Swimming with the Sharks arah gazed in shock and revulsion at the remains of the the whatever whatever on the table. 'I know some kids are ugly,' she Ssaid weakly, 'but that's a bit extreme, don't you think?' on the table. 'I know some kids are ugly,' she Ssaid weakly, 'but that's a bit extreme, don't you think?'

'Extreme and extremely immoral,' agreed the Doctor. 'It's perversion of the natural order on a scale I've seen only once before.'

'But . . . there's no way that thing could be a ten-year-old child,' objected Sarah.

'It isn't. At least, it isn't any more.' The Doctor was very grim and she could detect the undercurrent of moral outrage below his surface. 'But that's how the poor creature began.'

Doyle, wiping his hands after having washed them thoroughly, walked over to join them. 'Even I don't understand how it has been accomplished,' he admitted. 'But there's no doubting the Doctor's core theory. That is not some animal.'

Sarah shook her head. 'Look, I know I'm not really up on the science stuff, but I'm no dummy either. It's impossible to create hybrids of humans and animals, isn't it?'

'Generally speaking, yes,' agreed the Doctor. 'But this isn't general. It's very specific. Without access to much more sophisticated a.n.a.lysis techniques, I can't be too sure what's happened, but the basics are fairly clear. The body structure of that creature is that of a normal human child. Somehow, though, his genetic material has been melded with that of a canine possibly a wolf, most likely a dog of some kind.'

Sarah frowned. 'Come off it,' she said. 'Are you telling me that thing's an honest-to-G.o.d werewolf?'

'It's not honest to anything, Sarah Jane,' the Doctor said hollowly. 'Its as dishonest as they come. And it's not a werewolf in the sense you imagine. This is a deliberately engineered monstrosity.'

'Somebody made a kid into that?' Sarah was appalled beyond any words.

'Yes.' The Doctor spoke quietly but firmly. 'The genetic match isn't too good, and the poor creature must have been in pain constantly, and probably more than half insane.'

'But that's not possible in this time period, is it, Doctor?' she insisted.

'Time period?' Doyle's eyes went wide. 'What the deuce are you talking about?'

'Later!' the Doctor snapped at him. To Sarah, he said, 'No, it isn't. Which means that we're dealing with something intrusive. That kind of genetic manipulation won't be possible on this planet for at least two hundred years.'

'Then what is happening here?' demanded Sarah.

'One possibility is that we have an intruder from the future.'

That sparked something in Sarah's mind. 'Wait a minute I just met someone who seems to be a bit too aware of what the future might bring.' She told the Doctor and Doyle about her visit to the factory. 'Is it possible that Breckinridge is from the future, and that he's come back to this time to alter the course of history? That he aims to get rich when the communications boom comes in a couple of years?'

'It's possible,' agreed the Doctor. 'I don't know how likely it is, though. Aside from his ideas which a shrewd businessman of this time could still come up with and this pitiful beast, there's nothing to suggest time travel.'

'That's it,' said Doyle firmly. 'I refuse to be shut out of this conversation any longer. Will you two please tell me what you are discussing here? Time travel?'

That had sunk it. Sarah sighed. 'Look,' she said. 'It's very complicated, and I know you won't believe it, so let it drop, okay?'

But Doyle was having none of that. 'Wait a moment,' he insisted. 'The only way that what you have both been saying makes any sense is if you claim to be from a different time period to this. The future, I a.s.sume, and you have somehow transferred back in time. Is that what you are claiming?'

'We're claiming nothing,' Sarah replied. 'Let it drop, please.'

'Oh, no,' Doyle said firmly. 'You can't just raise the idea and then walk away from it. The very concept is preposterous.'

'It is, is it?' asked the Doctor.

'Yes, of course it is.' Doyle waved his hands about his head. 'One cannot simply move freely back and forth between the ages. I'm a rational man, and I accept only those matters that science can demonstrate to a rational man.'

'Then heaven defend us from rational men!' the Doctor yelled. 'A pox on rationality! Has it never occurred to you that the human understanding of science is a small and pitiful thing? That there might exist vast areas outside of human knowledge that can still be explained scientifically, but not in terms of the puny knowledge that the human race possesses at this time? That there just might be realities undescribed by and unknown to your limited grasp of science? A rational man!

Hah!'

'Well,' said Doyle, somewhat taken aback by this verbal a.s.sault, 'if you choose to put it like that '

'I do so choose!' the Doctor replied.

