Sarah was beginning to regret she'd got the heater fixed.
The interior of the little sports car was very warm, almost too comfortably so. Combined with the soft purr of the engine and the rumble of the wheels along the road Sarah found that she was struggling to keep awake. She lifted one hand from the wheel and rubbed at her eyes. She glanced at the luminous dial on her watch face as she did so. 2.30 in the morning. What a ridiculous time to be travelling! She glanced out into the darkness around her. A quiet dual-carriage A-road. She doubted that she'd passed more than half a dozen other vehicles since she'd left her Aunt Lavinia's house on her way back down to London. There were times when she welcomed the presence of heavy traffic. Not only did it keep you awake and concentrated but also it was less lonely. She hated the feeling of speeding through the dark countryside by herself. The little car wasn't in the soundest of mechanical health, and a breakdown out here, in the middle of nowhere, in the dark, was not appealing.
"Blasted train strike," she muttered. If only that deadline was a day later, she would have been all right. Instead, here she was, rushing back for something that probably wouldn't even be used anyway. Maybe it was time she looked for another magazine to work for. Time to spread her wings, be free, and be her own woman...
The sound of metal grinding brought Sarah out of her doze in an instant. The side of the car was just kissing the central reservation. Sarah wrenched at the wheel and the car went hurtling back to the near side lane. Heart pounding, Sarah pulled into the hard shoulder and switched off the engine, tugging the window down. She sat there, taking in several gulps of deep crisp autumn air. That was close...
"Nearly a nasty accident you had there, Miss. Dicey travelling at this time of night. Especially alone."
Sarah nearly jumped out of her skin at the sound of that quiet voice almost right beside her ear. She yelped and twisted her head round. A pale, grinning face hovered almost phantom like in the air barely inches from her own. It took her tired, frightened brain seconds to register that the face was attached to a dark haired young man wearing very dark clothing. But for the pale colour of his face he would have been invisible. He had one arm up on the roof of the car and he was leaning in towards her.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Sarah thought frantically of anything she could use as a weapon in the car with her. Nothing in her handbag unless she sprayed Chanel in his eyes, and the glove compartment contained only a few boiled sweets, some petrol receipts, a dog-eared Ordnance Survey map of Southern England, and a chewed-up Ramones tape someone had left behind. Nothing terribly formidable. She groped for the ignition, ready to floor the accelerator at a second's notice.
"Don't mean to startle you, Miss. Just trying to find my way, is all. Would you be lost as well?" The young man grinned again, the expression combined with his wild dark hair and dark beard stubble giving him an unsettling feral quality.
"No I'm not. I know exactly where I'm going, and I have friends expecting me. One of them is a policeman too, so I wouldn't start any trouble if I were you!"
"Trouble?" he chuckled, and shook his head. "No miss, I'm no trouble. But I reckon you might be, the way you're driving. You need something to help you keep awake. Stereo broken, is it?" He flicked a glance at the radio in the dashboard.
"Yes... no. Vandals snapped the aerial off. Now if you'll excuse me..." Sarah turned the ignition. It ground but wouldn't fire. The man rested a hand lightly on her shoulder. Sarah froze.
"Maybe you'd like some company, at least as far to where you're going anyway. It's a cold night. No time or place to be alone." He grinned again, showing far too many teeth.
"No thanks, I can manage!" The engine roared to life. "Excuse me!" Sarah shouted, and put her foot down. The man barely had time to pull his hand away. He watched the tail-lights disappear into the gloom, and he slowly raised a hand in salute.
"Be seeing you," he murmured sardonically, a twisted smile playing about his lips...
***
The trembling didn't stop even after she wound the window back up. Suddenly Sarah longed to be back at her Aunt's, where it was warm and safe. Stuff the deadline! This was definitely the last time she was going to be driving this late at night. At least it woke her up, she thought ironically.
