BBC Cult Dr Who - The Sands Of Time Page 3

  The door was unlocked. But the room beyond was empty.

  The Doctor paused for the briefest of split-seconds. Then he was off again, racing across the small room, and crashing through the door at the end of it. He heard it bang in to the wall in front of him and slam shut again behind him as he skidded down the stairs. He heard Tegan's muffled shouts as she followed. He caught the smallest glimpse of Nyssa's flailing trailing leg as it disappeared round a bend in the wide stone staircase ahead of him. But when he reached the landing below, there was no clue as to which way to go. The stairs continued on down, but three doorways gave out on to the floor he was now on. The Doctor paused for breath and to listen for any hint which way to go. But all he could hear was Tegan clattering down the stairs behind him.

  'Which way did they go?' Tegan asked as she reached the landing, her cloak swirling behind her.

  The Doctor adopted a pained expression. 'Do you really think I'd be hanging around here if I knew that?'

  'Great. So what do we do now?'

  'We think.'

  'Think?'

  'Yes, Tegan, think. It can be really quite useful - you should try it occasionally.'

  Tegan snorted. 'And what good will thinking do Nyssa? We need to find her.'

  'For example, why do you think they - whoever they are - have taken her? Hmm?'

  'It doesn't matter why, Doctor. We've got to find her.'

  The Doctor smiled and waved a finger at Tegan. 'But if we knew why, we might know where. As it is, we have to guess. And I would guess they're taking her somewhere else.'

  'Brilliant,' Tegan said, sounding as though she actually meant something quite different.

  'Tegan,' admonished the Doctor. 'Somewhere else would suggest they're taking her outside the building. Away from the museum.' He nodded, primarily for his own benefit. 'So we need to be outside. We need to find their means of transport.'

  'Transport?'

  'They're not going to drag Nyssa kicking and screaming through the streets of London, now are they. Would you?'

  But the Doctor did not wait for an answer to this. Instead he started down the staircase again. 'Come along,' he called back over his shoulder as he jumped down another three steps.

  The night air was cold and dry. What breath Nyssa was able to exhale between the fingers of the clammy hand covering her mouth was forced through as a warm humid mist which drifted and thinned into the foggy distance. Nyssa had all but given up struggling and was trying instead to slow her progress as much as possible. She had heard the clatter of pursuit and her hope now was that the Doctor could catch up with them.

  As she was dragged backwards out of a side entrance to the large building, Nyssa had no way of knowing where she was headed, but she had a good view of where she had been. She spent little time in considering how much this was like travelling with the Doctor, and more dragging her feet sluggishly through the thin sprinkling of snow which covered the frozen cobbles. Her heels bumped over the small rounded stones and her calves were jarred by the jolting.

  Further back along the dark shadow of the building, another door was opened into the foggy night. It swung heavily outward and sprung back slightly as it reached the limit of its hinge. A moment later the Doctor bounded through the doorway, followed closely by Tegan. At the same instant, the man pulling Nyssa stopped.

  Nyssa's immediate thought was that the man would release her and make a run for it. The Doctor and Tegan were now so close that they must catch him. The Doctor was waving and shouting; Tegan was struggling to keep her cloak from under her feet. The fog parted before them as they dashed forward.

  But then Nyssa felt herself hoisted roughly up a couple of high steps and bundled through a small door. At the same time the hand was released from her face and the ground jolted beneath her. She was thrown back on to an upholstered bench seat. In front of her a pair of eyes gleamed darkly, and gaslight reflected for a second from the blade of a knife. Behind her, Nyssa could hear the Doctor's continued shouts above the accelerating rhythm of the horse's hooves and the crack of the coachman's whip.

  The carriage was soon swallowed up by the foggy night. For a while the sounds of the horse's hooves on the snowy cobbles and the clatter of the wheels made their increasingly muffled way through the thick fog. Only when they were gone did the Doctor stop running. He drew in a deep breath, threw his rolled Panama hat down into the roadway and carefully stamped on it.

  Tegan caught up with him in time to see him retrieve the hat, unroll it, dust it down on his coat and jam the cold, soggy result back on his head. Then he sat down in the snow, pulled his knees up to his chest, and stared into the night.

