Chapter 20 -- You Won't Get Scotland Yard

"It's empty," Kyra said.

"Yes, I'd noticed."

"You sure he was here?"

"Fairly certain, yes."

Kyra tucked her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. "Hmm. So...where's their next concert? Don't they have to have the real Ringo there?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I really have no idea."

"I don't suppose you have the kinda technology to trace humans," she mused.

The Doctor looked at her and frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Like biosignatures," she said. "Everybody's got biosignatures."

"I don't know," he said. "I've never tried it."

"Really?"

"Well, I've never thought about it," he admitted. "Seems like an awful lot of work."

"You're just cranky 'cause I thought of it before you could," she said.

"That's not true at all!"

"Suuure it isn't," she mocked.

"Cheeky," he said. "Where do you think they've gone?"

"Next concert date would be my guess. I've no idea where that is, of course," she added. "Could have him stashed somewhere else in this building for all we know."

"No, no, no," he argued. "That isn't the Dalek way. It's not their...style. They've moved on, and they'd want him close, close enough to control if things get out of hand. They're not letting go of their meal ticket."

"Shoulda been a detective," Kyra said. She was frowning at the far wall, her eyes narrowed.

"Where else, besides here, would they be able to generate the amount of energy they'd need to control Ringo? Without being noticed?"

"Well, Daleks are pretty noticeable everywhere they go," she replied. She walked over to the wall. "Was this here before?"

"Hmm? What?"

She gestured, encompassing the open wall of cable and wire. "This."

"Yes, that was what they had him hooked up to."

She nodded. "Right. And when they left, they took all the equipment, what they needed, and left the cable. Just unhooked it and took off."

"What are you getting at? What are you seeing?"

"Where are the ends of the cables, the wires? Look, there's none on the floor. They're not tucked into the walls, they just...don't end. It's like nothin' was hooked up here." She reached out, touched where one wire came out, looped, and vanished back into the wall. "Except...here, and here. Maybe they...spliced in and repaired the damage. Considerate."

"That's not something they would do..." He hesitated. "Unless...unless they expected us to find this."

"Oh, fuck, we just walked into a trap, didn't we?" she asked dismally.

"No, well, maybe," he said. "But they could've just been converin' their tracks."

"Here's hoping," she said. She started poking at the wires and cables.

"What are you doing?"

"Hoping they missed something," she replied dryly. "Ain't much chance, but there's a first time for everything."

"Well, if I've learned anything from humans, it's that if they leave tracks, it's from sheer minor negligance. Not all beings are perfect."

"Yeah, we could learn a lot from you, couldn't we, Mr. Enemy-of-the-Crown?"

"What? How do you know about that?"

"I told you, I've been reading."

"You know about Torchwood?"

"The Watcher's Council knew about everything. Just half the time they didn't know what they knew."

"OK. Let's think, if you were a Dalek, and you were trying to fool us, and you were preoccupied with trying to fool us, what might you neglect to cover up?"

She sat back on her heels and thought. "Well, surveillance is out of the question. This is the sixties."

"And what video cameras they did have weren't for personal or commercial use. At least not for the next fifteen years."

She nodded. "Right." She frowned. "They'd have their own transportation, right? Or would they need to use somethin' a little more Earthly?"

"Hmm. Well, I think they'd need human transportation. I don't think a Dalek ship would blend in around here."

"Oh, come on," she said, and stood. "This is New York. Bands like the Beatles travel with some equipment, but most of the stuff is gonna belong to the concert halls and stadiums. Maybe if we can talk to one of their moving crew, we can find out if they've added anything weird or...really heavy onto what they usually move."

"Wait, wait, wait," he said. "Something's coming to me. In almost every crime you've ever heard of, at least on Earth, what is it almost nobody seems to cover up?"

She stopped. Then smiled. "Footprints."

"Now, the Daleks wouldn't have footprints, but they would have..."

"Treadmarks."

"I knew you were a smart one." He pulled out the 3D glasses and slipped them on. "Ah, right. This way."

Kyra just followed.

"What? They just stop!"

"Loading dock," she said. "Moving truck."

"They're not supposed to do that!" he protested. "That's clever!"

"Come on, what are you lot doing here?" someone demanded from behind them.

