Police Constable Tony Stamp looked out of the canteen window, down into the yard behind the station. In the corner, next to the area car, stood the object of his and his colleagues attention.
"Well, I think it's another of Reg's pet projects," he declared.
"And we all know how well they turn out," commented Dave Quinnan.
"I heard that," said a nasal voice from behind them. Turning, they were confronted by the gelled hair and hawkish nose of P.C. Reg Hollis. "The mobile police station would have worked, if the caravan hadn't been torched," he continued. He peered out of the window, to see what his colleagues were looking at.
"Ah, yes, a 1950's Police Box," Reg confirmed. "Often wrongly referred to as a London Police Box, as they were common in most major towns and cities. One or two still exist. There was an interesting article in The Police Gazette a couple of years ago..."
"Yes, Reg, thank you," Tony Stamp said, easing his bulk into a canteen chair. "Please spare us the lecture."
"Reg Hollis, Professor of Trivia at Sun Hill University," supplied Jim Carver, taking a long swig of his mug of tea.
"You lot can scoff," Reg said huffily. "At least I take an interest."
"Yeah, leave him alone," said Vicki Hagen. "We all need an interest in life," she added with a wink.
The canteen became a mass of giggling.
***
Later in the shift, Tony Stamp was driving the area car. Alongside him was Polly Page, a petite blonde with a strong East End accent.
"All units from Sierra Oscar," came a call over the radio. "Report of a body on Canley Fields. Any unit deal?"
"We'll take that, Poll," Tony decided, pushing down the accelerator and activating the flashing lights and siren.
"Sierra Oscar, this is 469. Show us dealing," Polly said into her radio.
"Acknowledged, 469."
A couple of minutes later, the car screeched to a halt at the edge of an area of parkland. As Tony and Polly got out, they could see a group of four figures standing beside a small grove of trees.
As they approached, a man detached himself from the group. He had a small dog with him.
"You've arrived," he said, relief in his voice. "Your detective colleagues were here when I got back from the phone box, but I wanted to wait for proper policemen."
Tony and Polly exchanged a glance. "I take it you found the body?" Polly inquired.
"That's right. I was walking Rufus, earlier this morning..."
Tony left Polly with the witness while he approached the other three, who he could see now were grouped around a body. A dark woman in her early forties and a muscular, blonde man about half her age were stood to one side. That left a shortish man with dark hair, wearing a cream linen suit and a panama hat, squatting beside the body. His eyes were closed and his chin was resting on his hands, which in turn were resting on the question mark shaped handle of his umbrella.
"Can I ask what you're doing here?" Tony said.
"Local law enforcement," the blonde man whispered to the woman.
The squatting man bounded to his feet and extended a hand to Tony Stamp. "You can ask anything you like, Constable," he said. "But first, allow me to introduce my friends, Chris and Roz."
The two of them nodded a greeting. Tony returned his attention to the little man. "And you are?"
The man beamed. "I am the Doctor."
"Doctor who?" asked Tony Stamp.
"A very good question, Constable," the Doctor said. "Maybe this will help."
With a flourish like a bad stage magician, he produced a plastic card from thin air, which he handed over.
Tony took in the winged globe logo and the 3D photo of the Doctor at a glance. The card said he was Doctor John Smith, Special Scientific Advisor (Civilian) to an organization called the United Nations Intelligence Taskforce. It was authorised by a Brigadier W. Bambera. He decided he had better radio in.
"Would you stand away from the body please?" he asked.
"Of course." The Doctor ushered his two companions away while Tony made a routine examination of the body.
Quite dead, he concluded. And the knife wounds told him how. Rising to his feet, he activated his radio.
"Sierra Oscar, this is 595. Could you do me an ID check on a Doctor John Smith, working for a United Nations Intelligence Taskforce? And please inform D.S. Daly we've got another body to add to his collection."
***
Within half an hour, Detective Sergeant Jeff Daly, a wiry, brown haired Yorkshireman in his early forties, was on the scene. He was accompanied by Detective Constable Kerry Holmes, early thirties, pretty and red haired.
"What's the situation, Tony?" Daly asked.
"Mister Hopkins, out walking his dog, found the body and called us. When he got back, they had arrived." He indicated three people, standing together and talking quietly.
"Which one is this Doctor Smith you radioed in about?"
"The short one in the hat."
"Thanks, Tony, we'll take it from here." Daly set off towards the three people and the body.
