'That'll achieve nothing,' the Doctor snapped.
'Except a lot of satisfaction for me,' said Denman, bunching his fists for another attack.
'You could break him in two if you wanted,' said the Doctor. 'But that won't bring her back. And it won't help us either.'
He took the gun from Denman's hand, then turned and picked up Trevor's discarded weapon.
'I'll take care of these,' he said, dropping them in a wastepaper basket. Then he turned his attention back to the wounded Winstone, still rolling around on the floor, clutching his bloodied face and weeping in pain. 'Get up,' he said.
Trevor stood, shakily.
The Doctor handed the man a blue-spotted handkerchief, then turned to Denman, who was still red-faced. 'The BSE centre?' the Doctor asked.
'Nothing. Nothing but a bombed-out shell.'
'Never mind,' said the Doctor. 'Now, this infertility clinic...'
'You think it's significant?'
The Doctor walked to the window and looked out at the road. The street lights were just flicking on. 'A taint,' he announced suddenly, turning back towards Denman and Winstone. 'Sterility once you leave Hexen Bridge. Tell me about Jack i' the Green.'
Trevor began to laugh, spitting blood from his mouth. 'A stupid folk tale,' he said. 'Judge Jeffreys killed all of the men of Hexen Bridge because he was possessed by Satan, who lives under the village green. Or something. I stopped believing in that stuff about the same time was I stopped believing in Father Christmas. And God.'
'And yet everyone from Hexen Bridge has a darkness to their character,' said the Doctor.
'Haven't we all?' asked Denman.
'Not as dark as some of the things I've seen recently,'
continued the Doctor. 'Where's this clinic?'
'Surrey,' said Winstone.
'I think it's time we paid them a visit.'
Bob Matson pushed his way through the copse, hoping to return to the road and stroll back into the village. Whatever noise was coming from A Taste of the Orient was lost to the enveloping whisper of the leaves and the stillness of the night.
Bob chuckled to himself. Joanna and the Chink thought they could get the better of him, but he'd shown them now.
And there were even worse things he could do.
He reached for a hip flask of Scotch, and drank as if in celebration.
The wind whispered through the darkness and the trees, rustling leaves and... Was that footsteps? Bob shook his head. He knew that no one had followed him from the restaurant - the people there had other things on their minds - so he was in the clear. And no one in Hexen Bridge would dare to confront him anyway. He ran the Jack in the Green pub; despite the new name, that still counted for something.
A twig snapped. Something was moving through the undergrowth, over towards the road.
'Who's there?' cried out Matson, his voice a clear and strong challenge in the still evening air. 'Come on out, or I'll -'
The snapping twig.
He'd assumed it was someone blundering through the trees, their feet trampling around willy-nilly. But what if the twig was actually part of - 'No,' he said under his breath. 'You can't send them them after me...' after me...'
And what if the whispering leaves weren't the summer zephyrs patrolling the hillsides, but the noise from one of...
them... stalking him? stalking him?
Bob Matson ran now, blindly searching for the road. He could see its silvery-white trail through the stunted trees, and forced himself forward, overweight limbs pumping hard.
He burst out on to the welcome tarmac of the road, breathing heavily.
'Thank God,' he muttered, bent double with exhaustion.
Another rustling noise caused him to look up.
The scarecrows stepped out on to the road, forming a line.
Different faces, but all with the same, dead expression, stared back at him. Reflecting his terror and confusion.
And then Matson realised that he was on the road just beyond the village boundary. And the scarecrows were a cordon between him and the only place he had ever considered home.
Jack had expelled him from the village, and Robert Matson was utterly alone.
CHAPTER 11.
HATFUL OF HOLLOW.
'And for madam?'
'Madam will have the same as what I'm having,' said Matthew Hatch briskly. The waiter nodded and turned to leave just as Rebecca arrived back at the table.
'Sorry I was so long,' she said breathlessly.
'I've ordered for you,' noted Hatch as he watched a young couple move towards their table. He tutted, and glanced back at Rebecca with a look of annoyance on his face. 'Time was when you had to be dressed to get in this place. That man was wearing jeans.'
