Post by Fitz Kreiner on Apr 16, 2009 12:48:28 GMT
Constable Brian Haynes pulled the Panda car up alongside the road where the pedestrian was waving him down. The man seemed highly excited and had almost jumped into the road to flag them down. Stepping out of the driver’s side of the car and putting his hat on his head, he stepped near to the tramp, almost recoiling from the smell of bodily odour, tobacco and stale alcohol.
“What is it, sir?” He asked as Chris Mitchell walked round the front of the car to join them.
“Dahn there, guv.” The old man said pointing a shaking hand. His breath stank of alcohol and tobacco. “There... There... There... There’s free of ‘em.”
“Three of what, granddad?” Mitchell asked.
“Kids, free of ‘em.” The tramp said, grabbing Mitchells sleeve and starting to pull him down a small road between two buildings. There was another road just down there. “They’re dead guv. Someone’s killed ‘em.”
Haynes and Mitchell looked at each other before back to the tramp. The old man looked terrified. Terrified but excitable. The old man beckoned the two police officers, who broke into a run, following him. Arriving in the parallel street, Haynes and Mitchell skidded to a halt. The tramp arrived after them and pointed to the three corpses that lay on the ground.
“There they are guv. See, I wasn’t makin’ it up.” He said, squeezing between the two policemen and pointing to the corpses.
“Yeah, right granddad,” Mitchell said stepping towards the three bodies. “Just stay back out of the way will ya?”
“Right back, if y’don’t mind?” Haynes said looking around down the empty street and motioning the tramp back. Making sure that the old man was out of the way, he turned back to Mitchell, who was now crouched down and checking the pulses on two of the bodies. He looked up at Haynes and sadly shook his head.
“Dead, all of them,” he said. “And no more than eighteen each.”
Haynes walked over, sighing internally. He’d signed on for the overtime today, but it had been the day from hell. Firstly there was the affair with Sir Daniel Ashfield’s wife and the strange Army investigation team, and now, coming to the end of his mammoth shift, there was a triple murder to deal with. Looking down, he crouched beside the nearest body. The lad’s baseball cap lay several feet away, the peak of it all scorched. He could see no visible wound on the boy’s body, bloodstains or pools of blood on the street. The lad’s face was a picture of terror.
“Whadda’ya reckon?” Mitchell said looking over.
“No idea, mate,” Haynes replied shrugging. “Control should know about this. Pop back to the car and get out the tape, will ya? I’ll radio this in.”
“Right-oh,” Mitchell said nodding and getting to his feet.
Sighing aloud this time, Haynes got to his feet and looked about. Other than the tramp, who’d moved closer and was looking at the bodies, the street was empty. During the day, no doubt, it would have had people milling about, but now there was nothing about. Thinking he’d spotted a figure stood in the shadows, Haynes took a couple of steps towards him, about to speak, before realising it was an abandoned mannequin. Clipping his radio off his uniform, Haynes raised the plastic receiver to his lips and hit the call button.
“One three seven oh to control,” Haynes lifted the radio from his lips and listened for a reply.
Hearing nothing in reply, not even static, Haynes shook the radio and tried again. Still with no reply he passed the radio to his other hand, absently wiping what he took to be something sticky on his trouser leg. Sighing, he put the radio to his lips again and repeated the call signal. Haynes eyes widened in shock and his voice died in his throat as a thick liquid seemed to touch his lips. Trying to pull his hand and the radio away from his mouth, he found that the liquid was the melting case of the radio. Crying out in horror, molten plastic seeped into his mouth and up his nostrils cutting off his cry.
Turning, Haynes reached out in horror to the tramp with his free hand. Trying to wrench away his hand and the melting radio, Haynes found that the plastic was starting to fill his mouth, solidifying around his lips and nostrils, forming an airtight seal. Suddenly the realisation dawned that he was suffocating.
A grubby hand on his shoulder and another grabbing at his face told him the tramp was beside him, trying to help him move the deadly plastic from his face. In his oxygen deprived state, he barely heard the tramps cries for help. Either the tramp wasn’t shouting loud enough or his hearing was starting to go. He was starting to feel light-headed and his vision was starting to fade as he struggled for breath. His face turning blue and eyes bulging, Haynes could have been sure that he saw the mannequin on the side of the street walking towards him. It was the last thing he would ever see.
