Silhouette (11 page)

‘Can I help you?’ Vastra asked.

‘Forgive me,’ the masked man replied. ‘But just
knowing that you are here – that you even
exist
– is a great help to me.’

‘In what way?’

‘I’m sorry. Let me introduce myself. My name is Festin. And I believe that
I
can help
you
.’

‘Really?’

‘You are interested, I think from the questions you and your friends have been asking, in a man named Orestes Milton. Is that not so?’

Vastra nodded warily. ‘What of him?’

‘I too share your interest in this man. I have been observing him for some time now. I know what he is doing. I know where he is. And your friend the Doctor is right, he is dangerous and must be stopped. Come with me, and I can show you.’ He turned, looking nervously over his shoulder. ‘But it must be now. The Strong Man is already dead, and we shall be next if we don’t act.’

Vastra leaned forward. ‘And why should I trust you?’

There was a sigh from behind the mask. ‘Because of this.’ He reached up and slowly unfastened a catch at the back of the mask, easing it away from his face with a black-gloved hand.

Vastra gasped, her hand going to her mouth, and meeting the veil that obscured her own features. Fumbling, she lifted the veil, to be sure she was actually seeing clearly.

It was like looking into a mirror.

The deep-set eyes of another human-lizard stared back at her from a face of green scales. High ridges swept back from the lizard-man’s forehead. A long thin tongue licked out as he looked back at her.

‘I thought I was the only one,’ he breathed.

Strax knew the area quite well, as he had already made enquiries about Bellamy’s death. The tavern where he and Bellamy had met on the unfortunate man’s final night was actually not very far from the abandoned factory. It seemed as good a place to start their investigations as any. Not having had any lunch, Clara wondered if the pub did food. But once she saw the place she decided that if it did she wouldn’t want to eat it.

Like the area round it, the tavern was run-down. The paint on the sign outside was peeling. The brickwork was pitted and in severe need of repointing. Inside it was smoky, grubby, noisy and busy. A group of men in dusty work clothes, builders perhaps, was just leaving and the Doctor gestured for Clara to take a seat before anyone else got to the table they had just vacated.

Strax forced his way through to the bar – where he was obviously recognised. He returned a few
moments later with three pints of ale.

‘Beer?’ Clara said. ‘I was hoping for a G and T.’

‘You don’t have to drink it,’ the Doctor told Clara. ‘Just look like you belong here. Try to fit in.’

‘Right,’ she said. ‘I’ll just go and splash in a few puddles, soak my clothes in gin, and knock out several of my front teeth, then, shall I?’

‘If you think it will help,’ the Doctor told her.

‘I can assist you with the teeth,’ Strax offered.

‘No – thank you,’ Clara told him quickly. She sipped at the beer, and found it wasn’t as bad as she’d expected. ‘So what’s the plan?’

‘We should take hostages,’ Strax said. ‘Force these people to talk under threat of execution.’

‘For the moment, we watch,’ the Doctor told them.

‘Watch for what?’ Clara asked.

‘We’ll see.’

The Doctor took a swig of his beer. He smacked his lips, leaned back in his chair with his hands behind his head and looked round the bar with interest. He seemed content to sit watching for the duration, so Clara risked another sip of beer. Strax was shifting impatiently on the other side of the table. He had downed his pint in a single swallow. Before long, Clara thought, he’d be grabbing random drinkers and demanding information in return for allowing them to keep their kneecaps and other important anatomical attachments.

‘Him,’ the Doctor announced suddenly, sitting upright and pointing across the bar.

Clara followed his finger to see a thin, elderly man with pinched features sitting alone at a small table on the other side of the room, holding a pewter tankard.

‘What about him?’ she asked.

‘He has his own tankard, so he’s a regular. They probably keep it behind the bar. He’s on his own, happy in in his own company. And he’s watching. He knows everyone – see how he nods as people pass. Says hello, and exchanges a few pleasantries. Everyone likes him, and he knows everyone’s business. So he’s the one.’

‘The one what?’ Strax said. ‘The one to be taken outside and ruthlessly interrogated?’

‘No,’ the Doctor said. ‘The one we need to buy a drink.’

Once again, Strax was despatched to the bar. The Doctor and Clara made their way over to the thin man’s table.

