Doctor Who_ The Bodysnatchers - Mark Morris [23]
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Doctor. He looked to the Doctor's right and repeated the action. The Doctor now presumed that two factory overseers were heading towards him, intending to cut him off in a pincer movement. He sighed and began to stroll casually along the narrow aisles between the machines, heading for the iron staircase. Some of the workers ignored him studiedly, keeping their eyes downcast as he passed them by, while others gaped at him, as though unable to believe his gall.
'Hello there,' said the Doctor cheerfully when one of the overseers caught up with him.The man, wearing a frock coat, striped trousers, and a top hat, had a mean, predatory face. His teeth, most of which were brown and broken, looked too big for his mouth, and seemed to push his lips forward in a sneering pout.
'Who the devil are you?' the man barked, and grabbed hold of the Doctor's arm.
'I'm the Doctor. It's awfully nice to meet you, Mr...?'
'Doctor? We didn't call for no doctor. There's nobody ill here.'
'Just as well,' said the Doctor. 'I don't make house calls as a rule.'
The overseer thrust his face forward. 'You're no doctor. Where's your bag?'
The Doctor was saved from having to answer by the arrival of the other overseer. He was a porcine man with a sweaty bald head and ginger side whiskers that made his employer's look puny by comparison. He barrelled over and grabbed the Doctor's other arm, even though the Doctor was making no attempt to struggle from the first man's grip. His thick sausage fingers dug in, squeezing the flesh and grinding against the bone.
This was evidently intended to be painful, judging by the nastily expectant look in the man's eyes and his clenched teeth. The Doctor, however, merely smiled beatiflcally and said,'It's so frustrating when you put in so much effort for so little reward, don't you find?'
The porcine man snarled and shouted across to his companion,'Who is he?'
'He says he's a doctor,' the first man replied.
'A doctor, does he? Then where's his bag?'
The Doctor raised his eyes heavenwards.'Gentlemen, this is getting monotonous.'
The porcine man swung his face towards the Doctor. 'What's your business here?' he bellowed. 'What were you talking to the workers about?'
'Oh, this and that,' said the Doctor. 'Slugs and snails and puppy dogs' tails.
String and sealing wax and other fancy stuff. Just passing the time of day really. I'm an inveterate gabbler, you see. Always have been and always will be.'
'Don't try my patience, sir,' said the man with the brown teeth.
'I wouldn't dream of it,' said the Doctor. 'I could break your arm, tear it from its socket,' the porcine man growled, twisting the Doctor's arm behind his back to demonstrate the efficacy of his threat.
'Look, do you think we could skip all the bluster and the chit-chat,' said the Doctor reasonably, 'and get on to the bit where you say, 'You'll have Mr Seers to answer to'?'
The porcine man looked at the Doctor incredulously for a moment, and then said to his companion, 'What shall we do with him, Mr Beech?'
'Let's throw him in the Thames, Mr Stoker,' said Beech. 'It would seem the answer to my question is no, then,' said the Doctor.'Ah well, it's been nice meeting you, gentlemen.' He
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suddenly seemed to twist and spin, and a moment later was striding away from the two overseers, who were no longer clutching his arms, nor even his coat, but each other's hands, like young lovers.
The two men gaped at each other, astonishment turning to embarrassment, and then to fury. They each tore their hands from the other's grip and blundered after the Doctor.
The Doctor, however, was too far ahead of them now. Without seeming to hurry unduly, he nevertheless moved swiftly along the aisles and between the machines, and reached the bottom of the metal stairway with the overseers still a good