Chris Mitchell paused as he heard the tramp shouting something. He couldn’t make out the words, but he was sure about the tone of voice. Turning he ran back the way he’d come in time to see Haynes collapse onto the ground with what looked like the tramps hands around his throat. Shouting a warning to the tramp, Mitchell reached for his baton before spotting a dark figure moving swiftly towards the tramp.
Taking a step forwards, Mitchell removed his baton and with a flick extended the metal stick. It was then he noticed something strange about the figure; they were slim and seemed naked, with ebony skin that seemed to have a light sheen to it. Then he noticed that the face had no features.
“Stop right there.” Mitchell yelled stepping forwards holding his baton high.
The strange man didn’t respond and held its hand out as it approached. As he watched, the figures fingers dropped away as if they were attached to a hinge on a false hand. Mitchell watched in horror as the figure pointed its hand at the tramp and there was what appeared to be a small explosion from a short tube that had appeared. The tramp dropped down onto the ground, smoke pouring from where the strange creature had shot him. It had to be a creature, it was certainly no man.
“Stop there. Drop your weapon and get down on the ground with your arms spread.” Mitchell shouted. He was sure now that it was a weapon.
Across the street, the creature looked up at him and cocked its head. If he didn’t know better, Mitchell would have sworn that it was a shop mannequin. The last thing PC Christopher Allan Mitchell, number three three one nine, ever saw was the mannequin raise its arm so it was pointing at him and then a puff of smoke come from the end.
“Keep him under observation if you can, but by no means engage or confront him. Understood?” Loding said into the radio.
“Understood trap seven.” Jason Strethams’ tinny voice came from the radio.
“Trap seven out.” Loding said replacing the receiver.
Getting to her feet, she turned and ran from the room attracting some looks from the two privates who were also on duty in the operations room. Dodging round the few privates that were walking through the corridors, Loding burst into the lab, crashing to a halt and saluting. Morris and the Doctor were stood over one of the benches poring over reports. The Doctors two friends were sat towards the back of the lab looking bored, more so the man. The girl was looking through what looked like a CD booklet. A small portable CD player sat on the desk beside her, music playing softly.
“At ease, Loding.” Morris said looking up at her.
“Sir, we’ve got a positive report from one of our Myrmidons.” She reported.
The Doctors’ head snapped up immediately fixing Loding with his brilliant eyes. “You’ve found the Master?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” Loding replied. “At a factory called ‘Rutilus Allec’ out Chigwell way.”
“That’s Jason Stretham isn’t it?” Morris asked, leaping into action and rounding the table. “Good work, Loding. Follow me and we’ll get a squad together and head out there.” Pausing at the door, Morris looked back into the lab. “Doctor, you coming with us?”
“Yes, yes I should think so,” the Doctor replied, an almost lost look on his face. “If the Master and Autons are there then you could probably do with my help.”
“Good thinking. We’ll get any flame throwers we have, explosive rounds too.” Morris mused aloud before looking back to the Doctor. “Loading bay A, five minutes.” He added before disappearing with Loding following.
“Yes, alright Will,” The Doctor said quietly not moving before he too sprung into action, gathering together all the reports into one pile, rolling them up and stuffing them into a pocket.
“So when do we go?” Jess asked, putting the booklet back into the CD case and getting to her feet.
“I’ll be going in five minutes as Will said,” the Doctor turned round to face Jess and Tom. “Although you two won’t be coming.”
“What? Why?” Tom asked.
“Well, one reason is, I know UNIT and they’re likely to go in shooting and turn the factory into a war zone,” the Doctor replied counting off on his fingers. “Two, I don’t want you getting into the middle of that war zone, especially if the Master is involved as there are likely to be some nasty surprises, three, you’re a lot safer off here and four, I need you here anyway to do some background research into this factory. There’s something about it that’s bugging me and I can’t think for the life of me what it is.”
“But, Doctor-” Jess began before the Time Lord cut her off holding his hand up.
“Please, this is very important,” he interjected. “I know I’m asking you to keep back and out of the way when before I haven’t, but this is important, I can feel it. Please? Please, please, please?”
“Oh, don’t do the puppy dog eyes again, Doctor!” Jess sighed looking at the Time Lords face. He’d seemed to go full circle from intense danger to excitable child again.