As he approached, he overheard the blonde man saying, "That sounds like a terrible way to die." He looked up, saw Daly and Holmes and clammed up.
"Doctor Smith?" Daly inquired.
The smaller man turned towards him, raising his hat. "Good morning. These are my friends, Roz Forrester and Chris Cwej. And you are?"
"I'm Detective Sergeant Daly, this is Detective Constable Holmes." They both produced their warrant cards for inspection. "We've been in touch with UNIT and they say we are to co-operate fully with you." It was obvious from his voice that Daly didn't like this.
"I'm sure it will be a pleasure working together, Sergeant Daly," the Doctor said, smiling.
"That is, providing you can give me the codeword UNIT said to ask for."
The Doctor's smile broadened. "Excalibur!"
Daly's face fell slightly. He had been half hoping the Doctor wouldn't be able to supply the codeword. He handed back the Doctor's ID card.
"Now," said the Doctor, rubbing his hands. "I believe you've had a few of these deaths."
Kerry Holmes nodded. "This is the fourth."
Daly was squatting beside the body, a man of about twenty. "The papers call him The Sun Hill Slasher."
"Sun Hill?" inquired the dark woman, Roz.
"It's the name of this part of London," the Doctor told her. He crossed to Daly's side.
"All the victims were stabbed repeatedly, like this one," Daly told them.
"A clever cover," the Doctor commented quietly.
Daly and Holmes looked quizzical. "What do you mean?" Holmes asked.
The summer sun chose that moment to disappear behind a cloud, throwing the Doctor's face into the shadow of his hat.
"This man did not die from stab wounds!"
Daly looked puzzled. "I don't follow."
The Doctor grimaced. "The knife wounds are a disguise, to cover up the true cause of death. They were inflicted just after death, hence the blood. Notice how it hasn't spread as far as a stab victims blood should have."
Daly considered what the Doctor had said. "Then how did this man die?"
"He had all the natural electrical charge of his body leeched away."
Jeff Daly shook his head. "That isn't possible!"
The Doctor looked him straight in the eye. "So, you keep up with all the current scientific journals, do you, Sergeant?"
"Well, no, but..."
"But me no buts, Sergeant Daly. I am the acknowledged scientific advisor, you are the detective. Shall we keep it that way?"
Daly bit back his initial thought. His jaw worked while he considered his options.
"What do you suggest, Doctor?" he eventually asked.
"I would like to examine this body more closely. I would like my friends brought up to date on the case so far. Do you think you could arrange that?"
"I'll get onto the coroner right away. Kerry, can you take the Doctor's friends back to the station and bring them up to speed?"
"Of course, Sarge." She led Chris and Roz to the car.
When they were out of earshot, Daly turned to the Doctor. "I hope you know what you're talking about."
The Doctor smiled. "I always know what I'm talking about, Sergeant."
***
Chris and Roz had a whispered conversation as they followed Kerry Holmes through the police station.
"You seem almost to be enjoying all this," Roz accused in hushed tones.
Chris grinned with childlike enthusiasm. "I am. I used to watch 20th Century crime fiction discs with Benny in the TARDIS library. Just follow my lead."
D.C. Holmes led them up the stairs and into the C.I.D. office. It was occupied by two other people, a chubby man and a tall woman, both with short dark hair.
"D.C.'s Duncan Lennox and Liz Rawton," Kerry introduced.
"Evenin' all," Chris said. Lennox smiled weakly, while Rawton rolled her eyes. "I'm Chris Cwej and this is Roz Forrester," the young man continued.
"Cwej," repeated Lennox. "Is that Polish?"
"Erm, possibly," Chris replied. Being from the 30th Century he wasn't sure exactly what Polish was.
"They're helping with the Slasher case," Holmes explained.
"So, what's your Guv'nor like?" Chris asked.
"He's a good bloke," Rawton replied. "Very fair."
Chris nodded. He went on to ask about the local manor, whether they had much of a problem with toms and what the local boozer was like.
While Holmes went to find the case notes, Roz pulled her friend to one side.
"What was all that about?" she hissed.
Chris winked slyly. "I'll explain later," he promised.
***
The Doctor's usual attire was buried under a light green surgical gown, hat, mask and gloves. He worked alongside the pathologist, carefully dissecting the body that had been found on Canley Fields. Sergeant Daly watched through a glass partition.
