Judgement

of the

Judoon

COLIN BRAKE

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

Published in 2009 by BBC Books, an imprint of Ebury Publishing.

Ebury Publishing is a division of the Random House Group Ltd.

© Colin Brake, 2009

Colin Brake has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this

Work in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

Doctor Who is a BBC Wales production for BBC One

Executive Producers: Russell T Davies and Julie Gardner

Original series broadcast on BBC Television. Format © BBC 1963.

‘Doctor Who’, ‘TARDIS’ and the Doctor Who logo are trademarks of the

British Broadcasting Corporation and are used under licence.

Judoon created by Russell T Davies.

This electronic book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way

of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated

without the publisher’s prior consent in any form other than that in which

it is published and without a similar condition including this condition

being imposed on the subsequent purchaser

The Random House Group Ltd Reg. No. 954009.

Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at

www.randomhouse.co.uk.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 9781409070160

Version 1.0

Recent titles in the Doctor Who series:

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Mark Morris

THE DOCTOR TRAP

Simon Messingham

SHINING DARKNESS

Mark Michalowski

THE STORY OF MARTHA

Dan Abnett

BEAUTIFUL CHAOS

Gary Russell

THE EYELESS

Lance Parkin

THE SLITHEEN EXCURSION

Simon Guerrier

PRISONER OF THE DALEKS

Trevor Baxendale

For my mother,

Vivienne Yvonne Brake (1929–2008)

and for my sister,

Yvonne Lucy Hollis

Trainee Pilot Kareel Rossiter uncrossed her fingers,

opened her eyes and let out a sigh of relief. Made it!

The hyperspace jump had been perfect: a textbook

transition between one location in real space and another,

courtesy of a combination of higher mathematics and

enough raw power to tear a hole through reality itself.

Like an ancient icebreaker, pushing its way through polar

ice, the Space Freighter Tintin had thrust itself out of its

home system, passed through the inter-dimensional

maelstrom of hyperspace and then had punched its way

back into real space in Quadrant Delta Three Black.

Kareel glanced over at her captain and smiled.

‘All systems secure,’ she reported, then something

unexpected appeared on one of her sensor screens: a small

green flash showing another spacecraft. Impossibly,

incredibly, another ship had just emerged from hyperspace

almost on top of them. Moments later, it was joined by a

second spacecraft – the exact twin of the first – and then a

third appeared. The relief Kareel had felt after another

safe hyperspace jump was evaporating faster than dew on

a summer’s day. Soon the chunky brick-like freighter was

surrounded by a dozen of the alien craft: thin cylindrical

rocket ships of an unfamiliar design. The young trainee

ran a nervous hand through her short red hair and looked

back at Captain Pakola again, unsure what to do. As ever,

Pakola, his face set as if carved in coffee-coloured granite,

was the epitome of calmness.

‘Open a comms channel,’ he ordered, as if nothing

unusual was happening.

Kareel flicked a switch and nodded at the captain, who

leant forward to speak into the microphone built into the

arm of his command chair.

‘This is Captain Mikai Pakola of the Space Freighter

Tintin hailing unknown ships,’ he stated. ‘Please identify

yourselves.’

There was no answer.

‘Sir?’

Kareel couldn’t keep a quaver out of her voice as she

struggled to comprehend the story her instruments were

telling her.

‘Captain, all systems are frozen.’

Instantly Pakola was on his feet and leaning over her

station, checking her screens. The data was unmistakable

– some external force had managed to take control of the

ship’s systems.

‘There’s nothing we can do,’ he whispered, patting her

on the shoulder. ‘Nothing but wait.’

They did not have to wait for long. A metallic clanging

announced the attachment of a boarding tunnel, then there

was the smell of burning metal, the sound of heavy boots

marching and finally, just moments later, the alien

intruders were on his bridge. They were powerfully built

humanoid creatures, dressed in dark armour, decorated

with what appeared to be leather, and huge bulbous

helmets. Three of the creatures took up aggressive

positions around the bridge, weapons raised. A fourth

invader then stepped through the doorway to the bridge,

reaching up to release the helmet seal at the neck of his

uniform. There was a hiss of escaping gas as the suit

depressurised, and then the alien pulled the helmet clear of

his head.

The captain remained impassive, but Kareel couldn’t

help but gasp as the creature’s features were revealed: the

alien had rugged, wrinkled grey skin, a massive head

fronted by a pair of vicious-looking horns – one large one

and one more modest – and small but bright eyes. Kareel

thought it looked familiar somehow, and then she

remembered the Virtual Zoo she’d had when she was

growing up and realised what it was about the alien that

she recognised; it was almost identical to a rhinoceros, the

long-extinct Earth mammal. The alien spoke in a harsh,

guttural voice.

‘By rule of Galactic Law, this vessel is held in stasis,

pending recovery of the criminal agent known as the

Invisible Assassin. Your cooperation in this investigation

is not required, but interference in our mission will be

treated as a criminal act.’

The alien adjusted a control on a device hanging from

his belt. ‘You may use your internal communications

systems,’ he announced.

Kareel was a trainee pilot not a lawyer, but she knew

enough about legal matters to know that you didn’t argue

with Galactic Law Enforcers, and it appeared that Pakola

was of a similar mind. Calmly, he ordered his crew to

cooperate fully with the boarding party. In reality, they

were not required to do much in the way of cooperation;

they merely had to stand by while these Galactic

policemen searched their ship from top to bottom. The

rhino-like creatures were thorough but far from gentle.

They virtually took the ship to pieces, stripping panelling

from corridors, removing fixed furniture to pull up the

floors and ripping out computer units to gain access to

service ducts. It was a search so thorough, and one

conducted with such vigour, that many vital systems were

left completely inoperative. Finally, after three hours of

rigorous and methodical searching, the aliens began to

withdraw. Their commander returned to the bridge.

‘Your manifest shows a passenger who failed to board

at your last planetfall. Designation: Aroon Manish. Why is

this man not on board?’

Kareel watched her captain swallow hard. She had

never seen him quite so unnerved by anything. She didn’t

blame him for it. There was something inherently

oppressive about these huge brutish creatures. Quickly,

Pakola checked his log.

‘Passenger Manish never appeared at the departure

gate,’ he explained to the alien.

‘What was his final destination?’

‘According to his ticket – New Memphis.’

The rhino-headed creature nodded and then turned on

his heels and exited. Kareel looked over at the captain and

raised her eyebrows. Was that it?

‘Sounds like they’re leaving,’ she said hopefully, as the

clanking sound of the alien’s marching footsteps faded

away.

Pakola seemed struck by a sudden thought.

‘How did they come on board?’ he asked, wide-eyed.

Before Kareel could reply, he had his answer as the

boarding tunnel disengaged and multiple alarms sounded.

‘They didn’t connect to an airlock!’ screamed Kareel,

as her screens flashed red. ‘They just cut a hole in the

hull!’

Kareel struggled to take in the crisis. Where the aliens

had fixed their boarding tunnel, the Tintin now had a

massive hull breach – a gaping hole nearly two metres in

diameter. The captain hurried to her side, and together

they started activating the emergency systems.

Thank goodness the aliens removed their stasis field

along with the boarding tunnel, thought Kareel.

‘Bulkhead doors aren’t responding,’ Pakola noted

tensely. ‘I’ll just have to try and operate them manually.’

Before Kareel could argue with him, the captain was

gone. Left alone on the bridge, she did her best to get

other emergency systems under control, but it was almost

impossible. The aliens had left the ship in a terrible state.

Kareel noticed that life-support systems were failing and,

more crucially, oxygen levels were falling rapidly

throughout all sectors of the ship. The captain hadn’t yet

managed to isolate the hull breach. Kareel could feel

herself beginning to lose consciousness. With a supreme

effort of will, she managed to prime and launch an SOS

beacon.

But who is going to answer an SOS out here in deep

space, she wondered. The chances of another ship – apart

from the alien fleet – even being in the same star system

were tiny. Kareel knew, as the darkness enveloped her

senses, that she was as good as dead.

‘Ah, there you are. Welcome back!’

Kareel groaned as she regained consciousness. Her

beliefs about any possible afterlife were vague to say the

least, but one thing she had been certain of was that death

wouldn’t be followed by a cheerful voice welcoming you

back. She blinked a couple of times and made a renewed

attempt to focus. She had a blinding headache and felt

nauseous, but somehow she was still alive.

She found that she was looking up at the humanoid

face of a complete stranger. From the familiar look of the

ceiling above the man’s head it was obvious that she was

still on board her ship. She really had survived!

‘That’s it, take it easy,’ said the stranger, kindly,

noticing her confused expression.

Kareel took a closer look at her rescuer. He appeared to

be a human male in his thirties and had a shock of untidy

hair on top of a thin but friendly face. The trainee pilot

also noted that he was wearing old-fashioned dark-

rimmed spectacles. The eccentricity seemed to accentuate

the man’s natural good looks, and Kareel found herself

hoping that she didn’t look too much of a mess. For his

part, the man was grinning wildly, as if seeing her regain

consciousness was the highlight of his day.

‘I’m alive?’ she managed to croak.

‘Oh yes!’ said the stranger triumphantly, and

disappeared from view for a moment, before reappearing

with a cup of water. ‘Here, drink this,’ he suggested,

helping her to sit up and passing her the water.

‘Who—’ she began to ask, but the stranger interrupted

her.

‘I’m the Doctor,’ he told the recovering pilot. ‘I

happened to be passing, heard your SOS, thought I’d

better check it out, fixed your hull breach, repaired your

life support, and here I am.’

The Doctor smiled, slipping his glasses off and

pocketing them with one smooth, practised movement.

‘Lucky I was passing, eh?’

Having made sure that Kareel was making a good

recovery, the Doctor left her and went to attend to the rest

of the crew. A few minutes later he returned with a more

sombre expression on his face.

‘I’m so sorry,’ he began, and Kareel could sense from

his tone that he genuinely meant his words. ‘I did what I

could, but your captain was trapped in a section right next

to the hull breach. I think it would have been quick…’ The

Doctor trailed off.

Kareel nodded and sniffed back a sob. ‘Captain

Pakola,’ she said simply. ‘He was trying to shut the

bulkhead doors, to isolate the hull breach…’

‘Tell me exactly what happened,’ the Doctor demanded,

and Kareel did. As her tale unfolded, the Doctor became

more and more agitated. ‘Judoon!’ he muttered furiously,

when Kareel described the intruders.

‘You know them?’ she asked, surprised.

‘Oh yes. All too well,’ answered the Doctor airily.

‘Great big hulks, clumsy and blinkered. “Justice is swift,”

that’s one of their mottos. Truth is, with the Judoon

around, justice is usually brutal and dangerous. They’re

like the Canadian Mounties – they always get their man.

But it’s usually at a pretty high price.’

The Doctor looked around the bridge of the freighter,

still bathed in emergency red-hued lighting. ‘I think they

call this collateral damage.’

‘Maybe someone should point out the error of their

ways to them,’ suggested Kareel, not entirely seriously. To

her surprise, the Doctor just nodded in agreement.

‘Maybe someone should,’ the Doctor told her. ‘Can’t

have the Judoon blundering around like rhinos in a

restaurant, dispensing justice and causing untold mayhem

along the way, can we? Where did you say they were

going next?’

‘They were looking for this passenger who was

heading for New Memphis,’ Kareel told him.

‘Right then,’ he said. ‘I’d better get on my way. Before

the Judoon cause chaos at the New Memphis spaceport.’

Despite everything, Kareel couldn’t help but laugh out

loud at that.

The Doctor frowned. ‘Did I say something funny?’ he

asked.

‘No, not really. It’s just the idea of these Judoon

causing chaos at Elvis the King Spaceport, that’s all,’

explained Kareel. ‘As if they didn’t already have enough

problems!’

Back in the TARDIS, the Doctor fed the coordinates for

New Memphis into the destination controls and took a

moment to tune in to local newsfeeds to discover what

Kareel had been talking about. It didn’t take long to find

out.

The year was 2487. The Doctor knew that this was an

important time in the long saga of humanity’s exploration

of the universe. At this point in the twenty-fifth century,

the human race was well established amongst the stars and

had colonies scattered throughout known space.

Hyperspace travel had made journeys of incredible

distances commonplace, and gigantic spaceport terminals

had developed to handle the millions of spacecraft

crisscrossing the universe. One such hub of intergalactic

travel was Elvis the King Spaceport, a massive construct

on an otherwise barren and uninviting planet close to a

major hyperspace nexus point, where traffic from a

hundred different star systems crossed daily.

The unexceptional planet now known as New Memphis

was a typical spaceport. Originally it had been an

uninhabited small planetoid of little interest to anyone.

Then it had been made the site of a small refuelling base.

Slowly the base had become more and more permanent,

growing from an automated fuel dump to a fully fledged

spaceport. The pace of development had then picked up,

and the spaceport had begun to grow in both importance

and stature. Physically it grew too, and around it a wider

settlement began to emerge. Over the course of a hundred

years, the quiet frontier outpost turned into a sprawling

city-state – New Memphis – with a permanent population

living on and off the trade and traffic that passed through

the spaceport.

New Memphis, the city-state surrounding the

spaceport, had soon taken on a character of its own. It was

a place of extreme contrasts, of glittering haves and

downtrodden have-nots, of wealth and glamour, grime and

crime.

The spaceport had also continued to develop, but now

it found itself having to seek permission from the city it

had spawned for every new stage of growth. A plan for a

much-needed thirteenth terminal had been discussed and

argued over for decades before construction work had

finally begun in 2479. Terminal 13 had finally opened just

a few days ago, after a long and inglorious development

period beset by delays, protests and enquiries.

It was meant to be a state-of-the-art facility that would

service both passengers and freight customers with

hitherto unheard of levels of efficiency and automation.

It was meant to be the most advanced transit terminal

ever constructed, making travel between the stars

comfortable, easy and painless.

It was meant to make Elvis the King Spaceport the

most popular nexus point for journeys across the sector.

Unfortunately, things had not gone according to plan.

* * *

‘Mr Golightly, it’s been seven days now; how long are

these “teething problems” of yours going to trouble you?’

demanded the pretty blonde journalist. She stepped

forward at the end of her question and her floating

camera-bot had to adjust focus to catch her intense

expression of considered indignation. Standing opposite

her, Jase Golightly, General Manager of Elvis the King

Spaceport, desperately tried to recall the media training

he’d once been forced to undertake and managed to smile

back. Keep smiling, stay calm and use her name, he

repeated to himself. If only he could remember her name.

The journalist, whose name was Stacie Jorrez, waited

patiently while he gathered his thoughts, no doubt hoping

he would make a fool of himself.

Golightly was a short human in his forties, with

thinning hair trimmed tightly to his oval-shaped head. His

chubby features were decorated with a pair of old-

fashioned steel-rimmed spectacles, a touch of eccentricity

that was confirmed by his classic pinstriped suit and the

vivid red braces supporting his trousers. Sweating a little

despite the aggressive air-conditioning in his office, he

pulled at the neck of his shirt.

‘Obviously things haven’t gone quite as well as we

hoped Sallie,’ he began, still maintaining the smile, albeit

with more than a hint of desperation.

That’s a bland understatement, he thought to himself,

but aloud he continued on a different tack.

‘But then this project has had a lot of bad luck over the

years,’ he heard himself saying.

Bad luck! There was more to it than bad lack. But

where had it all gone wrong? he wondered. After all the

years of planning, how had things gone so spectacularly

pear-shaped? And what did that mean anyway? What was

a pear? And why were things that were the same shape as

pears such bad news? He realised that he was on the verge

of hysteria and tried to pull himself together.

‘Bad luck!’ repeated Stacie, as if the very idea was an

affront to her personally. ‘This project has been planned

for decades but has been mismanaged at every single

stage. It has failed to meet each and every deadline, the

costs have spiralled out of control, and delays have

become the norm.’ She cast an arm in the direction of the

arrivals hall behind them and added with heavy irony, ‘As

passengers have been discovering since you opened a

week ago.’

‘Well, yes, I am not going to stand here before you and

pretend there haven’t been… problems, Sallie,’ he replied.

Stacie smiled coolly at him. ‘It’s Stacie, actually.’

Golightly started sweating more profusely and

stammered an apology. ‘We… we have, er, had some

system failures, and, er, baggage complications…

software glitches…’ he continued lamely.

‘But these problems have persisted, Mr Golightly, day

after day, with no sign of improvement. I’ve been talking

to some of your customers, some of those travellers who

have been inconvenienced by these “systems failures”.

And they are far from happy.’

Stacie stepped closer again, her body language totally

confrontational now.

‘Admit it, Mr Golightly, this entire opening has been

nothing short of a disaster, a disaster of crisis proportions,’

she suggested. The hovering camera-bot switched angles

to take a full-screen shot of Golightly, perspiring and

desperate.

‘I think you’re exaggerating slightly,’ he managed to

reply. ‘I mean, it’s not as if anyone has died.’

‘Cut!’

Within minutes, the woman and her camera-bot had left

his office, which was placed high in the administrative

block that formed one end of the massive terminal

building. Golightly’s command centre, as he liked to think

of it, had one large multifunctional wall which, at a voice

command, could shift from opaque screen to transparent

window overlooking the arrivals hall. The wall was

currently in window mode, and Golightly rested his head

against the cool plastiglass surface and looked out over

the crowds below.

He sighed heavily. Despite his bluster with Stacie, he

had very little idea how long it might take to get things

right. He knew he shouldn’t have bowed to the pressure

from the board to open when they did, but the investors

had poured so much capital into the new terminal that they

hadn’t been prepared to wait a moment longer to go live.

Now they were all facing the consequences but, somehow,

it was still his problem. He had told them to be patient, to

wait, but they had insisted that the declared opening date

was to be kept. The media were calling it a shambles and,

looking down at the sight below him, Golightly had to

agree with their analysis.

The lines were getting out of hand. There were queues

at the various spaceliner company enquiry desks, queues

at the departure gates, queues at the customs hall, queues

at the shops, queues at the food outlets and even queues in

the toilets.

Most of the passengers were humans, but there were a

number of aliens of various races, not to mention some

robots and androids, amongst the crowds as well.

Complaining voices, speaking a variety of languages,

filled the air from every direction.

Golightly ordered the wall to switch to its opaque state

and sat down heavily at his desk. He checked his diary

and sighed again. It was time for another meeting with the

senior management team, to hear the latest list of

problems and the ever-lengthening estimated timescales

for putting things right. Surely something would buck the

trend and start to go right for him soon?

His secretary appeared at the door with an apologetic

look on her face. Golightly looked up and sighed when he

saw her expression. Whatever it was, this was not going to

be good news.

‘Mr Salter called,’ Miss Fallon told him. ‘He said he’ll

be dropping by for a word before your meeting.’

That was all he needed. Derek Salter was the largest of

the private investors in Terminal 13 and the

personification of all the pressures to get things right. An

unscheduled meeting with Salter was the last thing

Golightly needed right now. It had been Salter who had

led the charge to open Terminal 13 on the originally

announced date rather than accept a delay, and it had

subsequently been Salter who had been first in line to

blame Golightly for everything that had gone wrong.

Golightly sighed again as the screen slipped from

opaque to newsfeed mode, and he caught sight of himself

looking fat, sweaty and rather like a rabbit caught in

headlights. ‘I mean, it’s not as if anyone has died,’ he was

saying, with a peculiar half-smile.

Golightly hoped those words wouldn’t come back to

haunt him.

The Doctor skipped around the TARDIS central console,

flicking controls and adjusting his approach to New

Memphis. Materialising near a busy spaceport was a

dangerous exercise, and the Doctor didn’t want to be the

cause of a multiple pile-up. He needed to make a precise

and controlled landing inside one of the terminals itself

rather than make any kind of official approach; the

TARDIS’s lack of pre-authorised flight details would only

lead to awkward questions. Thankfully, it appeared that

one of the terminals – the newest – had some kind of

technical glitch with its security system. With luck – and

some skilful steering – the TARDIS could slip in

unnoticed and unannounced.

‘Terminal 13 it is then,’ muttered the Doctor to himself.

‘Unlucky for some!’

Deep inside the ‘spaceside’ section of Terminal 13 a

series of connected warehouses contained the automated

baggage-handling system that had so completely failed,

thus far, to operate according to design. Integral to the

system was a security circuit, designed to ensure that all

baggage was tracked during its entire journey through the

terminal. Like many of the Terminal 13 systems, the

security circuit had only operated erratically since going

live, occasionally going offline for protracted periods.

Unfortunately, as the TARDIS began to materialise in one

of the darkest corners of the complex, the system flickered

back into life.

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor shrugged into his long

brown coat and headed for the exit. ‘Right then,’ he said to

himself, ‘let’s sort out these Judoon.’ He stepped out and,

not for the first time in his many lives, found a hostile

reception waiting for him. A squad of security officers had

the TARDIS surrounded and were pointing weapons in his

direction. The Doctor quickly pulled the TARDIS door

shut and locked it before spinning around to face his

reception committee.

‘Were you expecting me?’ he asked, raising his hands.

In the arrivals hall of the troubled Terminal 13 of Elvis

the King Spaceport, a traveller destined to go right to the

head of Jase Golightly’s list of problems had just arrived

on a shuttle from Heddon Two. The new arrival was

currently shuffling through the slow-moving line of

people passing through the customs hall. He looked

somehow less concerned about the chaos than most of his

fellow travellers. He had one of those faces that are

impossible to remember or to describe; a plain,

unremarkable face that is instantly forgotten.

According to his passport, his name was Dedrik

Gallajer, but that was not a name he had ever answered to

before. In the previous forty-eight hours, he had used

three different identities – Gallajer, Gorgie Kenrite and

Aroon Manish – but none of these was his real name. In

fact, the man had so many different identities to choose

from that he had all but forgotten his original given name.

These days, he preferred to think of himself in terms of his

role in life, which was also the way his employers

designated him. To those that paid for his services, he was

merely ‘the Courier’.

The Courier passed his recently acquired identity

document to the bored-looking customs officer, giving her

a friendly smile that was not reciprocated. Without giving

the passport a second look, the woman waved it through a

scanner and passed it back to the man, who took it with a

grunt of thanks and moved forward into the arrivals hall.

The Courier cast a quick glance at his watch – he was

running late. Nevertheless he didn’t increase his pace;

drawing attention to himself now would be a waste of all

his hard work thus far. Anonymity was important to him.

He needed to be just another face in the crowd – not

special, not remarkable, not memorable. Muttering

‘Excuse me’ again and again like a mantra, he began to

push through the crowds, squeezing between the queuing

hordes.

The Courier followed the signs for the left luggage area

and made his way there as quickly as he could. He kept a

firm grip on his solitary piece of carry-on luggage, a plain

grey suitcase on wheels, as he manoeuvred through the

crowds and selected a suitable locker. Stowing the

suitcase within the locker, the man closed the door and

pocketed the reclaim chip. He took another look at his

watch and stepped up his pace. Now unburdened by the

luggage, he was able to move a little faster. Or at least he

might have been able to had it not been for the mass of

passengers blocking every path. He began to duck and

dive, weaving through the crowd, taking advantage of any

sliver of space between people to slip sideways and make

progress towards his goal. In the main he managed to do

this without making contact with anyone, but once or

twice he had a small bump and had to mutter an apology.

Occasionally, someone making a similar effort to thread

themselves through the masses would collide with him. At

one point, a humanoid alien with blue skin had actually

managed to knock him off his feet. The alien had been

terribly embarrassed. He had helped him to his feet and

apologised in a dozen languages as he brushed the Courier

down.

‘So sorry am I. Please. You not hurt?’ he enquired, in a

stuttering approximation of human speech.

The man travelling under the name Gallajer pushed the

alien’s hands away. ‘I’m fine, no damage done,’ he

insisted and continued on his way, quickly blending into

the crowd again, just another traveller amongst the

masses.

Elsewhere in the terminal, other visitors were making

much more of an impact. There were two of them –

humans but of such a striking appearance that many

would mistake them for aliens. They were abnormally tall,

nearly two metres, and dressed in suits so deeply black

that they seemed to suck the light out of the air around

them. Identical designer shades covered their eyes, and

their hair was a brilliant white. To anyone looking at the

pair as they strode through the crowds (which parted

before them, without being asked), it appeared as though

they were the only monochromatic element in a world of

colour. They reached a particular café with a terrace area

that allowed diners to look out over the arrivals hall and

loomed over a pair of Draconians, who quickly finished

their drinks and vacated their table.

Across the arrivals hall, the Courier caught a glimpse

of the two men and began to sweat. Why had Uncle sent

the Walinski brothers, of all people? For a moment he

hesitated and considered his options. The Courier knew

that Uncle was the big noise in the criminal underground

of New Memphis, but he also knew that there was a new

gang in town, an upstart criminal organisation run by the

mysterious Madame Yilonda. His job was to take items

from one place to another and not to ask too many

questions about what he was carrying or why. Right now,

he was meant to be handing over the reclaim chip to the

agents Uncle had sent to the rendezvous point, and if

those agents happened to be the Walinski brothers then

Uncle must have his reasons. As far as the Courier was

concerned, sending the Walinski brothers was akin to

putting a huge spotlight on his arrival and calling up

Madame Yilonda directly to tell her to take a closer look.

It was a worrying thought. Why arrange for something to

be delivered from off-world with such secrecy and then

make such a public showing of making the collection?

Something didn’t smell right, and the Courier was very

tempted to cut and run.

The Walinski brothers were more than just albino

freaks, though. The Courier knew their reputation well.

They were Uncle’s most trusted enforcers; cross Uncle,

and the Walinski brothers would travel the length of the

universe to track you down. Cutting and running was just

not an option.

* * *

‘You can lower the weapons, you know,’ the Doctor told

the security men brightly. ‘I’m not about to do a runner.’

There were four security officers in the squad, all

dressed in smart, matching uniforms with polished boots

and shiny weapons. They looked young, keen and,

perhaps, just a little bit nervous. Beyond their original

instruction to the Doctor to raise his hands, they had not

said a word. The Doctor guessed they were waiting for

someone with more authority to arrive and take charge.

A moment later, a man in a similar but slightly grander

uniform appeared in a distant doorway and began

marching towards them. As he approached, the Doctor

could see that he was significantly older than his officers.

His lined and scarred face, coupled with his gait, told the

Doctor all he needed to know. Ex-military, he decided.

‘Transit documents?’ demanded the man before he had

even reached the group.

One of the young security guards shook his head.

The older man came to a halt directly in front of the

Doctor and subjected him to an intensive visual appraisal.

‘You realise that this is a secure area of the spaceport?’

he asked eventually, maintaining eye contact as he spoke.

The Doctor nodded and pulled his psychic paper from

his jacket pocket, leaning forward to whisper in the man’s

ear. ‘Undercover agent, Galactic Law Authority,’ he told

him. Without replying, the ex-soldier took the wallet and

gave it a long cool look before handing it back.

‘Looks like a blank sheet of paper,’ he retorted. ‘Don’t

try any of your psychic mind games on me, sonny, not to a

veteran of the Telepath Uprising of ‘54.’

The Doctor quickly slipped the wallet back into his

pocket and changed tack without missing a beat.

‘Veteran of the Uprising, eh? I should have guessed. If

they’ve called someone of your standing in here, things

must be worse than I thought.’

The ex-soldier nodded to two of the guards who moved

in and twisted the Doctor’s arms behind his back.

‘And don’t think you can flatter me, either,’ he told the

Doctor, turning his back on him. ‘This way please.’ The

man began marching off in the direction from which he

had come. The Doctor found himself manhandled along in

his wake by two of the fresh-faced security men.

As they walked, one of the guards gave the Doctor a

sympathetic look before hurrying off after his

commanding officer.

‘Upsetting General Moret was a really bad idea,’ he

told the Doctor in a whisper as he passed him.

Considering the way things had gone, the Doctor had to

agree with the analysis. Things were not looking good.

The Courier swallowed hard as he sat down at the table

with the Walinski brothers. Three steaming cups of coffee

were waiting on the table, but something still felt odd,

something didn’t look quite right. Was there something

unusual about the bubbling liquid in the cup in front of

him or was he just being paranoid?

‘Surprised to see you boys on this errand – what

happened, did one of you do something to upset Uncle?’

he asked, realising that he sounded a little nervous. How

could he let the Walinski brothers get to him like this –

where was his professionalism? The brothers treated the

question as if it was rhetorical and said nothing. The

Courier glanced down at the coffee cup in front of him. It

was still bubbling suspiciously. Better safe than sorry. He

moved the cup and swapped it with one of the brothers’

drinks.

‘Not that I don’t trust you or anything… but, well, I

don’t!’ he explained.

To his surprise both brothers just grinned at this and, in

perfect synchronisation, they slipped their dark glasses up

onto their foreheads. Two pairs of pink eyes now looked

directly at him.

‘No offence meant…’ said one brother.

‘No offence taken…’ concluded the other, completing

the sentence as if the two were part of the same

consciousness.

The two continued to look at him, their expressions as

illegible as a medic’s handwriting. The Courier picked up

the cup of coffee and raised it to his lips. He hesitated for

a beat and then, under the intimidating eyes of the

brothers, he took a sip. He was relieved to find that it

tasted completely normal.

‘Is the “package” secure?’ asked the first brother, with

the same casual tone that one might use to discuss the

weather.

The Courier took another sip of his coffee before

answering.

‘Left luggage,’ he said simply, replacing the cup on the

table.

The Walinski brother on his left held out a hand.

‘Reclaim chip?’

The Courier noted with surprise that he was sweating.

Either the Walinski brothers were getting to him or the

coffee had been hotter than he had realised. He reached

into his pocket and felt a sharp stabbing in his stomach –

the chip wasn’t there. Quickly he checked his other

pockets. He was sweating profusely now, heartbeat racing

– how was this possible? He had pocketed the chip just

minutes ago.

Both brothers kept looking at him with intense

expressions. It was as if they were both heat sources

pouring down on him. Sweat was now running off him as

if he were in a sauna. His clothes were drenched, his hair

sodden. Carefully, methodically, he checked each and

every pocket of his clothing. The chip was nowhere to be

found.

‘I had it a moment ago,’ he told them desperately, but

they seemed to have lost patience with him. They

exchanged a look and a nod then abruptly pushed back

from the table and stood up. Without looking back at the

Courier, they quickly moved away from the café and

disappeared into the crowd.

The Courier didn’t know what to do. When the

Walinski brothers reported this failure to Uncle, he would

be as good as dead. Unless, somehow, he could turn this

around and make good on his error. What could have

happened to that chip? It had been safe in his pocket and

now it was gone… Of course! Suddenly he remembered

the blue-skinned alien who had run into him. What a fool

he had been; it was a classic pickpocket technique. The

thief would ‘accidentally’ run into their mark and then,

under cover of helping the victim to their feet, they would

stealthily pick their pockets.

The Courier realised that his only hope of surviving

was to find the pickpocket and get that chip back. He got

up and was surprised to find that he was unsteady on his

feet. He swayed, his head spinning. He was still sweating

profusely, unnaturally. All in all, he felt quite unwell.

Pushing himself away from the table, he staggered to

the nearest washroom. He almost fell through the doors

and stumbled across to the washbasins. People were

avoiding him now, unnerved by the sight of a man

sweating and shivering so badly. He realised that he must

look quite ill to people, perhaps even dangerous. He

looked up at his reflection in the mirror above the sink and

was horrified at the sight that met his eyes. His skin was

actually glowing – changing colour from a burnt orange to

a deep blood-red even as he watched. He looked like he’d

been exposed to some kind of terrible radiation source. He

jerked the tap on and splashed cold water onto his face. It

hissed, instantly turning to steam as it touched his

overheating skin. Flailing now, he splashed more and

more water upwards onto his person but it wasn’t enough.

He could feel himself getting hotter and hotter, brighter

and brighter.

Suddenly his clothes burst into flame, and seconds later

his entire body was engulfed with fire. For a moment he

burned with the intensity of an inferno and then – with a

deafening bang – he exploded.

The Doctor and his captors had just emerged into the

public area of Terminal 13 when the reports came in on

the security guards’ radios. The screams and cries of

panicking travellers had already alerted them to the fact

that some kind of incident had occurred but, with the mass

of people in the arrivals hall, it was not possible to

determine the exact site of the problem just by looking.

General Moret turned to the Doctor. ‘We need to attend

to an emergency. You will accompany us. Make any move

to escape and my men will shoot you without warning.

Understood?’

‘Crystal clear,’ the Doctor replied.

The General looked at him for a moment, then seemed

to make a decision to trust the stranger and started leading

the squad towards the incident.

‘Suspicious death of a passenger,’ he told the squad as

they moved. Moments later they reached the public toilets

where the Courier had met his fate. There was a smell in

the air, reminiscent of barbecues, and the Doctor realised

with some horror that it was the smell of burnt flesh. The

Doctor watched, fascinated, as the General took charge,

deploying his men to deal with the public and directing

the other emergency services when they arrived on the

scene. Some cosmetic damage to the fixtures and

furnishings had been caused by the exploding man, but the

intense heat had mostly been contained by automatic fire-

suppressant systems.

‘At least something works round here,’ muttered the

young security officer who had spoken to the Doctor

earlier. The badge on his uniform gave his name as

Adams. He had been assigned the task of keeping an eye

on the prisoner while the incident was dealt with.

‘Things not been going too well?’ the Doctor asked

him.

‘You can say that again,’ replied Adams with feeling.

‘This whole terminal has been a disaster. Looks like the

Chief’s getting the gen on what happened here.’

On the far side of the room, a specialist medical team

was carefully collecting what little remained of the victim

and placing it on a gurney.

The Doctor and Adams watched as General Moret

thanked the attending physician and walked back to rejoin

them.

‘Spontaneous human combustion,’ Moret announced as

he reached them. Behind him, the paramedics began

manoeuvring the gurney out of the room.

‘I doubt it,’ commented the Doctor quietly.

The General turned and gave him a suspicious look.

‘Know something we don’t, do you?’ he demanded.

The Doctor shook his head. ‘Not about this case, no.

But I know a little about so-called spontaneous human

combustion.’

‘Would you care to share your knowledge?’ asked the

security man with more than a hint of sarcasm, an

undertone the Doctor chose to ignore.

‘Well, for a start, “spontaneous” is completely wrong.

Human flesh can burn but not spontaneously; it needs

something to make it happen.’

‘So are you saying this is a murder?’ asked a new

voice.

The Doctor turned to see a slightly overweight man in a

suit entering the room, the security cordon parting for him

without any hesitation.

Adams leant forward and whispered in the Doctor’s

ear. ‘Mr Golightly, General Manager of the spaceport.’

The Doctor reached out and shook Golightly’s hand,

taking him by surprise.

‘It is a murder, I’m afraid, sir. And a rather nasty one at

that.’ The Doctor flashed him one of his most confident

smiles. ‘You’ll be glad I’m here.’

General Moret narrowed his eyes. ‘This man is a

prisoner. He was in a secure area without authorisation,’

he told Golightly urgently.

The Doctor put an arm around Golightly’s shoulder and

turned him away from the General.

‘All a bit of a misunderstanding,’ he whispered. ‘I’m

sure I can explain…’ He reached inside his pocket for the

wallet containing his psychic paper.

Outside the gleaming halls of the spaceport, the city-

state of New Memphis was a much less glamorous

environment. A recent edition of 1001 Galactic

Destinations to Die Before You See had listed it in its top

ten places to do anything to avoid visiting. In its review,

the book had referred to its dated, functional architecture,

the unfriendliness of its natives and the rampant crime

levels that made New Memphis a haven for undesirables

from across ten sectors.

The book’s summary wasn’t an exaggeration. New

Memphis was a sprawling urban mess, unplanned and

frequently unregulated in its rapid growth. It had begun

with living areas close to the spaceport borders and had

spread like a rash from there: a mixture of retail,

commercial and residential buildings, packed tightly into a

tiny footprint of land because a) everything revolved

around rapid access to the spaceport, and b) the original

fuel dump had been constructed on a relatively small

island. By the middle of the twenty-fifth century, the city

was identical to similar-sized metropolises on a thousand

worlds, diverse and dynamic, rich districts and poor

slums.