“We’ll stay put if that’s what you want.” Tom replied.
“Thank you.” The Doctor smiled. “I’d rather have you two doing this than any of the UNIT chaps.”
Turning, the Doctor made to leave the room, before pausing and turning back as if noticing the music for the first time. Crossing the lab, he unplugged the CD player and picked it up, tucking it under his arm. Glancing about quickly, he collected several circuits that were lying scattered across the bench before turning back to the door and pausing again.
“Oh, I hope you don’t mind if I borrow this?” he asked hefting the player before disappearing from sight.
“Erm, no, go ahead.” Jess replied, slightly in shock at what had just happened before realisation sunk in. “Hey, my CD’s still in there.” She said to Tom.
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring it back good as new!” The Doctors’ voice filtered back into the lab.
“But... that was the new Megadeth album,” Jess finished quietly, pitting the CD case back into the Virgin Megastores bag.
“He said he’d bring it back.” Tom said.
“I swear he get’s madder at certain times of day!” Jess laughed before sitting down before a computer and stretching her arms. “Now, what was this place called he wanted us to check up on?”
“Rutilus Allec, wasn’t it?” Tom replied taking a seat at the computer beside the one Jess was powering up. “Sounds like Latin to me.”
“You speak Latin?” Jess asked.
“Not really. You?”
“I know etcetera, Deus ex machina and Carpe Diem. That’s about it.” Jess shrugged sitting back waiting for the machine to load. She suddenly became aware of a figure stood in the doorway watching her. Turning, she saw a private stood staring at the two of them. “Can we help?” She asked causing Tom to spin round on the swivel chair he was sat on.
“No, I was just checking.” The private said. “I heard voices, didn’t realise there was someone in here.”
“We are. We’re doing research for the Doctor.” Jess replied, unsure why she had to explain herself to a private. Feeling more bravado she got to her feet. “And what are you doing, Private? Shouldn’t you be involved with the attack on the factory?”
“Baxter, isn’t it?” Tom asked looking at the private. “Just a driver aren’t you? You took me, the Doctor and Captain Morris to the factory earlier.”
“Driver and support staff, sir.” Baxter confirmed. “I’m new to UNIT.”
“Well, don’t worry, we’re up here.” Jess smiled. “If we see or hear anything, we’ll report it.”
Nodding, Baxter turned and left the lab as Jess sat back down at her computer and opened the internet browser.
“Back to the grind, eh?” She chuckled, typing into the search bar. Her smile faded when the results came up on screen. “Oh dear.” She said softly.
“What is it?” Tom asked looking up at her screen.
“If I’ve spelt Rutilus Allec right, then it could be trouble.” Jess turned the monitor towards Tom. “It’s coming up with a translation to ‘Red Herring’. I think the Doctor is walking into a trap.”
The Master stood pacing round the windows of an observation gantry, high above a factory floor. Below, Autons worked tirelessly at machines, churning out a wide variety of items, ranging from masks and novelty party hats and other party paraphernalia up to full scale human sized mannequins, ready to be animated into the ranks of the Autons. Andrea Rogers was sat by a control panel with a computer nearby working.
“We’re receiving the Nestene energy transfer from the other factory.” She said, turning round and looking up at the Master.
“Excellent,” the Master purred, stroking his beard. “Transfer it down to the newly processed Autons.”
Nodding, Andrea turned back to the console and started tapping furiously at the keyboard before her. Smiling to himself, the Master strode out onto a balcony overlooking the floor. Gripping the metal railing with his black leather gloved hands; he leaned out and looked down as the twenty ranked freshly processed Autons jerked before slowly moving.
“Can you hear me?” He shouted down to the mannequins. As one, they all turned to face him and looked up. Each one was wearing a burgundy boiler suit with beige scarf wrapped around their flesh coloured plastic necks. Their blank eyes stared up at the Time Lord awaiting his order. “You are now fully processed and ready to obey my orders. The back five of you are to join the work force. The rest of you report to the stations you have been allocated.”
The Master smiled as the first three ranks of Autons turned and filed out of the room, while the last rank turned and joined their kind at the machines. Turning round, the Master re-entered the office as a chime sounded. He looked down expectantly at Andrea as she read script that appeared on the monitor.
“Master, our infiltration unit reports that the Doctor and the UNIT forces are on their way here.” She reported.