A sign flashed up at the side of the road before her. ARCHIE'S PIT-STOP. ALL-NITE FUEL & FOOD. 1 MILE. A service station, or at the very least a truck-stop. Somewhere where she could get a good strong cup of sweet tea. More importantly, somewhere else where there would be people.
It was no Little Chef, but it was serviceable. A flat square building stained a grubby grey by diesel exhaust and oily spray. Two petrol pumps stood silhouetted in the white neon glare of the restaurant part of the building, and for a moment their outline as she cruised past into the car-park brought back a memory that made Sarah giggle nervously. God, I must be on edge if I start thinking about those Quark creatures again...
The car-park was a broad stretch of pot-holed gravel lit by only a single flickering streetlight. A battered Morris Minor and a large grimy lorry with CARTER & SON HAULAGE, EXETER printed on its side in bold black capitals were the only other vehicles parked up. Sarah swung her handbag over her shoulder and wandered up to the entrance to the café and went inside.
Even the UNIT canteen was classy by comparison. Cracked and stained Formica tables with the kind of hard-backed plastic chairs that brought back memories of long afternoons studying Chaucer and Marlowe in English lit classes at college. There was a counter at the far end, with the service area and kitchen behind it, screened by a roll-top wooden partition. The menu was written in yellow chalk on a chipped blackboard. The majority of the items on it came with chips, or chips and peas, or chips and baked beans. Sarah was amused to note that the word 'sausage' had been misspelt twice - 'sosage' and 'sasauge'.
She appeared to be the only person there, though there was a half-finished plate of chips, beans and eggs on a table to her right, a newspaper folded open by its side. A cigarette burnt slowly in the ashtray in front of it, and as she got closer Sarah saw a donkey jacket and flat cap lying on the chair beside it. Carter or son, she presumed with a shrug. Then she heard a clang and a thump and a soft voice swore from the kitchen. Sarah came up to the counter and eyed the rusting hot-water urn and smeared plastic cake stand dubiously, then rapped on the counter. "Hello?"
The kitchen door banged open and a face popped round the side. It was a young face, fresh and rather pretty, topped with a mop of blonde curls, on which was precariously perched a tiny waitress cap. Sarah guessed the girl was about twenty or so. It gawped at Sarah for a moment, the said: "Oh!" and disappeared again. There was a dragging sound followed by another thump followed by another bout of swearing. Then the door banged open again and the waitress hurried back through, smoothing her light-blue checked uniform around her. She flashed Sarah an apologetic smile through a mouthful of pink bubblegum.
"Sorry, luvvie, just helping Chef shift some spuds. What can I getcha? Today's special is Chicken & Mushroom pie, with chips and peas. Or if you'd prefer, baked beans!"
Sarah suppressed a shudder and smiled. "No thanks. Just a cup of tea, please."
The waitress looked a little crestfallen. "Oh! Oh, well, coming right up!" She switched her best waitress smile on again, turned and plonked a cup and saucer under the dripping spout of the urn. She hummed absent-mindedly to herself while she worked. Sarah looked around her once again.
"Guess it's usually this quiet at this time of night."
"Oh yes, always is this time. Mainly we just get truckers on the long haul routes y'know. And the odd traveller, like yourself." She turned back to Sarah and plonked a brimming cup before her. "You travelling far?"
"Just to London." She picked up a chrome topped sugar shaker and after picking some of the crusted sugar away from the top poured a hefty dollop into her tea. The waitress giggled. Sarah looked at her quizzically. The waitress looked apologetic again.
"Sorry dearie, just that I packed up using sugar ages ago. Got to watch me figure, y'know!" she chortled, and slapped her hip. Sarah looked the girl up and down. She was very slim and slender, almost lithe, and she could see why the girl was keen to keep her figure. Sarah bet she didn't eat the food here either. Sarah smiled back, glad of the conversation.
"Well as a general rule I don't, but this is for shock!" She raised her cup in mock salute and took a sip. Sarah blanched. And she thought army tea was bad...
The waitress leaned forward, goggling at Sarah. "Were you in an accident, dearie?" she asked breathlessly.