It was also almost always wet. Since no one had lived

there before the starships came, it was impossible to know

whether the local climate had always been like this, but

certainly since humans had lived on the planet it had

rained more days than not. Some suggested that the

persistent rain was a reaction to the pollution caused by

the massive spacecraft pouring in and out of the many

Elvis the King terminals but it was a moot point as

nobody was going to suggest anything that might limit the

traffic in any way – the spaceport was too important to the

local economy.

Just as vital to the city-state was the criminal activity.

As in many frontier settlements, law was an optional

element in New Memphis society and the various criminal

gangs and crime lords were as important as, if not more

important than, the elected officials in shaping day to day

life in the city.

That’s not to say that there were no law-abiding

citizens in New Memphis. Just that they were not

necessarily the majority.

In one of the city’s less salubrious districts lay the

distinctly downmarket Hound Dog Shopping Mall. When

it had first been built, it had been one of the grandest retail

developments in the sector, full of fashionable boutiques.

Now it was a rather sad shadow of its former self, with

numerous units lying empty and many of the others given

over to tatty stores selling factory rejects and seconds. In

the Blue Hawaii Food Court, a few desperate souls were

risking life and limb eating poorly cooked Kronkburgers

and limp fries.

Most of the staff looked as lifeless as the food they

were serving, but one waitress seemed more alive than all

the rest put together. She was a pretty, blonde-haired

teenager, who managed to make the shapeless blue

uniform look vaguely attractive as she bustled between the

tables, bestowing a cheerful smile on the undeserving

punters and generally single-handedly raising the mood in

the place.

The owner of the Food Court, a rat-faced man by the

name of Sten, looked on with satisfaction as the new girl,

Nikki, delivered a pair of Giant Kronkburgers to a couple

of young men who had squeezed into a booth at the very

back of the eating area. Hiring Nikki had been a really

good move. Sten couldn’t believe his luck. She was both

prettier and brighter than anyone he’d employed before.

Nikki carefully placed the plates of food in front of the

two men and waited. Neither of the customers even

glanced in her direction but continued to talk in hushed

tones, as they had done since they had arrived twenty

minutes earlier. Making sure they were still absorbed in

their conversation, she reached under the table to check

that the device she had put there when taking their order

was still in place. Her fingers ran over the tiny bug and

confirmed that the unit was working properly. Every detail

of the men’s intimate chat would be transmitted across to

the unit’s base which she had left under the counter and

recorded for posterity.

Suddenly one of the men looked up at her.

‘Do you mind? This is a private conversation,’ he

hissed.

Nikki put on a good act of being surprised.

‘What? Oh sorry I was miles away. Can I get you

gentlemen anything. Relish, mustard, green sauce?’ Nikki

deliberately made her voice higher-pitched than normal,

which immediately took a few years off her and made her

sound almost childish.

‘No, nothing,’ replied the man, rudely.

‘No worries,’ said Nikki perkily. ‘If you need anything

I’ll be right over there.’

Nikki hurried back to the counter and checked the other

end of the bug. Perfect! Everything the men were saying

was coming through loud and clear and getting captured

on the unit’s memory.

Now if they’d just say something incriminating, her job

– her real job – would be done.

Nikki Jupiter might have looked the part of a Blue

Hawaiian waitress but she was, in fact, something very

different.

Nikki Jupiter, at just seventeen, was a very

accomplished private detective.

General Moret was not impressed. Golightly had ignored

his protests about the validity of the stranger’s credentials,

and seemed to have accepted the Doctor completely.

Moret had been ordered to release the Doctor and to

cooperate fully with both the stranger and the local

authorities in the investigation of the incident. General

Moret was far from happy with this turn of events, but he

had no choice: Golightly paid his wages. Not for the first

time since his retirement from his first career, Moret

longed for the old days. Life as a Space Marine had been

so simple compared to this security lark.

The Doctor was being briefed by Jase Golightly who

was telling him the whole sorry saga of Terminal 13. The

Doctor interrupted him to ask if he’d had any contact from

Galactic Law Enforcers. Golightly shook his head.

The Doctor pulled a face. ‘Then I’m very sorry, but I

think you’re about to.’

‘I thought you were—’ began Golightly.

‘Plainclothes,’ interrupted the Doctor quickly. ‘Well not

so much plainclothes as freelance, local expert, that kind

of thing. It’s the beat coppers with their size twelves you

need to worry about.’

Golightly shook his head, not really understanding. ‘I

need to get back to the office. I have to keep a lid on this

thing. Missing luggage and travel delays are one thing;

passengers exploding on their way through the terminal is

something else again.’

‘There were plenty of witnesses,’ commented the

security chief.

Golightly stopped, realising the truth of Moret’s

statement. He thought desperately for a moment.

‘Find them. Offer them free flights, whatever it takes. I

don’t want this story getting out. Not to the newsfeeds and

not to the board either.’ Golightly shivered, remembering

that Derek Salter was on his way in to see him. If Salter

got to hear about this… It wasn’t worth thinking about.

Golightly’s bad day wasn’t over yet. There was a

sudden and enormous sonic boom, and all the lights went

out. Moments later, emergency lighting came on, casting

an eerie blue glow over everything. Then came the sound

– a regular rhythm of thudding feet, leather boots on metal

walkways, getting louder and closer.

Golightly followed the noise, emerging from the

washroom into the arrivals hall where the crowds were

parting to let through a column of armoured creatures.

Golightly had no idea whose army this was but knew it

was bad news.

As he left, General Moret bristled; he recognised

military marching when he saw it and these were clearly

well-drilled troops. He hoped they were not hostile.

The Doctor, alone amongst the group, not only knew

exactly who the strangers were but had been expecting

them. ‘The Galactic Law Enforcement officers I told you

about,’ he whispered to Golightly. ‘Judoon.’

Golightly took at step or two forward to intercept the

incoming law enforcers as the Judoon came to a halt.

‘Jase Golightly, General Manager of this facility,’ he

introduced himself.

The lead Judoon inclined his head to look down at the

human addressing him. For a long moment he seemed to

be considering his next move, and then he removed his

helmet revealing his rhino’s head.

‘This terminal is under Judoon lockdown,’ the Judoon

Commander announced. ‘No one will be permitted to

leave or enter until our search is complete. Cooperation is

required. Under Galactic Law Statute Forty-Three, all life

forms in this facility will present themselves for identity

verification and a personal search.’ He paused for a

moment to allow his words to sink in. ‘All areas of this

terminal are to be made available for a complete search.’

‘Going to leave this place in the same state as the

Tintin are you?’ wondered the Doctor.

The Judoon Commander turned to glare at the Doctor.

‘Identify yourself,’ he ordered.

‘I’m the Doctor. I happened to be passing and saved the

crew of the Tintin after you left it all but crippled,’

explained the Doctor.

‘Justice must be served,’ the Judoon responded. ‘It was

not our intention to render the freighter inoperable.’

‘It might not have been your intention, but it was the

result,’ retorted the Doctor angrily.

The Judoon stared down at the smaller figure. ‘The

search will begin immediately. No unnecessary damage

will be caused.’

‘The search for what?’ asked the Doctor.

‘The Invisible Assassin,’ replied the Judoon simply.

With that the Judoon Commander turned away and

started to dispatch his Judoon warriors to their various

tasks in the search.

The Doctor stepped up to stand beside Golightly. The

man was shaking, though whether from fear or anger it

was hard to say.

‘Well, at least I tried. Let’s hope they find what they’re

looking for quickly.’

‘Are these your coppers with size twelve boots?’

wondered Golightly.

The Doctor nodded. ‘Big, brutal and clumsy. Just what

you don’t need in a police force.’

Nikki was busy wiping down the counter. Or at least that

was what she wanted people to think she was doing. She

was actually concentrating on the conversation going on

in the rear booth. The two men were still talking, spilling

useful information about the gang they were involved with

– the upstart criminal organisation known as the Widow’s

Gang. More specifically, they had just confirmed their

personal involvement in the case Nikki was most

interested in. There had been a jewellery heist last month,

but the police had swiftly come to the conclusion that

there was a lack of credible evidence to follow up and had

closed the file after just a day’s work. The shop owner,

unhappy with the service, had come to the Jupiter

Detective Agency to see if they could succeed where the

police had failed. Nikki had been manning the office, as

she often did when her father was out on a case, and when

he returned that night she’d asked if she could take the

jewellery investigation herself. Her dad, of course, had

said yes. He never could say no to his little girl.

Thinking of her father brought Nikki up short for a

moment and she lost focus on the job at hand. Where was

he? It had been three weeks now since he’d gone off to do

a job somewhere in the spaceport. It wasn’t the first time

he’d been away, but he normally managed to keep in

touch a little better than this. In twenty-one days she’d had

a couple of e-mails and one phone message, all of such

brevity that they hardly counted as contact at all. What

was really strange was that he’d said nothing about the

case he was working. Normally he shared everything with

her. She didn’t want to be negative or think the worst but

she knew a private detective’s life was a dangerous one.

People were never very happy to be snooped on.

Suddenly she snapped out of her reverie. Something

was happening at the table that she was meant to be

watching. The voices in her earpiece had stopped and

when she looked across to the seating area she could only

see one of the men. Then the other appeared, clutching a

fork in one hand. He must have dropped it and ducked

under the table to find it. Nikki’s heart jumped in her

chest. What if he’d found the bug? Too late! Nikki could

see that he was showing something to his friend, who now

jumped to his feet, looking around in a paranoid fashion.

His eyes locked with hers, and she knew instantly that her

cover was blown.

The man who had found her little toy was already

running for the exit but the second man was reacting more

aggressively. Standing clear of the table, he reached into

his coat pocket and produced a stubby-looking hand

weapon.

Diving for cover would have been one option but,

without knowing exactly what the weapon could do,

offence was a better strategy than defence. Nikki vaulted

the counter and ran directly towards the armed man. In

what seemed to be slow motion, he continued to bring the

weapon up and aim it directly at her, but Nikki was no

longer on her feet. Using a table to launch from, she

planted her hands, jumped and twisted in the air, kicking

the weapon out of the slack-jawed gunman’s hand. She

landed like a gymnast, spun, hit out with a martial arts

punch then spun again, this time on one leg, and felled the

man with a sharp kick to the head. The entire fight had

taken about five seconds, but that had been enough to give

the first man a good head start.

Nikki immediately gave chase. The evidence she had

gathered would be useless if the guy escaped. The

Widow’s Gang would make sure he disappeared for a

while if necessary; the only way to get justice for her

client and recover some of the stolen jewellery was to

capture the bloke now.

Skidding out into the main corridor, she looked both

ways. Luckily the mall was not very full and she quickly

spotted her quarry running towards the north exit. She set

off in pursuit, her long legs propelling her rapidly after the

man. Shoppers, seeing the girl running towards them so

purposefully, jumped to get out of her way. Ahead of her,

the man carried on but he appeared to be slowing –

perhaps the Giant Kronkburger was doing her a favour.

Nikki pounded on. The man looked back over his

shoulder and saw how close his pursuer was. Suddenly he

jerked to the left and ducked into a clothes shop. The store

was full of racks of factory seconds, making it an untidy

maze. When Nikki reached the door she paused, unable to

see her quarry.

Suddenly an entire rack of clothing started tipping

towards her. She jumped back and managed to get clear of

the falling rack. As it clattered to the floor, it revealed her

target behind it. Not hesitating, Nikki vaulted over the

scattered clothes and advanced on the man, who looked

around desperately for a weapon or some cover. Neither

were on offer.

Nikki set herself in a martial arts stance: arms raised

ready, knees bent. The man responded by turning to run,

but only succeeded in getting his feet caught up in some

of the spilt clothing. He flew through the air and clattered

into a display of shop dummies. Falling to the floor

heavily, he stayed down. Nikki pulled out her phone and

called the police.

Jase Golightly stood at the wall-length window

overlooking the arrivals hall and winced. Below him, the

usual chaos of the past few days had been replaced by

something far worse.

The Judoon had poured into the terminal in massive

numbers and had begun processing all the passengers.

One by one, each individual was identity-checked and

searched and, once cleared, they were sent out of the

terminal into the wider spaceport beyond.

Elsewhere, even more Judoon were searching every

square centimetre of the complex, both public and

‘backstage’ areas. Despite the Doctor’s words of warning,

the Judoon didn’t seem to be taking any more care than

normal about their work. Displaying the same carelessness

that had almost destroyed the Tintin, they were now taking

apart the not-long completed new Terminal 13.

‘Maybe they’ll do you a favour in the end,’ commented

the Doctor sympathetically.

Golightly turned away from the view. ‘How do you

make that out?’

‘Well, the Judoon take the heat off, don’t they? For the

next few days you can blame them for your problems.’

‘You think?’ Golightly didn’t sound convinced.

‘And while they are here, they might turn up your

gremlins too. They might be clumsy but they’re very

thorough.’

‘You think this “Invisible Assassin” that they’re

looking for is connected to the missing luggage?’

Golightly asked.

The Doctor shrugged. ‘I don’t know. But I’d like to

find out.’

Golightly looked at him carefully. ‘Can you help? You

seem to know these Judoon…’

‘Tell me more about what’s been happening,’ the

Doctor suggested. ‘Perhaps I can see a pattern you’ve

missed.’

Golightly wandered across to the desk and sat down in

his chair. ‘You know about the troubled path we had to

travel to even get Terminal 13 open?’

‘Oh, don’t tell me – public enquiries, protests, planning

problems…?’

Golightly nodded. ‘Every delay you can imagine, and

then some more. But finally we got the go-ahead and

construction began.’

The Doctor had now moved across to the window and

was looking down on the Judoon activity below. ‘But the

problems continued?’

‘No more than any other major construction project, I

suppose. But it felt endless. And then there was the rush to

open. The investors insisted that we open on the day we

originally announced. We weren’t ready. But they

wouldn’t listen to reason.’

‘To be fair,’ interrupted a new voice, ‘it was me that

insisted.’

The Doctor turned to see that a man in an old-fashioned

wheelchair was propelling himself into the room. The new

arrival was in his fifties, tanned and healthy looking

despite the wheelchair. He rolled himself over to the

Doctor and extended a hand.

‘Derek Salter,’ he introduced himself. ‘I own sixty per

cent of this terminal.’

The Doctor took his hand and noted that Salter was one

of those men who used a handshake to make a point – he

felt Salter’s hand enclose his own and squeeze firmly

while maintaining eye contact. ‘So don’t let anyone kid

you. I was the one responsible. It was me that insisted we

open on time, so I’m the one with egg on my face,’ he

explained, finally releasing the Doctor’s hand.

‘Anyone can make a mistake,’ muttered the Doctor,

trying to rub some life back into his bruised hand.

‘Mistakes cost money. More to the point this mistake is

costing me money.’ Salter slammed his hand down on the

armrest of his chair for emphasis. ‘I need this terminal to

be fully operational and a roaring success. That’s the

bottom line. Literally.’

Salter spun around to face Golightly.

‘So what progress have you made? Has anyone found

all this lost luggage? And what about the software

glitches? And what are these alien policemen doing

swarming all over the place?’

Golightly quickly explained about the Judoon and their

search for the Invisible Assassin. The Doctor could see

that Salter was far from impressed.

‘That’s all we need – dead passengers and alien

policemen. This is getting beyond a joke.’

‘The Doctor here’s going to try and help,’ Golightly

told him.

Salter gave the Doctor an intense look. ‘And what are

you – some kind of crisis management expert?’

The Doctor scratched the back of his neck. ‘No, well,

yes, maybe I am. Crisis management, yes I suppose that’s

what I do, although I’m not sure about the management

bit, sounds a bit desk-bound – meetings and agendas and

all that, and no offence to you, Mr Golightly, but that’s not

really me.’

Salter stared at the man in amazement. How could

anyone talk that fast for so long and say nothing?

‘So can you help with this crisis or not?’ he demanded.

‘Of course I can. But first I need my… er… equipment.

It’s a big blue box. Perhaps General Moret could take me

back to where he found me?’

‘I’ll organise it right away,’ promised Golightly. ‘But

you’ll need to clear it with your Judoon pals.’

‘They’re no friends of mine, believe me,’ the Doctor

assured him. ‘But I’m sure they can be persuaded to

cooperate. They’re pretty monocular types – only

interested in their own agenda.’

He looked over at Salter, who was staring down at the

arrivals hall, with a furious expression on his face.

‘There’s a lot of it about,’ concluded the Doctor under

his breath.

The offices of the Jupiter Detective Agency were not

particularly impressive, but Nikki had become used to

them. Her father didn’t think the physical appearance of

the office was that important and that was that.

‘If people are going to select a detective agency on the

basis of how luxurious the sofa in reception is,’ he had

said the last time Nikki had suggested a makeover, ‘then I

don’t want to do business with them.’ So the first

impression a client got was of a company that didn’t waste

money. The carpet was a little worn, the desk and chairs in

reception utilitarian. The only decoration on the walls was

their official licence to operate a detective agency. ‘Clients

want results, not pretty pictures,’ Nikki’s dad liked to say,

and certainly the clients they got were always very

satisfied with the quality of the service. The only problem

was that there weren’t that many clients.

Nikki was pondering the problems of the agency as she

made her way back to the office. Perhaps it wasn’t the

decor of the office that was the problem, perhaps it was

the building itself, not to mention the neighbourhood. As

she approached the dreary plain block, she found herself

passing boarded-up shops and a couple of vagrants

sleeping in doorways. This was the Lower East Side of the

city, an area that had been up-and-coming eighty years

ago. These days, the people had upped and gone, at least

those with the economic muscle to move on. Those

without much in the way of capital had no option but to

remain, left behind and forgotten. There was talk of

regeneration in the newsfeeds, but whenever decisions had

to be made the investment seemed to go to the spaceport

rather than the city.

The building that housed the family business was a

four-storey brownstone, full of small office units hired out

to all sorts of small and usually struggling businesses. The

turnover rate was very high as the music teachers,

software writers, lone accountants and estate agents

established businesses, hit hard times and then, inevitably,

failed and went bankrupt. Nikki and her dad had been

there for five years, and she was fairly sure they were the

longest-standing tenants.

Nikki pushed open the street doors and made her way

through the lobby. Once the building had maintained its

own reception, but the desk hadn’t been manned for years.

A panel of metallic business names listed the companies

that had once occupied the building but now most people

just taped a letter heading and floor number on the wall

next to the lift.

When she got back inside the agency office on the third

floor, the first thing Nikki did was to check for any

messages. To her disappointment there was nothing new

from her father. Nikki resolved to ignore his standing

instructions and open his case file if he didn’t get in touch

in the next twenty-four hours.

The phone rang and Nikki picked up the receiver with a

thrill of excitement. Could this be him now?

‘Jupiter Detective Agency,’ she trilled in her best

receptionist voice. ‘How may I help you?’ She tried to

hide her frustration when the voice at the other end of the

line was female and clearly not her dad.

‘May I speak to Detective Jupiter, please?’ asked the

woman. Nikki would have placed the owner of the voice

in her seventies or eighties. There was a hint of an accent

to the voice as well, but Nikki wasn’t sure that she could

identify it. Off-world perhaps.

Nikki politely explained that the Mr Jupiter wasn’t

available but perhaps ‘one of his associates’ could help.

The old lady hesitated and confided in Nikki that she

didn’t want to be a problem. Perhaps she could try again

in a day or two. Nikki knew that the agency could really

do with the work – and the income – and suggested that

she should come in as soon as possible.

‘If you have a problem that requires a detective then

you can’t afford to waste time,’ she told the old lady,

hoping she wasn’t overdoing it. ‘Time is of the essence in

any investigation. Trails can go cold.’

For a moment there was no sound from the other end of

the line and Nikki feared that she had gone too far but

then the old lady spoke again.

‘Maybe you’re right. Is it possible to make an

appointment to see one of Mr Jupiter’s associates?’

‘Let me check,’ Nikki said, relieved. She put the

receiver down on the desktop and then flicked through a

diary close to the mouthpiece. There were, of course, no

associates; just Nikki’s dad and herself, but she wasn’t

going to admit that to a potential client. After a beat she

picked up the receiver.

‘One of Mr Jupiter’s junior associates could see you in

an hour’s time if you can get here,’ she told the woman,

who happily accepted the appointment.

Nikki put the phone down and smiled to herself. If Dad

was going to keep going off like this, then she’d have to

start opening her own case files, and the little old lady’s

mystery – whatever it proved to be – could be her first

entirely solo case.

The security officer had escorted the Doctor back through

the various corridors and passageways of the backstage

baggage area without talking to him once. A couple of

times they were challenged by Judoon, but General Moret

had been able to use his credentials to gain them free

passage to continue. He did not do it with much charm,

however. The Doctor could see that the security man was

not at all happy at the sight of aliens overrunning his

territory.

‘You’re thinking that if they just told you more about

what they were looking for you might be able to help,

aren’t you?’ murmured the Doctor.

Moret just shrugged.

‘Trouble is they don’t work like that,’ the Doctor

continued, ignoring the cold shoulder. ‘They have their

methods and they like to keep to them.’

‘Inefficient,’ muttered Moret. ‘Cack-handed,

overbearing, unsubtle…’

‘Not impressed, I take it?’ replied the Doctor.

Moret grunted. ‘That’s what people used to say about

me,’ he confessed, to the Doctor’s surprise. ‘Ex-Space

Marine coming into civilian security. Everyone thought

I’d try to run things like we do in the military. And they

were right – at first. But I soon learned otherwise.’

‘I’m afraid the Judoon aren’t too hot on learning new

tricks,’ the Doctor told him.

‘More’s the shame,’ Moret stopped and opened a door.

‘Here we are.’

The Doctor stepped through the doorway and found

himself in the loading area where the TARDIS had landed

just hours earlier.

‘It’s not here!’ he exclaimed.

‘What?’ Moret came through the door behind him and

saw for himself. The area where the TARDIS had been

standing was completely empty.

‘Someone must have moved it,’ the Doctor suggested.

Moret shook his head. ‘Baggage systems were all

offline. Nothing down here could have moved a box the

size you described.’

The Doctor turned on him. ‘So where is it then?’

The security officer shrugged. ‘Guess it’s just one more

piece of lost luggage.’

‘What?’

‘Haven’t you been paying attention, Doctor? It’s been

happening for days. As well as all the delays and other

glitches, we’ve lost track of hundreds of pieces of

luggage. Until that tourist exploded and those rhinos

turned up, tracking down the missing luggage was priority

number one,’ he explained.

The Doctor was deep in thought. ‘So the new terminal

has glitches and delays, people’s luggage goes missing

and then you have a passenger explode in one of the

toilets. Three different problems.’

‘Four if you add whatever it is those rhinos are after,’

Moret pointed out.

The Doctor, thick-rimmed glasses on, was examining

the space where the TARDIS had been standing. ‘Bit of a

coincidence, though, isn’t it? Four different mysteries,

same location.’

‘What are you suggesting?’ asked the security officer.

The Doctor stood up and returned his glasses to his

pocket. ‘I don’t know what I’m suggesting,’ he confessed,

‘at least not yet. I’m just following a train of thought. And

it’s making me suspicious. All these things; all happening

in this one terminal…’ A thought struck him. ‘What about

Terminals One to Twelve. How’s business with them?’

‘Well, Terminal Three closed years back and Terminal

Eight’s out of commission pending refurbishment, but the

others are all working normally,’ Moret informed the

Doctor.

‘No exploding passengers, no luggage going walkies?’

Moret shook his head. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary at

all, far as I know.’

‘Then all this,’ the Doctor waved an arm around airily,

‘all this happening at Terminal 13. That’s got to be more

than just bad luck, hasn’t it?’

‘So what are you going to do about it?’ wondered the

security officer.

The Doctor grinned. ‘Get to the bottom of it, of course.

Find out what’s really going on. Oh I love a good mystery

me. Love four even more.’

He headed back through the doorway and then, without

missing a beat, popped his head back through again.

‘Although, if I’m completely honest, I could have done

without the bloke exploding.’ And then he was gone again,

and the security officer found he had to run to catch up

with the annoying stranger.

When they got back to the General Manager’s Office,

the Judoon Commander was already there.

‘They haven’t found what they were looking for,’

Golightly told the Doctor and Moret as they came into the

room.

‘Correction,’ the Judoon interrupted. ‘We have not

found it yet. We have not concluded our business here.’

‘I thought you said you had completed your search?’

spluttered Golightly indignantly.

‘We have completed our search of Terminal 13. The

other Terminals have fully functioning security logs which

have also been scanned and checked. There is only one

logical conclusion: our quarry has managed to escape

directly from this terminal into the city outside this

facility.’

‘But you checked every passenger,’ Moret pointed out.

‘Are you saying someone evaded your search?’

The Judoon swung his massive head around to look at

the human security officer.

‘It is the only possible explanation. We must move our

search into New Memphis itself!’

Nikki’s meeting with her client did not begin well. As

soon as Mrs Kellingham arrived at the Jupiter Detective

Agency office, Nikki could see that the old woman was

having second thoughts.

Nikki was pleased to see that she had been right about

the voice. Mrs Kellingham was certainly an old lady,

though probably nearer to ninety than eighty. With the

latest rejuvenation technology, humans routinely lived

longer lives than ever before and to the untrained eye it

was difficult to put an age on many older people, but

Nikki’s dad had pointed out to her the telltale signs to look

for. Wrinkles could be ironed out, he used to tell her, but

you can always see the tracks of the surgeon’s knife.

Mrs Kellingham was a case in point. At first glance she

looked like a woman in her fifties – auburn hair, smooth

skin, sparkling eyes – but Nikki could see through the

cosmetic improvements. Some serious money had been

spent on achieving Mrs Kellingham’s look. Appearances

were clearly very important to Mrs Kellingham.

She walked into the office with a barely concealed look

of disdain on her face and, when offered a chair, she

brushed the seat before sitting as if she was worried about

catching something. Nikki wondered why the woman had

come downtown to find a detective. Surely one of their

larger, more upmarket rivals would have been a more

natural choice for a woman like Mrs Kellingham. Once

this thought had occurred to Nikki, it nagged away at the

corner of her mind as she began the usual introduction to

the detective agency’s working methods, fees and

payment system. But Mrs Kellingham waved the standard

contract away. She dropped an impressive-looking

diamond onto the desk.

‘Worth five thousand credits at least,’ she told the

young detective simply. ‘Yours if you complete the case.’

Nikki took up the gem and looked at it. To her

untrained eye it looked genuine enough, but she’d get it

checked by her jewellery client nonetheless.

‘It’s a little unorthodox—’ she began, but again the old

lady interrupted her.

‘I’ve no time for contracts and paperwork. I’m not

getting any younger. I want results, and I’m prepared to

pay for them.’

‘Is that why you chose us, not one of the bigger

agencies?’ Nikki regretted the question as soon as she’d

asked it. It was both rude and foolish, and she could see

from Mrs Kellingham’s reaction that she was taken aback.

‘If you don’t want the case…’ she said, reaching

forward for the gem.

Nikki closed her fingers over the diamond. ‘Oh no, I

didn’t mean to suggest that,’ she insisted. ‘Of course I, we,

want the job.’

Mrs Kellingham looked at her coolly for a moment, her

eyes narrowing.

‘I admire your honesty,’ she said finally. ‘I can see that

you need the work.’

‘We’re moving to new uptown premises soon,’

improvised Nikki, aware of the drabness of the office.

‘I’m sure you are. Find what was stolen from me and

I’ll make sure it happens. Call it a bonus.’

Nikki’s mouth hung open. Was Mrs Kellingham really

offering her new offices?

‘I own a lot of property uptown,’ the older women

explained. ‘Now, do you want to hear about my problem

or should I take my business elsewhere?’

Nikki picked up her notepad and pen and began making

notes. Mrs Kellingham explained that she had recently

been on an off-world trip, a long luxury cruise that had

taken her away for twelve months. When she had

returned, just a couple of days earlier, she had come

through Terminal 13 at Elvis the King Spaceport.

Nikki made what she hoped were the appropriate

sympathetic noises, and enquired as to what kind of delays

Mrs Kellingham had been forced to endure.

The older lady shrugged. ‘No worse than any other

spaceport,’ she told the girl. ‘When you’ve travelled as

much as I have, you get used to delays. Standing in line

isn’t a problem, but becoming a victim of street crime is.’

Nikki frowned. ‘Street crime?’ she asked.

Mrs Kellingham nodded. ‘A pickpocket, I think.’

‘And what did he take from you?’

To Nikki’s surprise, for the first time since she had

entered the room Mrs Kellingham hesitated and looked,

well, a little embarrassed. Nikki was intrigued. What had

the old woman been carrying?

‘I must confess,’ continued her client eventually, ‘I do

feel a bit of a fool.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Nikki told her, her pen poised over

the notepad ready to take down whatever Mrs Kellingham

was about to say.

‘It’s a watch. An old-fashioned mechanical timepiece.’

Nikki still looked a little blank. ‘An old watch,’ she

repeated, writing it down.

‘Not just an old watch. A valuable family heirloom.

Handmade on Earth eight hundred years ago.’

‘So it’s an antique?’

Mrs Kellingham nodded simply. ‘A priceless antique.

Swiss-made, and in perfect working order. It’s beautiful.’

‘And you carry this valuable antique when you travel?’

Nikki couldn’t keep the note of incredulity out of her

question.

‘I’m an old woman,’ retorted Mrs Kellingham sharply.

‘If I have something beautiful I want to see it, not have it

locked away in a vault somewhere. It can do that when

I’m dead and gone.’

Feeling admonished, Nikki apologised. ‘I didn’t mean

to be rude,’ she explained.

The old lady’s expression softened. ‘No need to

apologise. It was a reasonable enough question. Put it

down to an old fool’s arrogance. I never for one moment

considered anyone would try to take it from me.’

‘But someone did?’

‘I assume so. It disappeared. I know I had it on when I

came through passport control, but when I reached my

driver it was no longer on my wrist.’

Nikki thought for a moment. ‘That does sound like the

work of a pickpocket. Did anyone bump into you when

you were walking through the airport?’

Now it was Mrs Kellingham’s turn to think. ‘Yes, yes

there was one incident,’ she said after a beat. ‘Someone

backed into me when I was looking for my driver.’

Nikki leant forward. ‘Do you remember anything about

this someone?’ she wondered.

‘Why, yes,’ Mrs Kellingham smiled. ‘He was so

apologetic, he was almost beside himself with

embarrassment. He helped me to a seat and made sure I

was all right…’ She trailed off. ‘You don’t think he… But

I never felt a thing.’ Once again Mrs Kellingham flushed

with embarrassment. ‘I said I was a fool,’ she reminded

Nikki in a much less commanding tone.

Nikki couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She was a

proud woman, and yet she had fallen for one of the oldest

tricks in the book.

‘Is there anything you can remember about the man –

about the way he looked?’ she asked gently.

Mrs Kellingham looked up sharply. ‘He had blue skin.

Does that help?’

Nikki smiled warmly. Perhaps this would be easier than

she’d first thought.

‘The problem is, this isn’t going to be easy.’

The Doctor had been arguing with the Judoon

Commander for some time now and, as far as Jase

Golightly could make out, he didn’t seem to be making

any headway.

‘Further Judoon squads can be here within two days.

With enough officers, we can extend our search,’ insisted

the Judoon.

‘Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve been

saying?’ the Doctor asked rhetorically. ‘Searching the

spaceport was one thing, but that’s a city out there. Homes

and businesses and warehouses. Alleys and crannies and

nooks and all sorts. Your usual methods aren’t going to

work out there.’

‘Justice must be swift,’ the Judoon stated, not for the

first time.

‘Well, it’s not going to be very swift if you hang around

waiting for reinforcements, is it?’ suggested the Doctor.

‘Look, the majority of the population here is human. I

know humans. I’ve spent a lot of time with humans. I

know how they think and how they deal with things. Let

me go into the city and follow the trail before it goes cold.

I’ll find your quarry.’

The Judoon considered for a moment and then took a

step closer to the Doctor.

‘Why would you do this?’ he asked.

The Doctor shrugged. ‘Because I want answers.

Because I don’t want Judoon terrorising the city. Because

someone’s stolen my TARDIS and I want it back.’

‘Ah,’ exclaimed the Judoon as the Doctor reached the

end of his list. ‘Self-interest. I understand that motivation.

But this is also a matter of honour. The Judoon cannot

stand by and have another party complete our mission.’

The Judoon turned and began to walk out of the office.

‘Wait,’ cried the Doctor.

The Judoon paused in the doorway.

‘How about a compromise?’ the Doctor suggested.

‘What manner of compromise?’

The Doctor hurried across the room to look the

Commander in the eye. ‘You send your Judoon back to

your ships to wait. Then you and I go into the city to find

your man. Give us, what, let’s say forty-eight hours. That

gives us two days to gets results with some good old-

fashioned detective work. If we get no leads in forty-eight

hours, when your reinforcements arrive, then you do it

your way.’

The Doctor watched as the Judoon Commander

considered the proposal. It really was uncanny how like a

rhino a Judoon really was. The wide lipless mouth, the

rows of yellowing teeth, the two horns and flared nostrils,

and, perched on top of the head, two little comedy ears.

Not for the first time, he wondered what kind of world had

evolved a life form like the Judoon. One day he’d have to

find out. If he ever got the TARDIS back, he reminded

himself, bringing himself back to the present.

‘You and I go into the city alone?’ the Judoon asked.

‘Not scared are you?’ joked the Doctor.

‘Judoon are not frightened of anything,’ the alien

retorted. ‘I will accept your suggestion.’

The Doctor smiled, but then the Judoon continued to

speak.

‘But with one amendment. I will allow twenty-four

hours only for the two of us to complete the mission. I

will arrange the withdrawal of all Judoon.’

The Commander stepped out of the office to pass the

new orders on to the rest of the Judoon.

Golightly, who had been listening to the exchange from

behind his desk, jumped to his feet and came over to

congratulate the Doctor.

‘As soon as those creatures go, I can get the repair

teams in. You were right, Doctor. This is going to give us

a chance to get back on top of things.’

The Doctor didn’t look quite so happy. ‘Assuming my

new friend and I can make some progress in the next

twenty-four hours.’

Golightly sighed. ‘I was trying to forget about that bit,’

he confessed. ‘Where will you start?’

The Doctor pushed a hand through his unruly hair.

‘With the exploding man, I suppose. We need to find out

who he was.’

Nikki had hit the ground running. As soon as Mrs

Kellingham left the office, Nikki got on the phone to her

contact at police headquarters. The New Memphis Police

weren’t the most efficient police service in the sector and

much of the organisation was riddled with corruption, but

there were good men and women scattered through the

ranks and Janne Hoffenham was one of them. She was

also Nikki’s godmother.

In the difficult years since Nikki’s mother had died,

Janne had been the most important woman in Nikki’s life.

She had once been her father’s partner at work. When

Nikki’s dad had left the police to set up the detective

agency, Janne had remained in the force and she’d been a

useful contact over the years.

Janne had checked with the police computer and, as

Nikki had hoped, confirmed that there weren’t that many

blue-skinned pickpockets on the books. In fact there was

just one – Horat Deselup. Although concentrating on her

own case, Nikki couldn’t miss the opportunity to see if

Janne had heard from her father at all, but her tentative

question was met with an apologetic ‘no’.

Putting her growing anxiety about her father’s safety to

the back of her mind, Nikki set off for the neighbourhood

where Deselup was known to live. The police computer

didn’t have an exact address for the man, but it did have

details of a bar he was known to frequent. Stopping only

to pick up one of the fake IDs she hoped her father didn’t

know about, Nikki headed out.

At only seventeen, Nikki was hardly an expert on bars

but she didn’t need to have seen many to know that this

particular joint – the Black Hole – was not especially

upmarket. It was dark and gloomy and full of people who

didn’t seem overly bothered about either quality. The

decoration was primitive: simple wooden furniture, bare

wooden floor. Nikki was surprised that there wasn’t a

carpet of sawdust on the ground. A long wooden-topped

bar ran along the length of one wall, with dozens of optics

behind it. In the middle of the bar sat a gaudy, painted

glass clown full of coins – some kind of charity box

collection. Nikki noted with amusement that the punters

here seemed to treat the collection box as some kind of

good luck charm, dropping coins into it and then patting

the clown’s head.