“Excellent,” the Master smiled. “Order him to sever all of UNITs communications and then begin his work. Once the Doctor and UNIT arrive we can close the trap.”
“What is it, sir?” He asked as Chris Mitchell walked round the front of the car to join them.
“Dahn there, guv.” The old man said pointing a shaking hand. His breath stank of alcohol and tobacco. “There... There... There... There’s free of ‘em.”
“Three of what, granddad?” Mitchell asked.
“Kids, free of ‘em.” The tramp said, grabbing Mitchells sleeve and starting to pull him down a small road between two buildings. There was another road just down there. “They’re dead guv. Someone’s killed ‘em.”
Haynes and Mitchell looked at each other before back to the tramp. The old man looked terrified. Terrified but excitable. The old man beckoned the two police officers, who broke into a run, following him. Arriving in the parallel street, Haynes and Mitchell skidded to a halt. The tramp arrived after them and pointed to the three corpses that lay on the ground.
“There they are guv. See, I wasn’t makin’ it up.” He said, squeezing between the two policemen and pointing to the corpses.
“Yeah, right granddad,” Mitchell said stepping towards the three bodies. “Just stay back out of the way will ya?”
“Right back, if y’don’t mind?” Haynes said looking around down the empty street and motioning the tramp back. Making sure that the old man was out of the way, he turned back to Mitchell, who was now crouched down and checking the pulses on two of the bodies. He looked up at Haynes and sadly shook his head.
“Dead, all of them,” he said. “And no more than eighteen each.”
Haynes walked over, sighing internally. He’d signed on for the overtime today, but it had been the day from hell. Firstly there was the affair with Sir Daniel Ashfield’s wife and the strange Army investigation team, and now, coming to the end of his mammoth shift, there was a triple murder to deal with. Looking down, he crouched beside the nearest body. The lad’s baseball cap lay several feet away, the peak of it all scorched. He could see no visible wound on the boy’s body, bloodstains or pools of blood on the street. The lad’s face was a picture of terror.
“Whadda’ya reckon?” Mitchell said looking over.
“No idea, mate,” Haynes replied shrugging. “Control should know about this. Pop back to the car and get out the tape, will ya? I’ll radio this in.”
“Right-oh,” Mitchell said nodding and getting to his feet.
Sighing aloud this time, Haynes got to his feet and looked about. Other than the tramp, who’d moved closer and was looking at the bodies, the street was empty. During the day, no doubt, it would have had people milling about, but now there was nothing about. Thinking he’d spotted a figure stood in the shadows, Haynes took a couple of steps towards him, about to speak, before realising it was an abandoned mannequin. Clipping his radio off his uniform, Haynes raised the plastic receiver to his lips and hit the call button.
“One three seven oh to control,” Haynes lifted the radio from his lips and listened for a reply.
Hearing nothing in reply, not even static, Haynes shook the radio and tried again. Still with no reply he passed the radio to his other hand, absently wiping what he took to be something sticky on his trouser leg. Sighing, he put the radio to his lips again and repeated the call signal. Haynes eyes widened in shock and his voice died in his throat as a thick liquid seemed to touch his lips. Trying to pull his hand and the radio away from his mouth, he found that the liquid was the melting case of the radio. Crying out in horror, molten plastic seeped into his mouth and up his nostrils cutting off his cry.
Turning, Haynes reached out in horror to the tramp with his free hand. Trying to wrench away his hand and the melting radio, Haynes found that the plastic was starting to fill his mouth, solidifying around his lips and nostrils, forming an airtight seal. Suddenly the realisation dawned that he was suffocating.
A grubby hand on his shoulder and another grabbing at his face told him the tramp was beside him, trying to help him move the deadly plastic from his face. In his oxygen deprived state, he barely heard the tramps cries for help. Either the tramp wasn’t shouting loud enough or his hearing was starting to go. He was starting to feel light-headed and his vision was starting to fade as he struggled for breath. His face turning blue and eyes bulging, Haynes could have been sure that he saw the mannequin on the side of the street walking towards him. It was the last thing he would ever see.
*
Chris Mitchell paused as he heard the tramp shouting something. He couldn’t make out the words, but he was sure about the tone of voice. Turning he ran back the way he’d come in time to see Haynes collapse onto the ground with what looked like the tramps hands around his throat. Shouting a warning to the tramp, Mitchell reached for his baton before spotting a dark figure moving swiftly towards the tramp.