Kyra spun, her hand dropping under her jacket for her knife.

The Doctor turned, and smiled. "Ah, hello. I'm Inspector Smith, with Scotland Yard. I'm here on business, I'm afraid." He pulled open his wallet, pulling out...something. A blank piece of paper?

He held it up for the security guard to see. He peered at it, and looked like he was reading it.

What the hell?

"And who's she?"

"She's...a material witness. I'm running her through the past few days, and she brought me here."

"Concert," Kyra said. "I was at the concert, last night. It's all comin' back to me now."

"Found her on the street, very drunk. And...without her visa. I'll be taking her back with me. Have you happened to notice any strange trucks? Or vehicles that weren't...cleared to be back here? Or weird...devices?"

"Devices?" the other guard asked.

"Yes, did that...ring a bell?"

"Yeah, there was this one guy...looked kinda wooden, you know? Figured he was kinda dumb. He had this thing around his neck, kept blinkin' on and off. Figured it for some fancy radio collar or somethin'. Maybe a newfangled transistor? He had an earpiece," he added. "And that truck...there was no writing on it. Come to think of it, I don't think there was a license plate."

"Did you question him?"

"I tried. He wouldn't answer, so I went to get the boss. Geez, was he important? You just missed him by maybe fifteen minutes."

"Did you happen to see which way he went?"

"No, man, sorry. I told him to stay put and went to get the boss."

"Where else did this alley go?"

"That way to Forty Second, that way to Forty First," the boss said. "What's this about?"

"Jewel thieves," the Doctor replied absently. He frowned.

"They went to Forty First," another said. "Plain white truck? Yeah, Forty First. Just missed 'em."

"Could you give me a description?" he asked. He even had a pad and pen. Kyra resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Moving van. Plain white. No license plate. Idiot lookin' driver. He was droolin', I think."

"Physical description?" he added. "Height, approximate weight? Caucasian, not?"

"White fella," he said. "Couldn't tell his height, he was sitting down, wasn't he? Blond hair, blue eyes."

"'Bout my height," the other one put in. "Skinny little shit."

"Where does Forty First go?"

"Wherever you want it to," the boss replied. "You can get anywhere in the city, if you know where to turn."

"Thank you very much, and...try to keep this under wraps. Trying to keep the American authorities out of it until we can confirm...the perp."

Now Kyra did roll her eyes.

"Come along," he called.

"Yes, sir," she said, and gave a sarcastic little salute.

"Hey, is she even old enough to drink?" one of the men asked.

"I'm Irish," she said. "Where I'm from, if you can see over the bar, you're old enough to drink."

Almost to the exit, they heard this -- "HEY! Hey, what are you lot doin' here?"

"Is that like a sixties catchphrase?" Kyra hissed.

"I don't know," the Doctor said. "Who's he talking to?"

"Us," she shot back. "That's Lennon."

"Oh," he said. Turned and smiled. "Hello again."

"Pleased to meet you, Inspector," he said. "We just got quite a tail from the loaders."

"So much for under their hats," Kyra said.

"All right, you got me," he said. "What is it you want."

"The truth. Are you really with Scotland Yard?"

Kyra laughed. "Oh, a world of no."

"Look, we could tell you the truth, or we could find your real friend. Either way, we're on limited time."

"You really wouldn't think we would be," Kyra said. "But it happens a lot."

"And besides...you really wouldn't believe us," the Doctor said. "I mean, if we did tell you."

"Try me."

The Doctor blinked at Kyra.

"Bet we're faster," she said. "We can probably get away. But he'd give our description out, and we'd have Bellevue lookin' for us."

"All right, come on," he said. "It's better to show you."

"What about the boys?" he asked, pointing over his shoulder at Paul, George, and a dazed-looking Ringo.

"Not a good idea," Kyra said.

"Tell them...we're taking you in for private questioning," the Doctor said.

"Oh, you're inspired, you are," Kyra said.

"I really am, aren't I?"

A few minutes later, Lennon rejoined them.

"Where are we gonna take him?"

"Oh, where else?"

"Ah."

"What we have to show you, needs to be absolutely top-secret. Beyond any knowledge of anyone who has any affiliation with the military or any government, anything, not even your friends."