Nikki ordered a cola and sat at a table near the door,

nursing her drink. She didn’t have to wait long. She

watched carefully as customers ordered drinks and chatted

to each other and noted that, periodically, the bar staff

would carry trays of drinks into a back room though a

wide swing door. When the door to this rear room was

open, Nikki had a fleeting glimpse of some card tables

picked out by low-hanging overhead spot lamps.

According to the police records her godmother had

accessed for her, gambling was Deselup’s favourite

occupation. If he wasn’t already inside at one of the card

tables, he was sure to arrive soon. Nikki was just

beginning to think about ways to get herself inside the

back room when the back door swung open and a couple

of players emerged. One of them had blue skin. He was a

tall thin man, with the long delicate fingers of a concert

pianist. He moved with grace, seeming to almost float

across the floor.

The blue-skinned man stopped at the bar to say

goodnight to the barman and dropped a couple of coins

into the charity box. Nikki took the opportunity to slip

outside ahead of him. It would be easier to tail him

undetected if she started ahead of him.

Once outside, she wandered over to a bus stop and

pretended to study the timetable. The printed sheet was

protected by a plastic case, just reflective enough for

Nikki to see the entrance to the bar behind her. A few

moments later, the doors pushed open and the blue-

skinned man emerged. He took off to the left, and Nikki

began to move too. Keeping to her own side of the road

she let him stay five or six paces ahead of her.

For five blocks they continued without incident. Nikki

noted that they were moving back towards the spaceport.

Suddenly she realised that the blue-skinned man had

disappeared from sight. How was that possible? He’d

been there a minute ago. Nikki quickly crossed the road to

the side where her man had been walking but there was no

sign of him. Had he doubled back? Was it possible that he

had spotted her?

Nikki turned around and went back over the route the

man had just passed. Suddenly someone grabbed her by

the arm and pulled her into a doorway.

‘Lost something?’ hissed a voice.

Nikki twisted her head to see the man holding her.

Even in the dim light, the blue skin was unmistakable. It

was Deselup.

‘Keep your eyes open,’ suggested the Doctor as he and

the Judoon Commander walked towards the taxi rank

outside the spaceport entrance.

‘For what?’ grunted the Judoon, who was still not

convinced that he was doing the right thing.

‘Anything,’ replied the Doctor.

Inside the massive terminals of the spaceport the

atmosphere was regulated, but out in the open the Doctor

was grateful for his heavy coat. It was cold, windy and

wet. The lights of the city twinkled in the rain, giving it a

fairy-tale ambience, but the Doctor wasn’t fooled for a

moment.

There hadn’t been much in the way of evidence from

the remains of the exploding man. His clothes were no

more than a few scraps of burnt material and there were

no surviving documents of any kind. They had been more

fortunate with witnesses, and a number of people had

given good descriptions of the man in the café. When the

Doctor had asked about the two other men at the table –

the white-haired twins in their dark suits – most of the

witnesses had rapidly and suspiciously suffered a

convenient amnesia. At least locals did. Off-worlders, who

had no prior knowledge of the pair, had been more

talkative and, although the ‘how’ remained a mystery, the

Doctor and his alien partner were both fairly sure about

who had been responsible for the man’s violent death.

‘But this murder is a local matter for local law

enforcement,’ the Judoon complained when the Doctor

explained his thinking. The Doctor shook his head firmly.

‘It’s all part of the bigger picture,’ the Doctor insisted.

‘Don’t leap to conclusions and don’t ignore anything.

That’s the secret of a great detective.’

‘Detective work is slow; justice should be swift,’

retorted the Judoon.

‘Don’t start that again,’ the Doctor urged him.

Armed with an image of the dead man from the

security cameras, he and the Judoon Commander had

talked to the passport and customs officer on duty in

Terminal 13 to see if anyone recognised him. The

imposing figure of the Judoon thrusting the printout of the

man under the nose of each customs officer was not a

great success. Having the massive horned head of an alien

looming over them had the unfortunate side effect of

causing sudden and complete memory loss. Twenty-year

customs veterans were left quivering wrecks after being

exposed to the demanding interrogation techniques of the

Judoon. Eventually, the Doctor intervened and his calmer,

less accusatory approach had eventually produced a result.

They had a name: Aroon Manish. They knew what

flight he had come in on. What they didn’t know was

where his luggage was.

‘Perhaps these brothers took it,’ suggested the Judoon

Commander. ‘We must locate them.’

The Doctor agreed and, after taking advice from

General Moret about how to go about things, they set off

for Police Headquarters.

‘Watch your backs there, Doctor,’ the security man

advised as he escorted them to the main entrance of the

spaceport.

‘You’re not suggesting we shouldn’t trust the police,

are you?’ grinned the Doctor. The General’s lack of reply

spoke volumes.

The Judoon Commander was less amused. ‘Law

enforcers must be honourable and honest,’ he insisted.

‘Of course they should,’ agreed the Doctor, ‘but in

places like New Memphis there are no guarantees.’

Not for the first time in her young life, Nikki was grateful

for the martial arts lessons that her father had signed her

up for at an early age. Keen that his daughter should grow

up able to defend herself, he had insisted that she start

lessons as soon as she could walk. And Nikki had taken to

the discipline like a duck to water. She had only allowed

herself to be grabbed and dragged into the dark doorway

because the coward had attacked without warning, but

now it was time to go on the offensive.

‘Why are you following me?’ hissed the voice. She

could hear the tension in his voice. He was scared. Why

would a man like this be scared of a seventeen-year-old

girl? Nikki tensed her muscles ready to make a move, but

held back for a moment, realising that this was an

opportunity.

‘Who said I was following you?’ she replied calmly,

interested to see his response.

He tightened his grip on her arms, which he held

behind her back. ‘Don’t treat me like an idiot, I know

when I’m being followed. Are you with the Widow?’

‘You think I’d tell you if I was,’ she replied haughtily.

Her ploy worked, and the man released her, pushing her

forward. She spun round to get a good look at her

assailant. If his voice had sounded scared a moment ago, it

was nothing to the expression on his face now.

‘You tell Yilonda I’m strictly freelance. I’m not taking

sides in no gang war,’ the blue-skinned man insisted, his

eyes wide with fear. ‘You got that? Make sure you tell

her!’ With that, he turned and ran off. He dashed right into

the road and managed to duck and dance his way between

the hooting traffic and then disappeared up an alley on the

far side.

Nikki grinned. That had been more successful than she

could have expected. She didn’t know what it all meant

yet but she was sure it would be useful intelligence in

time. In the meantime, she had something else to aid her

search. While the pickpocket had held her tight she had

turned the tables on him. Using skills that matched his

own, she had slipped a tiny tracking device into his jacket

pocket. She activated her wrist-puter and searched for the

signal. A blip announced the successful acquisition of the

signal, and a tiny blue dot appeared on the screen. The

blue-skinned man could run as much as he liked; Nikki

now knew his every move.

The gleaming tower that housed the Police HQ had

promised much, but the reality had been a crushing

disappointment. The Doctor and the Judoon Commander

had been passed from office to office, from waiting room

to waiting room, without actually seeing anything in the

way of a serving police officer. The civilian administrators

were polite but useless to the investigators. The Doctor

was beginning to lose his patience but, unsurprisingly, it

was the Judoon Commander who lost his temper first.

He jumped up from the seat where they’d been asked,

once again, to wait and thrust his massive head through

the small window behind which the latest receptionist was

sitting. Seeing the rhino-headed alien coming towards her,

the unfortunate girl had screamed and tried to jump out of

her own chair but she got tangled up in the wire from her

headset and fell back into her seat.

‘We must see an officer NOW!’ barked the Judoon.

‘We will not tolerate any further delays.’

‘And we will not tolerate alien police operating outside

their jurisdiction,’ added a new voice.

The Judoon and the Doctor both turned to see a non-

uniformed police officer coming to meet them. The

woman was fifty-something, dark haired and carrying a

little more weight than was recommended for a humanoid

of her height.

‘Detective Angie Corilli,’ she told them, thrusting out a

hand to shake. ‘And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t

intimidate the secretarial staff. You know how difficult it

is to recruit a kid who can actually file stuff? Come this

way.’

The Doctor was amused to see that even his alien

colleague was rendered speechless by this. The Judoon

Commander looked at him, and he shrugged before

walking in the direction the woman had indicated. They

followed her down a narrow corridor from which

numerous small offices could be accessed. The Judoon’s

wide shoulders brushed the walls, dislodging posters and

pictures as he passed.

Finally Corilli led them into her office. ‘Pardon the

mess,’ she muttered as she moved a pile of files off one of

the two guest chairs on one side of the desk, which itself

was all but covered with paperwork. She glanced up at the

Judoon who was wedged in the doorway. ‘I don’t think

these chairs are large enough for you,’ she said, a little

embarrassed.

‘I shall stand here, then,’ replied the Judoon with as

much dignity as he could muster. The Doctor, however,

happily plopped himself into the chair, swinging his legs

up to hang over the arm on one side.

‘Right then, tell us everything you know,’ he suggested.

Corilli laughed. ‘How long have you got?’ she joked.

The whole room shook as the Judoon in the doorway

stomped his feet. ‘Justice is swift. Not funny,’ he

announced.

‘You’ll have to excuse my friend,’ the Doctor told the

detective. ‘He’s a bit keen.’

‘I’ve worked with the type before,’ confessed Corilli.

The room shook again. Corilli looked over at the

Judoon with a pained expression. ‘Please don’t do that.

These are merely partition walls. It won’t take much to

bring the whole lot down.’

‘Then do not waste my time,’ warned the Judoon. ‘Tell

us about the human twins in the dark suits.’

‘The Walinski brothers – Uncle’s top goons.’

‘Uncle?’ repeated the Doctor. ‘Who’s “Uncle”?’

‘Bad news squared,’ replied the detective, reaching for

a phone. ‘Let me get someone in here who can tell you all

about him…’

The Casino was housed in a striking modern building at

the edge of the hotel district that ran in a thin strip like a

buffer between the spaceport and the rest of downtown

New Memphis. This was the tourist-trap part of town, an

area where bars, clubs and shops never closed. It was a

place of constant noise: people, music, traffic – a district

where darkness never fell.

Nikki loathed it. She was much happier in the dark and

grotty downtown backstreets, with their dangerous

shadows and endless rain. Here in the bright lights, Nikki

found the atmosphere electric, and not in a good way. It

felt like she was on a movie set; everyone was just a little

bit too happy, too garrulous, too excited. As far as Nikki

was concerned, it was as unnatural as the multicoloured

neon lights that adorned every building.

The Casino – or, to give it its full title, the New

Memphis Grand Casino and Gaming Hall – was lit up so

much that it was difficult to look at it for too long without

risking permanent damage to your eyes. It was a magnet

for anyone with adventure in their hearts and money in

their wallets, and the management happily opened its

doors to any, human and alien alike, who wished to spend

a little time and a lot of cash at any of the gaming tables

within. The only exception was the age rule. It was strictly

over twenty-ones only.

Nikki looked at her reflection in a shop window. She

was wearing her usual work clothes: a light jacket, old

jeans, sneakers. Her blonde hair was pulled back in a

simple bunch and a tea-cosy-like green hat sat on her

head. She wasn’t wearing any make-up to speak of and,

although she was carrying plenty of ID that would qualify

her to get inside, there was no way her current appearance

would match any of the fake identities. She glanced at the

wrist-puter again, and the blue flashing blip of light

confirmed that her quarry had entered the Casino. No ID

problem for him! Nikki sighed and turned away. She

needed to find another way in and quickly.

Corilli had summoned another cop to fill the Doctor

and the Judoon Commander in on the Walinski brothers

and their employer, the mysterious ‘Uncle’. Detective

Dantin was small and wiry, with a scruffy unshaven

appearance. Passing him in the street, you might mistake

him for a homeless vagrant rather than a police officer, but

Corilli assured her guests that Dantin was one of the best.

‘Ten years working organised crime in this city,’ Corilli

told them. ‘What he doesn’t know about Uncle isn’t worth

knowing.’

‘Except how to put the creep behind bars,’ grumbled

Dantin miserably. The Doctor wondered how many years

it had been since the man had last smiled; his face had an

expression of barely contained anger that looked pretty

permanent. He leant against the wall and folded his arms,

chewing on a toothpick.

‘So this Uncle… local Mr Big, is he?’ prompted the

Doctor, hoping to get the man talking again.

‘You could say that,’ replied Dantin, pulling the

toothpick from his mouth and flicking it, without success,

in the direction of Corilli’s overflowing bin. ‘Most cities

have a guy like him. Likes to think of himself as a

businessman, calls himself an entrepreneur. Which is

fancy language for crook, if you ask me. He has some

legit operations, of course, the Casino, a property

portfolio, that kind of thing, but that’s just a smokescreen

for the real stuff. Protection, drugs, smuggling, people-

trafficking… He has his fingers in pretty much every

criminal pie going. That’s why he’s the Uncle.’

‘And the brothers?’ The question rumbled out of the

Judoon’s mouth suddenly. The Doctor realised that

subconsciously both Corilli and Dantin had been

addressing themselves almost exclusively to him, as if by

not looking at the massive alien in the room they could

pretend he didn’t exist. The Doctor smiled to himself; he’d

heard of the elephant in the room, but rarely the rhino.

Dantin cleared his throat and made a visible effort to

look the Judoon in the eye as he spoke. Corilli looked

away, preferring to read some of the backed-up paperwork

on her desk.

‘The Walinski brothers. Albino twins. Human, not that

you’d notice. Cold, ruthless, violent, deadly.’

‘Sounds like all too many humans, if you ask me,’

commented the Doctor.

Dantin ignored the interruption. ‘They’re Uncle’s right-

hand men, his enforcers, his most loyal men.’

The Doctor frowned. ‘So what are Uncle’s top dogs

doing at the spaceport on a routine meet and greet?’ he

wondered. The question hung in the air for a second, and

then the Doctor provided his own answer. ‘Whatever else

it was, it wasn’t a routine meeting. Can’t have been.’

‘We will ask this Uncle why the brothers were at the

spaceport,’ suggested the Judoon Commander.

Dantin snorted. ‘Yeah, like that’s going to happen.’

The Doctor shot him a sharp look. ‘Why not take the

direct approach?’ he wondered. ‘Where do we find Uncle

then?’

The Doctor was amused to see the surprise on Dantin’s

face. It looked as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just

heard.

‘What are you going to do? Walk up to Uncle and ask

him to help you with your enquiries?’

‘Why not?’ grinned the Doctor.

Dantin shook his head sadly, clearly giving up on them.

‘The Grand Casino,’ he said simply. ‘Grab a taxi. Even the

off-planet ming-mongs that drive most of the taxis round

here know how to find the Casino.’

Corilli looked up as Dantin gave the visitors a mock

salute, then shuffled out of the office.

The Doctor got to his feet.

‘If you don’t mind, I am kinda busy,’ she said.

The Doctor nodded and thanked her for her time.

Keeping her eyes on their backs as he and the Judoon

disappeared down the corridor, Corilli reached for the

phone and dialled a stored number.

‘We may have a problem,’ she whispered into the

phone receiver urgently.

Nikki put on her best smile and tried to stand tall with

confidence – but it was far from easy. The uniform for the

female staff at the Casino had many features that were not

to Nikki’s taste, but the high-heeled shoes were definitely

her least favourite. Then there was the skirt that was so

short it could have doubled as a belt.

Nikki looked at herself in the mirror and took a deep

breath. With the costume – such as it was – and a serious

amount of make-up, she reckoned she could pass herself

off as one of the glamorous cocktail waitresses who

serviced the high-rollers. As long as she didn’t totter in the

heels too much and give herself away. Nikki pushed open

the door and set about playing her newly acquired role.

She hoped the poor girl she’d borrowed the uniform and

security pass from wouldn’t get into too much trouble.

She’d been keen enough to take Nikki’s money and, while

far from bright, she had clearly understood that this

opportunity to get a night off at double pay was something

she’d need to keep secret.

Out in the gaming halls, Nikki quickly realised she’d

made the right decision. Despite the almost indecent

clothing the girls wore, they seemed to be all but invisible.

The clients would snap their fingers and order drinks and

snacks, but they rarely gave the serving girls a second

glance, keeping their focus firmly on the gaming tables in

front of them. Nikki was quickly able to get the lay of the

land, identifying the discreetly positioned security gorillas

and the surveillance cameras.

There were five main gaming halls over two floors and

twice as many bars. An extensive behind-the-scenes area

made sure that everything ran smoothly and gave access

to kitchens, storerooms and a security suite. Access to the

first floor from the bottom was either by a breathtaking

wall-free elevator or by a spectacular escalator that

threaded through a clever artificial waterfall without

getting the visitor wet. Nikki also located some lifts

leading to the private upper floors from where Uncle ran

his entire operation. It had been impossible to keep her

wrist-puter on whilst wearing the staff uniform, but before

she had changed she had confirmed that her blue-skinned

friend was somewhere on the third floor. Somehow she

had to get up there too.

The Doctor had decided to take a more direct approach

than Nikki’s.

‘I think you should wait here,’ he said to the Judoon

Commander when they reached the impressive-looking

frontage of the Casino building. The Judoon looked for a

moment as if he might argue the point, but then he nodded

in agreement.

Leaving his alien partner to wait for him on the other

side of the street, the Doctor simply presented himself at

the main entrance.

‘I’d like to speak to Uncle,’ he said simply to the

doorman.

‘Go on, George, do as the man asks,’ said a familiar

voice. A moment later, Derek Salter appeared, wheeling

himself out through a pair of automatic doors that led to

the casino proper.

‘How goes the investigation?’ Salter asked the Doctor,

bringing his wheelchair to a halt.

‘Early days,’ replied the Doctor in a non-committal

manner.

‘Well, if you need to speak to Uncle, George here will

sort you out, won’t you, George?’

The doorman – George – nodded nervously and turned

to use an intercom.

‘I didn’t realise you and Uncle were old friends,’

commented the Doctor conversationally.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say we were that,’ replied Salter, ‘but I

occasionally take a few credits off the old man at his

tables. I’d call us acquaintances rather than friends. Be

seeing you.’

And with that cheery farewell, Salter wheeled off into

the night. George the doorman came across to the Doctor

and led him inside. As he passed through the automatic

doors, the Doctor cast one last glance over his shoulder at

the distant figure of the Judoon Commander, lurking in the

shadows on the far side of the street. He hoped the alien

law enforcer’s patience would hold out.

The Doctor was escorted through the gaming halls

towards the private lifts which would take him directly

into Uncle’s personal apartment. As he moved through the

gaming halls, the Doctor scanned the rooms, carefully

taking in the scene. One of the waitresses caught his eye

as she stumbled in her heels, and the Doctor put out a

hand to steady her. The girl blushed and thanked him in a

quiet voice and then turned quickly away without making

eye contact. The Doctor was puzzled by her body

language; the girl seemed unduly tense.

‘Problem, sir?’ asked the doorman, aware that the

Doctor had stopped walking. He followed the stranger’s

gaze and saw that he was looking at one of the waiting

staff. ‘Interesting uniforms, eh?’ he commented.

‘Look a bit chilly to me,’ commented the Doctor,

turning back to his escort. ‘ Allons-y, George, don’t want to

keep Uncle waiting, do we?’

Nikki hurried to a table and leant on it heavily. That had

been close. Why had the stranger looked at her like that?

Did he know something? Pulling herself together, she

looked back over shoulder at the new arrival being

escorted through the halls. He was humanoid, and dressed

in a slightly scruffy pinstriped suit, an outfit that might

have looked more respectable but for the sneakers on his

feet. He was following the doorman with his hands in his

pockets, walking casually but, she noted, looking around

him the whole time. Nikki’s late mother had been a

sensitive, but Nikki had never had any psychic twinges

herself, at least not until today. There was something

about the stranger, something deep and mysterious, that

was fascinating; he seemed to have an invisible aura that

drew her attention. She found herself moving across the

room on a parallel course, keeping pace with him as he

followed the doorman around the gaming tables.

She realised that he was being taken towards the

private lifts, exactly where she wanted to go herself. She

started clearing a table but continued to keep an eye on the

stranger. She watched carefully as the doorman used a

numerical keypad to call the lift. Automatically, Nikki

memorised the code and watched as the man stepped into

the lift. The doors began to close and her heart skipped a

beat as he gave a little wave just before the doors closed.

The doorman thought the wave was meant for him and

gave a half-hearted salute in return, but Nikki knew that

the stranger had been looking directly at her. How had he

known she was looking? Did he suspect she didn’t belong

there? And, more importantly, was he going to give her

away?

When the doors opened, the Doctor was not surprised to

be met by Uncle in person. Introducing yourself to a crime

lord by demanding a face-to-face visit without warning

was always going to appeal to his curiosity. What did

surprise the Doctor was Uncle himself. The Doctor had

met a lot of powerful men, women and aliens in his nine

hundred-plus years of travelling, but Uncle wasn’t the

stereotypical megalomaniac that he might have been. In

fact, he was charm personified: a smallish man in his

sixties, with snow-white hair and a neatly trimmed grey

beard.

The apartment itself, although expensively decorated

and furnished, was tasteful and subtle rather than the over-

the-top nightmare it might have been. The colours were

muted, and sympathetic spot lighting made even the large

rooms feel intimate. Works of art from all over the

universe were displayed on the walls and in glass cases.

Uncle had greeted the Doctor like an old friend,

shaking his hand and inviting him to take tea. He led the

Doctor through to a sitting room where a servant was

quietly setting down a tray containing a teapot, china, and

a selection of cakes. A woman with long blonde hair,

dressed in a pretty white cocktail dress, was sitting in one

of the armchairs.

‘My daughter, Hope,’ Uncle introduced her with a wave

of his arm. The young woman, who the Doctor judged to

be in her thirties, got up to greet him. Her hand, when he

took it to shake, felt tiny. She seemed out of place in the

world of Uncle the crime lord, and the Doctor wondered

what, if anything, she knew of her father’s criminal

activities.

The three of them sat and took tea, making polite

conversation about the weather and the state of affairs at

the spaceport. He seemed to know that the Doctor had

only recently arrived on New Memphis and expressed the

hope that he hadn’t travelled through the new and troubled

Terminal 13. The Doctor assured him he’d not been that

unlucky. He drained his cup and, placing it carefully back

on the saucer, decided to get the conversation on track.

As he explained that he was working as a consultant to

both the spaceport authorities and the police, Hope sat up

and took a real interest in the topic at hand, for the first

time in their conversation.

‘Really?’ she exclaimed. ‘How exciting. Much more

exciting than my class of seven-year-olds.’

Uncle shot an annoyed look in the direction of his

daughter. ‘Hope is a teacher,’ he explained to his visitor.

‘But apart from her job she doesn’t get out much. She’s

always been frail, and the pollution in the city plays havoc

with her asthma.’

The Doctor noted a slight narrowing of Hope’s eyes

and wondered for a moment if she was going to say

something. When nothing was forthcoming, he continued.

‘I’m interested in tracking down a couple of your

employees – the Walinski brothers?’ he told Uncle. Uncle

held the Doctor’s gaze for a moment.

‘Tall chaps, white hair, smart suits, twins…’ continued

the Doctor.

Uncle turned to his daughter. ‘I suspect we’re going to

be talking boring business matters, my dear, why don’t

you leave us to it? No need for you to feign interest in

what will doubtless be tedious in the extreme for you.’

The Doctor expected the girl to protest, but to his

surprise she merely nodded demurely and got to her feet.

‘If you gentlemen will excuse me then, I’ll take my

leave of you,’ she said, smiling sweetly. Uncle watched as

she left the room.

‘Lovely girl,’ he commented after she had gone, ‘the

spit of her mum but not half the brains.’ Uncle turned back

to look at the Doctor. ‘And both totally innocent and

ignorant about my business. Which is the way I want it to

remain.’ There was an undeniable undertone to his words.

For the first time, the Doctor was getting a glimpse of

the real Uncle – the vicious crime lord lurking under the

charming exterior.

Nikki stepped into the corridor from the private lift and

breathed a sigh of relief as she realised that it was empty.

She moved down the corridor and, hearing voices from

behind one door, she hurried past it. Further along the

corridor she came across what looked like a waiting area.

There were a number of sofas and armchairs and low

tables with magazines.

Sitting in one of the chairs, with his back towards

Nikki, was the blue-skinned man. As she watched he got

to his feet and began pacing. Nikki drew back against the

wall, watching him carefully. He pulled out a

communicator and dialled a number.

‘It’s me. I’m being jerked around here. I was about to

put a deal to Uncle when he suddenly decided he had

another more urgent meeting. I’ve been waiting here

ages.’

Whoever was at the end of the line must have been

speaking because Deselup shut up for a bit. He continued

pacing, and Nikki had to quickly duck down behind one

of the large sofas to avoid being seen. While there, she

pulled off the painful high-heeled shoes and rubbed her

sore ankles.

‘I’m going to give him a bit longer, but if he doesn’t

show me a bit of respect,’ continued the blue-skinned

man, ‘I’ll just go to Yilonda and see if she’ll pay. She

already put someone on my tail.’ With that, the man ended

his call and sat back down in the nearest seat.

Unfortunately, it was the sofa Nikki was hiding behind.

She felt it push back under his weight, shifting it further

back towards the wall, squashing and trapping her.

Without his daughter in the room, Uncle had become a

completely different man. The Doctor began to understand

now why so many people were afraid of him.

‘What do you want to know about the Walinski

brothers, then?’ Uncle demanded without further niceties.

The Doctor explained about the sightings of them at the

spaceport and the mysterious death of the exploding man.

‘Was there anything to link my men to this death?’

asked Uncle bluntly.

‘They were seen with the victim,’ the Doctor explained.

‘They shared a table with him in a spaceport café.’

‘Hardly suspicious, though, is it?’ Uncle was on his

feet. ‘Don’t waste my time, Doctor. I don’t know what

you thought you were doing coming here on a fishing trip,

but you have to get up a lot earlier to catch me out. My

men were at the spaceport to meet an old friend who never

showed up. They may well have spent some time in a café

drinking coffee. They wasted the whole morning. People

in my business don’t like wasting time.’

The Doctor stood up and looked Uncle directly in the

eyes. ‘Which business is that then? The legit one or all

your criminal activities?’ he asked levelly.

Uncle just laughed. ‘Get out of here before I let my

lawyers loose on you for defamation.’

The blue-skinned man had finally run out of patience.

Nikki watched him stalk away back to the lifts and was

then able to emerge from her hiding place. Before she

could set off in pursuit of Deselup, though, another door

opened. Nikki turned and ran barefoot in the opposite

direction, hoping no one would see her.

The corridor curved around, quickly taking her out of

sight but to be sure she began trying the doors. Finding

one unlocked, she yanked it open and tumbled inside.

It was someone’s bedroom – a woman’s if the decor

was anything to go on. The room was all pink and white

with soft furnishings. The carpet was thick pile and the

bed was covered with a soft velvety bedspread. At the

window, enormous braided curtains hung from just under

the ceiling to floor level. These were tied back at each side

of the window forming an ornate frame for the view out

over the city.

Curiosity getting the better of her, Nikki began to look

around. There was a massive dressing table covered with

make-up and jewellery boxes and a huge mirror

surrounded by individual light bulbs like a theatrical

dressing room. There was one thing, however, that looked

totally out of place. It was a small piece of technical kit

about the size of a shoe. It had some buttons, dials, a small

screen and a retractable aerial. Was it some sort of control

device?

Suddenly in the mirror she saw the door beginning to

open. She had seconds to look around for a hiding place.

Luckily, there was room behind the curtain.

Nikki held her breath as she heard the door creak open.

There was no way to see anything in the room – all she

could do was listen and hope that whoever it was just

passed through. She strained to hear what was happening,

cursing the thick carpet which muffled all footsteps. She

heard the door close with a click but had the visitor come

in or not?

Without warning, she got her answer as someone or

something grabbed the curtain just above her head. Before

she could react, the whole curtain, rail and all, was ripped

from the wall and thrown aside by a creature unlike

anything she had ever seen before. It was a giant

humanoid alien with the massive twin-horned head of a

rhinoceros.

Later, Nikki would be furious at the way she had

reacted, but in the heat of the moment there was only one

thing she could do. She screamed.

When the Doctor reached the lift doors, they opened

for him. He stepped in, but as soon as the doors began to

close he jumped out again and hurried off along the

corridor. With a bit of luck, it would be a moment or two

before Uncle’s security staff noticed his disappearance.

Just enough time for a quick poke around behind the

scenes. When he had emerged from his meeting with

Uncle, he had caught a glimpse of a figure running off

down the corridor. He couldn’t be certain, but he was

fairly sure it was a woman wearing the house waitress

uniform – almost certainly the young girl he’d seen in the

gaming hall having balance problems with her shoes.

Taking the same route he’d seen the running girl take,

the Doctor found himself walking down a curved corridor.

A muffled scream suddenly sounded from somewhere

close by. The sound was choked off in its prime, but the

Doctor had heard enough to trace its source to one of the

nearest rooms. Whoever had screamed was silent now.

The Doctor pushed open the door to the room from

which the half-scream had seemed to come. To his

surprise, the Judoon Commander was in the room, with a

hand covering the mouth of the girl he had seen

downstairs. She was struggling to get free, but the Judoon

had a good grip on her.

‘Be quiet,’ the Judoon was saying urgently. ‘I do not

wish to be discovered either!’

‘Might be a bit late for that,’ commented the Doctor,

announcing his presence.

The girl and the Judoon both turned their heads to look

at him.

‘Doctor! What are you doing here?’ exclaimed the

Judoon.

‘I could ask you the same thing,’ replied the Doctor.

‘You can let her go now,’ he added. ‘She’s not going to

scream again, are you?’ He looked at the girl and gave her

an encouraging smile.

The Judoon hesitated for a moment, just long enough to

give the impression that what he was about to do was of

his own volition rather than following the Doctor’s orders,

and then released the girl.

‘Who are you people?’ she demanded.

‘I’m the Doctor,’ the Doctor began brightly, ‘and this is,

er…’ The Doctor stopped, for once in his life lost for

words.

‘I am Judoon Commander Rok Ma,’ grunted the

Judoon, rescuing the floundering Doctor. ‘Galactic Law

Enforcer.’

‘You’re cops!’

The Doctor shrugged, awkwardly. ‘More sort of

investigators,’ he explained.

Nikki was relieved; at least they were on the right side,

even if they were a little strange. She introduced herself

and told them that she too was an investigator.

‘I found something in here, something suspicious,’ she

told them, showing them the control device she’d found

earlier. ‘It doesn’t look like it belongs here.’

The man who called himself the Doctor had slipped a

pair of dark-rimmed spectacles onto his face and was

examining the device with interest.

‘What is it for?’ wondered the Judoon.

‘There’s a time delay on it,’ the Doctor told them, ‘and

whatever it is, it’s about to go off.’

‘Can’t you switch it off?’ Nikki asked.

‘No time,’ replied the Doctor, throwing the device onto

the bed. ‘Get down!’

The three of them took what cover they could as the

Doctor called out the countdown.

‘Five… four… three… two… one!’

Nikki wrapped her arms around her head, tucked

herself into a ball and tensed, ready for something terrible

to happen. For a long moment there was nothing but

silence.

‘That was a bit disappointing,’ commented the Doctor

sadly.

Suddenly an alarm began to ring, an instant clanging

bell that was impossible to ignore.

‘Either we’ve been discovered or that’s the fire alarm,’

the Doctor mused. ‘Us. Fire. I think we should… get out

of here. C’mon, run!’

In the corridor, the reason for the alarm quickly became

evident. Flames were bursting out of the room in which

the Doctor had met Uncle, and thick billowing smoke was

filling the corridor. There was no way to get to the lifts.

‘We need to find another way out of here,’ shouted the

Doctor.

The Judoon pushed open a door. ‘Stairs,’ he announced.

‘How did you know they were there?’ asked Nikki

incredulously as they started to run down the stairs.

‘My ship scanned the building before I teleported in,’

explained the Judoon Commander.

‘You’ve got a teleport?’ Nikki was fascinated. ‘Can’t

you beam us all out of here then?’

The alien Judoon didn’t break stride or turn to look at

her. ‘No,’ he said simply.

‘Oh, you haven’t, have you?’ groaned the Doctor. The

Judoon looked at him impassively. ‘You have,’ the Doctor

went on. ‘You’ve sent your ship back into orbit. It’s out of

range.’ He brightened. ‘Oh well, always look on the bright

side – no more Judoon teleporting in. Let’s just hope we

can get out.’

The trio reached the ground floor as he spoke,

emerging into a scene of total chaos. The alarm was

louder here, and it became immediately clear that the fire

in the private apartments was not the only one. Thick

black smoke filled the air, and a large area at the side of

one of the gaming rooms was a mass of roaring flames.

Screaming, panicking people were running for the exits,

pushing each other out of the way in an effort to get out. A

number of the staff were as frightened as the punters, but a

few were trying to use emergency fire extinguishers to

fight the fire.

The Doctor hurried to help, grabbing an extinguisher

and beginning to aim the foam at the flames. He turned

and saw that Nikki had turned her attention to the

frightened people, helping them find their way through the

chaos to the emergency exits. The Judoon Commander,

however, was just standing like a statue, watching the

chaos all around him. Was it possible the giant alien was

afraid?

‘Do something useful,’ the Doctor shouted at the alien.

‘This conflagration is containable,’ the Judoon roared

back at the Doctor. ‘I have alerted local emergency

services.’

‘Bully for you,’ the Doctor replied. ‘But while we’re

waiting for Fireman Sam, people could lose their lives.

We need to help.’ The Doctor looked around, trying to

make out what was happening. The smoke was getting

quite dense now.

‘There are people trapped over there,’ the Doctor

observed, waving an arm towards an area cut off from the

rest of the room by a wall of flame. The Judoon looked in

the direction the Doctor was indicating and then, without a

moment’s hesitation, he picked up a heavy gaming table

and threw it down across the flames. For a moment the

table acted like a blanket and muffled the flames. The

quartet of gamblers who had been trapped hurried across

the makeshift bridge to safety. The Judoon hauled the last

of them clear as the table began to smoke and, seconds

later, the flames returned, ripping through the wooden

table top and reducing it to cinders.

The room was clearing now. Most of the public had

escaped, leaving a handful of Casino staff fighting the fire

alongside the Doctor and the Judoon Commander. Sirens

roared from outside and soon they were joined by a

professional fire-fighting crew. A powerful vacuum device

began removing the smoke and numerous hoses began

soaking the flames. The Doctor and the Judoon stepped to

one side, with some relief, and let the trained fire-fighters

take over. They carefully made their way through the

abandoned chairs and tables of the gaming hall to the

foyer. Here groups of people clustered nervously,

recounting their individual stories of escape and checking

their numbers. A few of them were still clutching

gambling chips and beginning to ask about getting them

cashed.

Nikki was perched on the main reception desk waiting

for them.

‘What caused it?’ she wondered out loud as they

walked over to join her.

‘Incendiary device,’ came the answer, but neither the

Doctor nor the Judoon had provided it.

From out of the still-smoking Casino, the figure of

Uncle appeared. His face was black, but from anger rather

than the smoke. ‘Someone set off a firebomb in my

Casino!’

‘Who would do a thing like that?’ mused the Doctor.

‘That damn Widow woman,’ spat Uncle, furiously. ‘But

she’s gone too far this time.’

The Doctor looked around. The fire-fighters seemed to

have got the fire under control.

‘Is everyone safe?’ he asked.

A pained expression replaced the look of fury on

Uncle’s features.

‘Hope!’ he exclaimed. ‘She was in the apartment but…

I’ve not seen her.’

The Doctor was already running in the direction of the

stairwell.

‘Wait outside,’ he shouted over his shoulder. ‘I’ll be

back in a jiffy!’