Eventually the Doctor waved him to enter. He approached the Doctor, who had dropped his mask and was carrying a stainless steel tray. On the tray was the victims brain.
Daly had never been the squeamish sort, but then he wasn't confronted by strange little men wielding brains every day. The Doctor seemed oblivious to his discomfort.
"Look at this," the Doctor said. He had put the tray down on a bench and was prodding the brain with the blunt end of a scalpel. To Daly's surprise and disgust, the brain began to disintegrate.
"I take it that isn't normal," Sergeant Daly said, fixing his eyes on the Doctor's face rather than his hands.
The Doctor shook his head. "A complete breakdown of molecular cohesion, just as I feared."
"So what you said about the body's electric charge..."
"Has been proven sadly correct," the Doctor concluded.
***
Kerry Holmes was standing in front of a map of the Sun Hill area, pen ready to use as a pointer.
"The first victim, forty five year old Heather Hart, was found here just over a week ago. Three days later Matthew Parkin, thirty two, was discovered here. Then, a couple of days ago, we found the third victim, twenty seven year old Julie Marshall. Now we have body number four, here." The pen indicated the edge of Canley Fields.
"A rough diamond pattern," Chris noted.
Kerry nodded. "With the Cockcroft Estate at the centre."
"Do we have an identity on victim number four yet?" Roz asked.
Duncan Lennox came back into the office just in time to hear her question.
"It's just come through," he said, handing Kerry a sheet of paper. "Jamie Young," he continued, "twenty year old fitness instructor."
"Any common link between the victims?" Chris asked.
Roz smiled slightly. For all his frivolity at times, Chris Cwej was a damned good Adjudicator.
"Nothing we can find," Kerry answered him, putting the sheet of paper down on her desk.
Now Roz frowned. She hated mysteries and hoped they would soon get to the bottom of this one.
***
Dave Quinnan pulled on his plastic gloves and checked for a pulse. As he had suspected when he saw the stab wounds, he didn't find one.
Leaving Reg with the body, he moved out of the underground garages, which tended to block radio signals. Once outside, he activated his radio.
"Sierra Oscar from 340. Looks like we have another Slasher victim for Sergeant Daly. And this one is still warm!"
***
The Doctor was just shrugging into his jacket when news of the latest victim came through. He fished a hand held device from one of his pockets before discarding the jacket again and was quickly back in the surgical gown.
A short time later the victim was brought in. The Doctor and the pathologist worked rapidly with their saws. Within half an hour the Doctor was back in his jacket and hat, leading Sergeant Daly away from the lab and frowning at his device.
"What does that do?" Daly asked him.
"It measures electrical activity," the Doctor replied.
"Did you find any?"
"Yes."
Daly smiled in triumph. This case had been in danger of spiralling out of his control since the Doctor had appeared. Now the expert had been proved wrong!
"But not much," the Doctor continued. "Certainly not enough for a man who died just over an hour ago. But it might just be enough."
"Enough for what?" asked the grim Sergeant.
"Enough to find your killer. The faint trace I picked up from the victim should be enough to help us track down the perpetrator."
***
Chris was enjoying the high-speed race through the streets of London. The way other vehicles got out of their path made him smile. The only possible improvement would have been if he was driving.
However, sat in the back seat squashed between Roz and Kerry Holmes wasn't such a bad position to be in.
The car screeched to a halt underneath one of the towering concrete edifices. Roz grimaced.
"It reminds me of the Undertowns," she said quietly to Chris as she got out of the car. "Some things don't change, even after a thousand years."
"What's happening, Sarge?" asked Kerry Holmes as Daly and the Doctor approached.
"The Doctor says he can find the killer with that device," Daly told her. His tone said he wasn't convinced.
The Doctor's device picked that moment to beep loudly. Its owner grinned.
"I have a trace, Sergeant."
"Then lead on, Doctor," Daly invited.
The Doctor did just that. Daly followed closely behind, with Chris, Roz and Kerry trailing behind him. Bringing up the rear were Tony Stamp and Polly Page, who had delivered Holmes and the Doctor's companions.
The Doctor led them up concrete steps, along landings and up further steps, deep into the heart of the Cockcroft Estate. The beeping got steadily faster.
Eventually they arrived outside the door of a flat. It looked much like all the rest they had passed in the last ten minutes. The door was blue.
The Doctor looked hard at Daly. He pointed to the door.
"Your killer is in there, Sergeant," he said quietly.