"Well, nearly. Then when I stopped, this creepy hitchhiker came up to me. Frightened the life out of me!"
"Oooh!" the waitress clutched at herself and shivered. "You do meet some funny types off the road, these days. Me, I always get a lift home with Bernie when we finish at six. Bernie, that's the chef."
"I'm glad to hear that! This bloke was really creepy. I'd hate to think that anyone else will run into him." Maybe she ought to tell the police, she thought. Probably not much point at this time of night. Tomorrow, maybe. She sipped her tea, starting to relax.
"Oh, there's always folk that'll give strangers lifts. Mainly for the company, y'know?"
"Yes."
The waitress eyed her curiously. "What do you do in London?"
"I'm a journalist. Well, sort of. More of a features writer these days." When she had time, she reflected ruefully.
A broad, excited smile spread across the girl's face. "Really? D'you work for one of the big papers?"
"No, Metropolitan magazine."
"Oh. More of a Cosmo girl, meself. Still, must be an exciting life. Meeting famous folk, an' all." There was a muffled thump from the kitchen. The waitress raised her eyes heavenwards. "Excuse me, luv, but it sounds like Bernie is trying to demolish the place again. Just call if you need anything more!"
"Thanks!" Sarah called as the girl disappeared back into the kitchen. Sarah turned away and sat down at a table overlooking the road, staring out into the darkness.
After a moment, she realised someone was staring back.
With a gasp of shock, Sarah jumped back out of her seat, the chair clattering to the floor on its back. There, standing in the forecourt, was the hitchhiker. The dark eyes in his pale unshaven face were staring unwaveringly at hers. The face was set, menacing. He started forward, towards the front door. How could he have followed after her so quick?
Sarah broke from her paralysis and dashed for the door herself. She slammed the heavy bolts at the top and base of the door and stood back, breathing fast. He looked at her for a moment, then rattled the handle. He frowned, and started to say something. Sarah turned and ran back towards the kitchen. There must be a phone back there somewhere. She tried pushing open the kitchen door but it appeared to be locked. She thumped on it.
"Hey, help! Hey! Please, help me!" She tried peering through the grimy circle of glass in the door but all she could see was a stove and a preparation table.
The front door stopped rattling and she heard footsteps, moving fast, going round the side of the building. Must be looking for the back door, she thought. Sarah looked around wildly. A peeling sign on the wall to her left with the word TELEPHONE on it. She ran across. There was a payphone stuck to the wall. She snatched up the receiver. Dead. She rattled the hook, but still nothing.
The kitchen door began to rattle. Sarah froze, the useless phone slipping from her fingers to thump against the wall.
To her left were the toilets, and Sarah ran inside the ladies and slammed the door shut. There was another of those hard plastic seats just by the door and she jammed it under the handle. Then she turned and looked around the room. A couple of toilet stalls and two basins. A small frosted window high in the wall to the far side - too small for even her to get through.
There was another door directly behind her. She yanked it open. It contained a few rough items for cleaning, a wooden handled mop and a metal bucket, old rags, spare toilet rolls... nothing like a weapon.
The door handle rattled against the back of the chair. Sarah caught her breath and clutched at the mop like a club. The rattling gave way to a thumping, the blows becoming more violent with each stroke until Sarah began to fear the door would come off at the hinges.
Abruptly the pounding ceased. Sarah took a shaky breath. Had he given up?
She took a step closer to listen.
With a terrible crunch a large flat blade punched through the wood. Sarah screamed. The blade scythed downwards, tearing through the wood, before withdrawing and being punched through again. And again, and again, until there was a rough square shape. Then a black-gloved fist pounded through it, sending the jagged plywood to the floor. The hand groped downwards for the chair, intent on freeing the blockage...
Sarah tossed the mop aside and grabbed the metal bucket. She started battering the groping hand with it. There was a cry of pain and rage, and the hand withdrew. Seconds later it returned, and Sarah battered it again. A well-aimed blow jammed the wrist against the door at an unnatural angle and Sarah heard the sickening sound of a breaking bone. There was a high-pitched wail and the hand withdrew. Sarah stood shaking, poised with the bucket in case it returned, but it did not.
