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The Doctor sighed, then smiled.

All right, Inspector. You win. But I warn you, what I tell you is going to sound bizarre in the extreme. You won't believe me for a moment. And you'll never be taken seriously again in His Majesty's Police Force if you breathe a word of this.'

Mullen nodded, braced for the unbelievable. Glancing in his rearview mirror he started the car in motion again.

'I believe that the Limehouse Lurker is part of the alien race which made the thing which killed Dr Peddler. They're called Cybermen, and they're very, very nasty. I believe that this particular Cyberman is malfunctioning.'

'You told me that much. That's why it needs blood. That's why it's killing people.'

'Yes. What I don't understand is what it's doing here in the first place. The Cybermen shouldn't have evolved into this form yet. These appear to be sophisticated Cybermen, from a time period far ahead of this one, judging by the Cybermat.'

The Time Lord patted his coat pocket. He stopped. He thrust his hand into first one pocket, then another, then another.

'Oh dear,' he muttered. 'Very careless. I could have sworn I brought the Cybermat with me. I must have left it at McBride's office. One has to be so careful with anachronisms, Inspector.'

'Doctor...'

'Ah, turn left here. And park. This is our last port of call.'

Mullen swung the car into a narrow culdesac and pulled up in front of a sprawling, redbrick and whitestone building, with high, arched windows and steeply pointed roofs. Solid and practical as industry yet rising in elegant angles and planes to become pure thought a Victorian elementary school.

A lot of buildings have had to be commandeered, Doctor.

Most of the schools are closed anyway, so many kids have been evacuated.' He killed the ignition. 'It looks as if our boys have already arrived, Doctor.'

The two sleuths exited the car. A police constable at the gate saluted Mullen.

'Constable Quick...' Mullen suddenly sounded apprehensive. 'Evening, sir. Nothing to report. Doctor in charge says there's been nothing out of the ordinary, but I

'appen to know the cat's off his food, sir. Which is most unusual, sir, and always means trouble. I got that from one of the cleaners...'

'Now I recognise you, Constable,' said the Doctor, doffing his hat. 'We met yesterday morning at the Peddler factory.

You'd just interviewed the secretary.'

The policeman remained immobile, looking doubtfully between Mullen and his chatty friend. The chief inspector pinched the sleeve of the Doctor's jacket and, daintily but firmly, steered him inside.

'I think we'd better look at this one ourselves, don't you, Doctor...? Ah!'

A woman of about fifty bustled through a door into the brickandglass corridor in which they stood. She wore a starched white coat about her body and a starched expression on her face. She stopped for a moment when she saw them, and then bustled on.

'You're more policemen, I suppose. Well, you at least.'

she said to Mullen, shooting a sidelong glance at the Doctor.

'I've already given the constable a piece of my mind, sir.

Please don't make me waste my breath doing the same to you.'

She opened another door and bustled through it. With a sigh Mullen strode after her. Heavy wooden lab desks sat in rows, bolted to the floor. She strode to the front of the former classroom, picked up a notebook and started scribbling furiously.

'Look, madam...'

'Doctor. Dr Ruth Walsh, blood transfusion service, on a gruelling schedule, Mr...'

'Chief Inspector.' Mullen's voice was flinty. 'Chief Inspector Patrick Mullen, Special Branch, in the middle of an important investigation. I must ask you some questions, Dr Walsh. I'm afraid I am not at liberty to reveal the nature of our current inquiries, but your cooperation '

'Oh, I know all about your current inquiries, Chief Inspector Mullen. The constable has already told me.' She seemed white with rage. 'Have you any idea how short of blood we are at the moment? Have you any idea how difficult it is to get people to come forward at the best of times to give blood? If people