"Police! Open up!" Daly called, hammering on the door. Peering through the frosted glass, he saw a pale figure vanish into an inner room.
Standing back from the door, he nodded to Tony Stamp, who drew his foot back and kicked the door in in one fluid motion.
The flat seemed bare of everything but the essentials. They began to search.
A strangled cry told the others that Polly had found the suspect. They discovered her in the bedroom, trapped in an armlock by a strange attacker.
It was tall and thin, its skin an albino white and its hair a shocking mass of red. Thin slits for nose and mouth, framed by delicate, pointed ears. It glared at them through compound eyes.
"What is it?" breathed Kerry Holmes.
"A psychic vampire," said the Doctor, moving to the front of their group. "It feeds on the electrical impulses of the brain."
"Stay back," hissed the creature, "or she dies." It tightened its hold on Polly Page.
"We don't want to harm you," the Doctor said, holding up his empty hands. "We can take you home, if you wish."
"No!" the creature replied. "Like it here. Easy prey. See." It moved its hands to Polly's temples. She gave a gasp of pain, her eyes rolling up into her head.
Daly and Stamp moved forward but the Doctor held them back with surprising ease. He had the tracking device in his hand again. He moved a sliding control up to full.
A high-pitched whine filled the room. Everybody felt the discomfort, except the Doctor, who didn't even wince.
The creature felt it more than most. It dropped Polly and clamped its hands over its delicate ears. Too late it realised its error.
The creature's squeal of pain matched the whine of the Doctor's device. It fell to its knees, hands still to the sides of its head. With a sigh, it slumped onto its face.
The police officers dashed to the side of their fallen colleague, who was shaking her head and looking dazed.
When he had established that Polly would be alright, Daly turned, to see the Doctor and his friends standing over the creature.
"Is it dead?"
"Yes, Sergeant. It was in the midst of a killing frenzy. When it put its hands over its ears, it turned that energy back on itself. In short, it short-circuited its own brain. It's quite dead."
As if to prove the point, the body glowed red, burst into brief flames and quickly became a pile of ashes.
"I found these in the corner," said Kerry, handing a box to Daly. It contained a long coat, jogging pants, trainers, a hat, sunglasses and a blood-stained knife.
"Disguise," said the Doctor, peering into the box. He produced a small dustpan and brush from a jacket pocket, swept up the ashes, dropped them into a plastic bag, which he then sealed and placed in the same pocket as the dustpan and brush.
Daly sighed. "I don't know how I'm going to write up this report!"
***
P.C. Reg Hollis was making his way upstairs to the canteen when he heard a voice bellow his name from the other end of the corridor. He turned to see Chief Inspector Conway striding towards him.
"I suppose that Police Box cluttering up the yard is your doing, Reg?" challenged Conway.
"Actually, it isn't," Reg replied, trying not to sound too superior in front of a superior officer. "It has nothing to do with me."
Conway seemed surprised. "Oh. Well. Chief Superintendent Brownlow is on my back to get it shifted. See to it, please Reg."
"Will do, sir," Reg replied. "I'll get on to the Met. Museum, see if they're missing any exhibits."
***
Sergeant Jeff Daly was also talking to a superior officer, Detective Inspector Chris Deakin. He had just given Deakin the full story of the Sun Hill Slasher case.
"I just don't know how I'm going to write it up, Guv," he concluded.
D.I. Deakin sat back in his chair. He gazed at Daly for a long moment. Then he sighed.
"If any of my other Sergeants had brought me this story, I would say they had had a few too many down the pub at lunchtime. Write it up as best you can and I'll look it over. Is Doctor Smith still in the station?"
"Last time I saw him he was talking to Sergeant Cryer. They seemed to know each other."
"Maybe you could get him to give you a hand, filling in the technical details," Deakin suggested, standing and crossing to the window.
"Yes, Guv, I might do that."
Deakin looked out of the window. "Oh. Too late, looks like he's just leaving."
Daly joined his boss at the window. Down in the yard he could see the Doctor, Chris and Roz standing around the Police Box in the corner. The Doctor produced a key, opened the door and they entered the box.
Deakin frowned. "I thought that thing was one of Reg's projects."
As they watched through the soundproofed glass, the Police Box slowly and silently faded from view.
Deakin turned from the window to see Daly's jaw had dropped open.
"I wouldn't put that in the report if I were you, Jeff," he advised.