  Tegan said nothing. She pulled her cloak closer round her and raised the deep hood, aware of the cold despite the enforced exercise.

  'That street lamp.' The Doctor nodded towards the nearest one. 'Interesting, don't you think?'

  'No.' Tegan crouched down beside him. 'Doctor, we lost Nyssa.'

  'Yes, I know,' the Doctor said without a trace of sarcasm. Rather he seemed in a thoughtful mood. 'And we'd better find her.' He leaped to his feet and strode over to the lamp post. 'Given the lighting technology, the ambient sound and,' he waved an arm through the misty night, 'pollution, I should say we're round about late Victorian.'

  Tegan could see no reason to disagree. 'Does that help?'

  The Doctor thought for a moment. 'Probably not,' he admitted at last. 'But I like to get things straight in my mind. And we still need an exact date to reset the TARDIS navigation systems.' He walked round the lamp post, leaving a slushy trail in the snow. 'That Osiran lodestone must have picked up some residual vortex energy from the TARDIS time track. That would explain why we were drawn off course, and might have caused the stabiliser failure.' He stopped his circumnavigation and peered pensively at Tegan. 'Also why the sarcophagus appeared to glow. Probably leaking out the time differential to prevent a short.'

  'Does that help?'

  'Possibly. If the sarcophagus and Nyssa's kidnapping are connected. Though I don't see how they could be. Perhaps this gentleman can enlighten us.'

  It took Tegan a second to realize what the Doctor had said. Then she looked round to see who he was talking about. She was still looking when she became aware of the sound of footsteps. Almost immediately, a figure pushed its way through the fog in front of them and stepped into the gaslight.

  The man was tall, his figure fleshed out by the cloak he wore. A tall black hat exaggerated his height as he walked towards them. His face, as it caught what light there was, was thin. He looked to be in his late thirties. 'Ah, there you are,' he said in a deep, measured voice.

  The Doctor and Tegan exchanged glances. 'You were expecting to find us here?' the Doctor asked.

  'Indeed, sir.' The stranger switched on a smile. 'I have a communication.'

  'For us?' Tegan pushed forward to see the man better. 'Something to do with Nyssa?'

  The man frowned and seemed genuinely surprised. 'To do with what?'

  Tegan shrugged and turned away.

  The man continued: 'I'm sorry, Miss Jovanka, I did not understand the reference.'

  Tegan stopped dead. 'You know who I am?' She turned slowly back. The Doctor too seemed surprised.

  'Indeed.' There was an awkward pause. Then the man seemed to sense that perhaps he needed to elaborate. 'How could I forget you so soon?' he added helpfully.

  'You've met before?' the Doctor gestured between the stranger and Tegan.

  The stranger laughed, a surprised rather than an amused laugh. 'But of course,' he said. 'As you well know, Doctor.'

  Tegan decided to try a different approach. 'How did you know we were here?'

  The man shrugged. 'Lord Kenilworth said I would find you here. But if I had missed you, I assume you are still at the Savoy.'

  'Absolutely.' The Doctor moved Tegan aside and reached out a hand. 'Spot on. Now, about this communication.'

  'Of course, sir.' The man fumbled inside his cloak and drew out an
envelope. He handed it to the Doctor. 'It's for tomorrow afternoon, as agreed. Now, if you will excuse me, I must be getting back. I still have various duties to discharge this evening.' He bowed slightly to them both, then turned and walked into the fog. In the distance, Big Ben began to chime midnight.

  The Doctor examined the envelope. He showed it to Tegan. On the front it was addressed in a neat efficient hand to The Doctor. 'Curiouser and curiouser,' he muttered as he opened it.

  Tegan stood on tiptoes and looked over the Doctor's shoulder as he pulled out the card inside. He glared at her briefly, and she smiled back. Then he held the card so they could both see it in the light from the gas lamp above.

  It was a plain white card, edged in gold. It was about five inches long by three inches high. Tegan read it twice.

  LORD KENILWORTH

  At home

  Monday 10th November, 1896

  Kenilworth House, Embankment

  A Mummy from Eygpt to be unwrapped at half-past two

  'Not that unusual, Tegan,' the Doctor said after a while. These events were not uncommon. The Victorians loved to marry ceremony with antiquity and some semblance of learning.'