Taking a step forwards, Mitchell removed his baton and with a flick extended the metal stick. It was then he noticed something strange about the figure; they were slim and seemed naked, with ebony skin that seemed to have a light sheen to it. Then he noticed that the face had no features.
“Stop right there.” Mitchell yelled stepping forwards holding his baton high.
The strange man didn’t respond and held its hand out as it approached. As he watched, the figures fingers dropped away as if they were attached to a hinge on a false hand. Mitchell watched in horror as the figure pointed its hand at the tramp and there was what appeared to be a small explosion from a short tube that had appeared. The tramp dropped down onto the ground, smoke pouring from where the strange creature had shot him. It had to be a creature, it was certainly no man.
“Stop there. Drop your weapon and get down on the ground with your arms spread.” Mitchell shouted. He was sure now that it was a weapon.
Across the street, the creature looked up at him and cocked its head. If he didn’t know better, Mitchell would have sworn that it was a shop mannequin. The last thing PC Christopher Allan Mitchell, number three three one nine, ever saw was the mannequin raise its arm so it was pointing at him and then a puff of smoke come from the end.
*
“Keep him under observation if you can, but by no means engage or confront him. Understood?” Loding said into the radio.
“Understood trap seven.” Jason Strethams’ tinny voice came from the radio.
“Trap seven out.” Loding said replacing the receiver.
Getting to her feet, she turned and ran from the room attracting some looks from the two privates who were also on duty in the operations room. Dodging round the few privates that were walking through the corridors, Loding burst into the lab, crashing to a halt and saluting. Morris and the Doctor were stood over one of the benches poring over reports. The Doctors two friends were sat towards the back of the lab looking bored, more so the man. The girl was looking through what looked like a CD booklet. A small portable CD player sat on the desk beside her, music playing softly.
“At ease, Loding.” Morris said looking up at her.
“Sir, we’ve got a positive report from one of our Myrmidons.” She reported.
The Doctors’ head snapped up immediately fixing Loding with his brilliant eyes. “You’ve found the Master?” he asked.
“Yes sir,” Loding replied. “At a factory called ‘Rutilus Allec’ out Chigwell way.”
“That’s Jason Stretham isn’t it?” Morris asked, leaping into action and rounding the table. “Good work, Loding. Follow me and we’ll get a squad together and head out there.” Pausing at the door, Morris looked back into the lab. “Doctor, you coming with us?”
“Yes, yes I should think so,” the Doctor replied, an almost lost look on his face. “If the Master and Autons are there then you could probably do with my help.”
“Good thinking. We’ll get any flame throwers we have, explosive rounds too.” Morris mused aloud before looking back to the Doctor. “Loading bay A, five minutes.” He added before disappearing with Loding following.
“Yes, alright Will,” The Doctor said quietly not moving before he too sprung into action, gathering together all the reports into one pile, rolling them up and stuffing them into a pocket.
“So when do we go?” Jess asked, putting the booklet back into the CD case and getting to her feet.
“I’ll be going in five minutes as Will said,” the Doctor turned round to face Jess and Tom. “Although you two won’t be coming.”
“What? Why?” Tom asked.
“Well, one reason is, I know UNIT and they’re likely to go in shooting and turn the factory into a war zone,” the Doctor replied counting off on his fingers. “Two, I don’t want you getting into the middle of that war zone, especially if the Master is involved as there are likely to be some nasty surprises, three, you’re a lot safer off here and four, I need you here anyway to do some background research into this factory. There’s something about it that’s bugging me and I can’t think for the life of me what it is.”
“But, Doctor-” Jess began before the Time Lord cut her off holding his hand up.
“Please, this is very important,” he interjected. “I know I’m asking you to keep back and out of the way when before I haven’t, but this is important, I can feel it. Please? Please, please, please?”
“Oh, don’t do the puppy dog eyes again, Doctor!” Jess sighed looking at the Time Lords face. He’d seemed to go full circle from intense danger to excitable child again.
“We’ll stay put if that’s what you want.” Tom replied.
“Thank you.” The Doctor smiled. “I’d rather have you two doing this than any of the UNIT chaps.”
Turning, the Doctor made to leave the room, before pausing and turning back as if noticing the music for the first time. Crossing the lab, he unplugged the CD player and picked it up, tucking it under his arm. Glancing about quickly, he collected several circuits that were lying scattered across the bench before turning back to the door and pausing again.
“Oh, I hope you don’t mind if I borrow this?” he asked hefting the player before disappearing from sight.
“Erm, no, go ahead.” Jess replied, slightly in shock at what had just happened before realisation sunk in. “Hey, my CD’s still in there.” She said to Tom.
“Don’t worry, I’ll bring it back good as new!” The Doctors’ voice filtered back into the lab.
“But... that was the new Megadeth album,” Jess finished quietly, pitting the CD case back into the Virgin Megastores bag.
“He said he’d bring it back.” Tom said.
“I swear he get’s madder at certain times of day!” Jess laughed before sitting down before a computer and stretching her arms. “Now, what was this place called he wanted us to check up on?”
“Rutilus Allec, wasn’t it?” Tom replied taking a seat at the computer beside the one Jess was powering up. “Sounds like Latin to me.”
“You speak Latin?” Jess asked.
“Not really. You?”
“I know etcetera, Deus ex machina and Carpe Diem. That’s about it.” Jess shrugged sitting back waiting for the machine to load. She suddenly became aware of a figure stood in the doorway watching her. Turning, she saw a private stood staring at the two of them. “Can we help?” She asked causing Tom to spin round on the swivel chair he was sat on.
“No, I was just checking.” The private said. “I heard voices, didn’t realise there was someone in here.”
“We are. We’re doing research for the Doctor.” Jess replied, unsure why she had to explain herself to a private. Feeling more bravado she got to her feet. “And what are you doing, Private? Shouldn’t you be involved with the attack on the factory?”
“Baxter, isn’t it?” Tom asked looking at the private. “Just a driver aren’t you? You took me, the Doctor and Captain Morris to the factory earlier.”
“Driver and support staff, sir.” Baxter confirmed. “I’m new to UNIT.”
“Well, don’t worry, we’re up here.” Jess smiled. “If we see or hear anything, we’ll report it.”
Nodding, Baxter turned and left the lab as Jess sat back down at her computer and opened the internet browser.
“Back to the grind, eh?” She chuckled, typing into the search bar. Her smile faded when the results came up on screen. “Oh dear.” She said softly.
“What is it?” Tom asked looking up at her screen.
“If I’ve spelt Rutilus Allec right, then it could be trouble.” Jess turned the monitor towards Tom. “It’s coming up with a translation to ‘Red Herring’. I think the Doctor is walking into a trap.”
*
The Master stood pacing round the windows of an observation gantry, high above a factory floor. Below, Autons worked tirelessly at machines, churning out a wide variety of items, ranging from masks and novelty party hats and other party paraphernalia up to full scale human sized mannequins, ready to be animated into the ranks of the Autons. Andrea Rogers was sat by a control panel with a computer nearby working.
“We’re receiving the Nestene energy transfer from the other factory.” She said, turning round and looking up at the Master.
“Excellent,” the Master purred, stroking his beard. “Transfer it down to the newly processed Autons.”
Nodding, Andrea turned back to the console and started tapping furiously at the keyboard before her. Smiling to himself, the Master strode out onto a balcony overlooking the floor. Gripping the metal railing with his black leather gloved hands; he leaned out and looked down as the twenty ranked freshly processed Autons jerked before slowly moving.
“Can you hear me?” He shouted down to the mannequins. As one, they all turned to face him and looked up. Each one was wearing a burgundy boiler suit with beige scarf wrapped around their flesh coloured plastic necks. Their blank eyes stared up at the Time Lord awaiting his order. “You are now fully processed and ready to obey my orders. The back five of you are to join the work force. The rest of you report to the stations you have been allocated.”
The Master smiled as the first three ranks of Autons turned and filed out of the room, while the last rank turned and joined their kind at the machines. Turning round, the Master re-entered the office as a chime sounded. He looked down expectantly at Andrea as she read script that appeared on the monitor.
“Master, our infiltration unit reports that the Doctor and the UNIT forces are on their way here.” She reported.
“Excellent,” the Master smiled. “Order him to sever all of UNITs communications and then begin his work. Once the Doctor and UNIT arrive we can close the trap.”
