'I talked them out of that, and now one of their PCs is letting me borrow their PC. Very PC of him, I thought,' the Doctor explained. He was typing frantically, but barely seemed to be concentrating on what he was doing.

'And they brought you a coffee.' Trix had just noticed the plastic cup on the desk.

64.'If it's any consolation, it's not very nice coffee.'

'So, do you think whoever did this will have a police record?' The Doctor shrugged, and finally stopped typing. 'I just needed access to the Internet. I'm hacking into the CCTV cameras around the churchyard.'

'You think there will be one there?'

'There are four million CCTV cameras in the UK. The average Londoner is seen by three hundred of them a day.'

'Police stations don't have direct access to CCTV systems, do they?' Trix asked.

'Not normally, not yet. The rules governing them are all over the place, though. If you know what you're doing, it's easy enough to hack into some of them.'

Trix felt very self-conscious suddenly. 'Er. . . Fitz and I were just going to pop into town.'

'I don't blame you. This is going to take a while. Cheer him up, would you?'

'I'll do my best. Are you going to be all right?'

'Yes. I'll chase this up and find you later.'

'How?'

The Doctor tilted his head towards the screen. 'Probably best if neither of you do any shoplifting.'

As Trix left, the Doctor returned to his work.

Fitz felt distinctly scruffy as he and Trix entered the lobby. It was a vast, light atrium which Fitz could say with some authority was larger than the one in the palace of a Roman emperor. The building was new, and they'd already pa.s.sed a display telling them exactly how many architectural awards it had won. It was in the heart of the City of London. It wasn't quite the tallest building, or the most showy, but there was something about it that exuded power, confidence in the future and above all else money. It was like a nuclear reactor that generated cash instead of electricity.

'We have an appointment,' he a.s.sured the supermodel receptionist, who clearly didn't believe him.

As she phoned someone, Fitz was getting a little nervous. He'd never really thought of himself as one of the daily worker crowd that always sounded rather an arduous schedule to him but he felt as though he didn't belong in here.

'What?' snapped Trix. She, of course, looked gorgeous in her new outfit.

'It's a big deal going to see your bank manager.'

Trix rolled her eyes. 'I keep forgetting you're from the Middle Ages.'

'I think I'd rather be with the Doctor.'

'Looking at computer records?'

65.'Well, it's bound to get more lively than that soon, isn't it?'

The receptionist pointed the way to the lifts. 'You're to go straight up.'

'No sitting around in a waiting room?' Fitz said. 'I like that.'

The two of them crossed the floor to the lifts. Outside, it was a cold and grey midday. In here, it was bright and sunny. There were dozens of people, men and women, every nationality, all in their perfect suits, almost strutting.

They moved out of Fitz and Trix's way. At first, Fitz a.s.sumed they were avoiding him. Then he realised they were deferring to him.

'This way, Mr Kreiner,' an athletic man in a dark suit told him, indicating the express lift.

Fitz followed Trix into the lift, which started going up without them having to press anything.

'OK,' he said. 'You clearly don't think this is weird.'

Trix kissed his cheek. 'All will be explained,' she added.

The lift slowed and stopped. The doors opened, and they were on the top floor. There were panoramic views of the City, and indeed the city, from here. Fitz stumbled, a vestige of vertigo warning him to stay away from the windows.

There was a large desk at the other end of the office. Behind it sat a very pretty young Indian woman in a designer trouser suit. 'h.e.l.lo, Fitz,' said Anji.

The Doctor checked the address he'd written down.

A large town house that looked as though it had been built just before the First World War. Red brick, with a high-sloping roof and a mock-Tudor frontage. It had a large, slightly overgrown front garden and gravel driveway leading up to a large, separate garage. It was secluded from its neighbours on both sides. But this was a perfectly ordinary-looking house.

It was the end of his trail. After an hour or so working through CCTV footage, he'd glimpsed a lorry with a grabbing arm, and a time code that was only a few minutes after they'd been in the churchyard. It wasn't possible to see the number plate, but the name of the hire firm was clearly visible. He'd rung them up, and with only a little trickery on his part had persuaded them to pa.s.s on the details of the person who'd hired the lorry.

This was the address he'd been given. If this wasn't the place, then the trail had run cold.

He couldn't sense the TARDIS. He was linked to the old girl, attuned to her. He often thought he could sense when she was close by. It was an erratic ability at best, though. That he didn't feel anything now didn't mean anything.

Large tyre tracks in the gravel. Not conclusive, but circ.u.mstantial evidence that the lorry he was tracking had been here.

66.No obvious sign he was being watched, or that there were guards inside the house. No obvious signs of activity.

The Doctor trudged up the drive, staying alert. He reached the front door, and nothing had happened to him.

He knelt down and peeked through the letter box. A perfectly ordinary hallway.

The Doctor unlocked the door with his sonic screwdriver and went inside.

Thick green carpet, and lots of pictures all over the walls sepia photographs, old maps, generic country landscapes.

He picked up the post. Six items, all addressed to Marnal Gate. It sounded more like a place than a person. Nothing important by the look of the envelopes, just bills and junk mail. The air was full of dust. The smells were more like a library's than a home's no cooking smells, or pets, or bathroom, or bedroom, or washing. The Doctor followed his nose towards the back of the house.

An impressively large room full of packed bookshelves. Dark and a little musty. Paper and leather. Magazines and books of all shapes and sizes. The Doctor had always been one of those people whose eyes instinctively go to the bookcase in a room. This time, though, his attention was caught by a piece of apparatus on a table in the middle of the room. A large gla.s.s jar connected up to pieces of electrical hardware, including an old television set.