‘Mind if we join you?’ the Doctor asked.

The man shrugged and gestured to the chairs on the other side of the table. ‘You get bored over there, did you?’

‘You saw us?’ Clara said.

‘You see everyone, don’t you,’ the Doctor said. ‘Which is why we wanted a quick word.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘Our friend is getting you a drink,’ the Doctor added.

The man smiled. ‘Then I’ll be more than happy to speak to you.’

The Doctor’s instincts had, not surprisingly, proved correct. The man’s name was Anderson, and he seemed to know everything about everyone in the area.

‘Rum character that Milton,’ he told them. ‘Turned up a few months ago and bought the old factory on Alberneath Avenue. Put in all sorts of weird machinery. Then, a couple of weeks ago, he strips it all out again.’

‘What did they make there?’ Clara asked.

‘That I don’t know. Strange thing is, I’ve not met a soul who worked there.’

‘Automated assembly,’ Strax said.

The Doctor nodded. ‘Very likely. So what happened to this weird machinery?’

‘Shipped out. Loaded into carts and taken away.’

‘Do you know where it went?’ the Doctor asked.

Anderson considered as he gulped down his beer. ‘No,’ he decided, putting down his empty tankard. ‘But I know someone who might.’ He picked up the tankard and made a point of examining it.

‘Strax,’ the Doctor prompted.

Strax removed the tankard from Anderson. ‘Same again?’

‘Oh that’s very kind, thank you. Yes,’ he went on as Strax headed towards the bar, ‘you want to talk to young Billie Matherson.’

‘We do?’ Clara said.

‘You do. Because one of the carts was his. So, as he was driving it, he’ll know where the machinery was taken.’

‘And you know where we can find young Billie Matherson, I assume?’ the Doctor said.

‘Today I believe he has a commission to take flour from the mill on Waverly Street to a warehouse down at Harriman’s Wharf.’

As soon as Strax was back, the Doctor thanked Anderson and they excused themselves. Anderson lifted his tankard and watched them make their way to the door.

The man sitting at the next table watched too. He had followed the Doctor, Clara and Strax into the pub. Now he followed them out again. Anderson watched him go – it wasn’t someone he’d seen here before. Strange-looking chap, he thought. From the way the man was dressed, all in black and with the hat he was probably an undertaker.

They watched the house from across the street. It was set back from the road, behind a high wall, but from their vantage point, Vastra and Festin could see the front door. There was no sign of life – no one came or
went. The curtains were drawn across the windows. ‘We should find the Doctor,’ Vastra said.

‘Your friend? You really think he can help?’

‘If anyone can help, the Doctor can.’

‘We don’t have much to tell him,’ Festin pointed out.

‘He likes to find things out for himself.’

‘Even so. There is a way in round the back. A point where the wall has collapsed where a tree came down in the storms last month. Perhaps we should take a quick look round before involving your friend.’

‘It would be useful to have more information,’ Vastra admitted. ‘Just knowing if the house is indeed occupied, if Milton is at home, would be of help.’ Festin led the way along the road and then down a side street. They made a strange couple – a woman in a long black dress, her face heavily veiled, and the man in a dark suit with a stylised mask over his face. Fortunately the streets were quiet and there was no one to see them as they turned into a narrow alleyway behind the houses on the main street.

As Festin had described, there was a point where the wall had collapsed. Bricks and shattered mortar spilled onto the path and into the garden. The area was screened by trees, so no one could see from the house as they clambered over the wall. Festin went first, reaching back to help Vastra negotiate the rubble.

Keeping within the wooded area, they managed to get quite close to the back of the house. The windows here were also curtained, but they waited for several minutes – watching for any sign of movement. Finally, they agreed that they should risk running to the back door.

‘If there is anyone there,’ Vastra said, ‘we should have a story ready.’

‘We are lizard creatures cut off from our own people and seeking help and shelter,’ Festin suggested. Vastra could hear the amusement in his voice. ‘Or we could simply run away again.’

They ran from the trees to the back door of the house. Vastra had expected it to be locked, but it opened easily when she turned the handle. They found themselves in a narrow hallway. The hallway led through to an open area. Lights switched on as they entered – too bright to be gas lamps.

‘Milton possesses all manner of advanced mechanisms and devices,’ Festin said quietly.

