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She heard his voice floating up from below as she climbed. 'You won't be around long.'

The ladder led up to a small hatchway - God knew how they'd managed to carry her down in the first place - which in turn led to a filthy, rubble-strewn warehouse, all mouldering brickwork and rotting timber. Where the hell was she?

'I can see why you prefer to live downstairs,' she said. 'Much cosier, isn't it?

Room for improvement, though. Hope you bachelors won't mind a girl's touch around the place.'

'What are you talking about?' grumbled Tarr.

'Well, if I'm going to be kept shut away, I think a few changes are in order.'

She forced a smile. 'I bet Azoth will let me. He likes me. He thinks my DNA is special.'

'Shut up!' Tare snapped. 'I told you, you won't be around for long.'

It was pathetically easy to wind up this guy. She'd have to remember that. It was clear to Sam that Azoth was all Tare had in the world, the linchpin around which his entire life revolved – something she guessed would become more and more necessary as an anchor with the minds of all those poor sods they'd killed floating around in him. He'd told her he'd been born in 1790, which was Blackadder the Third territory, but he hardly acted like it. She found herself feeling more sorry for him than afraid; it sounded to her as if his experiences had left him with little more than the mind of a child. He didn't even seem to know what was right or wrong; he was simply trying to please his friend, trying to help him find out what he was all about.

She had the unpleasant feeling he might not like those answers, when they came.

***

The Doctor walked up and down side streets and alleys, but the position of the energy readings was still fluctuating.

Suddenly, in the middle of Bathsheba Yard, he slapped his head and yelled

'Idiot!' at the top of his voice.

A mangy-looking man slumped against a wall took umbrage at his comment. 'You talking to me?' he snarled.

'No, no, no, to myself. The energy readings keep shifting, you see. And why, hmm?'

'Why?' asked the man, although he didn't seem sure he should want to know in the first place.

'A deliberate spatial distortion effect! Designed to keep the location of their secret base... well, secret.' He stamped a foot on the filthy concrete of the yard. 'Why didn't I realise sooner? That's the oldest trick in the book.'

The man didn't seem convinced. Is it? Can't say it's in any book I’ve seen.'

The Doctor walked over to join him. 'I guessed they had to be underground.

Somewhere off one of the old disused tube tunnels.' He shook his head, forlornly. 'I thought maybe the shifting energy emissions were perimeter guardians of some kind... I mean, it's not impossible, is it?'

The man considered. 'S'pose not. They've shut Oxford Circus tube down while they extend the Victoria line.'

'There you are: it's not just me.' He beamed at his new-found compatriot, but his smile didn't last long. 'Oh, Sam...'

'You lost someone, then?'

'Yes. My best friend.'

'Oh..."The man thought on this. 'Well, I'm sure you'll probably bump into him if you keep looking.'

'Her,' said the Doctor. 'Tell me, do you see a glass half full or a glass half empty?' asked the Doctor.

'Don't come across glasses all that often,' laughed the man, gesturing at his shabby clothes.

'You wouldn't guess,' the Doctor assured him, reaching into his pocket and plonking something into the man's hand. 'You are a gentleman, sir. Must go. Someone's looking after my car and I really must be going...'

The man looked down. He'd been left holding a can of something called Special Brew. It was full.

Shaking his head, he opened it and enjoyed a long swig.

***

Taylor unit B did not revive. He was dead, long dead, his body frozen into twisted angles, electrodes and filaments bristling with ice, embedded in his head. The familial resemblance to the descendant of Taylor unit A was considerable.

Azoth held his head over the dead man's body, gently moving it from side to side. If nothing else,