  'Maybe, Doctor' Tegan said, 'but I'd say it's pretty weird to get invited at midnight by a complete stranger to a mummy unwrapping party.'

  The thin layer of snow cracked and collapsed under Tegan's feet. Her breath formed clouds in front of her face, and her feet ached. She felt as if they had been walking for days, though she suspected that it was probably only about an hour all told. She was barely paying attention to the Doctor's lecture on the history of Victorian London and glanced only occasionally at the features of interest he pointed out along their route.

  He should get an umbrella and do the tour-guide job properly, she thought as he took her arm again and waved a learned hand at yet another bridge across the Thames. But for the most part she was thinking about Nyssa, and she suspected that behind his erudite manner the Doctor was as well.

  Finally seeming to sense that he was making no progress in distracting Tegan, the Doctor had quietened. They made their way along the Embankment in silence broken only by the background hum of the city and the foghorns of the boats on the river. A gaslight haze lay over the nearby rooftops, fading into gloom and darkness in the distance.

  'It smells,' Tegan said at last. She felt this was a fair comment on the Doctor's appreciation of Victorian architecture.

  'Smelt a good deal more before they put the sewer in,' the Doctor said, immediately back into his undaunted spiel. 'All the sewage used to just go into the river. Now it gets carried ten miles East.'

  'What happens to it there?'

  The Doctor lowered his head and kicked at a swell of soft snow. It exploded in a puff of white dust. 'It just goes into the river at Barking,' he muttered and quickly went on: 'Another marvellous feat of Victorian engineering.'

  'A sewer?' Tegan was not convinced.

  'Mmm,' came the enthusiastic reply.

  'So where is it?'

  'Ah, well. They roofed it over and called it the Victoria Embankment,' the Doctor smiled through the gloom. 'We're walking on it.' He broke into a grin. 'And we've arrived.'

  Just ahead of them Tegan could see the tall shape of Cleopatra's needle cutting into the foggy sky. The bulky shape of a carved sphinx watched it diligently from beside them. Clawed hands of bronze gripped the edge of the stone plinth as the silent figure continued its vigil, poised to leap forward into the night.

  But the Doctor was not interested. He had turned inwards and was pointing out a large rectangular building. The facade was lined with row upon row of large square windows, each row separated by a balcony. Just visible at the top of the building, flags hung limp from poles at each corner of the roof in the still night. Between the flags, lit from beneath and catching the vestiges of moonlight that struggled through the thick air, large capital letters proclaimed proudly: SAVOY HOTEL AND RESTAURANT.

  'Shall we, Miss Jovanka?' the Doctor asked theatrically as he waved an operatic hand to indicate a paved path through the line of young trees.

  Despite the lateness of the hour, the reception clerk was busily sorting through papers and allocating them to pigeon holes. The small square openings covered most of the wall behind the heavy mahogany desk, which itself occupied a fair extent of the far wall of the hotel lobby.

  The clerk looked round as the door opened to let in the Doctor and Tegan. He was middle-aged with slicked back dark hair fashionably greased to his head. The Doctor approached the desk while Tegan waited at the back of the room. The clerk shot them a look of annoyance as Tegan glanced round the foyer. The area was large and ornate, as she had expected. The carpet was deep pile and deep red, and a huge staircase ascended from one corner of the reception area. Beyond it, a corridor led out of sight while a pair of double doors stood propped open to reveal the glory of the dining room. Several immaculate waiters were making their weary way round the tables positioning cutlery.

  Tegan's sweeping gaze brought her attention back to the clerk, and she saw his expression transform into one of delight as the Doctor approached the desk. He seemed to exude pleasure as he hurried to check a couple of pigeon holes, and returned to the desk with a pair of heavy keys.

  'No messages, sir,' he said before the Doctor could say a word. 'Not for you or for Miss Jovanka.' He smiled across at Tegan, who frowned beneath her hood. Then he seemed to catch sight of the Doctor's expression. 'I'm sorry, sir, were you expecting a communication?' He returned his attention to the pigeon holes. 'Let me just check again.'

  The Doctor turned and shrugged. Tegan returned the gesture, unsure whether her cloak had masked the movement completely.