‘So it would seem,’ Vastra agreed. She gestured to the nearest door. ‘Let us see what is in here.’

‘Or what about this one?’ Festin said. ‘It’s open.’

The door he indicated was standing slightly ajar. Light gleamed from the other side, a gentler, more muted illumination than the stark brightness of the area where they currently stood.

‘Very well,’ Vastra agreed.

Beyond the door was a large room. Most of it was in shadow, the shutters drawn over the windows. The light they had seen came from a single source, a spotlight shining down on a book placed on a wooden lectern in the middle of the room.

‘What is it?’ Vastra wondered.

‘I think we should take a look,’ Festin told her.

Vastra walked quickly over to the lectern, checking for any signs of movement at the shadowy extremities of the room. But there was none.

The book was large, bound in leather, and open. The left-hand page was blank. On the right was a single word.

‘Sorry,’ Vastra read. ‘Why would it say that?’ She reached out to turn the page. As soon as her gloved hand touched the paper, more lights came on. A rings of narrow beams shining down round Vastra and the lectern.

‘I think we should go now,’ she said, hurrying back towards where Festin stood just inside the door.

But she couldn’t get through. The light was solid, forming a ring of bars, the gaps too narrow for Vastra to squeeze between.

‘A force shield,’ she realised. ‘A cage of light. Festin – help me.’

Festin walked across to stand just the other side of the light bars. ‘It was triggered when you touched the page of the book. Clever. That’s why it said “Sorry”.’

‘I realise that,’ Vastra told him impatiently. ‘There must be a controller nearby.’

‘Oh, there is. A box on the wall over there,’ Festin nodded towards the far wall of the room, close to the shuttered windows. His eyes were dark holes in the leather mask.

‘Then you can shut off the force shield.’

‘Of course.’ He didn’t move.

‘Then do it, please.’

Festin shook his head. ‘Oh, I don’t think that would be a good idea.’

‘You’re right,’ she realised. ‘There will be an alarm. If it wasn’t triggered by the activation of the cage, it will be when you shut it off. Very well, I shall wait here while you find the Doctor.’

In reply, Festin reached up and removed his mask to reveal the green scaly features beneath. His reptilian skin glistened in the light from the cage bars.

‘Well, what are you waiting for?’ Vastra asked.

‘You know,’ Festin said, ‘I’m not sure you really appreciate the seriousness of your predicament.’

As he spoke, his features changed. The green scales shimmered and faded. The lizard-like face was replaced by a blank oval – a face that was almost human, but devoid of expression. Just eyes, mouth, a nose, ears. No hair, no texture, no expression. Vastra gasped, and took a step backwards in surprise.

‘Yes,’ the blank-faced man said. ‘Perhaps a cage
is the best place for you.’ And his voice was as expressionless as his face.

There was no sign of Vastra in the Never-Creatures exhibition. The area behind the curtain at the end of the tent was empty. Jenny waited for what seemed an age, but Vastra did not return.

‘Were you hoping to see the Lizard Woman?’

Jenny turned to find Jim standing close behind her. ‘You surprised me, creeping about like that.’

‘Sorry. I wasn’t creeping – really I wasn’t. I’m surprised you’re still here.’

‘Yes, you and me both.’

‘It might be a long wait,’ he warned.

‘What might?’

‘The show. The Lizard Woman, though she’s probably just some carnival girl in a mask. But she’s gone now, whoever she is.’

‘Gone? What do you mean, “gone”?’

Jim blinked, apparently surprised at Jenny’s urgent tone. ‘Um, well, nothing. Just that I saw her leave a while ago. I recognised her at once, because I saw the show earlier, so it was definitely her. Left with a man. Strange cove, seemed to be wearing a mask.’

Jenny was holding Jim’s arm tightly. ‘And this man took her away?’

‘I wouldn’t say that. She seemed quite happy to go.’

‘Go where?’

‘Well, out of the Frost Fair. I saw them heading for the Embankment, then they turned off.’

‘Do you remember where?’

‘I think so.’

‘Good, then show me.’

If Jim was surprised to be marched out of the tent and through the Carnival, out of the Frost fair and up to the Embankment, he was good enough not to show it. He led Jenny along to a side street.