Footsteps outside the door. Running footsteps. Sarah ducked back into one of the toilet cubicles just in time as someone hit the door hard at a run and smashed it open. Sarah jammed herself up against the wall and raised the bucket high above her head, waiting. The door was pushed open.
The hitchhiker stood in the doorway. He raised a hand. Something glittered in his grasp.
"Sarah..." he started.
She brought the bucket crashing down on top of his head.
Before his body had even finished hitting the ground she was running past him and back into the café. She slammed into the kitchen door and to her surprise it sprang open. She all but fell into the room.
"Hello? Hello?"
Her foot skidded on something. She looked down. There was a slick trail of blood on the floor, leading to a cupboard beneath one of the worktops.
"Oh no!" she cried, fearing the worst for the pretty waitress, and rushed over and flung the door open.
A large man in grubby cooks' whites rolled slowly on to the floor, a large bloody wound in his scalp. Sarah bent down and checked his pulse: faint and erratic, but he was alive.
Noise behind her... she stood up, clutching at the first thing to hand: a frying pan.
In front of her stood the waitress. Sarah took a relieved breath.
"Thank God it's you! Listen, that maniac I was telling you about, he's here and...."
Sarah trailed off when she noticed what the girl was doing.
She was wrapping a bandage round her black-gloved hand and wrist. She tied it tight and looked up at Sarah with an expression of pure hatred.
"You!" Sarah gasped.
"Me!" the girl snarled, and pulled the knife from her waitress apron. She took a step forward. Sarah raised her frying pan defensively.
"Why? Why are you doing this?"
"Why, why, why... you know, a lot of people have asked me that over the years; usually just before I kill them. Know what I always say?"
"What?"
"Because. Just because." She giggled. "I like that word. I think it's good for any occasion, don't you?"
She leapt forward, thrusting the blade. Sarah deflected the blow with the frying pan and staggered back. The girl lashed through the air with the blade, seeming to aim for Sarah's throat but changing direction at the last moment with frightening speed to slash the blade down across the hand holding the frying pan. Sarah yelped as the cold metal tore across her skin.
The frying pan clattered to the floor.
The girl leapt forward with a piercing yowl of triumph, blade raised high to strike. Sarah caught her wrists in time. In doing so she caught her feet on the cook's unconscious body and they started to tumble backwards. Sarah raised a foot up to meet the girl's midriff and, half-remembering a martial arts throw the Doctor had taught her a long time ago, sent the girl flying over her head to land with a crash on top of the stove. Something sizzled and hissed. The girl shrieked and leapt off, the back of her dress smouldering. Sarah leapt to her feet, seized the frying pan and swung it in a wide arc. It struck the girl flat on the side of her head with a dull clang, the force propelling her through the kitchen door. She smashed into the counter, momentum carrying her over it and onto the floor on the other side. The cake stand went flying with her, showering the floor with pastries and sponges.
Gasping with effort, Sarah snatched up the girl's knife and ran through to the café.
The girl was clutching at a table in an effort to stand up. She was a mess, dress smouldering, face bruised and bloodied. Her right arm hung uselessly by her side. She curled her lip like a mad dog when Sarah approached. She didn't look very pretty any more. Sarah held up the knife. "Enough!" she panted.
"Give me a break!" the girl snarled, reaching into her apron. She pulled out a small handgun and levelled it at Sarah. Her twisted face contorted into an evil grin. "I should have done this the moment you walked in!"
She squeezed the trigger. Sarah braced herself for impact. A single flat crack rang in her ears...
The girl suddenly sprawled backwards, clutching at a large scarlet stain blooming across her chest. She looked up and beyond Sarah.
"You!" she gurgled through a mouthful of blood. Then her head fell back. Her legs twitched briefly, then relaxed. Her hands thumped to the floor.