  'No, sir. Nothing at all.'

  'Well, never mind,' the Doctor reassured him. 'Not your fault.'

  'Your keys.' The clerk handed them to the Doctor.

  The Doctor took the keys and started towards the staircase. He stopped abruptly in mid stride and turned back to the desk. 'There is one thing you could do for me.'

  'Of course, sir. Anything.'

  Tegan could see the edge of the Doctor's hesitant smile. 'Miss Jovanka and I have been discussing it and we can't seem to quite remember. Tell me, how long have we been staying here?'

  The clerk's jaw dropped perceptibly.

  'Er, exactly, that is,' the Doctor finished.

  Still not convinced, the clerk reached under the desk and produced a heavy leather-bound book. He licked a suspicious index finger and riffled through the pages until he found what he was looking for. Finger marking his place, he peered at the Doctor slightly suspiciously. 'You signed the guest register at three-twenty-seven, sir.'

  The Doctor's lips tightened and his eyes narrowed. Tegan could see he was wondering how to frame the next question. 'Three-twenty-seven,' he said at last. 'And that would be on, er - ' his voice trailed off into the embarrassed corners of the room.

  'Yesterday, sir,' the clerk said with the slightest hint of a reprimand.

  The Doctor nodded half-heartedly. 'See, Tegan,' he said at length. 'I told you so.'

  Tegan said nothing. She was tired; she was confused; she was cold; and she was worried about Nyssa. She stamped across the foyer and relieved the Doctor of one of the keys, then continued towards the staircase. As she turned across the half-landing and ascended out of sight of the foyer she could hear the clerk's muffled voice from below.

  'I assume you remember the way to your room, sir.'

  'Ah, er,' the Doctor's voice followed. 'I don't suppose you'd like to remind me of the general direction?' There was a pause and Tegan could only guess at the clerk's expression. The Doctor's voice became clearer as he hurried up the stairs after her. 'No, well - just a joke,' he admitted unconvincingly. 'Ha ha.'

  It was something of a relief eventually to find rooms 106 and 107. It was also just as well, Tegan reflected, that the keys had numbered brass tags attached.

  The Doctor motioned for Tegan to keep quiet as he silently slid
the key to room 106 into the lock and slowly turned it. The lock clicked quietly and the Doctor flung open the door.

  The room appeared to be empty. The bed was turned down, and the curtains drawn. It appeared in every respect to be an ordinary, if somewhat plush, empty hotel room. The Doctor grunted his disappointment and grinned at Tegan. 'Let's try 107.'

  The procedure was repeated with the adjoining room. Tegan stood well clear as the Doctor gave the door a hefty push to open it. He stared into the room for a moment, frowned, and then smiled at Tegan.

  'That must be your room, I think.'

  'Why?'

  The Doctor yawned, stretched, looked down his nose at her and pushed past towards the open door to room 106. 'I'll see you in the morning,' he said as he stepped out of sight. 'I need to think over a few things. I'll call you for breakfast at eight.' His face suddenly reappeared in the doorway for a moment. 'Green's not really my colour,' he said. 'Goodnight.'

  Tegan watched the door to 106 close and heard the key turn in the lock. She had no idea what was going on, but at least she could get a few hours sleep. Now at least she had a decent place for the night, and things could hardly get any more confusing.

  Then she stepped into her room. Laid out on the bed was a Victorian dress, trimmed at the neck and cuffs with delicate lace and pleated at the waist. It looked to be about the right size for Tegan. It was pale green.

  The dining room was surprisingly quiet. There seemed to be more waiters than guests at breakfast. Tegan felt decidedly over-dressed until she entered the room. Then she transferred her social worries to her conspicuously short hair.

  The Doctor on the other hand seemed to have made absolutely no concessions to the era or the establishment, and was acting as though he felt good about it. He was dressed as always in his cricketing gear and pale frock coat. He smiled affably at the staff and nodded politely to the guests. The only moment of uncertainty in his progress through the room as they followed a waiter to their table was when an old man who had seemed to be asleep mumbled 'Hello, Doctor,' as they passed. 'Don't have the kippers,' he added in a stage whisper as they were almost out of earshot.