The Doctor took the stairs two at a time. The fire seemed

to have been contained on the ground floor but it was

possible that no one knew about the fire in the private

apartments.

He burst back into the corridor where the smoke was

dissipating. When he approached the site of the fire, he

realised that the automatic emergency sprinklers had done

their job. Downstairs the fire had been too widespread, but

up here in the smaller rooms the flames had been

contained and snuffed out.

The Doctor stepped into the room where he’d met

Uncle and crossed the sodden carpet. Looking up, he

noticed something attached to one of the light fittings.

Pulling the sonic screwdriver from his jacket pocket, he

fired a blast of sound into the air. The little black box fell

into his outstretched hand.

‘Ouch!’ It was still hot. The Doctor dropped it and it

continued to smoulder on the carpet. He quickly adjusted

the screwdriver’s settings and gave the box another dose.

This time the little firebomb behaved itself and shut down.

The Doctor bent down to examine it. There was

something familiar about the design of the unit, something

he knew he should recognise, but for the moment it eluded

him.

He heard movement in the corridor and remembered

that he was here looking for someone. He ran out into the

corridor and caught a glimpse of white clothing

disappearing around the corner.

‘Wait!’ he cried and ran after the figure.

A moment later he reached the lifts, where the figure

was revealed to be Uncle’s daughter. She was stabbing a

finger at the lift controls with determination and little

patience. She was coughing a little but other than that she

seemed unhurt.

‘I don’t think the lifts are working right now.’

Hope jumped at the sound of his voice.

‘What are you doing here, creeping around?’ she

complained. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

‘Sorry,’ the Doctor apologised, ‘I didn’t mean to scare

you. In fact I came to, well, rescue you. From the fire…’

‘A knight in shining armour!’ she smiled.

‘More of a brown suit, really, but I suppose beggars

can’t be choosers,’ replied the Doctor, returning her smile.

‘I found this in my room,’ Hope continued, showing

him something she had in her hand. The Doctor realised

that it was the control device they’d found earlier.

‘Let me see,’ he murmured, holding his hand out. She

passed it over and he took a closer look.

Looking at it again the Doctor made the connection to

the similar box he’d just found in Uncle’s meeting room –

the firebomb that had started the conflagration. They were

of the same design, a linked pair. A firebomb and a

detonation device.

‘Do you know what it is?’ Hope wondered.

The Doctor nodded, as he led Hope towards the stairs.

‘It’s the signal device that just set off these firebombs.’

‘Firebombs!’ she exclaimed, looking around fearfully.

‘It’s OK,’ he reassured her. ‘It’s all under control.’

‘How many bombs were there?’ she asked, nervously.

‘There was at least one more, downstairs, but it’s been

dealt with.’ He produced the sonic screwdriver and zapped

the control box. ‘And now if there are any more hidden

around here they won’t go off,’ he assured her.

He led her towards the stairs. ‘Where did you say you

found this?’ he asked her as they walked.

‘Back there,’ Hope told him, waving rather imprecisely

back towards her room. ‘I saw someone drop it.’

‘Really?’

Hope nodded vigorously. ‘Is it a clue? Will it help catch

whoever did this?’ she asked hopefully.

The Doctor just shrugged. ‘You never know,’ he told

her. ‘So tell me what you saw.’

‘There was a man, he was lurking in my room, doing

something with that box. When he saw me, he dropped it,

pushed past me and ran off. Not long after that the fire

alarms went off,’ she recalled.

‘And would you recognise the man again?’ wondered

the Doctor.

Hope stopped and looked at him with wide eyes. ‘Of

course I would. He had blue skin!’

* * *

Uncle was overjoyed when the Doctor emerged from the

still-smoking Casino with Hope. The anger was all gone

now, replaced with a deep gratitude. The Doctor felt a

little uncomfortable, but realised that it might be useful to

be owed a favour by such a powerful man.

‘How can I ever thank you?’ Uncle asked him.

The Doctor paused. ‘I’ll let you know,’ he told the

crime lord and moved off towards the Judoon who was

standing nearby with Nikki. She’d obviously managed to

retrieve her own clothes and had got rid of the Casino

uniform. She was now deep in conversation with the

Judoon Commander, comparing notes.

‘This girl has information that might aid us,’ the Judoon

announced as the Doctor joined them.

‘Looks like the case I’m working is linked to your

exploding man thing,’ Nikki said brightly. ‘Maybe we can

help each other out?’

‘I thought private detectives liked to work alone?’ the

Doctor observed.

‘Not me,’ Nikki replied. ‘I prefer to work in a team.

Usually I’m partnering Dad. It’s his detective agency.’

‘Then we will work with your father,’ rumbled the

Judoon. ‘This is dangerous work for a young female.’

‘What’s with the dinosaur here?’ retorted Nikki,

affronted. ‘For your information, my dad’s on another

case right now, so it’s me or nothing.’

The Doctor stepped between them. ‘I’m sure we can all

work together,’ he told them, grinning. ‘Three heads are

better than one. And my head’s gotta be worth more than

one on its own. So that’s at least four…’

‘Doctor!’ the Judoon interrupted him. ‘Just tell us what

happened with Uncle’s daughter. Did you find anything

else in there?’

The Doctor frowned. ‘I’m not sure,’ he confessed and

told his new partners about the conversation he had just

had with Uncle’s daughter.

‘The prime suspect for these firebombs appears to be

this blue-skinned man,’ the Judoon Commander stated.

Nikki shook her head. ‘No, that’s not right,’ she

insisted. ‘Deselup’s a pickpocket, not an arsonist. And

anyway I followed him here tonight – he didn’t have any

bombs with him then, I’m sure of it.’

The Doctor pulled a face. ‘I suppose Hope must have

been mistaken about what she saw.’

‘We’ll just have to track Deselup down and ask him

ourselves,’ Nikki suggested.

The Doctor was deep in thought. The Walinski brothers

had been at the spaceport for a reason, he was sure about

it. The exploding man had been killed, but that couldn’t

have been their prime mission. No, they must have been

there for something else. Something the man who’d died

was meant to give them.

‘But he didn’t give it to them because he didn’t have

it!’ the Doctor concluded his analysis out loud. Nikki and

the Judoon Commander just looked at him as if he was

mad. Quickly the Doctor outlined his theory.

‘The man who died was meant to deliver something to

the Walinski brothers,’ explained the Doctor. ‘Probably

something to do with that Invisible Assassin. But when the

moment came he couldn’t deliver the, well, whatever it

is.’

‘Because ol’ Deselup had taken it from his pocket,’

Nikki concluded, following the Doctor’s thinking. ‘No

wonder he was nervous,’ she added.

The Doctor nodded. ‘That’s why he was here – to try

and do a deal on the whatever it is that he purloined from

the man who died. He must have seen the Walinski

brothers with the victim at the spaceport and put two and

two together.’

‘We need to speak to this pickpocket,’ the Judoon

rumbled. ‘How are we going to find him?’

‘Oh that’s no problem,’ announced Nikki holding up

her wrist-puter. ‘I planted a tracker on him,’ she told them

proudly, ‘so wherever he is in the city, I can find him.

Shall we go?’

It was raining again, a light persistent rain that entirely

failed to make the city feel any cleaner. The dark shadows

remained and, as the mismatched trio of investigators

walked along the streets, they were aware of suspicious

glances coming their way from all directions. It was a

hostile environment, where passers-by dropped their

heads and hurried along without making eye contact with

any stranger. As they walked, Nikki filled in the Doctor

and the Judoon Commander about the recent history of the

city.

‘It’s a mess,’ she confessed. ‘It sort of grew without

proper planning so it’s a real mixture of styles, all sorts of

buildings all jammed on top of each other.’

‘According to our scans ninety-eight per cent of the

planetary surface is undeveloped,’ the Judoon told them.

‘That’s cos no one’s interested in the planet itself,’

Nikki pointed out. ‘All this,’ she waved at the city around

her, ‘all this is here because of the spaceport. That’s why

it’s crammed in.’

‘So who’s this Widow woman, then?’ asked the Doctor,

recalling Uncle’s reaction to the incendiaries.

‘A place like this is a breeding ground for crime. That’s

what Dad says anyway.’ Nikki grinned. ‘Good for those of

us in the private investigation business but tough on the

city sometimes. It’s like there’s two cities in one, really.

There’s the legal one, with the City Council and the Police

Service and the Spaceport Authority, and then there’s a

whole other world, an underground. And that’s ruled by

the criminal gangs.’

Nikki explained that Uncle had been the kingpin in the

city for as long as anyone could remember. ‘Apparently,

he started out on the street but worked his way up the

criminal ladder. Eventually, he killed the previous gang

leader and took over. Since then he’s ruled with an iron

fist. Nothing criminal goes on without Uncle’s

organisation knowing about it. The joke around here is

that his gang is more efficient than the City Council!’

‘That is anarchy,’ complained the Judoon.

‘Lawbreakers should face justice.’

‘Yeah, well, if we had an army of blokes like you,

maybe they would,’ replied Nikki.

‘Don’t even think about it!’ warned the Doctor.

The Judoon shook his massive head. ‘This is outside

my jurisdiction. My only concern is to apprehend the

Invisible Assassin.’

‘And when we catch up with our light-fingered blue-

skinned friend we’ll be a step closer to achieving that,’

promised the Doctor.

‘Trouble is, Uncle’s not the man he used to be,’ Nikki

continued her explanation. ‘There’s a new organisation in

town. They’re called the Widow’s Gang. About eighteen

months ago, this mystery woman appeared on the scene,

linking up some of the minor gangs into a super-gang

powerful enough to take on Uncle. She took advantage of

the fact that Uncle had put a lot of noses out of joint over

the years.’

‘Is that literally or metaphorically?’ wondered the

Doctor.

‘Both. Let’s face it, in Uncle’s line of work you’re

going to make enemies. But until the Widow came along,

all his enemies hated each other as much as they hated

him, if not more. The Widow changed that. She made

them see their antipathy towards Uncle as common

ground and she built on that.’

‘But who is this Widow?’ demanded the Judoon

Commander.

Nikki shrugged. ‘That’s the thing. No one knows

anything save her name – Madame Yilonda. She’s a

mystery. She just appeared out of nowhere. Even after

eighteen months, there’s no more information about her,

not even what she looks like. For all we know, she could

be an alien like you!’ Nikki looked at the Judoon again

and shook her head. ‘Maybe not like you,’ she corrected

herself.

‘Someone must know something,’ the Doctor pointed

out.

‘Well if they do, they’re not saying.’ Nikki was looking

at her wrist-puter. ‘Deselup’s stopped moving,’ she

announced.

‘So where is he?’ the Judoon Commander asked.

‘In there!’ she said triumphantly. She pointed to a

brightly lit building across the road. ‘I should have

known,’ she added.

‘Why?’ asked the Doctor.

‘Because the Spa is where everyone says you’ll find the

Widow’s Web.’

The Doctor nodded and shot a look at the Judoon.

‘Fancy a sauna? It’ll do wonders for your skin!’

Inside the Spa, the blue-skinned man was looking around

nervously. Deselup was a loner, used to keeping away

from the gangs as much as possible. His only real contacts

with the wider criminal community were the fences who

transformed the valuable items he acquired into hard cash.

The gangs were dangerous territory, full of paranoia,

suspicion and double-dealing; Deselup had always kept

well clear of it all.

The incident at the spaceport had changed all that. He’d

seen the newsfeeds’ coverage of the mysterious death, and

when they had flashed an image of the dead man on

screen his memory flashed too. He had always had a good

memory for faces and he recognised the man instantly. He

had been one of his victims this morning at the spaceport.

He had taken a left-luggage reclaim chip from him, but

with the chaos at the spaceport this morning he had not

had the chance to discover what treasure had been left in

the locker by the now deceased visitor. Seeing what had

happened to the man himself, he wasn’t entirely sure now

that he wanted to know. But someone would, he was sure.

The presence of the Walinski brothers suggested that

Uncle might have an interest so, having made sure the

chip itself was secure, Deselup had ventured into Uncle’s

domain to see if he could secure a price for the chip.

Uncle, however, had treated him like dirt, which

annoyed the pickpocket. He might only be a street thief in

Uncle’s eyes, but there was no excuse for dismissing him

so casually. He’d been asked to wait, while more

important visitors were entertained. At first he had

accepted it, but the longer he had waited the more the

anger at his treatment had built. Finally he had snapped.

Uncle could rot. There were other people in town who

might pay for the chip, of that he was sure. For a start

there was the Widow. She’d sent that girl to tail him

earlier, hadn’t she? The Widow would pay good money

for the chip and whatever it would give access to in that

locker. Terminal 13 might be in complete lockdown at the

moment, but eventually things would return to normal and

the Widow could then use the reclaim chip to pick up the

prize – whatever it was! Confident that the Widow would

pay handsomely where Uncle had failed, he had headed

directly to the Spa, with a grin on his face.

That had been before he had been admitted to the

Widow’s base itself. Situated in basement levels below the

Spa, it was a dark and creepy place, a location lacking in

atmosphere that instantly drained him of every vestige of

the confidence he had been feeling.

In one of the early expansions of the city, there had

been a fledgling underground train system, now long

abandoned and, for the most part, forgotten. Here in one

of the old stations the Widow had made her nest. She

shared her domain with rats, cockroaches and spiders and

kept the place in semi-darkness.

Deselup shivered as a something scuttled and squeaked

in the shadows.

‘Don’t worry,’ a sultry voice surprised him, ‘we keep

them well fed.’

Deselup spun round as a figure stepped forward from

the darkness. It was a woman. She was dressed in a

figure-hugging, low-cut black dress that emphasised every

curve of her perfectly proportioned body, and she had a

neat black bob of hair framing a ghostly pale face. Her

lipstick was a vivid, dark shade of red, and her eyes were

all but concealed behind huge blue-tinged shades.

‘I have something you might be interested in,’ he told

the woman, coming directly to the point.

The woman looked him up and down coolly. ‘Really?

You surprise me,’ she told him.

‘I don’t know exactly what it is,’ he continued, ‘but it

must be worth a small fortune.’

The woman said nothing. Deselup started to sweat,

despite the cool temperature in this underground lair.

‘Whatever it is, Uncle wants it,’ he stammered, playing

his trump card.

To his relief it worked. The mention of Uncle’s name

had an immediate effect on the Widow. She took a step

closer and stood next to him, laying an arm across his

shoulder.

‘Why didn’t you say so to start with?’ she asked him, in

a friendlier tone. ‘Tell me more…’

The Spa was a place of peace and relaxation, its one

purpose to be an oasis of calm spirituality in the beating

heart of the naked city. It was a place designed to be a

haven where the harsh realities of life in New Memphis

could be forgotten. It was not a venue where violence was

either expected or welcome. It was therefore not prepared

in any way, shape or form for the arrival of a Judoon

Commander, brandishing a weapon in each hand and

crashing, literally, through the double glass doors leading

to the reception atrium.

The Judoon Commander, following the Doctor’s

suggestion to the letter, flicked off his translation unit and

barked at the terrified customers in his native tongue.

‘Ra, Ho, Bo, No, Ho-So, Ro,’ he intoned, each clipped

syllable emerging like a bullet from a rapid-firing machine

gun.

The clientele at the Spa were terrified. The Judoon

reactivated his translation unit and addressed the cowering

humans who trembled in front of him.

‘Under Galactic Law, I order that you give up the entity

known as Horat Deselup,’ he intoned gravely.

One man, dressed in a fluffy towelling gown and

wearing thick-soled flip-flops, managed to find his voice.

‘I think you might be in the wrong building,’ he

stammered. Then, as an afterthought, he added, ‘Sir.’

Outside the Spa entrance, the Doctor and Nikki waited

in the shadows.

‘How long do we give him?’ asked Nikki.

‘I reckon he’ll have made an impact by now,’ suggested

the Doctor. ‘Follow me.’ He led the way into the building.

As they expected, everyone in the foyer was looking in

the direction of the Judoon, who was now barking out a

long list of what Nikki presumed were genuine galactic

laws that the Spa clients and management were in danger

of breaking. The Doctor nodded at the damage that the

Judoon had caused when he had made his entrance.

Amongst the rubble of what had been the doorway, Nikki

could see that the Judoon had cleverly managed to take

out the security camera that would normally record the

image of all visitors. Keeping close to the wall, and

making sure everyone continued to be occupied by the

antics of the Judoon Commander, the Doctor and Nikki

reached the lifts. The floor indicator showed only three

floors above, but the Doctor applied the sonic screwdriver

and soon had access to the hidden lower levels. The doors

of the lift slid open, and the Doctor and Nikki jumped

inside, confident that no one had noticed them.

The doors of the lift opened again to reveal the dark

and dusty old underground station. ‘Just like the old White

City,’ the Doctor muttered to himself with a grin. ‘I love

old railway stations. Never know what you’re going to

find in them. Blokes worshipping old books and fighting

over water, giant robotic yeti. Of course, sometimes it’s

just men with guns…’ His voice trailed off.

‘What sort of guns?’ asked Nikki, who was walking

behind him and cannoned into his back when he stopped

suddenly.

‘Those sort of guns,’ said the Doctor and stepped to one

side to show Nikki the man standing in front of them

holding a massive gun in each hand.

The man was not tall, but what he lacked in height he

made up for in width. He was very large and managed to

make his smart suit look as if it had been purchased for a

man half his size. His puffy face was impassive, with

blunt features and no hair. His eyes were invisible, hidden

behind trendy shades.

When he spoke, it was in a surprisingly quiet voice that

was almost a whisper, but there was nothing gentle about

it. It was a deathly voice, a gravelly, husky voice that

made every utterance sound like a threat. ‘The Widow will

see you now,’ he said simply and jerked the guns in the

direction he wanted them to move.

The giant gunman herded Nikki and the Doctor into a

room where the Widow was waiting perched, cross-legged

on an incongruous leather sofa.

‘I am Madame Yilonda,’ she introduced herself,

without moving from her semi-prone position, ‘and I don’t

like people sneaking around my property.’

Nikki stepped forward. ‘We didn’t want to bother you,

we know you’re busy. We’re just looking for someone.’

‘And who would that be?’ the woman asked, shifting

lightly on the sofa and making her curves even more

obvious. Nikki glanced at the Doctor but he didn’t seem to

have noticed.

‘A man called Deselup. A pickpocket. Blue-skinned?’

answered Nikki, making her last response more of a

question in intonation.

‘Never seen the man,’ the Widow told her firmly. ‘Now

I suggest you turn around and leave my premises before I

decide to turn my new bodyguard here on you. He assures

me that he is capable of killing a man in ninety-six

different ways with his bare hands, and he’s a bit out of

practice.’

‘Bit out of shape more like,’ Nikki joked cheekily.

With a grunt, the bodyguard took a step closer to Nikki,

but for some reason she didn’t feel scared. Although he

looked fearsome, some instinct was telling Nikki that he

was a pussycat inside.

‘Taron, no,’ ordered the Widow, and the massive figure

of the bodyguard took up his former position.

Nikki frowned. The name Taron sounded familiar but

she couldn’t place it.

Before she could give it any further thought, she

noticed the Doctor bounding forward towards the Widow.

He extended his hand to shake hers.

‘So sorry to bother you,’ he was saying, ‘but it’s lovely

to meet you.’

Taken by surprise, the Widow allowed him to take her

hand, but to her astonishment he didn’t shake it but bent to

kiss it. He looked up at her and gave her a wink. ‘Thanks

for your time!’

Finally, he released her hand and stepped back, almost

stepping on Taron’s toes. The Doctor glanced over his

shoulder and then back at the Widow.

‘We’ll be going now, then,’ he said quickly, stepping

round the bulky bodyguard and bundling Nikki back the

way they had come. ‘No need to show us out.’

* * *

Deselup was sweating again. Why did things keep going

wrong for him? Why couldn’t a man make a dishonest

buck without all these problems all the time? Just when he

thought things were going well with the Widow, there had

been some commotion in the Spa above and the meeting

was abandoned. The Widow’s fat bodyguard had appeared

and escorted him to a waiting area and, once again, the

blue-skinned man had been sidelined.

Deselup got to his feet. He was sick of being treated

like this. He left the waiting area and went in search of an

exit. If this Spa had been built over the ruins of the old

subway station, there had to be stairs somewhere heading

back to the surface. Eventually he found what he was

looking for and, after a short climb, he emerged into one

of the private areas of the Spa. It was strangely

depopulated. Had the Spa closed? Was it that late? A

moment later, the reason became clear. Standing in the

foyer of the Spa was a massive alien clad in leather battle

armour and carrying a vicious-looking weapon. His grey

skin was wrinkled and mottled and his long snout was

topped by two gleaming horns. Two tiny eyes burnt with a

black intensity either side of the second horn, and on top

of his head two strangely small ears could be seen. The

alien opened his mouth to reveal huge yellowing teeth.

Even from here the fetid smell that emerged from that

mouth made the pickpocket gag.

In a day that had been far from one of his best already,

this was a new low. It was the most terrifying sight he had

ever seen but it was about to get even worse. The creature

turned his head towards him and the tiny eyes locked on

his own. The alien raised his arm and cried out but

Deselup didn’t wait to hear what the nightmare had to say

to him. Instead he bolted, crashing through the remains of

the door and disappearing into the night. He ran as if his

life depended on it, and he didn’t once look back.

The all-night café that they found in a street around the

corner from the Spa was a popular haunt for shift workers

and anyone else who slept during daylight and worked

through the night.

Carlos the proprietor prided himself on a strict no-

questions-asked rule when it came to his punters. His café

had been the location for all sorts of assignations – for

cheating husbands, assassin-briefing wives, last-minute

negotiations, hard-bargained deals and betrayals both

professional and personal. Carlos just took the punters’

money, provided them with the food and drink they

ordered and let them conduct their business – whatever it

was – without interference or comment. If asked, he never,

ever remembered a face, let alone a name or a fragment of

conversation. His cultivated lack of interest was a vital

skill and kept him safe in a dangerous world.

Tonight, however, he was sorely tempted. Tonight

curiosity flared in him for the first time in years. The three

strangers were an odd team – a young girl, a local by her

clothes and accent, a humanoid off-worlder with busy

eyes, and a rhinoceros in some kind of battle garb.

Carlos burned with a desire to know more but, true to

himself, he merely produced their drinks and hurried back

behind the counter before he could even overhear the

merest sliver of their no doubt fascinating conversation.

The Doctor watched the café owner as he walked back

behind his counter. When he was sure that the man was

out of earshot, he spoke to his friends.

‘Not going too well, is it?’ he whispered.

‘I am sorry,’ rumbled the Judoon Commander. ‘I was

not fast enough to catch our quarry.’

‘Never mind, big guy,’ said Nikki sympathetically.

‘We’ve still got my tracker. We can find him.’

‘And he’ll run again,’ complained the Judoon. ‘Let me

bring my men down. With a thousand Judoon on the

streets we’ll soon corner him.’

The Doctor shook his head. ‘It will cause a riot.

Haven’t you learnt anything yet? Sometimes less is more.’

‘Less effective. Less successful. Less efficient. Less

Justice,’ intoned the Judoon and then made a noise that

sounded like a tumble dryer starting up. It was only when

Nikki saw the alien’s shoulders were shaking that she

realised he was laughing. She winked at the Doctor,

warming to the alien. He might be big and scary, but he

had a sense of humour and was able to laugh at himself.

‘You know, maybe we’re going about this the wrong

way,’ suggested the Doctor.

‘You can say that again, hey Jude?’ Nikki said cheekily,

nudging the arm of the alien.

‘No, I’m serious. If we think our blue-skinned friend

took something from the man at the airport, something he

thinks is valuable, why would he have it on him?’ the

Doctor pointed out.

‘You’re right,’ agreed Nikki. ‘He wouldn’t walk about

with the merchandise while trying to negotiate a deal. Not

with the people he was trying to deal with. That’d be

suicide.’

‘No honour amongst thieves,’ added the Doctor.

‘There is never honour in theft,’ proclaimed the Judoon

Commander, but Nikki could now recognise the twinkle in

the eye that indicated a degree of irony in his words.

‘So where would a man like that hide something

valuable?’

‘Well, we could start with his home,’ suggested Nikki,

‘but we don’t know where he lives.’

‘Somebody must. We know his name. Let’s call our

friends at Police HQ.’

The Doctor borrowed Nikki’s communicator and

placed a call to Detective Corilli’s office. Corilli herself

was unavailable, but Dantin was able to give them the

information they needed. The Doctor thanked the scruffy

detective for his assistance and ended the call. He handed

the phone back to Nikki, but the Judoon Commander

reached out to take it from him. He quickly jabbed at the

controls and then passed it to Nikki.

‘What did you do?’ she asked, taking the communicator

back.

‘Installed Judoon contact frequencies,’ he answered. ‘If

we become separated, you will be able to contact me or

my men.’

Nikki grinned. ‘Cheers, Jude, that’s brilliant.’

The Doctor got to his feet. ‘Come on then, let’s get

going,’ he suggested.

‘Service is swift,’ the Judoon Commander told Carlos

as he left a large tip on the table. ‘Thank you.’

Uncle was not at all happy, and he wanted the Walinski

brothers to share his pain.

‘How could this happen?’ he demanded, as he paced in

front of the brothers. ‘An incendiary bomb attack on my

headquarters, on my private apartments! This is a step too

far!’

Wisely, the brothers said nothing, allowing Uncle to

continue venting his fury without interruption.

‘This has to be the work of that Widow woman,

whoever she is,’ he declared, coming to a halt and

eyeballing both men.

‘If you two hadn’t failed to pick up the Invisible

Assassin at the spaceport, then this might never have

happened!’

Again, the Walinski brothers chose to remain silent,

rather than make any effort to explain their actions.

Uncle stopped pacing, coming to a decision. ‘We must

finish this, and soon. We can’t let her get away with this.’

‘We could retaliate in kind,’ suggested one of the

brothers finally.

‘Raze that Spa place of hers to the ground?’ continued

the other.

Uncle shook his head. ‘We don’t need anything so

crude. Let the Invisible Assassin do his work.’

The brothers kept their eyes firmly fixed on the floor,

both aware of their failure at the airport.

‘The Courier was telling the truth; he did not have the

reclaim chip. I had our people at the City Morgue check

his personal effects,’ said Uncle. He shot a withering look

at them both. ‘It might have been a good idea to have

looked for it yourselves before going ahead and killing

him.’ He activated a viewscreen and showed the brothers a

clip taken from a security camera earlier that evening. It

showed the blue-skinned man arriving at the Casino.

‘His name’s Horat Deselup,’ Uncle told them. ‘He was

here just before the explosions. Said he wanted to talk to

me about some business. Apparently he had something he

was certain I’d be interested in acquiring.’

The brothers exchanged a quick look with each other. It

did not go unnoticed by Uncle.

‘My thoughts exactly. So I did some checking. Turns

out this Deselup is a pickpocket, who often works at the

spaceport…’

Uncle paused, hoping for a response, but the brothers

just stood like robots waiting for further instructions.

Robot henchmen, he sometimes thought, might have been

a better idea.

‘Find him. Get that reclaim chip,’ ordered Uncle, ‘and

make sure he knows how grateful we are to him for

looking after it.’

The brothers nodded curtly and withdrew.

The Doctor had persuaded the Judoon Commander that it

was unnecessary to call one of his ships into range in

order to teleport them across the city. Instead they had

taken a cab. This proved to be a costly mistake when the

Judoon managed to rip a massive tear in the roof of the

vehicle with his horns when trying to squeeze into the rear

compartment, but the instant admission of responsibility

and the promise of full and speedy compensation pacified

the angry off-worlder taxi driver, and they were able to

complete their journey. It wasn’t stylish, or particularly

comfortable, but it didn’t take too long in the end.

‘There it is,’ said Nikki, pointing as she hopped out of

the cab. The cabbie had pulled over a few metres past the

junction of 12th and Main, and the target building was a

little bit further back on the actual corner. It was a large

apartment block, with narrow ledges circling the building

at five-storey intervals. There was a small unimpressive

entrance at street level leading to the lifts which gave

access to the thirty storeys above.

‘Most of the upper floors are commercial lets,’

explained Nikki as the Doctor struggled to help the

Judoon escape from the tiny space he’d not long managed

to squeeze into. ‘Our man’s got an apartment on the fifth

floor,’ she added. ‘Pickpocketing must be a lucrative

business,’ she mused. ‘This is a nice neighbourhood.

With a final effort, the Doctor managed to get enough

momentum to pull the Judoon clear of the cab. He popped

like a cork from a champagne bottle, knocking the Doctor

off his feet and tearing a new gouge in the top of the door

frame as he exited. Nikki looked back at them and raised

an eyebrow.

‘I thought we were meant to be inconspicuous,’ she

commented, but how that was a realistic prospect when

you were accompanied by an unforgettable alien like the

Judoon was, perhaps, a moot point. Nevertheless, despite

his size and looks, the Judoon seemed to fit into the streets

of New Memphis better than Nikki would have imagined.

Perhaps it was something about his bulk and innate

brutality that made him seem at home in this environment.

Nikki realised with some surprise that she was beginning

to like the giant alien.

‘Sorry,’ said the Doctor as the Judoon wordlessly

helped him to his feet. Nikki grinned. The Doctor was

easy to like, and he seemed to fit in everywhere and

anywhere. But there was something secret about him,

Nikki felt; a grief or a loneliness that he just couldn’t quite

keep hidden. She just knew instinctively that he was

passing through and would soon move on from New

Memphis, still looking for something he didn’t even know

he’d lost.

They managed to get access to the apartment with

surprising ease. The Doctor used something he called

psychic paper to persuade the security man at the door that

they were inspectors from the health and safety

department, and then Nikki had used her own special

skills to pick the lock of the apartment they wanted to get

into.

‘Family business, remember. Dad says I was born

picking locks,’ she explained with a grin.

The Doctor and the Judoon exchanged a concerned

look. Nikki had explained to them earlier about her father

currently being missing, and both of them were worried at

her slightly cavalier attitude to the situation. Nikki’s voice

trembled slightly as she said the word Dad, and for a

moment she looked much younger than her years.

‘Your father will return soon,’ said the Judoon, laying a

gentle, reassuring hand on her shoulder. She gave a brave

smile and patted the Judoon’s gloved hand, gratefully.

Beyond the door was a small hallway leading to an

inner door. Nikki grabbed the handle confidently, pulled

and nearly dislocated her shoulder. ‘It’s locked,’ she

announced, rubbing her shoulder.

They took turns to try and open the door but without

success. It proved impervious to Nikki’s lock-picking

skills and immune to the Doctor’s sonic device. ‘Deadlock

sealed,’ he muttered to himself. Finally the Judoon made

his attempt – brute force. He crashed into the door with

his full weight, at speed, and only managed to bounce off

and nearly crush the Doctor and Nikki.

‘Somebody doesn’t want any visitors,’ the Doctor

commented.

‘Just have to try Plan B then,’ grinned Nikki.

A few minutes later, Nikki was beginning to wonder if

Plan B hadn’t been adopted a little bit too quickly and

that, perhaps, jumping on to Plan C or Plan D (which

could have involved going home and sleeping) might have

been a better option. Plan C had been quite good, too,

involving getting the Judoon fleet back in range and using

the teleport, but the time factor had made that a non-

starter, so it was back to Plan B.

Unfortunately Plan B involved her inching her way

along the narrow ledge that ran around the building below

the window line. It was about twenty centimetres wide,

just enough for her to stand on. Both the Judoon

Commander and the Doctor had wanted to try but both

were too big for the job; Nikki was their only hope. The

idea was to creep along the ledge from another apartment

on the same floor to the windows of the apartment behind

the locked door. The theory being that the windows would

be less well protected than the door.

With the wind whistling round her face and the sounds

of the city below her, Nikki was seriously regretting her

agreement to the plan.

‘Another metre,’ shouted the Doctor, encouragingly,

leaning out of the window she had climbed through just a

few minutes earlier. Behind him she could see the massive

figure of the Judoon Commander holding tightly to the

improvised safety rope. Without thinking about it

consciously, Nikki checked the knotted sheets tied around

her waist. The Doctor had assured her that he had been

taught to tie knots by someone called Baden-Powell,

which was meant to reassure her, but she couldn’t help

thinking that the most likely outcome if she happened to

slip would be that the string of ripped sheets that her

companions had made into a rope would just tear. With

that thought in mind, she pressed herself harder back

against the wall behind her and made another side step

towards her goal. A few more vertiginous moments later

and she reached the cool surface of the target window.

Now the tricky bit, she thought to herself. Carefully,

she pulled the Doctor’s sonic device from her pocket.

He’d given her precise instructions and pre-set it, and all

she had to do was press a small round control at the base

of the rod. Nikki hadn’t realised how cold her hands had

become. Her fingers couldn’t seem to grip properly, and

she felt the device begin to slip from her grasp. Quickly,

she brought her other hand round and caught the device

before it could fall more than a few centimetres. But the

action of swinging her arm around unbalanced her and she

wobbled awkwardly for what felt like months. Finally, she

regained her balance and leant back against the window.

She carefully reached out to where the window lock was

and applied the sonic device. To her great relief, she heard

a pop as the mechanism released, and she was able to slide

the window along and fall into the relative safety of the

apartment.

Inside it was dark and, for a moment, Nikki just lay

beneath the window where she had landed, grateful to be

away from the risk of falling. As she lay there, her eyes

adjusted to the low level of light and she could begin to

make out her surroundings. Her heart sank as she took in

the state the room was in. It was a mess. Someone had

clearly beaten them to it. The room had been thoroughly

ransacked with brutal efficiency. The intruders had

meticulously taken the apartment apart, searching each

and every corner of the room for something. Nikki got to

her feet and looked around her – every cupboard, every

drawer, every box had been pulled apart and checked. The

apartment consisted of a living room with kitchen area, a

bedroom and a bathroom. Nikki hesitated – should she

rush to let the Doctor and the Judoon Commander in or

should she take a look around first? It wouldn’t take a

moment just to check the other rooms, would it? If they

were intact then they’d know the intruders had found what

they were looking for.

Nikki pushed open the door of the bedroom and found

a light switch on the wall just inside the room. She made

the mistake of looking up towards the light fitting to check

and, as it flashed into life, she was momentarily blinded.

She blinked, and then froze. Across the room, either side

of the bed, were two identical men. For a split second,

Nikki thought her eyes were playing tricks on her, but

then she recognised them and her heart almost stopped.

The Walinski brothers.

Time seemed to stand still. The white-haired brothers

looked at each other quickly. Some people believed they

were mute, and there were whispers that the siblings had

paranormal abilities. In fact, they were men of few words,

and they certainly needed no words right now. With a curt

nod, one of the brothers pressed a control on a wrist-

mounted device and, without any further warning, Nikki

was assaulted by a wave of sound. It was a high-pitched

oscillating scream which seemed to penetrate to the very

core of her being. It was like being attacked by a razor-

wire-thin spike of frozen metal. Nikki clasped her hands

to her ears but it was impossible to shut out the sound.

Consciousness slipped away from Nikki as blood began to

drip from her ears.

* * *

The Walinski brothers watched without any visible sign of

emotion as the girl collapsed onto the floor, unconscious.

The brother who had activated the weapon switched it off

and they continued their search without giving her a

second look. A few moments later, they left the room in a

state of complete chaos. Clothes and possessions were

spilt all over the floor, drawers were hanging out of units,

their contents scattered to all four corners of the room.

The brothers’ search had been thorough but unsuccessful.

Wordlessly, they left the room, stepping over Nikki’s body

as if it were just another piece of debris.

In the main room, the brothers stopped. Their search

had been a failure, but they had not finished with the

apartment yet. Moving with speed and efficiency, they set

down the incendiary devices they had brought with them

and primed each one. Then they released the deadlocked

door and exited, shutting and resealing the door as they

left.

Seconds later, the incendiary devices activated,

exploding into small fireballs that instantly spread to the

carpets and furniture. Within twenty seconds of the

brothers’ exit, the apartment was a raging inferno.

In the bedroom, Nikki began to stir. As she regained

consciousness, she coughed, finding it difficult to breathe.

