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Steven nodded in mute astonishment, and watched as Ace heaved open the door. She parted the thick velvet curtain immediately beyond, and strolled towards the aisle. There was some sort of security keypad towards the main entrance, and she tapped in some numbers. „This switches off all the alarms. I watched what the vicar did with his fingers. Very useful if you want to borrow someone‟s PIN number.‟

„You‟re outrageous,‟ said Steven.

„I know,‟ said Ace, turning towards the cupboard and the trunk in the back of the church. „I‟m looking for some photographs. The Rev said they were family snaps, but you wouldn‟t keep your shots of Margate beach under lock and key, would you?‟

Suddenly Steven glanced nervously down the aisle. „What was that?‟

„What?‟

„I thought I heard something.‟

„Relax. If it‟s one of the villagers, we just leg it.‟ Ace paused, listening at the wind that shook the trees that surrounded the church. She sighed. „Nothing. You‟re just jumpy.‟

„I‟ve never done this sort of thing before.‟

„Part of growing up where I come from.‟

„Not round here, it isn‟t.‟

Ace rooted through the cupboard. „Ah, here we are,‟ she said, pulling a sheaf of photographs from a shelf. She arranged them on the low table, glancing at pencil marks on the backs to place them in order. „Interesting,‟ she said at last. „Hexen Bridge, as photoed by Reverend Baber, and his dad before him.‟

Each one was an elevated shot of the village, showing the clustered cottages and surrounding countryside.

„This one dates back to the 1940s,‟ said Ace. „Just after the war.‟

Despite the age of the photograph, Steven could see what had interested Ace. The ground surrounding the village was stained a darker colour than the outlying fields.

„What is that?‟ asked Steven. „A different type of soil? Or a glitch in the processing?‟

Ace pointed to the next one, from the mid-1950s. „Whatever it is, it‟s bigger in this photo.‟ The picture was taken from a slightly different angle, but the dark, amorphous shape had clearly spread further. „And in this one it‟s bigger still, and less circular.‟ The first colour photograph showed what seemed to be dark arms, trailing away from the village and under the soil.

„And this one‟s the most up to date,‟ said Steven. „The dark stain is so large the edge is almost out of shot.‟

„No wonder Baber wanted to hide these,‟ said Ace. „They‟re seriously weird.‟

Steven scratched his head, completely lost. „I suppose it could just be some geological feature. A bit like those Roman forts that you can only see from the air.‟

„What, one that moves?‟ scoffed Ace. She took up the pictures again, her face sombre. „Hexen Bridge is right at the centre of

something dark and nasty. And it‟s getting bigger all the time.‟

* * *

Shanks‟s men held the Doctor down, clumsily tying a blindfold around his head and strapping something to his chest. Every verbal protest was met with a punch. The Doctor could feel Shanks in the background, orchestrating matters, but the men worked in mute obedience, dragging the Doctor through interminable echoing corridors before bundling him into a vehicle.

The seat beneath the Doctor was uncomfortable and basic, the Doctor concluding that he was in a van. The engine coughed into life at the third attempt. An ear-splitting metallic scream followed that could only have been garage doors opening. The van lurched forward.

The Doctor tried his best to count the junctions and corners along the way, but there was little else to indicate that they were travelling. The interior of the van seemed to have been soundproofed, and Shanks‟s men sat either side of the Doctor in complete silence.

„I‟ve always enjoyed mystery tours,‟ said the Doctor brightly.

There was no response beyond a snort of irritation from one of Shanks‟s men.

The van began to slow, and the Doctor felt movement around him. He was about to ask if the journey was over when the sliding doors opened with a crash, and the Doctor found himself falling through space.

There was a blurred rush of fresh air and noise, then the awful impact of concrete