'Call the manager immediately!' said Rebecca. 'You know your trouble, Matt? You're a snob. Always have been.'
'Nothing wrong with that,' noted Hatch. 'There are too many ignorant plebs in the world. We need a good cull every now and then to thin them out.'
'We haven't had a decent world war for a while,' noted Rebecca with a smile, sipping her vodka and lime.
'It's not for the want of trying,' continued Hatch.
He'd forgotten how much he enjoyed these sparring encounters with Rebecca. For all her acquired sophistication, she was still a vicar's daughter from the sticks, fascinated by powerful, dangerous men. And as dirty as they came.
She licked her red lips and said softly, in not much more than a whisper, 'You're bad.'
He stared into her eyes and lifted his glass of wine in a toast. 'Here's to badness.'
Steven Chen had met Ace earlier in the day, and they had walked the lanes around the village in near silence, grateful to be away from the claustrophobic madness of Hexen Bridge. Ace had spotted a pall of smoke drifting over the cottages, but Steven had said it was probably farmers burning away the stubble from their fields.
As evening fell, Ace and Steven sat on a wooden stile, high up on the hills. The darkness that covered Hexen Bridge seemed to seep up from the ground, swallowing cottages, trees and sky. They felt, rather than saw, things moving in the shadows all around them.
'It's time we got some answers,' announced Ace suddenly.
'Who from?' asked Steven, rubbing his arms against the sudden chill in the air.
'Who here seems to have the best idea of what's going on?
The vicar. Let's confront him with what we know.'
'What, and tell him we broke into the church?'
Ace got to her feet. 'Come on.' She strode down the hillside towards the church, Steven following somewhat nervously in her wake. When she reached the vicarage she banged loudly on the door.
Baber pulled it open almost immediately, as if he had been expecting someone. His face fell. 'Oh, it's you. What do you want?'
'I'd like to ask you about the photographs of the village.'
The look that crossed the man's face was a contradictory mixture of relief and horror. 'You've seen them? But I expressly forbade you -'
'We saw the photos,' interjected Steven, 'and we were chased from the church by...' He paused, realising how ridiculous it all sounded. 'Scarecrows.'
Baber nodded. 'I had my suspicions when I opened the door this morning. Even the villagers wouldn't dare destroy the fabric of the church.' He looked around nervously, but the darkness that filled the lane was unmoving. 'You'd better come in,' he said.
'You know, the cost of that meal would have fed a whole village in Africa for a month,' said Rebecca as they climbed into Hatch's car. Ian Slater opened the door for her, and closed it as she settled in.
'Remind me to send a plane over to Bongo Bongo Land a.s.a.p.,' said Hatch, with a trace of irritation.
The car drove off, and they sat in silence for several miles before a trace of concern crossed Rebecca's face. 'We're going the wrong way,' she said, leaning forward and tapping on the glass behind the chauffeur.
'Short cut,' said Hatch dismissively.
'No it's not,' said Rebecca. 'We're heading back to London.
Matthew, I haven't got time for all this, I've got school tomorrow.'
'Sod school,' said Hatch, looking away from her and out of the window.
'Look,' she said angrily, 'you can't just snap your fingers and have me come running every time you feel like it. If you think you're going to get your leg over tonight, matey, you've got another think coming. Now get your slave to turn this car around and take me home. Right now.'
Hatch turned back to her, a quizzical look on his face.
'You're sweating. Are you all right?'
'No,' said Rebecca after a brief pause. 'I feel awful. I think I'm coming down with something.'
'It could be the drug I put in your coffee,' said Hatch.
'You what?' shouted Rebecca.
'Shhhhh,' said Hatch, putting a finger to his lips. 'You just sit back and relax, and I'll take you somewhere where they'll make you feel much better.'
'We could have been killed last night,' said Ace. 'I think the least you could do is tell us what the hell is going on.'
Baber stared down at the carpet, as if there was a message somewhere in the Axminster. A cup of coffee was going cold on a table at his side.
'From what Ace has said,' continued Steven, more diplomatically, 'it's as if you wanted her to investigate further.'
Baber sighed. 'The darkest secrets are those we want most desperately to share.'
'Meaning?' snapped Ace.