She realised that she was surrounded by dense smoke.

Quickly she got to her feet and pulled the bedroom door

open. Beyond it she could see nothing except huge flames

and more black smoke. She was trapped.

The Doctor was worried. The Judoon Commander was

no expert on humanoid body language, but even he could

tell from his companion’s relentless pacing that he was

anxious about the girl.

The Doctor had not wanted to allow her to make this

attempt to gain admittance to the apartment by such a

dangerous route, but he had been outvoted. Nikki had

insisted on going ahead, and the Judoon Commander had

agreed that it was the logical thing to do. The Doctor had

checked and rechecked the safety line that they had made

from bed sheets, and only when he was certain that it

would hold had he opened the window and let Nikki out

onto the ledge.

There had been no sign of life since the tension in the

line had been released as Nikki had tumbled through into

the next door apartment and untied the sheets. The Doctor

had grabbed an empty glass and held it up to the wall,

placing his ear next to it to hear anything that might be

going on.

He shook his head in frustration. ‘Nothing,’ he

reported.

The Judoon Commander grunted an acknowledgement.

‘She is an effective intruder,’ he commented.

The Doctor turned away from the wall, surprised at the

tone in the alien’s voice. Was there a hint of warmth in

that statement? Was the Judoon Commander beginning to

have some kind of emotional attachment to the young

detective?

Perhaps he had misjudged the Judoon race, he

pondered. He felt a little embarrassed to admit it, but it

was very easy to tar an entire species with the same brush.

Bad move, Doctor, he told himself, you should know

better. If even clone races like Sontarans could have

distinct personalities, then alien races like the Khellian

Horde, the Hath and the Judoon were bound to be more

varied. After all, the Doctor thought, I’ve met Cybermen

with personality and even Daleks with their own minds,

why should the Judoon be any different?

The Judoon Commander was looking at a handheld

scanner, his eyes narrowing. ‘Increased temperature,’ he

announced tensely.

‘Heat?’

‘Fire!’ concluded the Judoon. And even as he was

speaking an alarm began to sound.

‘We have to get her out of there!’ the Doctor yelled.

Without speaking, the Judoon marched across the room

and reached out to touch the wall. He gave it a quick tap

and then returned to his original position and lowered his

head.

‘You’ve got to be kidding me,’ gasped the Doctor, but

the Judoon Commander was entirely serious.

‘Stand clear,’ suggested the Judoon Commander and

then, with a sudden burst of speed, he charged across the

room, leading with the larger horn on his head. He crashed

into and through the wall, sending plaster and brick

fragments in every direction.

Immediately, thick black smoke poured into the room

through the hole that the alien had just created. The

Judoon pulled his head out and took a second run at the

wall. This time he was able to enlarge the hole, and he

plunged his entire body through the room into the smoke

and flames beyond. Before the Doctor could join him, the

Judoon was back, cradling a figure in his massive arms.

Again without speaking, the Judoon ran straight past the

Doctor and out of the apartment.

The Doctor finally caught up with the Judoon – and

Nikki – outside the building. The Judoon, although he

looked huge and ponderous, was actually capable of

impressive bursts of speed. With Nikki in his arms, he had

run at full speed to the emergency stairwell and then

hurtled down, three, four steps at a time in an effort to get

the girl to fresh air and safety. By the time the Doctor

joined them in the street opposite the apartment building,

the pair of them seemed to have recovered completely.

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Nikki was laughing.

‘Suddenly in the middle of the wall there was this great

horn sticking out!’

‘My father always told me to use my head,’ the Judoon

told her, his shoulders wobbling as he too laughed.

The Doctor felt a little bit left out. ‘Are you OK,

Nikki?’ he asked. ‘Smoke can do nasty things.’

Nikki explained that she’d soaked a piece of fabric in

water, held it over her mouth and nose and kept close to

the floor. ‘That way most of the smoke was above me, and

I avoided inhaling too much of it.’

The Judoon Commander caught the Doctor’s eye. ‘I

told you this one was efficient,’ he said, with more than a

hint of pride.

The Doctor brought them back to reality and pointed

out that the fire had destroyed their lead.

‘It was the Walinski brothers,’ Nikki told them. ‘They

were in the apartment when I got there.’

The Doctor nodded, taking the information in and

adding it to everything else they’d seen. ‘Time for a nice

little bit of Hercule Poirot,’ he announced to his baffled

companions. ‘Use the little grey cells. That Agatha

Christie, she was brilliant!’

The Judoon Commander stared at the Doctor for a

moment then turned back to Nikki. ‘These brothers began

the fire deliberately?’ Nikki nodded. ‘Then we must add

arson and attempted murder to the charges when we arrest

them,’ concluded the Judoon. ‘Justice—’

‘ Should be swift!’ Nikki butted in. ‘I can’t argue with

that – they did try and kill me. But you know what was

most disturbing about it? It was so casual, like I was a bug

or something tiny, an irritant.’

The Doctor was shaking his head. ‘No, I don’t think

they were trying to kill you at all. You were right – you

weren’t important enough to them.’

‘Cheers,’ replied Nikki, slightly miffed.

‘No, listen,’ continued the Doctor, ‘that fire wasn’t for

you, it was to destroy the apartment. Think about it, use

those little grey cells. Why would they want to do that?’

‘To cover their tracks?’ suggested Nikki.

‘Why bother to do that, if they’d found what they were

looking for?’ The Doctor scratched his head, frustrated.

‘No, that’s not it,’ he muttered, running things through in

his head. ‘Ah!’ he announced suddenly. ‘Then that must

mean they didn’t find what they were looking for.’

‘Well if they didn’t find it and we didn’t find it…’

Nikki began.

‘… maybe it was never there,’ finished the Judoon.

The Doctor looked at both his companions and nodded.

‘Come on then,’ he announced in an excited tone. ‘We’re

still in the game!’

‘But where are we going?’

‘If our blue-skinned friend didn’t hide whatever it is at

home, he must have hidden it somewhere else, somewhere

he knows pretty well.’

The Doctor began to walk away, heading back towards

the heart of the city. The Judoon Commander fell into step

beside him.

Nikki ran after them. ‘So where are we going?’ she

demanded as she caught up.

‘The Black Hole,’ replied the Doctor, grinning. ‘It’s a

bar.’

Nikki clicked her fingers. ‘I know it. It’s the bar where

I first found Deselup. But how do you know about that?’

The Doctor just smiled mysteriously and marched on.

Devoid of customers, silent and dark, the cavernous Black

Hole bar was a very different place to the noisy, busy

place it had been earlier in the night. Where earlier patrons

had been jammed up against each other, now there was

space. With the optics locked behind metal shutters, only

the lingering smell of alcohol and smoke gave any clue as

to the nature of the enterprise.

The Doctor had used his sonic screwdriver to disable

the intruder alarms and Nikki had worked her lock-

picking magic on a rear door. Now the three mismatched

detectives were examining the interior with one thought at

the front of their minds.

‘Where would you hide something, in a place like this?’

The Doctor vocalised the question they were all asking

themselves. The Judoon upended the nearest table.

‘Not here,’ he answered, after checking the underside

of the table for anything that might have been concealed

there. He stepped towards the next table but the Doctor

quickly moved in front of him.

‘No, no, no,’ insisted the Doctor. ‘Let’s be logical.’

The Judoon Commander exchanged a look with Nikki,

who was already looking under tables herself. ‘Go on

then,’ she prompted. ‘Share that great brain with us mere

mortals!’

The Doctor said nothing but started walking around the

room. Suddenly he sat down and put his feet up on a table,

resting his hands behind his head. ‘We need to put

ourselves in his head, see the world the way he does.

That’s the only way to get to what was he thinking…’

‘He was thinking that he had something valuable that

other people wanted,’ offered the Judoon.

‘And that holding on to it might prove dangerous,’

added Nikki.

‘Right,’ agreed the Doctor, leaping up again. ‘So what

does he do? He’s sitting here, drinking, looking around for

a safe place to hide something.’

‘How big is this something?’ wondered the Judoon.

‘Good question,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘Nikki?’

Nikki shrugged. ‘Can’t be that big if it was something

he pickpocketed. Probably no bigger than a human palm.

A coin, a key, something like that?’

She looked around the room carefully. Tables, booths,

benches – lots of furniture but not many hiding places.

The Doctor was walking towards the bar itself, a long

wooden-topped counter with a number of stools aligned

along it. He hopped up onto one of the stools and

swivelled round. ‘Whatever it is has got to be somewhere

it won’t be found by the wrong person,’ suggested the

Doctor, ‘but somewhere that can be reached by the person

who pays the right price for the information…’

The Doctor continued his spin, the stool now turning

him away from Nikki and the Judoon Commander and

back towards the bar. He stuck out an arm and knocked

the charity box – a gaudy clown – which toppled and then

fell.

The Doctor made no move to try and catch it as it

tumbled towards the solid floor, where it smashed on

impact, unleashing a wave of small change.

‘Oops!’ the Doctor muttered without a trace of

contrition and slipped off the stool. Reaching down, he

plunged his hand directly into the pile of coins and pulled

out a small card with a glistening micro-chip on it. He

held it up, grinning.

‘What do we have here then?’ he wondered, throwing it

towards Nikki who caught it one-handed. She gave it a

quick glance but she was already pretty sure she knew

what it was.

‘Access chip for a left-luggage locker at Terminal 13,’

she announced cheerfully. ‘Nice one, Doctor.’

The Judoon Commander came across and took the card

from the girl. In his gloved hand, the device looked even

smaller. ‘Is this all there is?’ he demanded. ‘This is the

prize?’

The Doctor shrugged. ‘Not exactly, it’s more of a key

to the prize. The question is, what exactly will we find

inside that locker?’

‘You want to go and find out?’ asked Nikki,

enthusiastically.

The Doctor’s eyes twinkled. ‘Oh yes!’ he replied,

‘Shall we?’

‘Wait!’ It was the Judoon Commander. He looked

troubled. ‘We promised the local law authority that we

would cooperate fully,’ he reminded them.

The Doctor sighed. The Judoon was right, they had

promised to keep Detective Corilli in the loop. After all, it

had been Dantin’s intelligence that had provided the

Doctor with the address of the bar.

‘Are you serious?’ asked Nikki, incredulously. ‘You

think they’d go out of their way to help us? Why should

we owe them anything?’

‘Because they are the law,’ insisted the Judoon.

Reluctantly, Nikki allowed her companions to persuade

her, and she put a call through to Corilli. To her surprise,

she got connected immediately. She flicked her

communicator to loudspeaker so they could all hear and

be heard.

‘Looks like a left-luggage access chip from the

spaceport,’ Nikki explained, after telling Corilli how they

had found it.

‘Now all we have to do is to find the door that key

opens,’ added the Doctor.

‘Wait there,’ ordered the policewoman after a moment’s

consideration. ‘I’ll get over there and we’ll go find out

what this is all about.’ She terminated the call.

‘She could have said thank you,’ Nikki complained.

‘I’m sure she will when she gets here,’ the Doctor told

her.

Nikki shrugged and got to her feet. ‘Yeah, well, I need

some air. You guys may be doing all right, but I still need

to find Mrs Kellingham’s watch,’ she reminded them.

She headed towards the exit, and the Judoon

Commander instantly got to his feet to follow her. The

Doctor stopped him with a swift shake of the head.

When the door stopped swinging behind Nikki, the

Judoon turned to the Doctor.

‘She’s worrying about her father.’ It was a statement

rather than a question and it took the Doctor by surprise.

‘Every time she looks at her communicator, you can

see the disappointment in her eyes,’ the Judoon continued.

‘She can’t quite believe her father hasn’t made more of an

effort to contact her.’

‘You may be right,’ the Doctor agreed. ‘You don’t miss

a trick, do you?’

‘Justice must be vigilant,’ the Judoon told him gravely.

‘Keep ‘em peeled,’ said the Doctor with a wink.

The Judoon just looked at him blankly.

‘You never seen Police Five?’ asked the Doctor, his

face falling. ‘No?’ He grinned. ‘Oh well, don’t worry –

some things are beyond translation.’

They heard the door to the street bang open again. A

moment later the interior door to the main bar swung open

too. Nikki came through the door, but she was not alone.

Immediately behind her came a brutal-looking thug,

holding a weapon to her head. He pushed Nikki forward

and came further into the room.

‘No one move, no one gets hurt,’ he told them as half a

dozen other men entered behind him, all brandishing

weapons. The Doctor instantly raised his hands and

nodded to the Judoon to do the same. Two of the men

quickly patted down the Doctor and the Judoon, removing

the alien’s weapons and the Doctor’s sonic screwdriver.

‘Sorry,’ Nikki said, trying and failing to keep the fear

out of her voice. ‘They came out of nowhere. At first I

thought it was Corilli—’ she continued.

‘But the good detective couldn’t get away so she sent

us,’ a new but familiar voice concluded her sentence.

‘Uncle!’ said the Doctor as the crime lord joined his

men in the bar.

Uncle was holding the reclaim chip in his hand. Nikki

shot a look at the Doctor and mouthed a ‘Sorry’.

‘Thank you for tracking this down,’ Uncle told him

with more than a hint of irony. ‘You’ve saved me a lot of

bother.’

‘Glad to be of service,’ replied the Doctor sarcastically.

‘Now would you mind asking your friend there to remove

that blaster from the side of my friend’s head?’

‘I’m sorry, but that won’t be possible just yet.’ Uncle

dusted down a chair and sat carefully. ‘I need you to do

me one more little errand before I can release the young

lady.’

‘Judoon do not run errands,’ insisted the Judoon

Commander in a low and threatening tone.

‘Then it’s time you started,’ Uncle snapped back. ‘I

want you and the Doctor to go and collect the contents of

the locker this key opens.’

He tossed the access chip card across the room and the

Doctor caught it deftly with one hand while keeping his

eyes on Uncle the entire time.

‘With Terminal 13 still locked down, it’s a little hard to

get access at the moment,’ Uncle continued, ‘but I’m sure

you two will find a way…’

The Doctor nodded curtly, accepting the mission.

‘You will speak to no one about this, you will go

directly to the spaceport and you will bring the contents of

the locker to the Casino within six hours,’ ordered Uncle

simply.

‘Or?’ The Doctor raised an eyebrow. ‘Just so I know.’

Uncle smiled coldly and got to his feet. ‘Let’s just say a

promising career in the private detective business might

be terminated tragically and prematurely.’ He nodded at

Nikki’s captor, who responded by ushering their prisoner

towards the door.

‘Don’t worry about me,’ Nikki called out as she was

manhandled out of the room.

Uncle’s men started to move towards the exit, walking

backwards and keeping their weapons pointed at the

Doctor and the Judoon Commander at every stage. At the

door, Uncle placed the Judoon blaster and the Doctor’s

sonic screwdriver on a small table.

‘Six hours,’ he repeated and then he was gone.

Jase Golightly was exhausted. It had been another long

day at the office for him. Technically, it was already

tomorrow and he had meetings lined up in just a few

hours’ time, but if he didn’t at least make the effort to go

home and try to sleep – even if it was only for an hour or

two – then he’d never be ready. Golightly wanted a

shower. He wanted something to eat. He wanted his bed.

What he didn’t want was to walk out of the main entrance

to the spaceport and run into two of the aliens who had

caused so much trouble earlier in the day.

‘Mr Golightly! Just the man we wanted to see,’ said the

humanoid one, who had called himself the Doctor.

‘We need access to the left-luggage areas,’ said the

rhino-headed one, in his familiar brusque manner.

A thousand answers ran through Golightly’s head, from

the mildly rude and sarcastic to the deeply offensive and

aggressive, but in the end he merely muttered a resigned

‘yes’ and turned on his heels to lead his visitors back

inside the spaceport.

‘So is this something to do with the Invisible Assassin?

What have you found out about the man who exploded?’

he asked, his curiosity getting the better of him.

‘We cannot say,’ the Judoon Commander told him

firmly.

‘But… I need to know. The problems in Terminal 13,

the disappearing luggage, you said you thought it was all

connected. Please, I need to know what you’ve

discovered.’

‘I said we cannot tell you,’ thundered the larger alien.

‘But…’

The humanoid part of the duo turned to give him a

sympathetic look and shook his head. ‘Really, we can’t

tell you anything,’ he said, in a kinder tone. ‘Just take it

from me that we will tell you everything you need to

know when we’re free to do so. But we are making

progress, I promise you.’

Jase looked the man in the eyes and could see that he

was being genuine. If he couldn’t tell him any more

details at the moment then there was a good reason for it,

and he’d just have to accept that.

‘OK, I can wait,’ he agreed, ‘but I will want a full

explanation in time.’

‘Good,’ the Doctor cut in. ‘Look, can we get on? We’re

on a bit of a short fuse and we need to get to those left-

luggage lockers.’

A new figure suddenly appeared in the corridor ahead

of them. ‘I’m sorry, but in matters of security I have

ultimate authority,’ said a familiar voice, ‘and unless you

can satisfy me as to what you are here for, you’re not

going anywhere near any lockers.’

General Moret stood in front of them, arms folded and

his expression fixed.

‘So, what’s it going to be?’

Jase saw the Doctor and the larger alien exchange a

look, but he couldn’t decipher the meaning behind it. Why

were they being so secretive? What were they really here

for? Perhaps, Golightly began to wonder, perhaps Moret

was right to insist on some answers.

If you are going to be taken prisoner and held as a

hostage, thought Nikki, then her present experience was

probably the best way to have it happen.

After the initial shock and discomfort of being grabbed

from behind and having a gun pointed at her head had

receded, her subsequent treatment had been much more

agreeable. Uncle explained that she would be taken back

to the Casino in his own car. With just one armed

bodyguard to keep her in check, the journey was almost

pleasant. Uncle’s car was a luxury model with inertia

dampeners that all but removed any sensation of

movement. As they drove, Uncle engaged her in casual

conversation, as if they had met across a dining table at a

dinner party rather than as prisoner and captor. Uncle was

intrigued at her involvement in her father’s business.

‘A real family business?’ he said, in a tone that

suggested both approval and a hint of jealousy.

‘I guess so,’ Nikki replied. ‘I suppose I grew up seeing

Dad at work and never thought about doing anything

else.’

Uncle sighed. ‘I sometimes wish I had a similar

relationship with my daughter,’ he confessed.

Nikki realised she couldn’t really see Uncle as a father.

‘What does your daughter think of the kind of work you

do?’ she asked him bluntly.

‘She knows nothing of my work,’ Uncle explained.

‘She just knows that I am in business and that’s all she

needs to know. I want her to have nothing to do with this

sordid world.’

‘You don’t want her to take over from you eventually?’

Nikki asked.

‘This isn’t a business, girl, it’s organised crime. It’s dog

eat dog. A matter of escalating violence and raw

aggression. It’s no way to live,’ replied Uncle with

surprising bitterness.

‘So why do it?’

Uncle shrugged. ‘It’s all I know. But Hope lives in a

different world, and I intend to keep it that way. I’m doing

this for her so she has the choices and opportunities that I

didn’t.’

For a moment, Nikki almost felt sorry for the man. His

choice of lifestyle, of career, had denied him the

possibility of a full and proper father-daughter

relationship, a special bond that she almost took for

granted.

Unfortunately, this train of thought forced Nikki to

confront, once again, the fact that her own father seemed

to be missing. Was it possible that he was in the same

state as she was, captured by some criminal enemy, and

unable to make contact? She tried to think back over the

past few days and weeks to see if there was anything in

her father’s recent caseload that might explain his

absence. Lost in her own thoughts, the conversation

between her and Uncle died a natural death, and they

spent the rest of the journey in silence.

She was locked in a room somewhere above the Casino

gaming hall. She had access to a bathroom, water to drink

and even some food but, despite all these niceties, she was

still a prisoner. Outside the door, one of Uncle’s men stood

guard, with instructions, Uncle warned her, that she was to

be shot on sight if she tried to escape. Nikki knew he

wasn’t joking, but escape was far from her mind. She

wasn’t even curious about the Doctor and the Judoon

Commander and their progress at the spaceport.

The only thing running through Nikki’s mind, as she

lay on the couch in her well-appointed prison cell, was a

single question.

Where are you, Dad?

‘It’s quite simple,’ explained General Moret for the third

time. ‘Either you tell me what you’re doing here or you

can leave now.’

The Doctor sighed. The military mind, as ever, was an

intractable beast. ‘I’m asking you to trust me,’ he said

patiently.

‘This is a matter of life and death,’ proclaimed the

Judoon, simply and bluntly.

‘Really? Whose?’ insisted the spaceport security chief.

‘Yours – if you do not cooperate,’ hissed the Judoon,

any patience he had rapidly evaporating.

‘Oh, that helps,’ groaned the Doctor, putting out a

restraining hand.

‘You should listen to your friend,’ sneered the General,

‘I don’t take kindly to threats.’

‘It was not a threat,’ insisted the Judoon. ‘It was a

promise.’

The General and the Judoon glared at each other for a

long moment. Although one was nearly twice the height of

the other, and one was totally human and one a humanoid

alien with the head of a rhino, there was a definite

similarity between them, as if one were a distorted funfair

image of the other, thought Golightly before stepping

smartly between them like a referee in a boxing match.

‘Now, now, we’re all on the same side,’ he said in a

voice about a hundred times brighter than he felt inside.

‘Can’t we work out a compromise?’

The Doctor agreed with this suggestion. ‘We just need

to locate the left-luggage locker that this access code

opens,’ he said holding up the tiny micro-chipped card,

‘and then we need to take the contents.’

‘Where to?’ demanded the security chief.

‘That’s the bit I can’t tell you,’ the Doctor confessed.

‘But whatever it is in that locker, people have died over it.

We’ll take it out of the locker and out of the spaceport.

Whatever it is, it will have no further effect on anything

happening here.’ The Doctor looked the General in the eye

and raised a quizzical eyebrow. ‘That’s your main

concern, isn’t it? The security of the spaceport and all

those who use it?’

General Moret nodded. ‘Of course it is.’

‘So if you take us to the left luggage, we can get on

with making this spaceport a safer place.’ The Doctor

smiled, pleased with his diplomacy.

General Moret hesitated and then turned on his heel.

‘Follow me,’ he ordered and marched off.

The Doctor leant over to whisper up at the Judoon’s

ear. ‘See. Wasn’t so bad, was it?’

‘We are not finished with the man yet,’ commented the

Judoon firmly.

The Doctor glanced over at Golightly, who raised his

eyebrows in sympathy. ‘Come on then,’ Jase said. ‘Let’s

get on with it. I was hoping to get some sleep before my

working day starts again.’

‘When’s that, then?’ asked the Doctor.

Golightly made a big deal of consulting his watch. ‘In

about four hours,’ he sighed and began walking off after

his security chief and the Judoon, who were already thirty

metres away.

One thing Nikki did know about her father was that he

wouldn’t want her to waste time and effort thinking about

him when she needed to look after herself. Right now she

was a prisoner, and her friends were being coerced into

something because she was being held hostage. She

needed to do something to improve all their positions. She

forced herself to move on from worrying about her father

and started looking around the room with a new focus.

When she’d first been placed here she’d been distracted

by the creature comforts, but now she was looking at it

with more analytical eyes. She needed to escape and as

quickly as possible. If Uncle did not have her as a hostage

then the Doctor and the Judoon Commander would not

need to do anything for him.

There were two doors in the room – the main door to

the corridor, beyond which the guard stood ready to

prevent any exit, and the door to the en suite bathroom.

The bathroom itself offered no possibility of escape –

there was a small basin, a toilet, a shower and a

ventilation grille. Nikki took a quick look behind the

grille, hoping that there might be a shaft of sufficient size

for her to use, but the pipes were no wider than her arm

and would have been a close fit for a rat let alone a young

woman.

Nikki’s next focus was the windows, but they were

firmly locked shut. Nikki was privately quite relieved to

discover this – she had no appetite for any more daredevil

climbing around buildings tonight; one such adventure

was enough for one evening. Having discounted the usual

entrances and exits, she began to consider alternatives.

The floor was covered with a thick carpet, but she

managed to dislodge it at one corner of the room and

pulled it back, revealing a solid floor below. No

possibility of escape there, not without a drill of some

kind.

If you can’t go down, Nikki pondered, perhaps you can

go up. The ceiling was tiled and, when she climbed on to a

table to investigate it, she discovered that it was a

suspended ceiling. The tiles lay on a thin steel framework.

She pushed up at a tile and dislodged it, allowing her to

see the metal frame more clearly. There looked to be about

a metre of space above the ceiling, a perfect hiding place.

There was only one question – would the metal

framework bear her weight?

‘Only one way to find out,’ she muttered to herself and

she jumped up, grabbing hold of the metal crossbar. To

her delight, she found that it was quite solid and seemed to

cope with her hanging from it without bending in the

slightest. From there it was just a matter of swinging a leg

up until she could hook one over another of the metal

bars. Not for the first time today, she was grateful for all

the encouragement her father had given her, not just to

excel at the mental skills that a good detective needed but

also to keep her body fit and agile. With the grace of a

born gymnast, Nikki managed to get herself into the crawl

space above the ceiling and was then able to replace the

tiles to remove any evidence of her means of departure.

Once she was in the crawlspace, she made another

discovery. The area of metal framework extended beyond

the area of the room she had been kept in. Obviously at

some point this floor of the building had been reworked to

make smaller rooms where larger rooms had once been.

Carefully she began to crawl across the framework, away

from the room she had been held in.

Nikki pulled back a ceiling tile and found herself

looking down on Uncle himself sat at a desk. Carefully,

she replaced the tile, not wanting to make any sound that

might make the crime lord look up.

She crawled on a little further, taking care not to let any

of her limbs hang under the metal frame. It was a slow

process but finally she reached a place where she could

hear no sound from below. She lifted a tile and checked –

no one there. Carefully she let herself hang down from the

frame. Unfortunately there was no table so she had a

bigger drop to contend with, but she braced herself, let go

and landed perfectly.

She allowed herself a little grin. So far so good. The

room she had entered was in semi-darkness and appeared

to be some kind of storeroom. She went to the door and

was delighted to discover that it was not locked. She

opened it a crack and took a peak into the corridor

beyond. All clear. Moving quietly and with great caution,

she stepped out into the corridor and walked away.

The corridor curved around and eventually led to a pair

of lifts. Nearby she could see a door leading to stairwell.

Which to take – the stairs or one of the lifts? She hesitated

and that proved to be her undoing. Without her noticing,

the lift nearest to her was activated. Suddenly the doors

started to open.

Nikki was caught, exposed in the area just in front of

the lifts. The doors continued to open. Nikki stood frozen

to the spot as the opening doors revealed the contents of

the lift – two familiar and terrifying figures in matching

dark suits. The Walinski brothers!

The brothers stepped quickly out of the lift, separating

slightly so they could cut off her possible routes of escape

to the left and to the right. Nikki backed up until she felt

the wall behind her. The brothers closed in on her

relentlessly.

Nikki was trapped. With the brothers closing in on each

side she had literally no place to run. There was no option

but to fight. But these were Uncle’s main enforcers – how

could a teenage girl defeat the infamous Walinski

brothers?

She flicked a glance at each brother in turn, looking for

a hint of weakness, a clue as to where to attack first but

there was nothing.

The two men were like mirror images of each other –

even their slow relentless progress towards her seemed

synchronised, like a practised ballet of looming danger.

The twins were moving as one. Perhaps that was the

weakness she was looking for?

Nikki felt along the wall for something she could use.

Her hand reached a wall-mounted planter full of flowers

and she grabbed a handful of the soil. Then, at exactly the

same moment, she kicked out at the brother on her left and

threw the soil into the face of the brother on her right.

Nikki was delighted to see that her hunch had been

correct. Both men’s hands flew to their faces to shield

themselves from the soil, even though the brother on her

left had nothing to hide from. Her kick landed

undefended, in lefty’s solar plexus and he instantly

doubled up. Nikki spun and kicked out again, this time in

the direction of righty, who was scraping mud off his face.

Again her kick connected and, with both of the brothers

off balance and distracted, Nikki dashed forward between

them, towards the lift.

Suddenly her feet were running in mid-air as rock-

steady hands grabbed her under the arms. Then she found

herself jerked backwards and upwards before she crashed

into the wall. She fell, dislodging the flower planter,

which landed on her head. The brothers had recovered

with incredible speed, and now it was Nikki who lay

breathless and helpless while they advanced once more.

For once, their usually blank faces were showing some

sign of emotion: they were angry, furious. Nikki realised

that she really was in a lot of trouble now. ‘Never bother a

wasp’s nest,’ her dad had always told her, but she’d well

and truly put her foot in one this time.

The brothers loomed over her and, despite her

determination to be resilient, Nikki couldn’t help but

squeeze her eyes closed. She waited for what seemed like

an eternity, but nothing happened. Bravely she opened her

eyes and found that time seemed to be standing still. The

brothers were still hanging over her but they seemed

somehow lifeless, like statues. Suddenly the pair of them

keeled over, revealing another figure standing behind

them, holding a stun gun in each hand. Nikki’s eyes

widened in surprise.

‘You?!’

It was Taron, the bulky but dangerous bodyguard who

worked for the Widow. What was he doing here and why

had he helped her? Nikki swallowed hard. Things might

just have gone from bad to worse.

The scale of the spaceport was impressive, even to the

Doctor, who had seen his fair share of such places in his

many lives. Much of the traffic that passed through was

just that – passing traffic, stopping only for fuel and other

supplies. Another major element of the spaceport’s

business was its function as a travel hub, a place where

passengers and freight could transfer from one ship to

another to continue a long-haul multi-operator journey.

There were, therefore, extensive left-luggage storage

facilities throughout the spaceport, including four within

Terminal 13 itself. The Doctor was worried that they

might have to check each one in turn. Golightly was able

to reassure him.

‘Each chip has a unique identification code,’ he

explained, ‘so we can track down the locker associated

with this card without any trouble.’

‘And here we are, gentlemen,’ announced General

Moret as he led them into another huge warehouse. As

they entered, the automatic systems reacted to their

presence and low-level lighting came on, revealing the

true extent of the space they had entered. The Doctor

thought the room was probably the size of a football pitch,

about the same size as the swimming pool he’d once had

in the TARDIS, and it was full of long lines of metallic

lockers, in horizontal and vertical rows.

The security officer passed the access code card

through a reader, and a distant locker instantly lit up.

Without a word, the Judoon Commander reached over and

took the card from the reader and began to march in the

direction of the spotlighted locker. The Doctor hurried to

follow him.

‘So some time yesterday the man who exploded must

have come in here and deposited something in that locker,

is that right?’ asked Golightly, trying to keep up with

events.

‘That’s what we think,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘Something

of value that Uncle was expecting to have the Walinski

brothers collect for him.’

‘But they never got the chip card from him?’

‘No. But we managed to track it down, so now maybe

we’ll find out why that man was murdered,’ said the

Doctor.

‘And take it to the police, I guess?’ Golightly persisted.

The Doctor hesitated. He didn’t like to lie but at the

same time he didn’t want to risk anything happening to

Nikki if he didn’t follow Uncle’s instructions to the letter.

The Judoon Commander thumped a locker in

frustration, creating a diversion that enabled the Doctor to

sidestep the awkward question.

‘What’s wrong now?’ he asked the alien.

‘It doesn’t work,’ snapped the Judoon Commander.

‘The locker won’t open.’

The Doctor could see that the Judoon was worried and

angry – but not just about the locker. Like the Doctor, he

had Nikki’s safety at the forefront of his mind. The alien

was clearly taking Nikki’s predicament very closely to

heart. They both knew that if they couldn’t get the locker

to open, Nikki’s life would be in grave danger.

Nikki got to her feet, brushing soil and mud from her

clothes and hair. The Widow’s bodyguard just stood and

watched her, his piggy little eyes almost invisible in the

fat folds of flesh on his face.

‘Thank you,’ she said politely. ‘Mind if I go now?’

Not entirely surprisingly, the man held up a hand.

‘Yeah, I thought not. So what do you want from me?’

Nikki retorted with more courage in her voice than she felt

inside.

An unexpected emotion seemed to burn in Taron’s eyes

for a split second – was it amusement?

‘Where are the others?’ he rasped in his breathy sibilant

whisper of a voice.

Nikki shrugged. ‘Don’t know who you mean!’ she

muttered.

‘The Doctor and the other alien – the warrior – have

they gone to the spaceport? Did you find the key?’

Nikki was surprised. How did the Widow’s bodyguard

know so much about what they were doing? Nikki

realised that her thoughts were pretty transparent as Taron

continued.

‘Don’t worry about how and what I know,’ he hissed.

‘Just answer my question. And be quick. That stun charge

won’t keep these boys quiet for long.’

Nikki considered her options. The man already seemed

to know more than he should. Would it really make

anything any worse to answer his questions?

‘Yes, they’ve gone to the spaceport,’ she confessed,

hoping she was doing the right thing.

‘And they have the key? The access code?’

‘Yes, they have everything. Whatever that man was

carrying, they’ll be collecting any time now.’

The widow’s bodyguard nodded and considered the

information for a moment. Nikki decided to try and ask a

question of her own.

‘I guess the Widow wants a piece of that herself, is that

why you’re asking?’ she wondered.

Taron shook his head gravely. ‘She may already have

her hands on it.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Taron insisted.

‘It matters to me. My friends have gone to get this

whatever it is, and you think your boss is going to get it

herself? I don’t like the sound of that,’ fumed Nikki,

getting angry.

Again Taron held out a pacifying hand to her, like a

parent trying to get a whining child to be quiet.

‘I know you’ve no reason to do this, but trust me. It’s

complicated. Very complicated. But if you trust me, no

one will get hurt,’ Taron whispered hoarsely, looking deep

into Nikki’s furious eyes.

‘Trust you? You’re the Widow’s bodyguard. Why

should I trust you?’

‘Because things aren’t always what they seem,’ replied

Taron. The Walinski brothers began to stir. ‘They’ll be

awake in a minute. Find somewhere to hide. You’ll do

more for your friends here than elsewhere. Now move.’

Again Nikki hesitated. Should she listen to this man or

should she just take her chance to escape?

‘Trust me, Nikki. You must trust me.’ Taron repeated.

The Judoon Commander drove his fist into the door of the

adjacent locker, and it caved in as if made of cardboard.

Golightly’s mouth dropped open at this demonstration of

sheer power and strength.

‘That’s not going to help,’ said the Doctor calmly.

‘It made me feel better,’ muttered the Judoon, once

again displaying a hitherto rarely seen sense of humour.

‘Wait!’ Golightly stepped forward before any more

damage to spaceport property was attempted. ‘Let me try,’

he suggested, reaching to take the access card from the

Judoon’s gloved hand. Fixing him with a glare, the Judoon

handed over the tiny piece of plastic.

‘Security at Terminal 13 is state of the art,’ Golightly

continued, ‘and these cards have some user-defined

elements that can be set when they are initialised.’

The Doctor frowned. ‘So the user can prevent anyone

else using the card?’

‘No, that might be a step too far,’ Golightly explained.

‘But you can set a time limit, or restrict access to members

of certain species.’

‘But the man is dead,’ pointed out the Judoon. ‘How

can we ask him about its settings now?’

Golightly gave the alien the smile of a stage magician

about to perform the Indian Rope Trick. He pulled a

similar-looking card from his jacket pocket. He then

approached the locker with a card in each hand. First he

swiped their key through the reader and then, confidently,

he swiped his own key. Golightly stepped back and

waited.

For a moment nothing happened, and the Doctor began

to wonder if the Judoon’s punishment of the adjacent

locker might not have damaged the mechanisms of the

one they were interested in. Then, with a soft click, the

door of the locker unlocked and swung silently open.

‘Are you telling me that we could have come to you in

the beginning and you could have opened that locker?’

rumbled the Judoon, fearing that they had spent precious

time on a wild goose chase.

Golightly hurriedly reassured him. ‘Well, I could have

used my master key to open every locker, but that could

have taken years,’ he clarified. ‘You needed that key to

know which locker to open so you can recover your…’

He paused and bent to peer into the cavernous locker,

which was about a metre square and about three metres

deep. At first glance it seemed to be empty, but then the

Doctor’s eyes adjusted to the lack of light and he could

make out a single rectangular shape, pushed right to the

back of the space. Golightly dropped to his knees and

reached in to retrieve the object.