It was the only thing he'd seen in the house so far that wasn't dusty.

He tapped at the gla.s.s.

Upstairs, a floorboard squeaked.

The Doctor looked up at the ceiling.

Fitz was looking around. Anji was another of the Doctor's former companions.

She'd travelled with Fitz and the Doctor for a couple of years, and had left only a few months ago as the TARDIS flies to go back to her job at some international bank.

'You. . . er. . . got a promotion?' he ventured.

'I'm on the board now,' she told him.

'Isn't that. . . er. . . a little fast track?'

'It's about right, given my proven ability to boost the company's profits.'

'Some more stock tips for you, boss,' Trix said, handing over a compact disc and a handful of other items. 'There's also a 3-D camera, a bag of ancient Roman coins, a biomechanical gauntlet and this is a wig made of some new type of plastic.'

Anji walked over to a bare patch of wall and opened a concealed panel. A scanner popped out and slipped over her eye. Then there was a click and a small safe opened. Anji put the items in there and closed everything up.

67.'Oh come on,' said Fitz. 'That's cheating cheating.'

'No, just a sensible arrangement,' Anji said. 'Everything this company does depends on what will happen. Will a new company succeed or fail? Will a new product sell or flop? How much will insurance companies have to pay out? What will the price of oil be in a year's time? If a futures trader could see the future, her job would be a lot easier.'

'We cooked this up between us,' Trix said, grinning from ear to ear. 'I send information to Anji, she bases investment decisions on that data.'

'It occurred to both of us independently,' Anji added. 'It's pretty obvious, when you think about it. It needed one of us in the TARDIS and one of us here.'

'I wondered why you left in such a hurry.'

'That wasn't the only reason. But it's like any career opportunity you know when it's the right move.'

'Why don't you find out who won the Grand National and bet all your money on a sure thing?' Fitz asked, aggrieved.

'It would take all the fun out of going to the races,' Anji replied easily.

'It's not as straightforward as you'd think. You have to know the rules and regulations. We can't overplay our hand, and it would look very suspicious if we committed all our capital on risky ventures but never put a foot wrong. It's quite hard work convincing my employees they're brilliant a.n.a.lysts.'

'This isn't right,' Fitz said. 'Would the Doctor approve?'

'He knew I was doing it,' Anji said. She paused to loop her hair back behind her ear. 'I mean, he caught me with a copy of the Financial Times Financial Times once, in the future. He didn't seem to mind too much.' once, in the future. He didn't seem to mind too much.'

'Before you have a crisis of conscience,' Trix told him, 'the deal is that I get a cut of the profits.'

'A big cut?' Fitz wondered.

'At the moment, Ms Macmillan's fund is worth around a hundred and fifty million,' Anji said. 'We guarantee 20 per cent returns on investment per an-num. Tax-free and that's something a time machine's no help with.'

Fitz considered this for a moment. 'Pounds?' he asked, eventually.

'Pounds,' Anji confirmed. 'It's almost all in stocks, shares and bonds.'

'Ah, not cash,' said Fitz. He knew there would be a catch.

'We can liquidate any of it. You'd need a day's notice if you wanted more than spending money, but I can get you two hundred now, if you need it.'

'Pounds?' Fitz asked. That was three or four months' wages back in 1963.

'K,' Anji told him, and a moment later had to explain what she meant.

Fitz gave an exaggerated nod, intending to appear nonchalant. This scheme wasn't, perhaps, unethical. Anji was a good sort, after all, and could be trusted with the knowledge.

68.'Where do I sign?' Trix asked.

Anji buzzed for an a.s.sistant, who arrived before the buzz had died down and led Trix away.

Fitz stood there like a lemon.

'You two are a couple?' Anji asked Fitz, to break the silence.

'Yeah. I think so.'

'For how long?'

'Er. . . Three days, I think. Something like that. Early days.'

Anji raised an eyebrow. 'And you've already got your hands on her fortune.

Seriously' Fitz hadn't been sure it was a joke 'well done. You've gone up in the world. She's a good catch. I can't work out what she sees in you, though.'

She smiled.

That question hadn't even occurred to Fitz. 'Thanks. I think. How about you?' He'd noticed the ring.

Anji nodded. 'Greg. He's a journalist. My parents are delighted. We've been together for nearly a year now. Engaged, married next year.'

'Wow.'

'What about you?'

'I'm exactly the same as before, and that's the problem.'

'You've always been exactly the same.' He must have looked hurt, because she quickly added, 'Which was always part of your charm.'

'You might need a new business partner. I'm thinking of leaving, and I'd need Trix with me.'

Anji nodded. 'Don't worry about me. If you want to leave, well, you'll know when it's the right time. Whirlwind romances. . . well, I didn't exactly dawdle with either Dave or Greg. If it's right, it's right and you go for it.'

That last bit sounded like she'd heard it on a course somewhere. 'You never wanted to join us in the first place.' Anji smiled. She'd been whisked away from a successful, fulfilling life and into the TARDIS by a series of events, rather than out of any choice on her part.

'And I'm sure I complained and had a sour face a lot of the time, but I don't need to tell you it was the most incredible experience. We had a life that most people don't even have the imagination to dream about. I used to think all that stuff was for children, and anyone over the age of ten should have grown out of it. No. What's the expression again? There are some things money definitely can't buy.'