'Then I have to say that you are correct, Doctor.' Doyle shook his head slowly. 'It is arrogant to a.s.sume that everything we know is everything there is to know.'

'Congratulations,' Sarah informed him. 'You've just made a huge step forward. Ignorance isn't so bad, but refusing to see ignorance is.'

'But I still find it hard to accept the notion of transference in time,' Doyle added honestly.

The Doctor gestured at the carca.s.s on the table. 'Then merely accept it. You've seen it, you've touched it and you helped me to dissect it. Explain that that in terms of nineteenth-century knowledge.' in terms of nineteenth-century knowledge.'

'I cannot.'

'Good. I'd have called you a d.a.m.ned fool and a liar if you tried.' The Doctor patted him encouragingly on the back.

'Well, let's get a pot of tea and some scones, shall we? I do hope they have clotted cream and strawberry jam.'

'You're just leaving that where it is?' asked Sarah, jerking her thumb at the corpse.

'You're welcome to bury it if you wish,' the Doctor told her. 'But I thought we'd do better leaving that to the local vicar.' He set off back towards the Hall briskly.

Falling in beside him, Sarah asked, 'What's next on the agenda? After afternoon tea?'

'I wonder if we can hire a boat.'

'A boat?' asked Doyle, struggling to keep up. 'Whatever for?'

'I feel like a spot of fis.h.i.+ng,' the Doctor replied.

Sarah grinned. 'Let me guess: you want to see what's out at sea.'

'You know me so well, Sarah Jane.'

'Here, I say,' objected Doyle. 'Isn't that likely to be a trifle dangerous, given what happened to old Tolliver?'

'No,' the Doctor replied. 'It's likely to be very dangerous. You needn't accompany me.'

'You'll need my help,' Doyle insisted. 'I'm a decent hand with a harpoon, you know, and a fair shot.'

'And you'd better not even dream about leaving me behind,' added Sarah.

The Doctor gave her a wide grin. 'There's no one I'd sooner have beside me,' he a.s.sured her. 'I knew you'd never stay behind.'

'You know me so well, Doctor.'

'That's a d.a.m.ned strange request, even for you, Doyle.' Captain John Gray stared at his s.h.i.+p's surgeon in surprise. 'The loan of a harpoon? There are no whales in these waters, man.'

Sarah rather liked the gruff old seaman. His receding hair was a wiry grey, matching his name, and his spade-like beard was full and thick. There was the tinge of a Scottish burr to his words, but no mistaking his puzzlement.

'I understand that, Captain,' agreed Doyle. 'But there is some kind of creature in the bay that killed a fisherman a couple of nights back.'

'Then what the blazes are you doing going out after it?' Gray gave a grim smile. 'Wait till the morning and half the crew would volunteer to accompany you on a hunt.'

'I suspect this beast only emerges at night, Captain,' the Doctor offered. 'And I doubt your men would be willing to indulge in a spot of night fis.h.i.+ng.'

Gray snorted. 'After a day in port, they're in no shape to even stir this night.'

'Besides,' added Doyle, 'we may well not be attacked at all. The harpoon is merely for defence.'

'Oh, very well,' Gray agreed. 'I know you can use it, man. But be careful. You're a good s.h.i.+pmate, and I'd hate to have to bury you.'

'I a.s.sure you, we will take every precaution,' the Doctor replied. 'Incidentally, when do you sail?'

'Tomorrow morning, or the next,' Gray answered.

'Ah.' The Doctor nodded. 'Then your business transaction with Mister Breckinridge has concluded?'

Gray looked surprised again. 'Aye, that it has. What concern is it of yours?'

'Possibly none,' admitted the Doctor candidly. 'But might I presume to enquire as to the nature of the business?'

'You may not!' thundered Gray, getting to his feet. 'It is of a private concern, and no affair of yours, you impudent wretch!'

'Captain,' Doyle said hastily, moving between the two. 'The Doctor is from Scotland Yard, and is aiding the local police in solving two or three very mysterious cases. It is possible that Mister Breckinridge may have some connection with one or more of these cases.'

'A suspect?' growled Gray. 'Breckinridge has been an honourable man, and dealt fairly with me.'

'He may be innocent,' Sarah said gently. There was no point in clarifying Doyle's erroneous a.s.sumption of the Doctor's standing. 'But a little help from you could clear his name.'

Gray shook his head. 'I promised him that our transaction would remain our secret. Something to do with industrial espi-onage, or something.'