‘… suitcase,’ he announced, as he emerged into the

light once more, dragging with him a rather nondescript

and distinctly plain suitcase of a classic if not old-

fashioned design.

The four of them stood around the case and looked at it

with a mixture of confusion and disbelief.

‘This is the package? Just this?’ demanded the Judoon,

poking it with his foot.

‘Careful, if this is the Invisible Assassin’s luggage it

could be booby-trapped,’ warned the security officer,

gently moving the Doctor and Golightly back from the

case.

Carefully, Moret got to his knees and listened to the

case. The Judoon Commander loomed over him, casting a

dark shadow. Moret looked over his shoulder and glared at

the alien.

‘Would you mind stepping back – give me some space,

not to mention light, to work in?’

With a grunt, which may or may not have been a yes,

the Judoon Commander took a few steps back and joined

the Doctor and Golightly. The Doctor instantly leaned

towards the Judoon.

‘Do you recall mentioning the Invisible Assassin to

General Moret?’ he whispered urgently, while keeping his

eyes fixed on Moret who was now examining the case

carefully and cautiously.

The Judoon Commander’s eyes narrowed as the

significance of the Doctor’s question dawned on him.

Moret got to his feet, holding the suitcase in one hand.

‘I think I should take this to a place of safety before

anyone tries to open it,’ he announced and began to walk

towards the door. ‘Give me an hour, and I’ll let you know

what I find,’ he added.

The Doctor nodded at the Judoon who quickly moved

to stand between Moret and the door.

‘That’s very kind of you,’ said the Doctor evenly, ‘but

we can handle it from here.’ He held a hand out to take the

case but Moret stepped away from him and, suddenly,

there was a weapon in his hand. The old soldier raised the

weapon and aimed it directly at Golightly.

‘No,’ he insisted, ‘that is not going to be possible.’

‘Moret, what are you doing?’ screamed Golightly, his

eyes focused on the barrel of the gun pointing directly

towards his heart.

‘Taking this to my boss,’ explained the ex-soldier. ‘The

Widow badly wants this, and what the Widow wants the

Widow gets. Now, you two,’ he gestured at the Doctor and

the Judoon, ‘get over here now or I’ll shoot Mr Golightly.’

For a moment it looked as if the Judoon Commander

would ignore the threat and charge at Moret himself, but

the Doctor managed to catch his eye. Slowly the Judoon

Commander and the Doctor moved away from the door.

‘But why? Why are you doing this?’ Golightly was

wide-eyed, as much from confusion as from fear.

‘Once a mercenary, always a mercenary,’ explained

Moret simply. ‘Every man has his price.’

The General backed towards the exit, his eyes flicking

between the three of them while maintaining his aim at

Golightly’s chest. At the door he paused.

‘But you work for me, for the spaceport,’ Golightly

replied, still not understanding.

‘Then you can consider this my resignation,’ Moret told

Golightly. Suddenly dropping the barrel of the weapon, he

fired off a single shot in the direction of the general

manager’s leg. Golightly cried out in pain and fell,

clutching his damaged limb. The Doctor and the Judoon

Commander ran to his aid. When they glanced back at the

door, Moret was gone.

The Doctor ran across to the door and pulled at the

handle but without any success.

‘Locked!’ he reported turning back to the Judoon.

‘How is he?’

The Judoon was examining Golightly, who had lost

consciousness, blood pooling under his damaged leg. ‘He

needs medical attention urgently.’

The Doctor had his sonic screwdriver in his hands and

made a renewed attempt to open the door, but the lock

would not open.

‘Oh, why is everything deadlocked sealed these days?’

moaned the Doctor. ‘We have to find another way out.’

The Judoon, now carrying the limp body of Golightly

in his arms, stood up and looked around.

‘That might take some time,’ he pointed out grimly.

‘And we do not have that luxury.’

Blood continued to drip relentlessly from the

unconscious man’s injury, like sand pouring through an

hourglass. Time was running out.

The Walinski brothers were standing in front of Uncle,

unflinching, as he unleashed his fury upon them for the

second time that day.

‘What is the point,’ he fumed, ‘of holding a hostage and

not knowing where she is?’

The brothers said nothing.

‘And then you came across her and managed to let her

elude you again! First the disaster at the spaceport, now

this. What’s happened to you? You’ve turned into a pair of

clowns.’

For once, the impassive faces of the brothers revealed

some emotion: their mouths tightened and they seemed to

recoil at the accusation. Seeing the reaction, Uncle

ploughed on.

‘Yes – clowns! You’re rapidly becoming a laughing

stock. People used to be afraid of you – now when you

enter a room, all you will hear is laughter.’ Uncle paused,

gathering his thoughts. ‘But when they laugh at you, they

laugh at me and I will not tolerate that!’ The last few

words were bellowed with the full force of Uncle’s anger.

There was no sign of the benign, loving parent he

presented when Hope was around now; this was the fury

of a dangerous and ruthless man.

‘With any luck, the Doctor and that alien will have

concluded their business at the spaceport by now, so the

girl’s escape will not affect my plans,’ Uncle told them,

calming down. ‘When the Invisible Assassin strikes, we

will regain our honour. No one will be laughing when the

Widow and her whole pathetic organisation are wiped out

for good.’

Nikki could not help but shiver as she heard the man

talk so casually about taking so many lives. She had

always known that the crime lords were cold and ruthless

but had never really seen the extent of their evil first hand.

She was back in the crawlspace above the false ceilings

of the rooms on this floor, perched above Uncle’s office.

She had lifted one ceiling tile just enough to watch and

listen to the scene unfolding beneath her. Part of her

wondered if she should have ignored the advice of the

Widow’s bodyguard and just escaped when she had the

chance, but something about the way the stranger had

spoken to her had convinced her to stay. As the brothers

had begun to recover consciousness, Nikki had looked for

a way to get back into the crawlspace. When she

explained how she had escaped, the mysterious Taron had

helped her climb back before disappearing himself. ‘I was

never here,’ he told her with a peculiar grin, as if making a

joke only he could understand, and then he was gone.

Now, lying here above Uncle’s office, her thoughts

once again turned to the stranger. Why had he helped her?

How had he got into Uncle’s HQ with such ease? And

who was he? Nikki added it all to the list of questions

being raised by this case and promised herself that she’d

find answers to all of them in due course.

Below, Uncle seemed to have overcome his anger and

was now smiling. Beaming, he sat back at his desk, put his

feet up and threw his head back. Nikki froze, hoping he

wouldn’t spot the slightly out-of-place ceiling panel. For a

long moment, she held her breath. Was he looking up at

the ceiling? Was he looking at her? She closed her eyes,

like a little child playing hide-and-seek, hoping that if she

couldn’t see him, he wouldn’t be able to see her.

She heard something move and, despite her fear,

opened her eyes. Uncle was no longer there. Nikki

swallowed hard. Was this it? Was she about to be

discovered?

Golightly was groaning, slipping between consciousness

and unconsciousness with ever-increasing rapidity. The

Doctor had made a temporary dressing with a strip of

material torn from the poor man’s own shirt, but the

bleeding had hardly been staunched. The Doctor looked

up at the Judoon who had been looking on at his first aid

efforts with concern and interest.

‘Any joy on an alternative exit?’ he asked, more in

hope than expectation.

The Judoon shook his head. ‘Nothing.’

The Doctor laid Golightly gently on the ground, and

made a makeshift support out of the manager’s suit jacket.

He got to his feet and began to look around. ‘Take a look

at that door and then look at these lockers,’ he suggested.

‘What do you notice?’

The Judoon shrugged. ‘I do not know what you want

me to say.’

The Doctor tapped the nearest locker, which made a

satisfying hollow, metallic sound. ‘These are solid,’

explained the Doctor. ‘Unless they were actually built

here, which I doubt, each of these lockers was brought

into this room. But not through that door – it’s not wide

enough. So there must be another way in.’

The Judoon started to move around the room, tapping

the walls. The Doctor did the same the thing, listening

carefully to the sound.

‘These walls are solid,’ reported the Judoon.

‘But this one isn’t,’ replied the Doctor triumphantly and

played a little drum roll on the wall with both hands to

prove his point. ‘This wall must have been put in after the

lockers.’

The Judoon marched across to take a look for himself.

‘In that case it is the weakest part of the structure,’ he

concluded. Without warning he pulled his arm back and

punched forward. The metal surface of the wall crumpled,

leaving a massive indentation. The Judoon punched again

and again but, although the metal bent and twisted, it did

not break.

The alien stopped to contemplate the damage he had

inflicted so far. ‘Nearly there,’ he announced and then

took a few steps away from the dented part of the wall,

lowered his head and charged. His larger horn ripped into

the weakened part of the wall and burst through. A second

run widened the hole and then, with his gloved hands, the

Judoon was able to peel the wall back like the lid of a tin

of sardines to create a gap large enough for them all to

pass through.

‘That wall-bursting thing could become a nasty habit,’

commented the Doctor as he climbed carefully through

the jagged-edged hole.

The Judoon, carrying the moaning figure of Golightly,

followed him.

‘That could make me a crashing bore,’ he said sternly

and made the strange noise that the Doctor now knew to

be laughter.

‘Oi! Leave the appalling puns to me,’ the Doctor said

with a grin. ‘I’ve got form. Right, allons-y. First priority:

some medical attention for our friend here, and then…’ He

trailed off.

‘What?’ asked the Judoon, clearly still smarting about

the way they had allowed their prize to be taken from

them by Moret.

‘Then we’d better get that case back,’ said the Doctor

with grim determination. ‘Before anyone else gets hurt.’

Moret hurried through the wet and slippery streets,

oblivious to the downpour that was rapidly soaking him to

the skin. His heart was beating quickly in his chest, his

breathing was slightly laboured. Although he was

navigating through the city on autopilot, dodging traffic

without really seeing it, inside he was more alert than he

had been for years.

It was like being back in combat. For the first time in as

long as he could remember, he felt properly alive.

Adrenalin was running through his system, activating old

senses and awakening long-buried memories.

He had enjoyed being a soldier. Life had been brutally

simple: he was paid to fight and to kill and to follow

orders. For twenty years he did just that, defending his

homeworld against aliens of all descriptions.

And then, without warning, his political masters and

their enemies had rediscovered the lost arts of diplomacy.

A new spirit of tolerance and understanding began to

spread through the region. Peace treaties and ceasefires

and talk of reconciliation became the new status quo.

Warfare itself became unfashionable and outdated.

For a man like Moret, this had been a bitter pill to

swallow. He left his home planet vowing never to return.

Eventually he had pitched up in New Memphis desperate

for work. One of Uncle’s men had spotted him on arrival

and recognised his potential, and soon he was secretly

working for Uncle’s organisation while running spaceport

security. But Uncle had treated him no better than the

politicians had back home, so now he had a new boss –

the Widow. At last he had found an employer who would

show him some respect.

The rain continued to fall from the sky in torrents.

Moret blinked raindrops out of his eyes and crossed

another street, slipping between the slow-moving traffic. A

bus passed him, its wheels hitting a puddle where a drain

was blocked and sending a huge wave of dirty water into

the air and over Moret.

Barely looking at the bus, Moret pulled out a weapon,

pointed it behind him and shot out one of the vehicle’s

front tyres. It careered out of control and shot across an

intersection. Horns blasted and there was the sound of

multiple collisions, but Moret never looked back. He was

focused on just one thing. Getting this precious package to

the Widow and, more importantly, getting the gratitude he

deserved.

Golightly was sitting up in a hospital bed, looking pale but

at least alive.

‘I can’t believe Moret is crooked,’ he was saying,

shaking his head to emphasise his disbelief.

The Judoon Commander just snorted but the Doctor

nodded sympathetically.

‘Well, that’s humans for you,’ he said. ‘Great actors.

Infinite capacity for deception.’

‘Which is why so many galactic criminals are human,’

muttered the Judoon.

The Doctor shot him an annoyed look and continued.

‘Ah, but they also have an infinite capacity to do the right

thing. Like Nikki,’ he added looking directly at the

Judoon.

The Judoon Commander took his point.

‘If this human is now safe,’ he began, nodding at

Golightly, ‘then we should go after the suitcase.’

‘Do you need details of where Moret lives?’ offered

Golightly, acutely aware that his injury had caused the

Doctor and the Judoon to postpone an immediate pursuit

of the traitor.

The Doctor shook his head firmly. ‘He’s not going

home,’ he said with confidence. ‘He’ll be taking that

suitcase directly to the Widow herself.’

‘Then it’s time for another visit to the Spa,’ the Judoon

suggested with a nod of agreement. ‘ Allons-y!’

Moret reached his destination and was quickly ushered

into a waiting area beyond the main Spa. Inside he was

searched by the sweaty bodyguard, Taron. The overweight

newcomer patted him down efficiently and gave him the

all-clear. Moret regarded him with suspicious eyes.

Taron was new to the Widow’s outfit and had not been

around when she had recruited Moret from Uncle’s

employ. It had happened very suddenly and without

warning. Moret had gone to visit Uncle, under cover of

using the Casino. Uncle had arranged for him to be

brought up to his private suite of offices above the

gambling halls where he had berated him for his stupidity.

Moret winced at the memory of the way Uncle had treated

him. Uncle had reminded him that his value as an

informant was his impeccable record and reputation; to be

seen gambling was to put all that in danger. Moret – like

the good soldier he was – had stood blank-faced and let

the verbal abuse roll over him. He had heard far worse

from his commanding officers in his fighting days, and

words had little effect on him. Suddenly, however, Uncle’s

attitude had changed. It was so sudden, it was almost as if

a switch had been flicked and a whole new personality

activated. A door had opened and a pretty pale young

woman had entered the room. Uncle, suddenly smiling

and gentle, had introduced Moret to his daughter, Hope.

The girl had smiled shyly and shaken his hand with a limp

wrist and a grasp so weak that he could barely feel the

contact. Uncle had told Hope that Moret was an old friend

and had placed an arm round his shoulders. Uncle

squeezed tight, his fingers painfully burying themselves in

the ex-soldier’s flesh. All the while, Uncle had maintained

his air of genteel happiness – the very image of the perfect

host. Finally Moret had managed to extricate himself,

make credible excuses and get away. At the door, he’d

given one last glance back into the room. Hope, the

daughter, had been waving at him with a vacant or

perhaps wistful expression on her face; behind her, Uncle

had been standing with one hand raised in a gesture of

goodbye while his eyes burned with contempt and anger.

Moret had left the meeting determined to extract himself

from Uncle’s employ and, as luck would have it, that very

evening he was contacted by the Widow.

That had been some months earlier, and Moret had

been here a number of times for clandestine meetings with

his new colleagues. At first, Moret had been a frequent

sounding board for the Widow as she outlined plans and

constructed strategy, but more recently Taron had usurped

that role. That would have been enough on its own to

engender antipathy towards Taron in Moret but there was

more. Moret prided himself on having developed excellent

instincts over the years. On the battlefield, it operated like

a sixth sense, warning him of danger. In civilian life, it

just reacted to people when he met them, giving him an

intrinsic gut feeling about who he could and could not

trust. When it came to Taron, Moret did not trust him as

far as he could throw him. There was something about the

man that set every warning bell in Moret’s head ringing

but what exactly it was he couldn’t say. In public, the men

tolerated each other but when together their eyes were

rarely far from each other, ever vigilant.

Taron completed the body search and with a non-

specific grunt indicated that Moret should enter the suite

behind him. Picking up his precious cargo – the suitcase –

Moret opened the door and went in.

Outside the Spa, the Judoon Commander found a place of

concealment and settled down to wait. After a lot of

discussion it had been agreed that it would be best, on this

occasion, if the Doctor attempted to get inside the

Widow’s base of operations on his own. In fact, now that

the Judoon Commander thought about it, although there

had been an illusion of discussion, the Doctor had done

most of the talking. Humans liked to talk, the Judoon

Commander had noticed and, although the Doctor was not

human, he clearly shared a lot of characteristics with the

race and not just the obvious physical ones.

The Doctor was a strange case. The Judoon’s

experience of humans was relatively limited, but in most

of his encounters with them the alien had found them to

be essentially simple creatures. Not particularly

trustworthy, or complicated, they tended to look after

number one and talk a lot. In contrast, the Judoon found

the Doctor utterly trustworthy and full of honour.

Although he seemed uninterested in military matters, the

Judoon was sure that there was some conflict in the

Doctor’s past. Beneath his energy and relentless

enthusiasm for all and sundry, there was a sadness and a

bitterness that just occasionally an observant viewer could

spot.

Just now had been a typical example. The Doctor had

all but waltzed off, grinning with anticipation at trying to

get back inside the Widow’s domain, armed with nothing

but his sonic tool and a quick wit. The Judoon had urged

caution and had reminded him of Nikki’s situation, but

that had only seemed to make him more manically

cheerful. ‘Don’t get your horns in a knot,’ the Doctor had

said, grinning wildly. ‘I’ll be back before you know it.’

With that, the Doctor had disappeared into the Spa,

leaving the Judoon to wait in the rain. That had been half

an hour earlier. Since then, nothing of any significance

had happened.

Suddenly, the Judoon Commander became aware of a

presence behind him and felt the cold barrel of an energy

weapon being pressed into the back of his neck.

‘Turn around slowly,’ hissed a voice in his ear.

Carefully, the Judoon Commander did as he had been

asked.

When the Doctor left his Judoon companion, he

crossed the street towards the Spa but did not enter the

building. Instead, he walked past the notices offering

facials and head massages, keeping his eyes directed at the

pavement itself. In a side street, he saw what he had been

looking for – a manhole cover. It took a little effort to lift

the heavy metal cover – for a moment he considered going

back to get the Judoon’s assistance – but finally the heavy

disc shifted in his hands and he was able to pull it clear.

The shaft beneath was pitch black, but the sonic

screwdriver provided enough light to reveal a metal ladder

descending into the sewer system. The Doctor began to

climb down, pulling the cover back. It dropped into place

with a loud clang, shutting out the sounds and light from

above.

Moving carefully on the ill-maintained and rusty

ladder, the Doctor soon found himself at the bottom of the

shaft in a wide cylindrical tunnel. His eyes had adjusted to

the lack of light and he was able to make out some details

of his surroundings. A central channel in the lowest part of

the tunnel was a river of raw sewerage, which gave the

environment a distinctive and quite unpleasant odour. To

the Doctor’s relief, there was a flat walkway built into the

side of the tunnel, allowing access without the need to

wade through the foul stream itself. The Doctor quickly

took his bearings and headed in the direction of the Spa.

The Doctor was working on the theory that the

underground systems of sewerage and transport would be

connected at some point, and his hunch proved right. He

soon reached a much bigger, horizontal tunnel where the

floor was covered with metallic rails rather than a river of

waste. The Doctor smiled to himself, remembering

previous adventures in underground transport tunnels.

Usually they had involved unspeakable creatures, but the

only monsters on this world were distinctly human in

nature. Creatures like Uncle and the Widow, who used

their gang members like chess masters casually sacrificing

pawns, were far more horrifying than any so-called

monster that he’d met. The Judoon may have been prone

to overkill, as he had witnessed many times, but they were

honourable. At least they believed in justice, even if their

justice was sometimes rather harsh and inflexible. Here on

New Memphis, there seemed precious little justice. People

like Nikki and her father were the exceptions rather than

the rule. Again the thought of Nikki, held hostage by

Uncle, spurred the Doctor on. He had to find a way into

the Widow’s lair and retrieve that suitcase.

The Doctor stopped and applied his exceptional sense

of direction before choosing which way to go. A few

moments later, he was delighted to find himself entering

an area that was lit by powerful lights.

Suddenly, someone or something grabbed him from

behind.

‘Give me one good reason not to kill you right now,’

hissed an angry but familiar voice in his ear.

The Doctor sighed. It was Moret, and he didn’t seem

pleased to see him.

The Judoon Commander regarded his assailant with cool

eyes. Somehow, this large and flabby human had managed

to creep up on a trained Judoon officer of the law and take

his weapon from its holster without him noticing. How

was that possible? The Widow’s bodyguard took a step

back and flipped the weapon over, holding it by the barrel.

‘I am not your enemy,’ Taron stated simply and reached

out, offering the weapon back to the Judoon. The galactic

law officer opened his gloved palm to take back the

weapon, but hesitantly, still not entirely sure that he

should trust this corpulent human. Without taking his eyes

from the man’s face, the Judoon took back his weapon and

slipped it back into its rightful place on his hip.

‘Who are you, then?’ he asked finally, his voice a low

rumble.

Taron smiled mysteriously.

‘The Widow is a criminal,’ the Judoon stated, ‘and you

work for her, therefore…’

‘I must be a criminal too,’ the man finished the

statement for him. ‘Not necessarily.’

‘Then explain yourself,’ demanded the Judoon.

Rather than give a direct answer, the bodyguard

reached into his pocket and produced a small metallic

device.

‘Take this,’ he instructed, passing him what the Judoon

could now see was one of the local communicator devices,

similar in design to the one that Nikki had.

‘The girl is safe,’ he added, almost as if he was able to

read the Judoon’s mind. ‘She’s at large at Uncle’s Casino

– you can use that to contact her to confirm my story.’

The Judoon just looked at the device, tiny in his

massive gloved hands and then at the stranger again.

‘Go on,’ insisted the bodyguard. ‘Try.’

The Doctor had not given Moret one good reason not to

kill him.

He had given him multiple reasons, firing off one after

another in a long speech that tried the ex-soldier’s

patience long before the Doctor ran out of breath. The

tactic had worked, however, and Moret had dragged the

Doctor away to meet with the Widow.

She was in the room where he had encountered her

before, dressed in another figure-hugging dress. She lay

on her chaise longue and took a long look at the Doctor

and his captor.

‘You’ve excelled, Moret. Two deliveries in one night!’

Moret bowed his head. ‘I hope I haven’t embarrassed

Mr Taron,’ he said, in an even tone. ‘It is, after all, his job

to protect you, isn’t it?’

The Widow frowned. ‘Where is Taron, I wonder?’

‘Perhaps it’s his tea break?’ offered the Doctor. He took

a step forward. ‘Look, this has all been a terrible

misunderstanding. Classic really, the old suitcase

switcheroo at the airport sort of thing. If you can just let

me have my case back…’

The Widow raised a hand. ‘Can you just stop babbling

for a moment?’ she demanded.

‘It’s all he seems to do,’ agreed Moret, balefully.

‘Babble? Babble!’ complained the Doctor. ‘What kind

of idiot do you think I am? It’s just there’s a lot to say.’

‘Well, it can wait,’ insisted the Widow firmly. ‘First I

want to let Uncle know that we’ve… acquired his case.

Then we’ll decide what to do with you. Until then, Moret,

if he opens his mouth, shoot him.’

The Doctor looked across at Moret to see how seriously

he was going to take this order and saw the gun ready in

his hand. Quickly he ran a hand along his mouth in a

zipping motion and gave the Widow the thumbs up. The

woman sighed and got to her feet. Behind her, the Doctor

saw a large screen which was clearly connected to some

communications equipment. A technician was operating

the controls.

‘Open Channel D and get me Uncle,’ the Widow

ordered. She turned and smiled at the Doctor. ‘I’m going

to enjoy this.’

The Judoon found himself happier than he might have

imagined possible when he heard the human girl’s voice

whispering from the tiny communications device.

‘You are free, Nikki?’ he asked.

‘Yeah, but I’m still here at Uncle’s. Taron said it was a

good idea,’ she told him.

The Judoon glanced over at the bodyguard, watching

him with patient eyes. ‘You trust this Taron?’

There was a pause and then Nikki answered. ‘Yeah, I

do. Not sure why. Call it instinct.’

The Judoon grunted, taking the information in. ‘Then I

shall trust him myself. The Doctor has gone to get the

suitcase. We will return with it shortly.’

The conversation over, the Judoon flipped the

communicator closed and placed it in one of the pockets

of his uniform.

‘Thank you,’ he said to Taron, genuinely. He was

surprised at how worried he had been about the human

girl, and how much better he felt now that he knew that

she was relatively safe.

‘I need to get back to my post,’ Taron told him quickly,

‘but there’s one more thing I need to give you.’

He passed over a small card with a computer chip set in

it. The Judoon examined it curiously.

‘Another locker key?’ he asked.

‘Not exactly. It’s a security override for the Widow’s

base. Access all areas. You may need it.’

Taron began to move away. ‘When we meet again,

keep my secret,’ he requested. The Judoon nodded, and

the mysterious bodyguard hurried away through the rain.

The Doctor watched carefully as the two crime lords

confronted each other across their communications

screens. The Widow was bristling with the excitement of

the moment, triumphant at getting one over on her enemy.

For his part, Uncle was comparatively still, angry but

contained.

‘Your Invisible Assassin isn’t going to be very effective

without his equipment, is he, Uncle?’ the Widow crowed,

revealing the suitcase.

Uncle said nothing. His expression was fixed in

neutral, but a rich mixture of emotions burned in his eyes.

‘You’re getting old, Uncle. You’re past it! It’s time for

you to move on. If only you had a son to pass the family

business on to.’

As she spoke, the Doctor noted the Widow’s body

language with interest. She was shaking with emotion,

leaning forward into the camera transmitting her image, as

if she wanted to be there in person, parading Uncle’s

failure right in front of his face.

‘I have no son,’ he retorted calmly, ‘and I will not allow

my daughter into this world of violence. But I do not need

to. I am not going anywhere.’

Uncle made a stab at defiance, but to the Doctor’s mind

there was something ringing false about his statement. It

felt somehow… rehearsed. Yes, that was it. Somehow it

wasn’t as spontaneous as it should have been in the

circumstances. It was almost as if Uncle had been

expecting this call. Was that possible? The Doctor leant

forward, about to contribute to the conversation himself,

but Moret raised the gun slightly and he fell back into his

enforced silence.

‘We’ll see,’ countered the Widow. ‘When I have the

secrets of the Invisible Assassin, perhaps you will be his

next victim. Goodbye, old man.’

She waved a hand to the technician to terminate the

connection. The image of Uncle disappeared from the

large screen, but in the last second that his face could be

seen the Doctor saw what appeared to be a triumphant

grin cross the man’s face.

Something wasn’t right here. If only he knew what it

was.

From her vantage point above Uncle’s office, Nikki had

watched the conversation between the crime lord and the

Widow with interest. From where she was watching, she

had a good view of Uncle’s body language and he seemed

calm and in control throughout, despite the apparent

setback.

Uncle was not watching the screen alone. The Walinski

brothers were also there, and a fourth person, who had

arrived just before the call came through. For a while the

identity of this new arrival eluded Nikki. But when the

conversation ended she spoke, and Nikki instantly

recognised the voice. It was the police officer, Corilli, who

had set them up earlier.

‘I don’t get it, Uncle,’ said Corilli. ‘Why are you

grinning? The Widow’s got your stuff.’

Uncle laughed out loud. ‘That’s why you make such a

good policewoman, Corilli,’ he said, patting the woman on

the shoulder. ‘You’re so lacking in imagination.’

Corilli frowned, her brows scrunching together to

create deep furrows across her forehead. ‘You wanted her

to have the suitcase?’ she asked finally, squeezing the

thought out of her head like the last toothpaste in the tube.

‘Brilliant. Make the lady Commissioner of Police!’

Uncle replied.

‘But why?’ Corilli was still struggling to make sense of

the situation.

Suddenly the humour vanished from Uncle’s

demeanour. ‘Why?’ he echoed the corrupt policewoman.

‘I’ll tell you why. Because there is no Invisible Assassin.

Not in the sense of a person anyway. The Invisible

Assassin isn’t a person at all; it’s a thing. A virus. An

artificial bio-agent that kills.’

The policewoman’s jaw dropped open. ‘You’re going

to release a deadly virus in the city? Are you mad?’

‘Mad? I’m furious,’ retorted Uncle. ‘But not suicidal.

The virus is very special. Short-lived in an oxygen-based

atmosphere.’

Uncle sat back in his chair and put his hands behind his

head.

‘Brilliant or what?’

‘So what happens? How does it work?’ asked Corilli.

Uncle leaned forward over his desk, placing his hands

down.

‘Couldn’t be simpler. She opens the case; she releases

the virus. Thirty seconds later…’ Uncle slammed his hand

down on the desk, making everything on it jump. ‘She’s

dead!’

The Judoon Commander was beginning to almost enjoy

being in the rain. His uniform was mostly waterproof, and

the rain hitting the exposed skin of his head was quite

refreshing. The only negative was the occasional drip

which managed to slip between the collar of his uniform

and his neck, but the discomfort of this was not too great

to bear. The raindrops running over the wrinkles of his

face were quite invigorating. He glanced over at the Spa

and wondered if, perhaps, there was something to be said

for some appropriate skin care. Something throbbed in his

leg and he realised that it was the communications device

given to him by Taron. He extracted it and flipped it open.

It was Nikki.

‘Listen, Jude, this is important. The Widow mustn’t

open the suitcase,’ she told him urgently. Quickly she

passed on everything she had learned from eavesdropping

on Uncle. The Judoon listened carefully and promised

Nikki that he would do what he could.

With the need for speed overriding the need for

caution, the Judoon Commander dashed across the street

and straight into the Spa. Screaming patrons, some of

whom had only just recovered from his visit earlier in the

evening, hurried out of his way. Using the override key

that Taron had given him, the Judoon Commander

accessed the lift to the lower levels.

Inside the Widow’s lair, the atmosphere was strangely

tense. Taron the bodyguard had recently arrived and had

clearly been put out to discover Moret there. The fact that

the spaceport security officer had managed to capture the

Doctor whilst Taron had been strangely absent from his

post was an additional slur.

‘Taron, you disappoint me,’ the Widow said. ‘You

nearly missed my moment of triumph.’

‘My apologies, Madame Yilonda,’ he replied, bowing

his head.

‘Never mind.’ The Widow started to reach for the

suitcase. ‘You are in time for the main event.’

She leant over the suitcase and reached for the clasps.

Suddenly a new figure burst into the room. The

lumbering bulk of the Judoon Commander ran directly

towards the Widow. Both Moret and Taron stepped

forward into his path but he bulldozed straight through

them, pushing them aside like rag dolls.

‘Stop!’ he roared, ‘don’t touch that, or you will die!’

For a moment it was as if time had stood still. Moret and

Taron got to their feet, and Moret immediately drew his

weapon and pointed it at the Judoon Commander.

‘Wait,’ ordered the Widow. She looked down at the

suitcase and then up at the alien.

‘Explain yourself,’ she demanded.

The Judoon took a moment to gather himself. ‘It’s a

trap,’ he said finally. ‘The suitcase is a dummy. There is

nothing in it except a virus. A deadly virus that will kill

you!’

The Widow recoiled from the suitcase as if it were

about to explode.

‘So that’s what they mean by an Invisible Assassin,’

murmured the Doctor.

‘How do I know this is not another trick? A double

bluff. Has Uncle sent you here with this story, thinking me

gullible?’ wondered the Widow.

The Judoon shook his head. ‘This information came

from our colleague. A spy inside Uncle’s Casino.’

The Doctor caught his eye and the Judoon nodded –

Nikki was safe.

The Widow was pacing, trying to take in this latest

information. ‘It’s too much, all this lying, spying, double-

dealing, how do I know who to trust?’ She seemed to be

talking to herself, ignoring the rest of the room.

The Doctor looked around at the others. Moret was

patiently waiting to see what the Widow would do next.

He could see that the Judoon was readying himself for

possible action but Taron was less patient. He took a step

or two towards the suitcase and reached out to grab it. The

Widow saw his movement and grabbed the gun out of a

surprised Moret’s hand. Before anyone could react or say

anything, she shot her new bodyguard in the leg.

‘Get back!’ she screamed, with a distinct note of

hysteria in her voice. She’s losing it, thought the Doctor,

she needs to be handled very carefully.

He raised his hands and took a step forward. ‘It’s OK,’

he began but he got no further.

‘OK? OK!’ she bellowed. ‘Nothing is OK. It’s all gone

wrong. Uncle’s made me look a fool.’

Behind her, the Doctor could see Taron lying on the

floor clutching his leg, his face a mask of agony. The

Widow made an effort to pull herself together.

‘Moret, there are secure storerooms down there.’ She

pointed off down a brick-lined tunnel. ‘Lock these two in

one of them.’ She waved her purloined weapon at the

Doctor and the injured Taron.

‘What about the big guy?’ asked the ex-security officer.

The Widow smiled for the first time since the Judoon

Commander’s arrival. ‘I’ve got a little job for him.’

The Doctor was allowed to help Taron to his feet. The

large man was not nearly as heavy as he looked. With the

Doctor’s support, he was able to walk down the tunnel to

one of the storerooms. Moret pushed them roughly

through the thick metal door and then secured it.

The Doctor listened to the heavy locks falling into

position and then turned to look at Taron, who had found

some boxes to sit on.

‘Right then,’ said the Doctor, with the air of a man

whose patience had been severely tested. ‘Why don’t you

explain exactly who you are, and why, when you’re shot

in the thigh, you don’t appear to bleed?’

The Judoon Commander stood statue-still, waiting and

watching as the Widow considered her next move.

Between them lay the suitcase, its deadly virus still safely

concealed within.

The woman finally stopped pacing and looked into the

alien’s deep-set eyes.

‘Take it back to him,’ she whispered. ‘Tell him his

Invisible Assassin has failed.’

She picked up the case and held it out for the Judoon

Commander to take from her.

‘And tell him that I expected more from him. An

assassin is a coward’s way of dealing with a problem.

When word of this spreads – and I’ll make sure it does –

he’ll be a complete joke. He’s finished.’

Her smile grew wider but her eyes became even colder,

hidden behind the cool blue of her oversized shades.

‘Unless he cares to come to a compromise. I’m a

reasonable woman. It’s just possible that I could be

persuaded to forget that this ever happened, for the right

price.’

She stepped away and returned to her chaise longue.

She settled herself down before continuing in a voice now

rich with confidence.

‘This is a big city and there’s room for both of us. At

least there will be if he withdraws from certain

neighbourhoods and lets my people take over. Tell him I

expect a first offer within twelve hours. And he’d better

make it a good one!’

Nikki hadn’t heard anything for an hour now. What was

happening? She could only assume that things were not

going well, but without contact from her friends she had

no clue what to do next.

She had reacted instinctively to warn the Widow of the

danger in the suitcase, but that act of humanity seemed to

have backfired. The Doctor and the Judoon Commander

had entered the Widow’s base and just disappeared.

Meanwhile, she was lurking around the access tunnels and

ventilation shafts of the Casino like a rat in the

wainscoting. It was like the business with her Dad. The

best thing she could do was not to worry and keep busy.

She decided that her best bet was to keep close tabs on

Uncle and his people.

The crawlspace in the ceiling had become quite

uncomfortable, so Nikki had managed to find somewhere

to climb back down. Then, making sure that she wasn’t

seen by anyone, she explored the various rooms that made

up this level of the building. There were guest rooms,

mainly dormant, storerooms and various family spaces.

There was also a room that reminded her of a meeting

room or boardroom. It had seating for twelve at a large,

highly polished table, surrounded on three sides by walls

decorated with large screens. At the rear of the room were

a number of sideboard-style cupboards, mostly filled with

crockery.

Suddenly, Nikki heard the sound of approaching

voices. As they came closer, she recognised the

unmistakable tones of Uncle himself. Were they coming

towards her? Of course they are, she told herself , so make

yourself scarce. There was only one door to and from the

room and no time to get on the table to access the

crawlspace. She had little choice – it was either hide under

the table itself or squeeze into the cupboards. Nikki took

another quick glance at the cupboards and realised that

they really weren’t a viable option. She got on her hands

and knees and crawled quickly under the table. It was oval

and it bulged out quite widely in the middle, making an

area that offered a degree of cover. As long as no one

coming in had really long legs, she would be OK. Hiding

under the table, she thought to herself with a grin. What

would Dad say to that?