"This is Central Park!" He stopped. "What's an English call-box doin' in Central Park?"

"That's not a callbox," Kyra said.

"And even if it was, you wouldn't get Scotland Yard," the Doctor added. He opened the door, stepped back, and gestured.

Lennon gave him a distrusting look, walked in, and froze.

"Think he believes us?" Kyra asked a moment later.

"Give him a few minutes."

They entered slowly, the Doctor reaching up to press a button over the door before he closed it.

"Whaddaya think?" Kyra asked.

"What -- what -- what..."

"That's the usual response, yeah," she said, sat, and began to file her nails.

"Mr. John Lennon, I would like to introduce you to....the Tardis."

"What -- what is it?"

"Space ship. Time machine. Dimensional gateway -- well, on occasion. Bad idea, that is. Take your pick."

He stopped and stared. "Forget what it is. What are you? And you, little girl? What are you?"

"I hate being called little girl," she said. "And I'm as human as you are."

"And him?"

"He's not as human as you are."

"I'm one of the last beings of the eldest race in the galaxy."

"Oh. You're an alien."

"Fair enough."

"And those things, those robots, their aliens too?"

"Well, not technically. They're not people anymore. But essentially alien, yes."

"So how do I know you and them aren't working together?"

"That's a good question," Kyra agreed.

"It's a legitimate question," the Doctor agreed. "But you don't see me...reduced to a handful of tissue inside of a big metal can, do you?"

"That's a point. I need to sit down."

"See, the Daleks, at one point in time, used to be people. Bipedal humanoids who were actually a very peaceful people. All until one of the very creative people decided that they were perfect, and they were going to preserve that perfection."

"That would be the big metal can," Kyra said helpfully.

"Do you mind?"

"Just trying to get us going," she replied.

"Now, they're out for galactic rule. Any being not like them -- or not near perfect -- is...deleted. They've reduced themselves to...big computers. Very few of them even still have names. Or even individual minds."

"Is this what being creative does?" Lennon demanded, almost frantically. "Is this what I've got to look forward to?"

"No," Kyra said firmly. "What you do is different. Ain't planning galactic domination, are you? World domination? Think the human race is perfect?"

"Well, no, but --"

"Trust me, mate, you've got a long ways to go before you're anywhere near that."

"See, the human race, but all it's flaws, is nearly perfect. They know they have flaws, they accept their flaws, many of them even try to improve themselves. The Daleks can't...understand that, let alone do it. They believe themselves to be the best they can be. The only improvements can be something someone points out to be a threat. And then they just get rid of it."

"Like emotion," Kyra said.

"Exactly."

"Is this why you bring your girlfriend along?" Lennon asked. "To help you explain stuff?"

"No, I had brought her to be my companion. She's turning out to be a big pain in the neck."

"And I'm not his girlfriend," Kyra added.

"Good. What are you, twelve?"

"Seventeen," she said. "I'm seventeen."

"Seventeen, but with a mind you wouldn't believe. In my mind, that's all you need."

Lennon stood as the Doctor led the way to the door. "Some kinda genuis, is she?"

"Consider her...comparable to your Albert Einstein. Or you and your friends, in a different way."

"Me and the boys? We're not genuises."

"That kinda music takes more than genuis," Kyra said. "That takes skill and inspiration."

"I really ought not to say this," the Doctor said. "But just to give you a perspective -- your music will influence millions."

"Really?"

"More than you know, mate," Kyra said.

"How do you know that? Wait, are you from the future? Either one of you?"

"Me...sort of. Her, yes."

"What? When? What year?"

"I can't divulge that," the Doctor said.

"I couldn't tell you anything, anyways," Kyra said. "Everything has to stay the same. That's history."

"Something terrible gonna happen?"

"Not if we have anything to say about it. That's why we're here. The Daleks are trying to change history."

"With a band?"

"Haven't you been listening?" Kyra asked. "Where's your next concert?"

"Here, tonight."

"Then they couldn't've gone far," Kyra added.

"Just remember -- this doesn't go to your mates. This doesn't go any further than right here, right now. I have it on very good authority your good with secrets. Keep this one."

"Who'd believe me? They'd think I'd gone mad."

"He's got a point. Let's get him back."

TBC...