Sarah nodded. 'Not a job offer, then, piloting a cable-laying s.h.i.+p?'

'Good Lord, no!' Gray looked amused. 'Whoever told you that must be completely out of their heads. What would an old whaler like me do piloting a cable s.h.i.+p?'

'What indeed?' asked the Doctor cheerfully. He shook the Captain's hand. 'Thank you; you've been more than helpful.'

'My pleasure.' Gray shook his head in bemus.e.m.e.nt as they left his cabin. 'A cable layer,' he muttered. 'Me! These police chappies are all mad.'

As they pa.s.sed onto the deck, Sarah smiled at the Doctor. 'So we know that Breckinridge lied about one thing at the very least.'

'But nothing more,' the Doctor chided her. 'Gray's story of Breckinridge being wary about industrial spying could well be true. There's a lot of it about, and their deal could well be honest.'

'I'm certain that it would have to be, from the captain's side at least,' Doyle offered as he selected a harpoon and began to coil the rope about his arm. 'Gray is one of the straightest, most decent men I've ever met.'

'I'm sure he must be.' The Doctor stared out over the gentle seas. 'A perfect night for a sail, isn't it? Hardly a swell in sight.'

'And where are we going to get a boat from?' asked Sarah.

'This is a fis.h.i.+ng town,' the Doctor replied. 'The place is littered with them.'

'We can't just take one,' argued Sarah.

'I wasn't going to.' The Doctor led them off the Hope Hope again and back along the quay. 'Tolliver's boat is still moored behind the Pig and Thistle,' he explained. 'He won't be having much use for it, seeing as they buried him today.' again and back along the quay. 'Tolliver's boat is still moored behind the Pig and Thistle,' he explained. 'He won't be having much use for it, seeing as they buried him today.'

'Constable Faversham might consider it stealing,' Sarah objected.

'Faversham is guarding the grave tonight,' the Doctor countered, 'in case the robbers show up again. I'm inclined to let him. I doubt the villains are stupid enough to strike on the night of the burial. They waited last time, and they will undoubtedly wait again.' He flashed Sarah a grin. 'And I aim to tell Mister Brackley that we're just borrowing the boat for the evening, and pay him to alert anyone who asks.'

'He'll just get blotted,' said Sarah.

'All the better. Then he's not likely to object, is he?'

He didn't. When the Doctor flipped him a s.h.i.+lling the one-armed sailor promised to keep a watch out for anyone asking after them. Sarah noticed that he was apparently aiming to spend the vigil warm and well lubricated, since he shot into the tavern before the three of them had even cast off the moorings of the small fis.h.i.+ng boat.

'Are you familiar with these boats?' Doyle asked the Doctor.

'I'm familiar with all boats from coracles to catamarans,' the Doctor answered, slipping free the fore rope and jumping down to the deck. 'Or do I have to tie a sheath of sheepshanks to prove it?'

'I'll take your word for it.'

'Good.' The Doctor and Sarah raised the sail, while Doyle watched the wheel.

Sarah stared out across the bay. The main fis.h.i.+ng fleet had departed earlier, to get well out to sea where the fis.h.i.+ng would begin. That meant, at least, that there was no chance of a collision in the bay. Sarah was no great shakes on a boat; it hadn't been a terribly realistic option in South Croydon. She had done a little sailing, and did know that the pointy end of the boat went first, and that sailors insisted on port and starboard instead of left and right like normal human beings. After that she was lost.

At least it was looking like a calm night. That meant her stomach might well behave itself. She'd never actually been seasick in her life, but tonight would not have been a good time to start. Still, with the sun low on the horizon, it looked like being a calm and beautiful night. The wind that had nipped at her last night had died down, and there was just a light breeze to fill the sail and carry them slowly and gently along. The clouds were sporadic, and stars were already starting to twinkle.

She wished that this were simply some pleasure cruise and that there was a packed picnic hamper and a bottle of some feisty plonk instead of harpoons, rifles and nets aboard.

Wouldn't it be lovely to actually be able to enjoy things for a change instead of having to fight or hide from things? Or would that just be normal and boring for her now?

Sarah glanced up at the Doctor, and saw the light of excitement in his eyes. How he must have been bored as one of those stuffy, legalistic Time Lords back on his home world of Gallifrey! No wonder he enjoyed meddling so much. He was making up for more lost time than Sarah could even begin to imagine. She began to sing softly: 'Blow the man down, bullies, blow the man down.'

'Heigh ho!' the Doctor agreed.