Sarah slowly looked round, to where the girl had spoken her last word.
The hitchhiker was leaning against the wall, a small handgun wavering at the end of an outstretched arm. There was blood all over his face from where she'd hit him with the bucket.
He noticed her looking and gave a weak smile. "Good job I have amazing recuperative powers, eh?" he croaked.
Then he collapsed.
***
When he came too, Sarah's concerned face swam into his vision.
"Wow... mother always said there'd be angels in heaven when I died," he muttered fuzzily.
Sarah smiled, relieved. "You're not dead. But it's a nasty bump. Listen, I can't apologise enough. I thought you were..."
"After you?" he struggled to sit up. His head was still pounding, but he was beginning to feel better. He touched a hand to his head and felt the bandage wrapped around it. A good job, he noted with satisfaction. He was right; she was good. "Yes, in a way I was, but not in the same way as our friend over there." He jerked his thumb at the corpse lying on the other side of the room. Sarah had covered it with an old tablecloth. "I should be the one apologising. I was overly enigmatic back on the road there. Looming out at you from the night like that!" He chuckled. "No wonder you ran."
"I was scared," she admitted. "I didn't recognise you." She looked at his face, then at his chest, then back to his face again. "I felt your heartbeat. Or should I say hearts-beat?"
He nodded, wincing at the pain the motion produced. "Yes, it's true." He saw the expression settling across her face and added hastily: "But I'm not who you think I am! I'm not-"
"The Doctor?" she smiled. "I knew that. He never used a gun like you did." She touched his cheek. "He was also better at shaving!"
"Touché!" He took her hand and grinned. "He did send me to watch over you tonight, though. He knew someone was coming for you. But he told me to keep a low profile as he thought you'd probably cope well on your own - and he was right!"
She snorted. "Oh yeah, nearly got shot, great!"
"You were doing OK, even before you KO'd me!" He squeezed her hand before letting it go. "He told me to say, if we did meet, that he said he didn't want anything to happen to his best friend."
He remembered, she thought happily. "Who was she? Why-"
He held up a hand. "The less you know, the better. You can rest assured, they won't try this again. You're quite safe now."
"I think I am with you around!" They looked at each other and smiled, still holding hands. A long second past, then the sound of sirens drifted through the night air.
"There was a phone in the other office. I called the police and an ambulance." Sarah found, as well as the cook, the bound and unconscious bodies of the lorry driver and the waitress - the real waitress. "I don't know what I'll tell them!"
"Just tell them you work for a secret paramilitary organisation. Always works for me! Speaking of which..." he struggled to his feet, "They will be missing me. I'd better head back."
"You're leaving? Already?" Sarah looked disappointed. Curiously, so did he.
"I must. Even by the standards of our mutual friend, I'm breaking a massive rule even by being this far back, let alone taking active participation!" He paused. "I'm sorry. Really. But I can't stay."
"I'm sorry too." She held out her hand, and he took it. "Thanks for saving my life."
He gave a brief but gallant bow. "My pleasure."
They shook hands, and held the position for a moment.
"Will we meet again?" she asked.
He shrugged. "You know what he always says..."
She smiled. "Yes." Then: "It's nice to know I've got such a nice guardian angel."
He smiled knowingly. "You and me both!" Impulsively he leaned forward and kissed her quickly and lightly on the mouth. "The Doctor showed me a picture of you before I left. It really didn't do you justice!" He stepped back and raised his right hand. "Hop!" he called. There was a high-pitched buzzing sound and a small metallic object appeared in his right hand. He raised his left in farewell. "Adieu," he called, winked, and vanished. A faint wheezing, groaning sound accompanied his departure.
"Bye," she whispered, pressing a hand to her lips and blowing back the kiss he gave her. She blinked. "Wait a minute!" she called to the empty room. "You didn't even tell me your name!"
The only answer was the wind rattling the windowpanes and the mournful wail of the approaching sirens...
Next: Murder is Served
