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'Bring the drinks, will ya, kid.'

Ace stuck her tongue out at him. She hated being called kid. Mama pulled a pint of cold beer and set it down in front of her. As he turned to get her bottle of Coke from the huge clunky fridge behind the bar she gulped down a few mouthfuls.

Sharkey and McBride were deep in conversation when Ace slumped into the chair next to the private eye. She thought that the little informant was going to go through the roof. McBride calmed him. Don't worry, Sharkey, she's with me. She already knows about Peddler?

The ratty little man calmed slightly, taking a long, deep drink of his beer, his hands trembling.

'What is it that you need to know, Mr McBride?'

'There's a couple of hoods big guys going around with a little guy named Wall. Know anything about them?'

Sharkey shook his head thoughtfully. To Ace's disgust a light shower of dandruff settled on to his collar. McBride was right when he said that he had lowlife contacts.

McBride wasn't surprised. He hadn't been expecting instant results. 'What about that silver ball? The one that fell on me?'

Sharkey grinned, revealing crooked yellow teeth. 'Yeah, I saw that. In the paper.'

McBride looked embarrassed. 'Yeah, well, the army took it away. I gotta find out where it went. I also need to know the lowdown on Peddler's operation. What they did, anything crooked.'

Sharkey pulled on a battered trilby and finished off his beer. 'Let me make a phone call.' He scurried over to the door and out into the rain, looking more and more like a sewer rat. Ace didn't disguise her distaste. 'Doesn't he ever take a bath?'

McBride shrugged. 'I guess not. Best goddamn lead in the city, though.'

Mama shambled over from the bar with a plate and thumped it down on the table between them 'There you go.'

He grabbed Sharkey's empty glass and began a circuit of the room, wiping ashtrays and clearing glasses until he had half a dozen grasped in each enormous paw.

McBride pulled a napkin from under the plate. 'You ever had doughboys before?'

Ace shook her head, dropping unconsciously into an almost American accent. 'Uhuh.'

'Well, tuck in. We're here until Sharkey gets back and this is going to be the closest we get to having any lunch today.'

Back in McBride's office the Doctor put his screwdrivers down on the desk, stood up and stretched. He'd been working without a break for hours and his back ached. It had been a while since he'd done something this complicated.

Being chased up and down faceless alien corridors by huge slavering monsters had its disadvantages but at least it kept you fit.

He had known for a while that the card was some form of signalling device he'd seen enough of them in his life to know that. The problem was that he didn't know what it was signalling to. He had his suspicions, but the only way to test them was to reactivate the card and see what happened.

It was an unfamiliar sensation for the Doctor not to know what was going on, and he didn't like it. He thought back to the expression on Peddler's face. Whatever it was that attacked him and its modus operandi was naggingly familiar it had no right to be on this planet at this time. Humans had enough trouble at the moment with monsters of their own.

The TARDIS had taken them here purely at Ace's behest, to let her experience the Blitz firsthand. Would the devastation, the loss of life, temper her enthusiasm for explosives? She'd been on at him for days to let her use the TARDIS labs to manufacture an improved Nitro Nine, and he didn't dare think what she might come up with if she ever got loose in the chemical store.

Dropping back into the swivel chair, the Doctor picked up the mysterious card. Holding it by its edges, he brought it up to his forehead, closed his eyes and concentrated. There was an almost imperceptible click from the card as the calling beacon activated. The Doctor placed it back on the desk and smiled grimly.

'Right... now we wait.'

He rummaged in his