bomb shelters.

The Doctor blinked.

He, Enrique