The Doctor was looking at the wound in Taron’s leg.

There was indeed no blood, just a rip in the skin and

underneath that…

‘Padding?’ the Doctor frowned.

The man who had called himself Taron smiled and

reached up to his neck. He tugged and pulled at the folds

of skin around his neck and then began to pull his face off.

It was a mask; a brilliant, lifelike prosthetic face.

Underneath was a much thinner-faced man with the same

lively eyes and grin as Taron but with radically different

features.

‘Detective Jupiter, I presume,’ said the Doctor holding

out a hand. ‘I know your daughter.’

Nikki’s father was continuing to remove his disguise.

Underneath the padding and the Taron costume, he was

wearing a lightweight suit. ‘Excuse the smell,’ he told the

Doctor. ‘It’s pretty hot in that get-up.’

‘I can imagine,’ smiled the Doctor.

‘Call me Conrad,’ said the man, finally shaking the

Doctor’s hand.

‘How long have you been undercover, Conrad?’ asked

the Doctor.

‘Weeks. Tough case,’ explained Conrad Jupiter. ‘And

it’s been so full-on I’ve not been able to get word to

Nikki. How is she?’

The Doctor pulled a face. ‘Well, OK,’ he answered. ‘At

least I think so. It’s a bit complicated. She’s kind of got a

tough case of her own. And me and the Judoon are trying

to help her.’

‘And how’s that going?’ Nikki’s father asked directly.

The Doctor wrapped a long arm around the back of his

neck and scratched distractedly. ‘Not too well,’ he

confessed. He frowned as another thought hit him.

‘So tell me, what exactly were you undercover to find

out?’ he asked casually.

Conrad smiled. ‘Something, anything, about the

Widow, of course.’

‘Any luck with that?’

‘I’ve found out lots. About the Widow’s operation,

about the things that have been happening at Terminal 13,

lots of stuff,’ Conrad told the Doctor with some pride.

‘But not who she really is or the real reason for her

determination to bring down Uncle?’ the Doctor pointed

out, slightly deflating the detective. He shook his head

sadly.

The Doctor turned away and began examining the

walls for signs of weakness. ‘She’s Uncle’s daughter,’ he

said casually, turning around to enjoy the look on the

detective’s face.

‘Hope?!’

The Doctor nodded. ‘Hope,’ he repeated, and watched a

bizarre set of expressions cross the man’s face as he

absorbed the information.

‘But… what… she…’ he spluttered on for a long

moment, starting and stopping a dozen responses before

sitting back down on his seat and shaking his head in

amazement. ‘A disguise?’

‘Not quite as involved as the one you’ve been wearing

– but a wig, change in make-up, different posture, body

language. She’s quite an actress,’ explained the Doctor.

‘But you saw through her,’ Conrad was impressed.

‘It’s all in the hands,’ the Doctor told him with a smile.

‘Very hard to disguise hands.’

Conrad looked up at the Doctor, wide-eyed, shaking his

head in amazement. ‘Now you’ve told me, I can see it,’ he

agreed. ‘At least I can see the how… but what about the

why?’

‘Dads and daughters,’ muttered the Doctor by way of a

reply. ‘Difficult relationship. Can be, anyway…’

‘So this crime war – all these deaths and beatings and

gang warfare – it’s all about a father and his daughter with

relationship issues!’

The Doctor nodded. ‘If only they could go on daytime

TV and resolve things that way,’ he joked. ‘“My Dad’s A

Crime Lord but he wants me to go to Finishing School”,

that sort of thing!’

Conrad stopped laughing as a fresh thought hit him.

‘But the Widow’s sent that case back to Uncle. Why

would she do that? Unless…’ he began.

‘Unless she’s tampered with it in some way,’ continued

the Doctor, following Conrad’s train of thought.

‘That virus could be released at any time. We need to

get out of here and make sure Uncle doesn’t open that

case,’ declared Conrad Jupiter determinedly.

The Doctor smiled approvingly. ‘Right, then. First

things first. How exactly do we get out of here?’

From her new hiding place, Nikki watched as various

pairs of feet entered the room and took seats. Most

seemed humanoid – wearing trousers and shoes, but one

pair of feet, dressed in heavy boots, had a distinctly alien

look. Nikki grinned to herself as she heard the now

familiar tones of the Judoon Commander.

‘With the compliments of the Widow,’ announced the

Judoon formally, putting something down on the table.

Nikki wondered what it could be.

‘The Invisible Assassin,’ the Judoon continued,

answering Nikki’s unspoken question. ‘The Widow thinks

it the weapon of a coward.’

Nikki could hear the sharp intake of breath that gave

away Uncle’s reaction to this statement.

The Judoon continued without pausing or allowing

Uncle to get a word in. ‘The Widow wanted me to pass on

her terms for not letting the facts about your cowardly

attack become public knowledge.’

Finally Uncle spoke. In a voice trembling with rage he

demanded to know what she meant by terms.

‘What does she want from me?’ he demanded.

The Judoon explained. ‘She wants a deal. “A slice of

the action” – that is the phrase she used. A much bigger

slice.’

Uncle grunted, as he processed the information. He was

unable to take his eyes from the suitcase. Why was it back

here? How could she have known? He refocused his

attention on the alien’s words. The Widow wanted a lot.

‘And while we are talking of deals,’ the Judoon

Commander pressed on, ‘what of the girl?’

Uncle’s eyes remained focused on the suitcase. ‘Girl?

What girl?’

Charming, thought Nikki to herself.

‘You held our friend hostage,’ the alien reminded him.

‘Never mind her, why didn’t the Widow woman open

the suitcase?’ he demanded.

The alien looked back at him impassively, the narrow

eyes set deep in his giant head regarding Uncle without

blinking. There was a movement in the shoulders that

might have been a shrug but might just as well have been

the massive creature breathing.

‘She should be dead,’ insisted Uncle.

‘The Widow is most certainly not dead,’ the alien

intoned, and made a sound which might have been a

laugh. ‘She said there had been a mistake. She’d been

under the impression that this was a gift to her from you

but now she realises her error she asked me to return it.

Now – my friend. Where is she?’

Uncle nodded to the two heavies who lurked near to his

desk. Both drew their weapons in preparation.

‘She escaped,’ he replied eventually. ‘I don’t know

where she is now. Take him!’

The last was an order to his two underlings. They fired

their weapons simultaneously, launching high-voltage

electric shocks that hit the Judoon before he could begin

to take any evasive action. Instantly, the alien lost

consciousness, toppling over like a dislodged statue,

landing face down on the table, and embedding his larger

horn in the wood.

Beneath the table, the horn came within ten centimetres

of extending the damage to Nikki’s skull. She ducked

down and started to crawl away from the point of impact,

fearing that the table might collapse.

‘Not so tough now, are you?’ she heard Uncle

muttering. ‘Right, gentlemen. Back to business. Any reply

from Golightly yet?’

Nikki heard no answer and could only assume that any

reply had been a shake of the head judging by Uncle’s

response.

She heard him sigh heavily. ‘What will it take before

they close that place down? It should have closed the day

it opened. All that lost luggage, all the delays, they should

be on their knees.’

For a moment Uncle was silent, lost in thought and

then, without warning, he slammed down his palms on the

table. Nikki nearly jumped out of her skin.

‘Activate the devices. If they won’t close the place

because of operational problems, perhaps a series of

devastating terrorist attacks might change their minds.’

‘What about the alien?’ asked one of Uncle’s men.

There was a long pause and then a throaty laugh as

Uncle came up with an answer.

‘Let’s kill two birds with one stone,’ she heard him say.

‘We’ll chain him up to the biggest bomb of the lot and

splatter him across the whole terminal!’

Nikki’s blood turned to ice in her veins as she listened

to Uncle’s next statement.

‘One hundred separate explosions all over Terminal 13

– if that doesn’t get their attention, nothing will. The

Widow is nothing in this City, this is my territory, and

after tonight everyone will remember that.’

The Doctor had tapped and listened to the solid-

sounding brick walls, examined the low ceiling with

similar care and then turned to the floor. While Conrad

watched, he knelt to examine the floor covering. It

appeared to be old faded carpet. The Doctor scurried

across to the wall and tried to insert his fingers between

the edge of the carpet and the wall itself.

‘So what did you find out about Terminal 13?’ he asked

unexpectedly.

Conrad was wrong-footed. ‘Sorry?’

The Doctor gave the carpet a tug, but hadn’t freed

enough to get sufficient grip. ‘You said you’d found out a

lot about what’s being going on at Terminal 13.’

Recovering, Conrad nodded. ‘Yes, you could say that.’

‘Who’s behind it then – the Widow or Uncle?’

‘What makes you think it has to be one of them?’ asked

Conrad, his surprise at the question evident in his voice.

The Doctor grunted and pulled at the carpet again. This

time it moved, ripping clear of ancient dried-out glue.

‘Call it a hunch.’

‘You don’t believe it’s the work of the direct-action

branch of an environmental protection protest group,

then?’

The Doctor looked up from his struggle with the carpet.

‘Feel free to lend a hand,’ he suggested.

‘Sorry,’ Conrad said, bending down to aid the Doctor in

his task. Together, the men managed to pull the carpet

further from the floor.

‘It seemed clear to me that the missing luggage and the

other problems were part of an organised pattern,’ the

Doctor explained, ‘but I don’t think that it’s down to any

kind of protest group. That sort of direct action tends to be

more… spontaneous and sporadic. This has been

relentless, cumulative…’

Slowly, the pair peeled the carpet back, rolling it up and

revealing wooden floorboards below.

‘You asked Uncle or the Widow; it was Uncle,’ Conrad

told the Doctor, who raised his eyebrows at the

information.

‘And the motive?’ asked the Doctor. ‘Why would

Uncle want Terminal 13 shut down?’

‘Uncle wouldn’t,’ smiled Conrad. ‘But Salter does.’

‘The man who built the place?’

Conrad was nodding again. ‘He over-extended himself,

apparently. Spent a fortune to build it, and now he can’t

afford to run it.’

‘But surely when it’s operational it’s making some

money. Why would having it closed be of any use to him?’

asked the Doctor, genuinely confused.

He pulled his sonic screwdriver from an inside pocket

and, after making a minute adjustment to the almost

invisible controls on the device, he began using it to

remove the nails from the floorboards.

Without needing to be told, Conrad began helping the

Doctor lift the floorboards as the securing nails were

removed.

‘Economics, isn’t it?’ Conrad ventured. ‘You’re right.

Common sense says keep the place open and keep some

cash flow going, but it doesn’t quite work like that.

Basically, it’s one of the oldest cons in the book… If

Terminal 13 hadn’t opened on time, Salter would have

been hit with financial penalty payments that would have

bankrupted him three times over. So it had to open when it

did, come what may. Once that had happened, if it was

then forced to close down, say for operational reasons or

due to external factors like, well, sabotage or violent

protests or something like that…’

Enough floorboards had been removed now to reveal

some space underneath the floor – the bare bricks of the

old tunnels the storerooms had been built into. The Doctor

grinned and finished Conrad’s sentence for him.

‘Then there would be a massive insurance payout!’ He

dropped down into the hole.

‘Exactly,’ Conrad called after him. ‘Like I said, it’s the

conman’s classic – the insurance scam.’

‘But on a really large scale,’ commented the Doctor,

popping his head out of the hole. ‘Are you coming?’

Conrad followed the Doctor down the hole and into the

darkness beyond.

To Nikki’s great relief, Uncle’s musclemen had managed

to remove the Judoon from the table without damaging it

– or the Judoon – further. She’d watched from the far end

of the underside of the table as four of Uncle’s strongest

had struggled to lift the unconscious alien onto a trolley

and then wheeled him away. As soon as she was sure that

the room was empty again, Nikki emerged from her

hiding place and stretched gratefully. She seemed to have

spent an awful lot of time recently in confined spaces and

was looking forward to a shower and standing upright for

a change.

First of all, though, she knew she had to do something

about these bombs. From what she had gathered, Uncle

had planted a hundred bombs in various locations around

the new Terminal 13. Listening to Uncle discussing this

with his men, she’d discovered that these devices had

been placed months or maybe years ago during the

construction of the new facility. They were like sleeper

agents, ready to be woken when needed. And that’s

exactly what he had done just now: a signal had been sent,

priming each device and initiating a countdown.

Nikki knew that the most important thing was to get

some kind of warning out, but the more information she

could give the authorities the better. Surely there must be

some more data on these devices, maybe even some

record of where they were located. And her current

position, inside Uncle’s headquarters, was the perfect

place to find any such details.

Nikki moved out of the boardroom and started looking

for somewhere with a computer terminal. Luck seemed to

be on her side. Ever since her encounter with the

mysterious Taron, things seemed to have been going right

for her. She quickly secured the door of the room and

activated the computer. Her dad had trained her in every

aspect of IT from a very early age, claiming that

information was the prime currency for a detective and

that access to the wealth of information held on computers

was a vital element in most investigations. Now was the

time to put that training to the test.

The tunnel under the floorboards had been dark and

unpleasant, but that had only been the beginning. The

Doctor had soon found an access shaft leading to further

tunnels, and together the detective and the Time Lord

slowly descended further into the real underworld of New

Memphis.

The lower they travelled, the more primitive the tunnels

became, not to mention smaller and wetter. The only light

came from the Doctor’s multifunctional tool, the sonic

screwdriver. Its pale blue glow managed to infect the

darkness and allowed Conrad to make out his immediate

surroundings but not, thankfully, the precise shapes of the

small creatures that skittered and squealed around their

feet as they moved through the tunnel.

To pass the time, the Doctor had been telling Conrad a

little of their adventures thus far. Conrad was pleased that

Nikki had fallen in with such good company, although he

confessed to having had his doubts about the rhino-headed

alien.

‘I know what you mean,’ agreed the Doctor. ‘I think I

might have been a bit quick myself. Not like me to judge

on appearances, don’t like to do that as a rule. But you see

those Judoon, marching about in those suits, and you just

can’t help yourself.’

‘The one you’ve been working with seems OK, though,

doesn’t he?’ Conrad suggested.

The Doctor grunted. ‘Yeah, I really got him wrong.

He’s a bit of a joker on the quiet you know.’

‘Really?’ Conrad couldn’t quite believe that.

‘Yeah,’ continued the Doctor, ‘I reckon he should give

up the galactic law enforcing and try a bit of stand-up. Ah,

here we are.’

The Doctor held the sonic screwdriver high in the air,

its blue light revealing a rusty metal ladder which

disappeared upwards into a tall shaft.

‘Bit of a downdraft,’ mused the Doctor. ‘Reckon that’s

the way out then. Who’s going first?’

Nikki didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. On the one

hand, she’d succeeded beyond her wildest dreams – she

had a full list of the locations for the bombs. But she also

had details of the time fuses on each one.

The devices had staggered detonation times and, if the

information she had was correct, the first of those bombs

would explode just three hours after the priming signal.

How long was it since she had been in the boardroom?

How long before that first explosion would tear through

the terminal building?

Nikki looked at her communicator. Who to call? Half

the police force were in the pocket of Uncle or the Widow

or both. What about the authorities at the spaceport? But

with the defection of General Moret, the security

department would be in a mess. If only the Judoon

Commander were with her – at least he’d be able to call

down his legions.

That was it. The Judoon! Their ships were in orbit.

They had teleport capability. And they had the manpower.

All she had to do was make contact. She knew that there

was no way her handheld communicator was up to the

task. She’d need something a little more powerful than

that to make her call. Would Uncle have something

suitable? Could her incredible streak of luck hold out?

Nikki set off to look and, to her delight, it seemed that

Uncle did indeed have just such a facility in this very

building. But that was as far as her luck held. The

communications room was permanently manned.

Currently there was a young man on duty, sitting at the

main console, flicking through various channels including,

Nikki noted with interest, police surveillance cameras and

the security system at the spaceport. She was sure she

could use this system to make contact with the Judoon

ship, but she had to do something about the young man

first. Come on, girl, she told herself. He’s a man. You

know how stupid they are.

She knocked at the door and composed herself into a

vision of innocent confusion. Pitching her voice higher,

she asked innocently, ‘Excuse me, can you like help me or

something?’ The man swivelled in his seat to face her. He

was younger than she had first thought.

She smiled sweetly at him and opened her eyes wider.

‘Oh, I’m sorry, I can see you’re busy…’ Nikki turned to

walk away, hoping she hadn’t overplayed it.

‘No wait,’ said the young man.

She turned back quickly and took a step into the room.

‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.

‘I’m looking for the gaming hall. I went to the ladies

and got lost… I think I got in the wrong lift,’ she

explained, maintaining her role perfectly.

‘You really did,’ the man replied, and to her relief he

gave her a smile. ‘What’s a nice girl like you doing in a

casino anyway?’

He got to his feet and started to cross the room towards

her. Nikki gulped. She hadn’t prepared this role in depth.

She thought fast.

‘I’m here with some girls from the office. It’s Bali’s

hen do. I’ve never been anywhere like it. Isn’t it exciting?’

She allowed the guy to put a hand on her elbow and

lead her back into the corridor.

‘I guess first time it is. After that it’s a bit dull, if you

ask me,’ confessed the young man. He took her towards

the lifts. ‘I’ll get you back to your friends, don’t worry.’

He jabbed a finger at the control to call the lift.

‘Oh, but I don’t really like lifts,’ Nikki squealed,

shivering as if in fear. ‘Can I take the stairs?’

The man sighed, and again Nikki worried that she

might be overegging the pudding, but he just crossed the

hall and opened a door.

‘Stairwell’s down here,’ he said with just a hint of

impatience.

Nikki hurried across the hall and screamed, pointing

into the stairwell. ‘What’s that? Is it a rat?’

The man leant forward to look in the direction she was

pointing and she karate-chopped him on the back of the

neck. The unfortunate technician went down like a sack of

bricks. Nikki ran back to the communications room. As

long as no one else was using the stairs – and who did

these days – she should have enough time to make her

call.

She shut the door behind her and, checking with her

communicator where the Judoon Commander had stored

the Judoon contact details earlier, she started to enter the

frequency into the console.

The Judoon Commander stirred and began to open his

eyes. It had been a long time since an enemy had rendered

him unconscious. In fact, now that he thought about it, the

last time he had been forced into unconsciousness had

been in an undisciplined ruck during Basic Training, and

that had been due to a pair of senior recruits double-

teaming to take him down from behind.

He opened his eyes just a little at first in case he was

being watched, but it was immediately clear that he was

alone. Wherever he was, it was quite dark and cool.

He opened his eyes further and tried to move his head

but discovered that he was chained tightly to a metal

fixture. Near him, he could see a pack of explosives

attached to an electronic timer. A small digital display

showed a countdown. 1:31. Did he have ninety minutes or

ninety seconds? He tried to pull at the chain but without

any success.

The chain was made of thick metal links and was

wrapped around his limbs and neck multiple times. His

opportunity for movement was negligible. If he had been

conscious whilst being chained he might have been able to

make it harder for his captors to tie him so tightly, but

instead he was as trussed up as it was possible to be. There

was no way he was going to get out of here without

assistance.

All he could do was hope that the Doctor and Nikki

would find him – and soon. He looked over at the readout.

1:30. Ninety minutes then.

Ninety minutes to live.

Talking to the Judoon fleet proved to be harder than Nikki

had originally imagined.

‘Ro, Mi, Do, Ro-Ma,’ the Judoon had barked at her, as

soon as a visual connection was established. Having spent

some time with the Judoon Commander, Nikki could see

how different the individual Judoon were. This one looked

much younger than ‘her’ one, with smaller tusks and less

wrinkly skin. He also seemed a little bit dimmer.

‘Er, hello. Do you speak Standard?’

The Judoon on her screen frowned and then fiddled

with something off screen. She heard her voice played

back and then, to her relief, the Judoon began to make

sounds she could recognise as words.

‘This is an official Judoon command channel.

Unauthorised communication is not allowed. Immediate

termination will ensue,’ barked the Judoon, quoting

chapter and verse from his training manual.

‘No, wait a mo,’ shouted Nikki urgently. ‘I have a

message from your Commander.’

‘Commander?’

‘Commander Rok Ma,’ she clarified.

There was a long moment while the communications

officer considered this new information.

‘Wait,’ he said eventually, and the screen went blank.

‘No, don’t put me on hold,’ wailed Nikki but it was too

late, the screen had gone blank. Nikki tapped her fingers

nervously and waited. At least they’re not playing me

some annoying music, she thought.

Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably

just a couple of minutes, the screen flickered back into

life. Another Judoon had now joined the first. This one

proved to be a little bit more imaginative and intelligent

that the first.

‘Why has Commander Rok Ma asked a local to contact

us? Where is he?’ demanded the new arrival.

‘It’s a long story,’ sighed Nikki.

She patiently explained the entire situation. To her

relief the Judoon seemed to get the message, finally.

‘Upload your data concerning the location of these

explosive devices,’ the more senior alien instructed her.

‘Judoon bomb-disposal teams will be deployed by

teleport.’

Relieved that some action to deal with the threat was

now being taken, Nikki’s attention turned to her friends.

The Judoon’s question had been a sound one. Where

exactly had the Judoon Commander been taken? And what

had happened to the Doctor? If only her dad was with her.

Nikki felt more alone than she had felt for years.

She glanced up at the various TV screens and her heart

jumped. There on one of the screens, approaching the

exterior of the Casino, were two unmistakable figures.

Damp, dirty but unbowed it was the Doctor and…

‘Dad!’

The Doctor smiled as Nikki hugged her father. The final

part of their journey had been the easiest as locked Casino

doors had mysteriously opened for them and lifts seemed

to have been sent to collect them. The Doctor quickly

figured out that Nikki had access to the control systems

and was aiding them, but said nothing to Conrad. So when

the lift doors had opened on the floor above the Casino

and Nikki had been there to meet them, there was a

wonderful parade of emotion across the detective’s face

from surprise to disbelief and then to complete delight.

It was Nikki who broke the embrace first, however.

Quickly she filled them in on the situation with the bombs

and the solution that she had found.

‘You called down the Judoon?’ the Doctor asked in

awe. ‘And they’re coming?’

‘I managed to persuade them. I pointed out that their

Commander was in danger; that seemed to do the trick,’

she explained.

‘Got to be careful with Judoon,’ muttered the Doctor.

‘They’ll try and arrest the whole planet if anything

happens to him.’

The Doctor questioned Nikki about the bombs – when

she discovered the information about their locations, had

there been any indication of a deactivation control?

‘If they could be primed by a single signal, there’s a

chance that they can be turned off the same way,’ he

explained.

‘There was something, but it was password protected,’

said Nikki.

‘Something else for me to discuss with Uncle,’

muttered the Doctor, ‘and another reason to keep him

alive. He doesn’t seem like the kind of man who would

write a password down anywhere.’

‘What about the Judoon Commander?’ asked Nikki.

She explained about his capture and what Uncle had

decided to do with him. ‘The bombs are on offset timers.

With any luck, the Judoon will deal with most, but they

might not get to them all in time. If we can’t get the

password, Rok Ma might still be killed.’

‘Let’s go rescue him, then,’ suggested Conrad, leading

Nikki towards the lifts. ‘It’s the least we can do after all

he’s done for us.’

Jase Golightly, bandaged and on crutches, watched the

alien policemen swarming like ants all over his Terminal

13, for the second time in as many days. On this occasion,

however, he was quite pleased to have them there.

Delighted, in fact. One by one, the Judoon were finding

and dealing with the explosive devices.

It was taking a long time, though. Each location from

the information downloaded by Nikki was an

approximation, and each device had been well hidden,

sometimes built into the actual structure of the building.

Uncle’s plans had been made a long time ago, and his

people had been able to infiltrate the army of builders and

construction workers who had made Terminal 13. The

seeds of the new facility’s destruction had been

incorporated into its very structure. Getting at those

devices now required a certain amount of effort. Watching

one team of Judoon dismantling a wall, Golightly

wondered for a moment if the bomb itself wouldn’t do

less damage, but then one of the aliens had accidentally

triggered the detonator. The explosion was instant and

devastating. When the dust settled, Golightly saw that the

damage it had caused was extensive. All three aliens

working on that site had been killed instantly. And this

had been just one bomb. One of a hundred. Golightly

swallowed hard, realising just how much danger the entire

terminal was in. Whatever the cost, the Judoon had to find

and disarm the bombs.

So far, the Judoon had located forty-seven of the

hundred devices; one had just exploded, thirty-two had

been disarmed or rendered inactive, thirteen had tamper-

prevention circuitry which was causing the Judoon bomb-

disposal experts some problems, and the final one had just

begun to accelerate its timer when it had been exposed to

the air. Judoon were continuing to work on the device

while some of their colleagues were evacuating the

immediate area. From his vantage point, looking out over

the terminal from his office, Golightly watched in horror

as a section of wall disappeared in an orange ball of flame.

The Doctor approached Uncle’s office but, before he

could enter, two familiar dark-suited, white-haired figures

appeared in the corridor and barred his way.

‘The brothers Walinski, hello,’ said the Doctor. ‘Sorry

but I don’t have time for any meaningless violence right

now.’

The brothers looked at each other then back to the

Doctor and shrugged. They weren’t interested in what he

had time for. He took another step forward and they

tensed, ready for action.

‘Actually,’ continued the Doctor in the same casual

tone, ‘I never have any time for meaningless violence.’

He took another deliberate step forwards and the

brothers, moving in unison like synchronised divers, both

struck at the Doctor’s neck. The twin blow should have

killed their opponent on impact, but there was no impact.

Instead, somehow, the stick-thin interloper had grabbed

each of their arms and squeezed. Suddenly both brothers

were on their knees as paralysing pain shot up their arms

and into the rest of their bodies. The Doctor released his

grip on their wrists and stepped past the two brothers, who

knelt frozen in place like statues. Slowly, but still in

perfect synchronisation, the brothers toppled over onto the

floor, out cold.

The Doctor liked to make a big entrance whenever

possible, so he flung open the doors to Uncle’s office.

‘Right, sunshine,’ he announced, ‘time to get serious.’

Uncle was sitting at his desk, his chair turned around so

he could look at the bank of monitors to the side of the

room. He showed no sign of having heard the Doctor at

all.

‘Oi! I’m talking to you!’ The Doctor was getting a little

angry now. Still the crime lord failed to react. A terrible

thought occurred to the Doctor. He moved further into the

room. The suitcase which had caused so much trouble was

lying on the floor close to the desk. As the Doctor came

closer, he could see that it was open. The virus had been

released.

The Doctor ran the rest of the way across the room and

spun Uncle’s chair round. The man was ashen and almost

completely paralysed, but there was still life in him. His

chest heaved with the effort of breathing and his eyes met

the Doctor’s, full of questions. But the Doctor had

questions of his own.

‘Why open the case? Are you crazy?’ he demanded.

Uncle managed to shake his head a little.

‘It shouldn’t affect me. It’s a… targeted virus.’

‘Targeted?’

‘On… specific DNA…’

The Doctor bowed his head, finally understanding.

‘You got a sample of the Widow’s DNA and had the

virus constructed to attack just that DNA?’ he whispered.

Uncle nodded.

‘Oh I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,’ muttered the Doctor with

genuine emotion.

The dying man struggled to speak.

‘I don’t underst…’ he gasped.

‘Understand?’ completed the Doctor. ‘No, I can see

that. You’re a brute and a bully. You create discord and

fear and encourage the worst aspects of humanity. And

you don’t understand why people keep thwarting your

will, and trying to close down your operations. You know

why that is? Because most people are decent and honest.

Most people want to play by the rules. Most people want

to treat other people fairly.’

‘Like my Hope…’ Uncle suggested, his words no more

than a faint whisper now.

The Doctor ran a hand through his hair, taken aback by

the depth of the man’s ignorance.

‘Hope? Your daughter, the teacher in the pretty dresses,

with the perfect manners? She’s the reason you’re in this

state!’

The Doctor could see that Uncle had no idea what he

was saying.

‘You commissioned an invisible assassin, a DNA-

coded virus to take out the Widow, Madame Yilonda? But

when it came back to you and she was still alive, you had

to have a look yourself, didn’t you? See if something had

gone wrong. But it hadn’t. The system was still intact until

you went and opened the box. And then the virus attacked

you.’ The Doctor paused. ‘Why do you think it did that?’

The Doctor saw the poor man’s eyes widen as the

implication sank in.

‘Yes, because you share the same DNA as the Widow.

Your enemy Yilonda is Hope – your daughter.’

The Doctor sat on the desk and let this sink in. ‘Tell me

the password to stop the explosions. Make the last thing

you do a good thing.’ He knelt to look the dying man in

the eye. ‘Please. Haven’t enough people died?’

The crime lord looked as if he was about to reply, but

no sound emerged. Uncle was dead. And his secret had

died with him.

Nikki and her father reached Terminal 13 to find a scene

of utter chaos. Judoon were everywhere, searching out the

various bombs and trying to disarm them. The emergency

services were dealing with the aftermath of the two

devices that had gone off, trying to contain fires and avoid

collapsing masonry.

The two detectives located Golightly and cross-

referenced his data on which devices had been located

with Nikki’s original list. They quickly established that the

Judoon Commander himself had not yet been found.

‘If Uncle’s men brought him here tonight,’ reasoned

Conrad, ‘then it must be an area of the terminal that is

easy to access.’

‘It’s a secure site,’ complained Golighty indignantly.

‘No one can just stroll in here.’

‘But that’s the point,’ Nikki responded. ‘They must

have.’ She had an idea. ‘Can you pull up the full

schematics for the terminal – the original plans?’

Golightly hesitated. ‘They are not meant to be public

documents.’

‘We’re trying to save lives not steal secrets,’ Nikki told

him firmly.

Golightly turned away from the viewing window and

crossed the room to his computer terminal. Quickly, he

called up the files Nikki had requested. She then overlaid

the data on the location of the explosive devices. Conrad

and Nikki looked at the combined graphic closely.

‘There,’ said Conrad finally, jabbing at the screen with

a stubby finger.

He was pointing at an access tunnel, at the lowest

basement level which connected to the adjacent terminals.

Golightly leaned over their shoulders to look.

‘Emergency cross-terminal access tunnel,’ he

explained. ‘Usually deadlock sealed.’

Conrad looked at him. ‘How much do you want to bet

that the locks are off right now?’

The Doctor stared at the viewscreen and waited. It was a

long shot but it was the only option he had. Unless

someone else knew the secret. Someone really close to

Uncle.

He had made the call and asked to speak to the Widow.

The receptionist at the Spa had made a big play of not

knowing what he was talking about, but the Doctor had

ignored the pretence. ‘Just get this message to her. I need

to talk to her urgently. Tell her it’s about Hope,’ he had

said clearly.

The receptionist had put him on hold and then, a

moment or two later had come back and told him to stand

by. That had been two minutes ago. Was the Widow going

to take his call or not?

Finally the screen flickered back into life, and he was

looking at the face of the Widow – Madame Yilonda.

‘You can take off the disguise,’ the Doctor said simply.

‘I know who you are, Hope.’

For a moment nothing happened and the Doctor

wondered if his audio signal was not getting through, but

then the woman on the screen removed her oversized

tinted glasses and reached up to take the dark-haired wig

off her head. Underneath, her natural blonde hair was

tightly coiled but the transformation was still striking.

Where a moment ago he had been looking at the face of

Madame Yilonda, he was now seeing the gentle features

of Uncle’s daughter, Hope. When she spoke it was with

the much lighter voice of Hope.

‘You’re a perceptive man, Doctor,’ she told him.

‘Unlike my foolish father.’

‘Your late foolish father,’ the Doctor said simply. ‘I’m

sorry.’

He expected delight, but in fact the news seemed to

shake Hope badly.

‘Dead?’ she asked, obviously in shock.

‘That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?’

‘I- I don’t know,’ she stammered. ‘I just wanted him to

care.’

To the Doctor’s surprise, she began to cry and, as the

tears fell, words tumbled from her lips.

‘He shut me out. From when I was tiny. Maybe he

wanted a son, I don’t know. But he never wanted me to

know anything about him or his work. It was like I didn’t

know him…’

‘I’m so sorry,’ murmured the Doctor.

‘I thought maybe when I turned eighteen things would

be different. That he’d let me in. But he didn’t. So I

created the Widow. As a way to get back at him…’

She wiped a hand across her face, drying the tears, and

as she did the harder edge of the Widow crept back into

her voice.

‘I wanted to be part of his life, but he wouldn’t have it.

So I had to find a way to force the issue. I wanted to take

his empire bit by bit until he had nothing. And then I was

going to tell him the truth.’

Hope – or was it Yilonda – pulled herself together. ‘Is

that why you called? To tell me he’s dead?’

The Doctor shook his head. ‘I need your help,’ he

replied, and explained about the situation with the bombs

and the password.

‘Your secret need not come out. The Widow can just

disappear. As Hope you can take over Uncle’s legitimate

businesses and start a new life. Just help me work out the

password.’

Golightly had not taken Conrad’s bet – which was just as

well for him as the massive circular metal doors to the

emergency tunnel were completely unlocked. Half a

kilometre along the cold and dark tunnel they found the

Judoon Commander. The readout on the explosive device

was down to 9:45 – less than ten minutes.

‘Don’t worry,’ Nikki told the Judoon Commander.

‘We’ll get you out of there.’

‘There’s no time,’ he insisted. ‘Get away from here

before it’s too late.’

Conrad was following the chain, looking for whatever

it was that was securing it. ‘Got it,’ he exclaimed. The

chain was held by a single massive padlock.

Golightly took one look at it and cheered. ‘It’s one of

ours. They must have used spaceport materials.’

Conrad looked at him. ‘You have a key?’

Golightly nodded and sent a Judoon trooper to his

office to fetch the necessary key.

Nikki looked at the countdown. Eight minutes.

Hope was trying, but without success.

‘He never had a pet name for me when I was little,’ she

told the Doctor, a little sadly. ‘I never saw him much.’

‘What about your first pet? A favourite family holiday

destination. Your first cuddly toy?’ suggested the Doctor.

Hope shook her head. ‘We never had any of those.’

The Doctor snapped his fingers. ‘Your mother! What

was her name?’

Hope stared at the Doctor, the tears rolling down her

face again. ‘I don’t know… I never knew her. She died

giving birth to me. And that’s all I know.’

‘Thank you,’ said the Doctor. ‘At least you tried.’

‘But what happens now? To me? The virus is loose in

the atmosphere. Will it kill me too?’

The Doctor looked grim. ‘I really don’t know. Right

now, if I were you, I’d leave the planet at the first

opportunity and let things cool down before you come

back.’

The Judoon trooper returned with the key, and within

moments his Commander was free. The timer on the

bomb now read 2:15. The Judoon Commander looked

around at their position.

‘If this explodes, the damage will be extensive,’ he

muttered.

‘I think I can disconnect the detonator,’ said Conrad,

examining the device.

‘Dad – no, it’s too late!’ Nikki screamed.

Conrad looked at the Judoon Commander. ‘Get her to

safety please.’

The Judoon Commander nodded and picked up Nikki

in one arm. He barked something at the Judoon trooper in

his own language, and the trooper grabbed Golightly in a

similar fashion. The two Judoon then set off down the

tunnel at full speed, putting as much distance as they

could between themselves and the explosive device.

‘Dad!’ screamed Nikki desperately, pummelling the

Judoon Commander’s back with her fists, but Conrad had

already turned back to the task at hand. The Judoon surged

onwards back towards the massive door at the end of the

tunnel.

The last thing she saw as they disappeared around the

curve of the tunnel was her father hunched directly over

the device and the glowing red numerals on the timer:

1:58… 1:57… 1:56…

The Doctor returned to Uncle’s corpse and gently closed

the dead man’s eyes.

‘Excuse me,’ he said unnecessarily, and began to search

through Uncle’s pockets. There was nothing in them – no

wallets, no family photos, nothing. The Doctor slipped his

glasses on and looked around the desk. Nothing personal

here either. Surely he would have something. Humans

always kept mementos, keepsakes, rings…

Of course, thought the Doctor, rings. Throughout the

known universe the ring was a symbol of unity between

life mates. He checked Uncle’s hands. There was a ring –

a plain band on his wedding finger.

