Doctor Who_ The Hollow Men - Keith Topping [56]
Steven Chen pulled the thick curtain back across the stairwell. „So, what‟s it all mean?‟ he asked, his voice echoing through the empty church like a bell.
Ace shrugged. „Dunno. But it‟s well weird, and that‟s enough to interest the Professor.‟ She walked towards the side door, the torch illuminating the plaques and stone caskets that lined the wall.
„Maybe we should ask Reverend Baber about the photos,‟
said Steven, hurrying after her.
Ace snorted. „What, and admit that we broke into the church? No thanks.‟ She reached the side door, and pulled it open.
Something stood in the doorway, something that had once been human, but had changed beyond all recognition. It was a stickman, a puppet stuffed full of straw and corn and grass
- but the dark eyes, just visible through what seemed to be a mask of roughly stitched leather, were alive with a sadness that was human, corrupted by an evil that was not.
Two hands shot upward, spraying ears of corn. Ace glimpsed twigs and bone, wrapped with ill-fitting skin.
She slammed the door shut. Next to the archway was an ornate chair, and she jammed it up against the thick planks of oak. „Give me a hand!‟ she exclaimed.
Steven was as motionless as the scarecrow had seemed, his eyes wide and uncomprehending. Only his lips moved. „It‟s...
It‟s...‟
„Course it is,‟ snapped Ace as blows rained down on the door. „Help me wedge this door shut!‟
Steven shook himself from his reverie, and ran towards the baptismal font. The simple stone construction had an ornately carved top that resembled a fantasy castle‟s spired turret. With grunts of exertion, he heaved the cover into the air, rolling it towards Ace, who was trying to keep the chair in position. Steven wedged the font top between the door lock and a fluted stone column that ran up into the rafters.
„Can‟t you just blow that thing up?‟ shouted Steven.
„I didn‟t bring any more Nitro with me,‟ said Ace, just as a straw-covered fist punched through the wooden door.
„Turn out your pockets, sir,‟ said the duty sergeant. The Doctor was in the charge room, a red-bricked alcove next to the cells which held most of the people arrested at the club.
The people around him whooped and hollered as if a trip to the police station was part of the evening‟s entertainment.
Only the young woman was silent, her dark eyes blinking back the tears.
„I wish it to be noted,‟ said the Doctor, „that Shanks tried to force me to plant some drugs on that young lady. She is wholly innocent. Somehow, Shanks must have taken the drugs off me and implicated the young woman.‟
„So the drugs were yours?‟ queried the well-dressed CID
officer. „That‟ll send you down for a long time.‟
„Handful of heartbeats to a Time Lord,‟ said the Doctor.
„What?‟ asked the man angrily. „Turn out your pockets.‟
„Of course,‟ said the Doctor with a smile. „You‟ll have to bear with me, gentlemen, this may take some time.‟
Nicola Denman was the first person to be taken to the interview room. She wondered if they were showing her preferential treatment - that an observant officer had already twigged who her father was - but the force with which she was propelled into the bare brick room belied any comforting thoughts of bias. In a way, she was pleased. Perhaps there was a way of getting out of this without Daddy even knowing.
It was the feeblest of hopes, but it was all that kept her going.
She watched as a couple of audio cassettes were unwrapped by a uniformed policewoman, the cellophane crackling like fire. Moments later the twin tape deck was running.
„DC Fielder questioning female suspect,‟ said the policeman for the benefit of the recording. „WPC Murphy also in attendance.‟ He glanced at the big clock on the wall. „It‟s ten past midnight, Tuesday the seventeenth of June.‟ He turned his tired eyes towards Nicola. „Right, these are just some preliminary questions, but what happens over the next few hours depends on the quality of the answers I receive.
Understand?