Doctor Who_ The Bodysnatchers - Mark Morris [85]
At some stage, the gun propped between his knees, its muzzle pointing up at the roof of the cab, he must have dozed off, for he was next aware of the cab driver calling,'Here we are, guv.'
He roused himself, paid the driver and got out. The area was busy at this hour of the morning, factory workers arriving from all quarters in readiness to begin their toil. However, there was a markedly different atmosphere around the gates of Seers's factory than there was around the others.
Workers were not filing through the big gates to begin work, but were milling around them in confused groups, the air full of chatter.
Litefoot approached a knot of male workers who were standing in a tight circle, smoking and talking.As they eyed him warily, Litefoot realised how incongruous he must look in top hat and overcoat, carrying a piece of hand artillery that was half as tall as himself.
Nevertheless, he tried to project an air of jovial authority as he strolled up.'What's going on here?' he inquired.
The workers glanced at each other, and then one, electing himself spokesman, said, 'Factory's burnt to the ground, sir, during the night. See for yourself
Litefoot did so, people stepping aside to let him pass. He peered through the gates and saw that the man's words were true.The factory was a blackened, smoking ruin. A surprisingly large number of police officers were picking through the rubble like carrion crows. Litefoot strolled back to the group of workers he had spoken to, people again moving aside for him, regarding his appearance and his gun with expressions of puzzled respect.
'Would any of you happen to know what all these police officers are doing here?' he asked the men.
A number of them shuffled their feet and looked down at the ground. The same man who had spoken before said cautiously, 'Well, sir, we're none of us rightly sure, but there have been one or two stories...'
'What kinds of stories?' asked Litefoot.
'Well, sir, now I'm only repeating what I've heard, but it has been said that the owner's wife, Mrs Seers, has been found dead, horribly murdered, in her own home, and that Mr Seers and his daughter are nowhere to be found.'
'Indeed?' said Litefoot.
'Yes, sir. Now far be it from me to say whether or not these rumours are true, but that's what I've heard, sir.'
'Thank you,' said Litefoot. 'You've been most enlightening.'
'Not at all, sir. Glad to be of service.'The man hesitated for a moment and then said,'I take it you're... er... not with the peelers then, sir?'
'Indeed, no,' said Litefoot.'I'm a physician.'
'Off to do a spot of duck-hunting down by the river are you, sir?'
Litefoot chuckled. 'Who knows? Perhaps I might bag myself something a little larger, eh? Good day, gentlemen.' He doffed his hat.
The workers mumbled their goodbyes, tugging their forelocks or the brims of their caps. Litefoot took his leave, anxious to make himself scarce before a police officer could spot him and ask him why he had such a fearsome-looking weapon in his possession.
He made his way down to the river, his only plan now being to locate the strange blue box that the Doctor owned.The other Doctor had owned such a box, and as such it was Litefoot's only link with his mysterious friend and his equally mysterious but charming companion.
He didn't actually know what he was going to do when he arrived at his destination. Though the box was evidently important to the Doctor, he didn't appear to feel a need to remain in its vicinity. Litefoot had a vague notion that the box may provide him with some clue as to his friend's present whereabouts. If not, he supposed his only option was to wait until the Doctor appeared - but for how long?
Although the Doctor's cubicle in the Zygon craft had been