He slipped the ring from the dead man’s hand. It took a

bit of effort – the ring had clearly not been removed often.

Inside there was an inscription: a date and two names.

Vikta and Malinda. Bingo.

The Doctor hurried across to the computer console.

The Judoon burst out of the tunnel back into the basement

level of Terminal 13 and put down their human cargo.

Immediately, Nikki made to run back into the tunnel, but

the Judoon Commander was too quick for her and held her

back.

‘No,’ he said with surprising gentleness. ‘I promised

your father I would keep you safe.’

The Doctor typed the word ‘Malinda’ in and pressed enter.

He held his breath and then the screen reset, giving him

access to the override. Quickly, he sent the signal to

cancel the remaining explosions.

The Judoon Commander was shaken by a massive

explosion from within the tunnel.

‘No!’ screamed Nikki. But it was too late.

The Doctor had done it. The cancellation signal

deactivated all of the remaining devices and then, at a less

frantic rate, the Judoon were able to render each and every

one of them safe. For a while, all was chaos as emergency

services dealt with the aftermath of the crisis. It took some

time before the Doctor could be reunited with his friends

at the spaceport. When he finally found them, Nikki was

in a state of shock and the Judoon Commander was doing

his best to comfort her.

‘Conrad?’ asked the Doctor when he joined them.

Leaving Nikki sipping from a hot drink, the Judoon

Commander shook his head gently and joined the Doctor.

‘He wanted to try and disarm the bomb in the tunnel,’

he explained.

The Doctor looked appalled. ‘Don’t tell me I was too

late?’

The Judoon shrugged his massive shoulders. ‘There

was an explosion. The tunnel collapsed. Rescue teams are

trying to get in there now.’

The Doctor glanced over at Nikki. ‘How is she?’

The Judoon shrugged again.

Suddenly there was a commotion from the direction of

the tunnel. A couple of firemen wearing brightly coloured

uniforms appeared, dragging an anti-gravity stretcher

behind them.

Nikki jumped to her feet, seeing a human form on the

stretcher. ‘Dad?’

One of the firemen glanced up at her. ‘Your father’s a

lucky man. He’ll need to spend some time in hospital, but

he should make it.’

‘He survived the bomb?’ asked the Judoon.

‘The bomb never went off,’ the fireman explained. ‘He

must have managed to separate the detonator from the

main explosives and hurl it away. The detonator went off

and brought the tunnel down but the main explosives

never fired.’

Nikki couldn’t help herself and began to cry tears of

joy.

‘We’d better get him to the ER,’ said the fireman.

Nikki turned and flung her arms around the Judoon,

who looked startled. ‘We did it,’ she declared, giving the

alien a huge hug. ‘We really did it.’

Over her head, the Judoon looked at the Doctor who

couldn’t help but laugh at the sight before him.

‘Just a few loose ends to sort out now,’ declared the

Doctor. ‘Like Mr Salter.’

‘That’s all in hand,’ said a new voice. The Doctor

turned and saw that they had been joined by Detective

Dantin and, still on his crutches, Jase Golightly.

‘In fact, we’re just off to pick up Salter now,’ Dantin

told them. ‘Would you care to join us?’

The Doctor glanced at his friends.

‘I think I’d prefer to go to the hospital,’ said Nikki.

‘But I would like to see this Salter arrested,’ the Judoon

rumbled, with enthusiasm.

‘Me too,’ said the Doctor.

Salter was not hard to find. He lived in a massive tower

block known, modestly, as Salter Towers, which

dominated the downtown skyline. On the ground floor it

housed an upmarket mall where some of the most

exclusive designer labels in the sector could be found.

Above that was a five-star hotel, and above that were

Salter’s own private apartments. The building was

decorated with lots of strange and outlandish design

features. Statues of mythical creatures were attached to

the roof; massive overhanging balconies clung to the sides

of the building like limpets, and the walls themselves

curved upwards, making the tower block wider at the top

than at its base. It was the most original-looking building

in all of New Memphis.

Armed police in flak jackets and lightweight body

armour swarmed around the base of the tower like ants.

The Doctor and the Judoon Commander were impressed

at the military-style operation that Dantin had put together

so quickly. Time was of the essence. With the collapse of

the bombing campaign, Salter had to be aware that his

role in the plan was about to become public knowledge.

Dantin was determined, however, that Salter would not

escape justice. He knew they had to move fast. ‘Justice

must be swift,’ he had said, with a nod of

acknowledgement in the direction of the Judoon

Commander.

Dantin gave the order to go in. The officers entered the

building in waves, securing and then searching each area,

then each floor, before moving on.

‘Almost like Judoon,’ muttered the Judoon Commander

as he and the Doctor looked on from Dantin’s command

position.

‘But is that a good thing?’ asked the Doctor in a hushed

whisper.

‘Not necessarily,’ the alien whispered back. The Doctor

grinned – clearly lessons had been learned.

Slowly the reports came back in from the search

parties. Floor by floor they were giving an all-clear – no

sign of Salter. Soon the police had moved through the

mall levels and the hotel above and were ready to move

on to the private apartments.

‘That’s where we’ll find him,’ Dantin told his guests

confidently.

The Doctor and the Judoon exchanged looks, not

sharing Dantin’s confidence.

They were not surprised twenty minutes later when the

searchers reported a total lack of success. They had

covered all the emergency stairwells and shut down each

elevator; they were certain that Salter had not had the

opportunity to escape, but nevertheless they had been

unable to find the man. Dantin was both furious and

bemused.

‘We have him on a security camera entering a lift two

hours ago,’ he explained, ‘and the lift went up. He has to

be in that apartment.’

The Doctor and the Judoon Commander followed

Dantin into the building to see for themselves.

‘Which elevator did he go into?’ asked the Doctor.

Dantin showed him. ‘It’s a private lift to the top five

floors which are exclusively Salter’s private areas; the lift

doesn’t stop on any other floors,’ he explained.

Dantin was called away by one of his men to look at

the latest enhancement of the grainy security video,

leaving the Doctor and the Judoon at the private lift. The

alien jabbed a thick gloved finger at the call button and

the indicator above the doors lit up to show that a lift was

coming down from above.

‘Salter entered the lift and went up,’ the Judoon stated,

‘and it doesn’t seem to have come down again, so

logically the man must still be up there.’

‘And yet the police couldn’t find him.’

The lift arrived with a ping, and the doors slid open

silently. The Doctor instantly stepped inside and the

Judoon followed him. He watched with interest as the

Doctor produced his slim sonic device from his jacket

pocket.

‘Did you notice anything about this building when we

were outside?’ asked the Doctor suddenly.

The Judoon frowned. ‘Only that it was bigger than it

needed to be.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ the Doctor nodded and adjusted

the settings on his sonic device. ‘It’s all a bit over the top,

isn’t it. Demanding to be looked at. It draws your eyes to

certain parts of the design. Like a magician directing your

gaze to where he wants you to look.’

‘You think it’s some kind of trick?’

The Doctor zapped the lift controls with a blast of sonic

energy. The lift responded by closing the doors. A moment

later, it started to rise with an almost imperceptible

motion. The numbers on the readout began to rise; 1, 2,

3…

‘Salter’s penthouse is meant to have five floors,’ the

Doctor told the Judoon, ‘but if you actually look at the

building from the outside, the windows are the wrong

size. There’s a hidden floor!’

The readout reached 5 and the lift stopped. The Doctor

frowned, adjusted the settings on his sonic tool again and

aimed it at the controls. The lift began to move again.

‘That’s more like it,’ muttered the Doctor, pocketing his

device. ‘Mr Salter really wants to keep his secrets…’

A few seconds later, the lift stopped and the doors

opened.

‘But secrets are meant to be discovered,’ said the

Doctor with a smile.

He stepped forward and found himself in a corridor.

The Judoon hurried out after him.

‘I’ll go left,’ suggested the Doctor, ‘you go that way.

But first…’ The Doctor turned back to look at the lift and

fired another zap of compressed sound at it from his

pencil-like tool. ‘I’ll just lock this in case he manages to

slip past us.’

The Judoon nodded and set off in the direction the

Doctor had indicated. He gripped his weapon in his hand.

Salter had been responsible for the deaths of a number of

Judoon officers, and the Commander was determined that,

for Salter, justice would be both swift and deadly.

The Doctor moved slowly along the corridor, which gave

access to a number of rooms. From somewhere nearby, he

could hear the sound of talking. Had the Judoon found

their man first?

The Doctor increased his pace and soon reached the

source of the noises. It was a large room, mostly in

darkness. A massive viewscreen was displaying a

newsfeed about the success of the police in thwarting the

terrorist action at Terminal 13.

Sitting in front of the screen with a drink in his hand

was Salter.

‘You must be disappointed,’ said the Doctor with

savage sarcasm. ‘No one seems to be giving you the

credit.’

If the Doctor had been hoping to surprise Salter, he was

disappointed. The man calmly turned his wheelchair

around, as if he had been expecting the Doctor.

‘It’s not the credit I need,’ Salter replied. ‘It’s just

credit.’

The Doctor sighed. ‘All this death and destruction –

and it’s all about something as trivial as money?’

‘It’s always about money, Doctor,’ Salter said, rolling

forwards. ‘Everything has its price. And everyone.’

The Doctor shook his head. ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘Not

everyone.’

Salter laughed. ‘You’re above such things, are you?

Lucky you. The rest of us live in the real world.’

‘But you put money into building the new terminal –

why fill it with bombs?’

‘Insurance,’ Salter answered. ‘Insurance is a way of

preparing yourself for an unknown future. Everything in

life’s a gamble, one way or another.’

‘But it’s gambling that got you into trouble in the first

place, am I right? Cards and the tables, bigger and bigger

losses…?’

Salter shrugged. ‘It’s not an original story,’ he

confessed, ‘but I doubt it’s been done on this scale many

times.’

‘You owed Uncle so much that you needed to sabotage

your own building?’ The Doctor’s tone made it clear how

appalled he was.

‘It was meant to be a win-win. Uncle would get his

status back, and I would clear my debts,’ explained Salter.

‘And what about the death and destruction?’ demanded

the Doctor.

‘You know the old saying about making omelettes…’

The Doctor’s eyes narrowed. ‘You just made your last

mistake, Mr Salter. A hint of regret, a little compassion,

that might have saved you, but you just don’t care, do

you? So now I will not be showing you any mercy.’

‘What are you going to do?’ laughed Salter, pointing a

small but deadly handgun at the Doctor. ‘Talk me into

giving myself up?’

‘Put down the weapon,’ said the Doctor simply.

‘Make me,’ replied Salter, holding his gaze.

For a long moment there was silence.

‘You see, you are powerless,’ said Salter with

satisfaction.

The Doctor shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Do you?’

This last question was directed at a point somewhere

behind Salter. The old man spun around in his chair and

found himself looking into the barrel of a Judoon blaster.

‘For a creature of that size, my friend can move

incredibly quietly,’ said the Doctor.

‘Justice should be swift,’ the Judoon told the man in the

wheelchair, ‘but it does not have to be noisy!’

Salter started to laugh.

‘What’s so funny?’ demanded the Judoon.

‘You people. With your ridiculous ideas about fairness

and justice.’ He spun his chair to look back at the Doctor.

‘You said you had no price. But you were lying.’

Salter flicked a switch on his chair, some kind of

remote control, and a group of lights in the corner of the

room came on to reveal a familiar blue box.

‘Something you value quite a lot, I believe.’

The Doctor said nothing. There was something about

the image that didn’t ring true. The way it shimmered…

‘That’s just a hologram,’ he realised.

‘Of course. I have the real item hidden away. Along

with all the other missing luggage. More insurance. Belt

and braces. If anything happens to me, you will never

know where. Believe me. If you want that thing back…

you’re going to have to let me escape.’

The Doctor shook his head gently. ‘I know where the

missing luggage is,’ he said simply. Salter just stared at

him, his mouth hanging open. The Judoon Commander

reached down and removed the weapon from his hand and

dropped it to the floor.

Salter rolled his chair backwards, looking up

apprehensively at the Judoon.

‘What’s he going to do with me?’ he stammered,

glancing round to address the Doctor.

The Doctor shrugged. ‘That’s up to him.’

The Judoon took a step forward. ‘Your bombs killed

seven Judoon,’ he told Salter. ‘Justice must be swift.’

He raised his blaster and extended his arm. ‘But there

must be due process.’

He lowered his aim and vaporised Salter’s gun.

‘Derek Salter, you are under arrest for crimes against

the people of New Memphis and the Judoon,’ the Judoon

Commander told Salter formally. ‘Anything you say can

and will be recorded and may be used in a court of law.’

The Doctor grinned. ‘In other words,’ he added, ‘you’re

nicked!’

The Doctor and the Judoon Commander were sitting in

a small café set in the foyer of one of the best hospitals in

New Memphis.

The Doctor sipped at his coffee and looked around at

the patients and visitors passing through the open foyer.

‘There ought to be a little shop,’ he murmured, a little

disappointedly.

‘There is one,’ rumbled the Judoon, pointing towards a

door leading to a side corridor. ‘It’s down there.’

The Doctor shot him a surprised look.

‘I needed to buy a card for Nikki’s father,’ explained

the Judoon.

For the last two days, the Doctor and the Judoon

Commander had been busy aiding the city and the

spaceport authorities recover from the mayhem of the

previous forty-eight hours. Judoon troops had been

dispatched to make safe all the sites where explosive

devices had been left and to make repairs where

explosions had gone off.

Detective Corilli had been arrested on multiple

corruption charges and a thorough purge of the police

service was being carried out. The Doctor had been

occupied helping the newly promoted Head of Detectives

– Dantin – crack down on the crime syndicates that had

been run by Uncle and his daughter. The two organisations

were mirror images of each other, and both were

dependent on the leadership of their respective crime

lords. Unfortunately, both of them were dead.

Hope had not managed to take the Doctor’s advice. At

least not quickly enough. She had been found near to the

spaceport, the second and final victim of the Invisible

Assassin.

In the vacuum created by the disappearance of both

Uncle and the Widow, the two criminal operations were in

considerable disarray. The police were able to pick up and

charge a number of people for crimes dating back many

months, if not years. Overnight it was as if New Memphis

had turned over a new leaf.

‘It won’t last,’ Nikki had said with considerable

cynicism for one so young. ‘There will still be plenty of

work for detectives like me and Dad.’

The Doctor and the Judoon Commander had exchanged

a look of concern at Nikki’s words; neither of them was

sure how much work Conrad would be capable of for

some time. He had survived the tunnel damage caused by

the detonator, but not without cost. He had numerous

broken bones and had suffered a lot of organ trauma.

Although neither the Doctor nor the Judoon wanted to

mention it to Nikki, his long-term prognosis was far from

positive. That was one of the reasons that they were here

now, in the hospital. The consultants working on Conrad

wanted to bring Nikki up to date with their latest thinking,

and she had asked her two friends to come with her.

The Doctor looked over at his Judoon friend. ‘Won’t

Judoon High Command be expecting you and your ships

back on patrol?’ he asked.

‘The fleet has already departed this sector,’ replied the

Judoon to the Doctor’s surprise.

‘They’ve gone without you?’

‘I…’ The Judoon hesitated, as if unable to think of the

right word. ‘I resigned,’ he said finally.

The Doctor just stared at him. ‘Resigned?’

The alien nodded. ‘I’ve learnt a new way to achieve

justice… There is much work that needs to be done here

in New Memphis.’

‘Well, yes, I can see that… I am sure Dantin would be

happy to take you on.’

Before they could discuss the matter further, Nikki

joined them.

‘They say you can come in now,’ she told them.

The life-support equipment was discreet rather than

overwhelming, but the Doctor could see at a glance that

Conrad was in pretty bad shape. He lay in a support bed

with wires, sensors and tubes connected to various

machines and monitors.

‘He was very lucky,’ Nikki confessed. ‘If it hadn’t have

been for you two, he wouldn’t be here at all.’

‘And if I’d let you go back into that tunnel you would

be in the same condition,’ added the Judoon gently.

Nikki nodded, acknowledging the facts. ‘Thank you,’

she said simply.

The Doctor cleared his throat. ‘So what will you do

now, Nikki?’

The girl shrugged. ‘I guess I’ll carry on the Detective

Agency as best I can until Dad is well enough to come

back to work.’

‘That could be months,’ the Doctor pointed out.

‘Maybe you could stick around a little longer and help

me out?’ she asked with a grin.

The Doctor shook his head. ‘Me. A private detective?

Sorry, Nikki, it’s just not me. I’m a traveller; I’ve got

travelling to do… Places to go, monsters to scare, that sort

of thing… But I do know of a suitably qualified candidate

if you’re looking for some help with the Agency…’

The Doctor trailed off and looked over at the Judoon

Commander.

‘Him?’ said Nikki.

‘Me?’ said the Judoon.

‘Why not?’ grinned the Doctor. ‘Nikki needs some help

at the Detective Agency; you want to stick around New

Memphis and do some good – it’s a perfect fit.’

The Judoon lowered his head, embarrassed at the

recommendation.

‘You realise I’d be the boss, right?’ Nikki pointed out.

‘Of course,’ rumbled the Judoon.

‘And we’d need to work on some of your people skills,’

she grinned.

‘Justice must be swift,’ the Judoon reminded her.

‘But it’s not just about the rules, is it?’ Nikki countered.

‘It’s about empathy, sympathy, understanding people. It

has to be done with a little… humanity.’

The Judoon nodded. ‘Or Judoonity,’ he said, and started

chuckling. ‘Don’t you agree, Doctor?’

They both turned to the Doctor but he was no longer

there.

‘Doctor?’

Nikki ran to the door and looked up and down the

corridor outside but there was no sign of the Doctor.

The Judoon came up quietly behind her and gently

placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘I don’t think he likes

goodbyes.’

There was one goodbye that the Doctor did want to make.

He made his way back to Terminal 13 to check on Jase

Golightly. He found the General Manager in a much

happier state of mind and improving physically as well.

The new facility was now open again (although there

were still a number of outstanding repair jobs), the

backlog of missing luggage was being dealt with and, for

the first time in the troubled terminal’s history, things

were running smoothly.

‘There’s just one thing I don’t understand,’ Golightly

said when the Doctor popped his head in to check on him.

‘Only one?’ joked the Doctor.

‘How did you know where to find the missing

luggage?’

The Doctor smiled. ‘My blue box gives off a very

particular energy signal. I knew I could find it. And I

knew it’d be with the rest of the missing luggage. I just

got our Judoon friends to scan for it. Job done!’

Golightly glanced at his watch. ‘Sorry, Doctor. I don’t

mean to be rude, but I’ve got a media interview to give…’

‘Don’t worry about me,’ replied the Doctor. ‘I’m off

now.’

The journalist Stacie Jorrez arrived and began setting

up for the interview. The Doctor watched as Golightly

started answering her questions.

‘So is this really a story with a happy ending?’ asked

the pretty young woman as her camera-bot floated

between herself and Golightly.

The lens on the bot swung around to focus on Jase,

who smiled and answered in a relaxed fashion.

‘Long-distance travel is always stressful, Stacie,’ he

admitted, ‘but here at Elvis the King Spaceport, and

particularly here in Terminal 13, we are dedicated to

making the whole process as straightforward as possible.

We’re here to enhance your travelling experience…’

The Doctor smiled to himself. For better or worse,

Terminal 13 was back in business. Personally he preferred

a less public form of transport.

Nikki sat in her chair behind the desk at the Jupiter

Detective Agency and watched as her new partner showed

their client in.

Mrs Kellingham looked a little nervous as the massive

alien figure pulled out a chair for her, but she hid it well.

She’d been brought up to treat all living creatures with

respect and, as an experienced traveller, she was used to

dealing with aliens. Nevertheless, she’d never been quite

so close to anything as big as a Judoon before.

She sat in the seat, gingerly, and waited for the young

girl to speak. Nikki pushed a small box across the desk

towards the elderly lady.

‘Please – open it,’ she said, trying not to grin broadly.

With nervous fingers, Mrs Kellingham opened the box

and gasped. Inside the box was her watch. Nikki felt her

heart leap as she saw tears form in the eyes of the old lady.

Mrs Kellingham lifted the watch out of the box and fixed

it on her bony wrist.

‘I can’t begin to tell you how grateful I am…’ she

began, her voice quavering with emotion.

‘It’s my partner you should thank,’ Nikki told her,

nodding in the direction of the Judoon, who bowed his

head modestly.

‘You were the one who found my watch?’

‘We worked the case together,’ explained the Judoon.

‘We knew that the watch wasn’t at the thief’s apartment,

so we had to track down his fence.’

‘A third party that trades in stolen goods,’ explained

Nikki quickly.

‘And when we found the right fence, he was persuaded

to give the watch back,’ concluded the Judoon.

‘My friend can be very persuasive,’ added Nikki.

Mrs Kellingham smiled. ‘I’m sure he can be,’ she

agreed. ‘He’s joined your Agency?’

Nikki nodded.

‘Then you will need those new offices I was talking

about before. I’ll have my property manager contact you,’

the old lady promised her.

Nikki was stunned. Finally things were looking up for

the Jupiter Detective Agency.

‘That’s why we do this,’ Nikki told the Judoon, after

Mrs Kellingham had settled her bill and left.

‘For the money?’ rumbled the Judoon, and laughed his

drain-clearer laugh.

‘For the job satisfaction,’ she said slapping his wrist

playfully.

Nikki leant back in her chair and put her feet up.

‘You know I think this new partnership is going to

work out just fine.’

Inside the TARDIS, the Doctor was wandering around the

six-sided console, adjusting various controls. He had

enjoyed his time on New Memphis. It had reminded him

of something that he should never have forgotten: that he

should always look beyond the surface when dealing with

alien races like the Judoon. He had made all sorts of

assumptions about the Judoon Commander, and many of

them had been wrong. He hoped the Judoon would enjoy

his new life working with Nikki and her dad. He was

lucky to have found such good people. For a moment, the

Doctor stopped, deep in thought and memory. The

TARDIS felt so empty without a travelling companion.

With a heavy sigh, he pulled down a lever and set the

TARDIS in flight.

The Doctor sat back on the padded seat and put his feet

up on the edge of the console. No one else was around to

tell him not to. He sighed again. One day, he would meet

someone to share his travels with him – he always did

eventually. He’d had a peculiar feeling for some time

recently that change was coming, he was sure of it, he

could feel something lurking in his near future, something

big, terrible and yet inevitable…

The Doctor shook his head. No point moping about

things that hadn’t happened yet. The future – his future –

was a blank book. He had no way of knowing what it held

for him; what monsters he might fight, what evil he might

encounter, what worlds he might see, but he did know one

thing… it would be an adventure!

Somewhere in the immense nothingness of the Vortex, an

impossible blue box went spinning on its way…

Acknowledgements

I am indebted to a number of people who have helped me in

producing Judgement of the Judoon, and I’d like to take this

opportunity to thank them all.

First of all thanks to Albert DePetrillo, Nicholas Payne and

Caroline Newbury at BBC Books, who all do such a great job, not

only on this book but across the Doctor Who range. Thanks in

particular to Justin Richards for giving me the opportunity to

contribute to the world of Doctor Who fiction once again, and a big

thanks to Steve Tribe for his excellent and efficient editing!

I also need to thank my patient family – my wife Kerry and my

children Cefn and Kassia – who have had to put up with me

wandering around the house muttering Judoon catchphrases for

months on end.

Thanks, of course, must also go to the guv’nor, Russell T Davies,

for creating the wonderful Judoon in the first place, and to the design

team at BBC Wales for their brilliant realisation on screen, which

helped make this such a fun book to write. Thanks also to Terrance

Dicks who made the Judoon’s first appearance in print so memorable.

It was an honour – and a challenge – to produce the Judoon’s next

appearance after two RTD scripts and a Terrance Dicks book!

Thanks, too, to David Tennant, whose energy, enthusiasm and

dedication to the role has made the Tenth Doctor such a joy to write.

The biggest thanks of all to everyone at BBC Wales, who all work

so hard to bring Doctor Who to our screens. For those of us who can

count our time as Doctor Who fans in decades, the last few years have

been an incredible time. The Doctor promised us an incredible

journey, and he hasn’t let us down. So my final thanks, if you’ll

excuse the strange timey-wimeyness of it all, is a thank you for the

future of Doctor Who! Thanks, then, to Steven Moffat, Piers Wenger

and, of course, Matt Smith and all the writers who are busy creating

the Eleventh Doctor’s first series of adventures even as you read this

book… This really is just the beginning!

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Rose

as played by Christopher Eccleston and Billie Piper:

THE CLOCKWISE MAN

by Justin Richards

THE MONSTERS INSIDE

by Stephen Cole

WINNER TAKES ALL

by Jacqueline Rayner

THE DEVIANT STRAIN

by Justin Richards

ONLY HUMAN

by Gareth Roberts

THE STEALERS OF DREAMS

by Steve Lyons

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Rose

as played by David Tennant and Billie Piper:

THE STONE ROSE

by Jacqueline Rayner

THE FEAST OF THE DROWNED

by Stephen Cole

THE RESURRECTION CASKET

by Justin Richards

THE NIGHTMARE OF BLACK ISLAND

by Mike Tucker

THE ART OF DESTRUCTION

by Stephen Cole

THE PRICE OF PARADISE

by Colin Brake

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Martha

as played by David Tennant and Freema Agyeman:

STING OF THE ZYGONS

by Stephen Cole

THE LAST DODO

by Jacqueline Rayner

WOODEN HEART

by Martin Day

FOREVER AUTUMN

by Mark Morris

SICK BUILDING

by Paul Magrs

WETWORLD

by Mark Michalowski

WISHING WELL

by Mark Morris

THE PIRATE LOOP

by Simon Guerrier

PEACEMAKER

by James Swallow

Also available from BBC Books:

The Encyclopedia

by Gary Russell

ISBN 978 1 846 07291 8

£14.99

Do you know what was playing

on Cassanda's iPod?

What was the name of

Shakespeare's lost play?

Where were the Slitheen planning to hide a tribophysical

waveform macro-kinetic extrapolator?

There’s no need to search time and space – it’s all right

here. From Autons to Anne Droid, from Cat Nuns to Canary

Wharf, from Plasmavores to Pig Slaves… everything you

need to know about everything you didn’t know you needed

to know about Doctor Who.

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Freema Agyeman:

Martha in the Mirror

by Justin Richards

ISBN 978 1 846 07420 2

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

Castle Extremis – whoever holds it can control the

provinces either side that have been at war for centuries.

Now the castle is about to play host to the signing of a

peace treaty. But as the Doctor and Martha find out, not

everyone wants the war to end.

Who is the strange little girl who haunts the castle? What is

the secret of the book the Doctor finds, its pages made from

thin, brittle glass? Who is the hooded figure that watches

from the shadows? And what is the secret of the legendary

Mortal Mirror?

The Doctor and Martha don’t have long to find the answers

– an army is on the march, and the castle will soon be under

siege once more…

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Freema Agyeman:

Snow Globe 7

by Mike Tucker

ISBN 978 1 846 07421 9

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

Earth, 2099. Global warming is devastating the

climate. The polar ice caps are melting.

In a desperate attempt at preservation, the governments of

the world have removed vast sections of the Arctic and

Antarctic and set them inside huge domes across the world.

The Doctor and Martha arrive in SnowGlobe 7 in the

Middle East, hoping for peace and relaxation. But they soon

discover that it’s not only ice and snow that has been

preserved beneath the Dome.

While Martha struggles to help with an infection sweeping

through the Dome, the Doctor discovers an alien threat that

has lain hidden since the last ice age. A threat that is starting

to thaw.

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Freema Agyeman:

The Many Hands

by Dale Smith

ISBN 978 1 846 07422 6

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

The Nor’ Loch is being filled in. If you ask the soldiers

there, they’ll tell you it’s a stinking cesspool that the city

can do without. But that doesn’t explain why the workers

won’t go near the place without an armed guard.

That doesn’t explain why they whisper stories about the

loch giving up its dead, about the minister who walked into

his church twelve years after he died…

It doesn’t explain why, as they work, they whisper about a

man called the Doctor.

And about the many hands of Alexander Monro.

Also available from BBC Books:

Starships and Spacestations

by Justin Richards

ISBN 978 1 84607 423 3

£7.99 US $12.99/$15.99 CDN

The Doctor has his TARDIS to get him from place to place

and time to time, but the rest of the Universe relies on more

conventional transport… From the British Space

Programme of the late twentieth century to Earth’s Empire

in the far future, from the terrifying Dalek Fleet to deadly

Cyber Ships, this book documents the many starships and

spacestations that the Doctor and his companions have

encountered on their travels.

He has been held prisoner in space, escaped from the moon,

witnessed the arrival of the Sycorax and the crash landing

of a space pig… More than anyone else, the Doctor has

seen the development of space travel between countless

worlds.

This stunningly illustrated book tells the amazing story of

Earth’s ventures into space, examines the many alien fleets

who have paid Earth a visit, and explores the other starships

and spacestations that the Doctor has encountered on his

many travels…

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Catherine Tate:

Ghosts of India

by Mark Morris

ISBN 978 1 846 07559 9

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

India in 1947 is a country in the grip of chaos – a country

torn apart by internal strife. When the Doctor and Donna

arrive in Calcutta, they are instantly swept up in violent

events.

Barely escaping with their lives, they discover that the city

is rife with tales of ‘half-made men’, who roam the streets

at night and steal people away. These creatures, it is said,

are as white as salt and have only shadows where their eyes

should be.

With help from India’s great spiritual leader, Mohandas

‘Mahatma’ Gandhi, the Doctor and Donna set out to

investigate these rumours.

What is the real truth behind the ‘half-made men’? Why is

Gandhi’s role in history under threat? And has an ancient,

all-powerful god of destruction really come back to wreak

his vengeance upon the Earth?

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Catherine Tate:

The Doctor Trap

by Simon Messingham

ISBN 978 1 846 07558 0

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

Sebastiene was perhaps once human. He might look like a

nineteenth-century nobleman, but in truth he is a ruthless

hunter. He likes nothing more than luring difficult

opposition to a planet, then hunting them down for sport.

And now he’s caught them all – from Zargregs to Moogs,

and even the odd Eternal…

In fact, Sebastiene is after only one more prize. For this

trophy, he knows he is going to need help. He’s brought

together the finest hunters in the universe to play the most

dangerous game for the deadliest quarry of them all.

They are hunting for the last of the Time Lords – the

Doctor.

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Catherine Tate:

Shining Darkness

by Mark Michalowski

ISBN 978 1 846 07557 5

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

For Donna Noble, the Andromeda galaxy is a long, long

way from home. But even two and a half million light years

from Earth, danger lurks around every corner…

A visit to an art gallery turns into a race across space to

uncover the secret behind a shadowy organisation.

From the desert world of Karris to the interplanetary

scrapyard of Junk, the Doctor and Donna discover that

appearances can be deceptive, that enemies are lurking

around every corner – and that the centuries-long peace

between humans and machines may be about to come to an

end.

Because waiting in the wings to bring chaos to the galaxy is

the Cult of Shining Darkness.

Also available from BBC Books:

The Time Traveller’s Almanac

by Steve Tribe

ISBN 978 1 846 07572 8

£14.99

Who are the eminent artists of the 16th, 19th or 21st

centuries? What are the mysteries of Carrionite science?

Where do the Daleks come from? Answers to all of these

questions and more are found in The Time Traveller’s

Almanac, the ultimate intergalactic fact-finder.

The Almanac draws on resources far and wide, from the

beginning of time to the end of the universe, to provide

information on key historical events and great lives,

important issues in science, technology and the arts, and the

stories that have defined each era.

Fully illustrated with photos and artwork, The Time

Traveller’s Almanac provides an essential biography of the

Doctor Who universe.

Also available from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor and Donna

as played by David Tennant and Freema Agyeman:

The Story of Martha

by Dan Abnett

with David Roden, Steve Lockley & Paul Lewis,

Robert Shearman, and Simon Jowett

ISBN 978 1 846 07561 2

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

For a year, while the Master ruled over Earth, Martha

Jones travelled the world telling people stories about

the Doctor. She told people of how the Doctor has

saved them before, and how he will save them again.

This is that story. It tells of Martha’s travels from

her arrival on Earth as the Toclafane attacked and

decimated the population through to her return to

Britain to face the Master. It tells how she spread the

word and told people about the Doctor. The story of

how she survived that terrible year.

But it’s more than that. This is also a collection of the

stories she tells – the stories of adventures she had with

the Doctor that we haven’t heard about before. The

stories that inspired and saved the world…

Coming Soon from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor

as played by David Tennant:

The Eyeless

by Lance Parkin

ISBN 978 1 846 07562 9

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

At the heart of the ruined city of Arcopolis is the

Fortress. It’s a brutal structure placed here by one of

the sides in a devastating intergalactic war that’s long

ended. Fifteen years ago, the entire population of the

planet was killed in an instant by the weapon housed

deep in the heart of the Fortress. Now only the ghosts

remain.

The Doctor arrives, and determines to fight his way

past the Fortress’s automatic defences and put the

weapon beyond use. But he soon discovers he’s not

the only person in Arcopolis. What is the true nature

of the weapon? Is the planet really haunted? Who are

the Eyeless? And what will happen if they get to the

weapon before the Doctor?

The Doctor has a fight on his hands. And this time he’s

all on his own.

Coming Soon from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor

as played by David Tennant:

The Slitheen Excursion

by Simon Guerrier

ISBN 978 1 846 07640 4

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

1500BC – King Actaeus and his subjects live in mortal fear

of the awesome gods who have come to visit their kingdom

in ancient Greece. Except the Doctor, visiting with

university student June, knows they’re not gods at all.

They’re aliens.

For the aliens, it’s the perfect holiday – they get to tour the

sights of a primitive planet and even take part in local

customs. Like gladiatorial games, or hunting down and

killing humans who won’t be missed.

With June’s enthusiastic help, the Doctor soon meets the

travel agents behind this deadly package holiday company

– his old enemies the Slitheen. But can he bring the

Slitheen excursion to an end without endangering more

lives? And how are events in ancient Greece linked to a

modern-day alien plot to destroy what’s left of the

Parthenon?

Coming Soon from BBC Books

featuring the Doctor

as played by David Tennant:

Prisoner of the Daleks

by Trevor Baxendale

ISBN 978 1 846 07641 1

UK £6.99 US $11.99/$14.99 CDN

The Daleks are advancing, their empire constantly

expanding into Earth’s space. The Earth forces are

resisting the Daleks in every way they can. But the

battles rage on across countless solar systems. And now

the future of our galaxy hangs in the balance…

The Doctor finds himself stranded on board a starship

near the frontline with a group of ruthless bounty

hunters. Earth Command will pay them for every Dalek

they kill, every eye stalk they bring back as proof.

With the Doctor’s help, the bounty hunters achieve the

ultimate prize: a Dalek prisoner – intact, powerless,

and ready for interrogation. But where the Daleks are

involved, nothing is what it seems, and no one is safe.

Before long the tables will be turned, and how will the

Doctor survive when he becomes a prisoner of

the Daleks?

Coming Soon from BBC Books:

Companions and Allies

by Steve Tribe

ISBN 978 1 846 07749 4

UK £7.99 US $12.99/$15.99 CDN

The Doctor has been travelling through space and time

for centuries, showing his friends and companions the

wonders of the universe. From Sarah Jane Smith and the

Brigadier to Martha Jones and Donna Noble, Companions

and Allies celebrates the friends who have been by his side

and the heroes that have helped him battle his deadliest

foes. Find out:

• How the First Doctor uprooted schoolteachers Ian and

Barbara from their twentieth-century lives

• Why the Third Doctor worked for UNIT

• How the Fifth Doctor sacrificed his life for Peri

• Who helped the Eighth Doctor save Earth from

the Master

• What became of Rose Tyler and her family

And much more. Beautifully illustrated and including

– for the first time – a complete story guide to the

adventures of all ten Doctors, this is the definitive guide

to the Doctor’s intergalactic family.

Document Outline

Judgement