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[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] whether he was merely a factory owner or something more sinister. She couldn't help wishing he'd seemed less idealistic and more exploitive. Then she'd have been happy to consider him the enemy. As it was, she simply couldn't decide. He had apparently shown her everything at the factory. She'd peeked in at the laboratories on the way downstairs, but they had seemed to be exactly the kind of thing he'd described. He'd even allowed her to look around the yard and chat to a couple of the children without interference, which strongly suggested that he was hiding nothing. And the two young boys she'd spoken to had been grateful for their jobs as messengers and carriers at the factory. As Breckinridge had claimed, they were orphans who were supporting siblings with their wages. Sarah sighed. It was so appealing to see the factory owner as a slave-driving villain, but the reality didn't resemble the prejudice much. He was enlightened and far-sighted. His schemes were all well within his grasp, and he showed a vivid certainty about the future that Sarah knew from experience was based in fact. And yet - he was unknown in her age. She couldn't understand this. He should be dominating the field within five years, and yet he was destined for obscurity somehow. Why? How come he had never achieved his dreams of world-spanning communications? It was going to happen, and Breckinridge should have been there on the ground floor. He was prepared to seize the opportunity. Something obviously was going to go badly wrong for him? But what? And could it be that she and the Doctor might be in a position to prevent it? She had often wondered what she would do if she were faced with the possibility of altering the past. Travelling in the TARDIS rendered such a thought more than academic. On her very first trip in the TARDIS, for example, she'd gone back to the Middle Ages. One change there could have affected the whole course of history. Now, here she was again, this time in Victorian England. She had met and was interacting with two of the most famous English writers of their day - Arthur Conan Doyle and Rudyard Kipling. A little nudge from her, the wrong word even, and their lives could be altered. And while it might not change the entire course of history if Kipling never wrote The Jungle Book, say, something wa^ bound to be affected. It was a tremendous responsibility to rest on her shoulders. She could see why the Time Lords, the mysterious race behind the Doctor's past, strongly forbade interference in the history of other worlds. Though even they would meddle if they felt it was justified. They'd tried to destroy the Daleks at their birth, for example. There was no use in looking for trouble, though. As far as she knew, there wasn't much chance that she and the Doctor would change history. None of what they were doing now had ever made it into any history she'd ever heard of. At the moment, it seemed that the most they were doing was influencing a couple of authors by providing them with plot materials. Hardly earth-shaking stuff! On the other hand, there was something very wrong going on here. She'd bet her life on that. Sea-monsters and giant hounds were even more out of place here than she was. But was Breckinridge involved in this or not? He did have a fascination with the sea, but that wasn't necessarily an indicator of any kind. His own explanation for it was sufficient. However, she found his excuse for meeting Captain Gray to be a bit thin. Why offer the skipper of a whaling ship the job of running a cable-laying boat? Still, real life often did have thin threads of logic to it, and she might just be being a bit too suspicious there. The problem was, she reflected, that life was never as tidy and neat as it tended to be on the telly or in a book. In fiction, all plot points were relevant and everything ded up neatly at the end to make sense. In real life, events often simply happened with no rhyme or reason, and resolutions either never came or passed so fast you could miss them if you blinked. Maybe Breckinridge was nothing more than he seemed: a man of vision and integrity. And maybe this was nothing but a mask that concealed a darker nature. She still had no real clue either way. All she could hope was that she and the Doctor could compare notes and that some enlightenment would come from it all. The carriage drew up at Fulbright Hall, and Sir Alexander smiled at her. 'I trust you enjoyed your visit, my dear?' 'Very much, thank you.' Sarah shook his hand. 'You were super, Sir Alexander, and I really appreciate your help.' 'Any time, young lady.' He winked. 'It never hurts my reputation to be seen out driving with a pretty woman. Scandalizes the neighbourhood, you know. Let's be certain to set tongues wagging again, eh?' 'It's a date,' Sarah promised with a laugh. The groom helped her down from the carriage. 'Bye, Sir Alexander.' 'Goodbye, my dear.' He waved his driver on, and the carriage pulled away. Sarah went up to the door, which was opened by a footman. 'Any idea where the Doctor and Doctor Doyle are?' she asked him. 'I believe they're in one of the outhouses, ma'am,' the groom answered. 'If you wish to fmd them, take the path to the rear of the house, and then ask one of the gardeners.' 'Thanks, Jeeves.' She gave him a grin and humed to follow his instructions. At the rear of the house, one of the locals was raking leaves, and pointed her in the right direction. After a few minutes, she could smell the tang of formaldehyde in the air, and a sickly stench of decay. The rest of the joumey was obvious. The door to the small shed was open wide to provide some ventilation. One of the servants stood upwind of the shed, looking uncomfortable, while inside the hut were the Doctor and Doyle. 'So,' asked Sarah, 'made any great discoveries?' 'Indeed we have,' said the Doctor. His voice was tinged with anger and worry. 'It's been a most productive morning.' He gestured at the remains of the carcass on the tresde table behind him. 'Do you have any idea what that is?' 'Morbius's reject heap?' she guessed. 'You're very close, Sarah,' the Doctor replied. 'That isn't any known animal at all. In fact, it isn't even an animal.' 'Then what is it?' The Doctors eyes were haunted. 'Off the cuff, I'd say it's a ten-year-old boy.' 'What?' Sarah couldn't believe her ears. 'What do you mean?' 'I mean someone is tampering with the fabric of the human cell,' the Doctor said darkly, 'perverting its secrets to their own purposes.' 6 Swimming with the Sharks Sarah gazed in shock and revulsion at the remains of the - the whatever on the table. 'I know some kids are ugly,' she said 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 analysis 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 genedc 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-God werewolf?' [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |