Doctor Who_ Timeless Part 6

'Check your change,' Anji called after him. 'You know what a miser the owner of that bookshop is...'

A few seconds later, Anji heard the front door slam.

'Is he always like this?' asked Guy.

'Not always,' she replied, taking the dirty plate over to the sink. 'Sometimes he doesn't bother with the omelette.'

'Well, you might be in his little gang, but I'm not. I don't have to do what he says.'

She turned back to face him. 'Look, Guy, I know the Doctor's difficult to take at times, but bear with him. He's not always big on easy answers, but the ones he ends up with are generally better than any you might get on your own.'

'How did he know...?' Guy broke off awkwardly. 'That stuff about the piano.'

'Spooky, isn't it?' She shuddered and smiled at the same time. 'Like he's just reaching in with his eyes and pocketing a piece of your past.'

'So,' said Guy, 'are you doing him?'

Anji spluttered with laughter. 'No!'

'Is the other girl?' His eyes widened, he clicked his fingers. 'That guy! Fitz! He's his boyfriend, isn't he!'

Anji stopped laughing. 'What are you talking talking about?' about?'

'Well, the way you all hang around him, do just what he says.' Guy smirked at her. 'You're either all s.h.a.gging him or you're part of some loony cult.'

'We're friends,' said Anji fiercely. 'Well. Most of us, anyway. We've been through a lot.'

'Well, so have I,' said Guy firmly. 'And so has Pete.' He broke off, looked down at the floor. 'He's only six, and scarred for life.'

Anji simmered down a little. 'I know. It's horrible. That's why it's so important that you let the Doctor '

'That lotion of his. It fixed up my face and shoulders pretty good.' He raised an eyebrow. 'Reckon it could work wonders on Pete.'

'You can't just bring that stuff down to a hospital and '

'Why not, for G.o.d's sake?' Guy demanded. 'If it worked on me it'll work on him!'

Anji bit her lip. She totally understood where Guy was coming from, but she knew whatever the Doctor's miracle cure was, the 21st century wasn't ready for it yet. What if it led to another paradox, something that set off this whole nightmare again? 'Guy, you heard the Doctor. It could be really dangerous to meet people you know '

'Look, Anji, you're great, and your flat's lovely, but I'm feeling like I need a little s.p.a.ce right now.' He turned his back, started to leave. 'And I'm grateful for all you've done for me, but there's stuff I have to sort out.'

'Don't be an idiot!' she shouted. Then she froze.

There was something like mist clouding her vision.

'Oh, G.o.d,' said Guy. 'My eyes... This is what it was like before, when...' He stared at her, suddenly wide-eyed and fearful.

Then he bolted.

'Guy, wait!' she yelled. She made to chase after him, but not before she'd grabbed the knife from the worktop, without even thinking.

It was still warm from the Doctor's touch.

Anji's vision cleared. She chucked the knife into the sink and ran from it like it might leap back out and stick in her ribs. She jumped on to her bed, trembling, looked at the clock until the pa.s.sing minutes lost their meaning.

Half an hour had pa.s.sed before she remembered why she'd picked up the knife in the first place. But her flat was long since empty. Guy had gone.

It didn't take a genius to know where he'd be heading for: the hospital. Anji dressed and was out of the house in a matter of minutes. The lift hauled her down twenty storeys in slow luxury. The moment the doors slid open she was tearing through the lobby, heading for her car in the parking bay outside.

She skidded to a halt, felt suddenly sick.

The little girl was standing in front of the MG, clutching her big book and dolly as before. Somewhere behind the car she could hear the dog snuffling about. The girl's wonky eyes were full of sadness; Anji knew instinctively that this little girl endured a lonely, unhappy life. Probably bullied for looking the way she did. For being different.

Anji took a step towards the girl. 'You were hanging round yesterday,' she said. 'Do you live round here?'

As the child shook her head, her blonde hair swept back and forth over her shoulders. 'My name's Chloe.'

'I'm '

'You're Anji' She smiled, a big Snoopy-at-suppertime grin. 'Mum.'

Anji frowned, felt an inexplicable chill run through her again. 'Er don't think so, sweetheart. Where is your mum, anyway? Shouldn't she be '

'Jamais will keep trying to keep the mists away,' Chloe told her. 'And I will watch over you. I'll be there for you when you can't find your way.' She nodded, the smile shrinking a little. 'That's a promise.'

Anji stared at Chloe. There was something weird about this child, something almost unearthly she couldn't quite fathom. She wanted to ask what had happened to her eyes, but she didn't dare to.

Chloe rushed forwards suddenly, dropped her doll and her book and hugged Anji close. She squirmed in the child's grip, embarra.s.sed, unsure what to do.

'You shouldn't even talk to strangers,' she warned, struggling to get free. 'Let alone hug them.'

'You're not going to be be a stranger,' murmured Chloe, pressing her pale freckled face into the black folds of Anji's coat. She squeezed Anji so tight that she could hardly breathe. a stranger,' murmured Chloe, pressing her pale freckled face into the black folds of Anji's coat. She squeezed Anji so tight that she could hardly breathe.

'Guy needs you now. At the hospital. But we'll meet again soon.' With that, Chloe let go of Anji, s.n.a.t.c.hed up her book and dolly and ran away. A flash of black bolted from behind her car as the dog dashed away too and disappeared round the corner.

'Wait,' called Anji, her head reeling with unanswered questions.

She reached the corner and saw Chloe and her dog had run into a tall, broad man, middle-aged, in a dark, well-cut suit. His grey hair was neatly combed and parted. He took the little girl roughly by the arm and stalked away down the street, the dog trailing along behind them.

Eight.

The end of the quest For once, the TARDIS didn't look at all out of place, even though people had to step round it to pa.s.s on the pavement. The Doctor smiled; he could almost hear the old girl's delighted thrumming through the police box facade. Blending back into her old home, her proper place.

The Doctor strode off along Charing Cross Road to find the antiquarian bookshop. It was a delightful October afternoon, crisp and clear, filled with noise and crowds and bustle. After a time battling through the crowds, the Doctor nipped down a side street and emerged more or less opposite the bookshop. He grinned up at the peeling painted letters on the dark green h.o.a.rding. The real thing. Magnificent.

He paused to apply his disguise. It wouldn't do to be recognised. Too much was at stake. He carefully stuck a Rhett Butler moustache on to his upper lip, pulled on an eyepatch, and produced a collapsible topper that almost slipped down over his ears. He checked his reflection in the window of a coffee shop, and turned several heads. Then, with a cheery wave, he set off to save a small but perfectly formed universe.

The door to the bookshop rattled and jingled as he opened it. An old woman, her hair grey and dusty as the several shelves she sat slumped under, gathered her coat about her neck as a draught whistled through.

The Doctor quickly closed the door and cleared his throat. 'h.e.l.lo. I'd like to sell you a book.'

The old woman glanced up. 'Not buying then?' Her voice was like a crackly old record.

'I have a treat for you,' the Doctor told her, smiling faintly. He put the journal carefully, almost respectfully down on the table. The old woman peered at it suspiciously for a moment. 'What is this?'

'It's the expedition journal of the ill-fated Hanson-Galloway excursion to Siberia of 1894. Extremely Extremely ill-fated.' The Doctor patted the book proudly. 'A book that reeks of pioneering spirit.' ill-fated.' The Doctor patted the book proudly. 'A book that reeks of pioneering spirit.'

The old woman flicked open the battered notebook and sniffed noisily. 'I think you'll find it's mildew.'

'Mildew notwithstanding,' said the Doctor with a tight smile, 'I'm sure you'll have sold it within...' He pulled the fob watch from his waistcoat pocket and checked it. 'Oh, about three days.'

She gave him a dubious look and returned to counting her little pile of coins. 'One and six,' she announced after a while, pus.h.i.+ng a s.h.i.+lling and a sixpence across the table. 'Take it or leave it.'

'I'll take it,' said the Doctor brightly. He scrutinised the coins, and beamed at the worn profile of dear old George VI. 'Thank you so much.' He skipped across to the door and flung it open so hard it nearly left its hinges. Then he pulled off his top hat and spread both arms wide to the clear blue sky. 'h.e.l.lo, reality!' he yelled. 'You are cleared to land!'

'Push off!' shouted the old woman, frowning with a face that could scare pigs. 'And shut that bloomin' door!'

The Doctor did as he was bid, and strode off with a spring in his step. The deed was done, the sacrifices, quite frankly, worth it. And if he'd brought about what Sabbath had wanted all along, and if this newly resolved universe was now in danger once again, well then he'd just have to rescue it again, wouldn't he? Such battles characterised his life. The faces and the locations changed, but the situations boiled down to the same essence. Him. Turning the tables on some grim and witless evil. Again and always, ad infinitum ad infinitum.

He stopped, suddenly tired. He'd been walking for some time, but still hadn't reached Charing Cross Road. Grey smog was rolling in, curious on such a dry, clear, sunlit day. He felt chilled, the slow rolling cold of anaesthetic swirling through his senses.

The people around him were going about their business as if nothing was wrong. But time was slowing. A tunnel was opening up before him. Vague, awful shapes flitted about within it.

The Doctor, like a rabbit breaking free of headlights' glare, made a dash for it. He could still perceive London through the thick fog, ghostly bright and speckled like a silent movie projected in a smoky theatre.

His footfalls were soundless, the pavement as soft and sticky as bread and b.u.t.ter pudding. People mouthed reproaches as he pushed past, ploughing through the crowds. The cold wraiths swooped overhead, darted down with neat skill and snapped at his coat tails.

Then the TARDIS was in front of him and he was pus.h.i.+ng inside it.

The fog was gone. The vast interior of his s.h.i.+p was silent save for the comforting hum of its improbable systems. The Doctor fell to his knees and crouched there, s.h.i.+vering for many minutes.

All was not well, then.

At length, he rose timidly and pressed the b.u.t.tons that would return him to Anji's present. The TARDIS took him there quickly too quickly. A wisp of steam rose from the console. The Doctor eyed it suspiciously as it coiled in the air, lingering like an old ache.

The doors opened by themselves.

'How could I resist such a charming invitation?' muttered the Doctor, as he left to face whatever was waiting outside.

It was the sea, dim and rolling stormily under a sky as hard and black as rock. The stars were like mica dust upon it. The waves thundered in, restless and lonely. The Doctor took a step forwards on this strange sh.o.r.e. Pebbles crunched wetly under his shoe.

Then the fog was back, first in cotton candy wisps then in great billowing sheets, tough and sticky as cobwebs, engulfing him. He pitched forwards, felt the cold sea sting his skin, soak his sleeve, felt his thoughts freeze over.

Nine.

Diamond cut diamond 'How're we going to kill him, then?'

Susan looked up at her husband from where she lay sprawled on the couch and smiled wryly. 'That's the fun part, isn't it? We can be creative.'

'At least he's ugiy,' said Ralf. He'd spread the pictures of their intended victim all over the coffee table. 'We'll be doing him a favour, knocking him off.'

'And satisfying a deeply deeply psychotic need in ourselves,' added Susan extravagantly. She sighed, as if the effort had exhausted her, and returned to patching up her crimson nails. 'The streets will be safer places while we have homes like his to kill in.' psychotic need in ourselves,' added Susan extravagantly. She sighed, as if the effort had exhausted her, and returned to patching up her crimson nails. 'The streets will be safer places while we have homes like his to kill in.'

Ralf gave her a look that carried a trace of disapproval, before crossing to the living room window. He stared out over the little rectangle of Battersea it afforded him. Had it only been a day since they'd bought themselves this bizarre once-in-a-lifetime opportunity?

'Be dark soon,' he observed, with a s.h.i.+ver.

'We should do it at night.' She shrugged. 'Or is that too cliched? Deeds of darkness, and all that.'

He drew the curtains, flicked on the kettle. 'Well, it is is murder.' murder.'

'Daylight robbery, more like. 75,000 in diamonds for the pleasure?' She snorted, smoothed the nail varnish over her little toenail. 'Make us a coffee while you're there.'

'We're out.'

'Oh well. We can nick some from Signor Nencini's pad. Bound to be good stuff there Italians understand coffee.' She closed her eyes and wriggled her toes with their perfect crimson nails. 'Mmmm.'

Ralf dropped his tea bag in the mug. 'It is a bit steep, isn't it? Having to fork out all those diamonds... When we could go out and slit some random b.u.g.g.e.r's throat for free.'

'True. But it would be over in a flash, and you'd be starring in the Evening Standard Evening Standard and on and on Crimewatch Crimewatch before you'd washed your sticky red hands.' Susan smiled. 'I suppose if Timeless sets it all up so it's consequence free, and chooses victims that no one will miss...' before you'd washed your sticky red hands.' Susan smiled. 'I suppose if Timeless sets it all up so it's consequence free, and chooses victims that no one will miss...'

Ralf gave her a funny look as he poured in the boiling water. '"They've got to die anyway", that creep Basalt said. What do you think he meant by that, Trix?'

She leaped up from the shapeless sofa, suddenly furious. 'Susan!' she bellowed. He jumped, splashed water, scalded his wrist. 'Who the h.e.l.l is Trix?'

'Oh, shut up. I don't feel like being Ralf for a while, all right? I want to be Fitz for a bit.' He sucked at his wrist. 'And that makes you Trix, and us not married. Yippee.'

'Amateur,' Trix muttered under her breath.

'Freak!' he retorted. 'You're starting to scare me, the way you're getting into all this.'

'I'm getting into character character, you sap.'

'Jesus.' Fitz shook his head. 'Why the Doctor volunteered us for this on the word of some little girl...'