Doctor Who_ Trading Futures Part 14

'Navigating,' the Doctor said suddenly. 'Everyone talks about navigating when they drive. Few people get to actually do it. Drive a car in the sea.'

He laughed, but the sound was cold, quite disturbing.

He pulled hard left, the car aquaplaned a little, but turned like he'd hoped it would.

'Who are you working for?' Malady asked. 'You're British, but '

'I'm not British,' the Doctor told her abruptly.

'English. Whatever you call yourselves these days.'

'I'm not working for anyone.'

'You're in this for yourself? Is that it? You're hoping to get this "time machine" for yourself.'

'No thanks, I've already got one, you see.'

She believed him. Malady realised that at some point she'd accepted there was a time machine. Now she accepted there were at least two. When had that happened? Why would she believe such a stupid thing to believe?

'Doctor, if we're going to work together, then I need '

He turned to look at her, without slowing the car. 'No. You can follow me around if you want. You can even help me. But anything you "need", you'll have to find on your own.'

He slammed his foot down, the car squished to a halt.

'What's that?'

'You don't know?'

'I wouldn't ask if I didn't know.'

Malady laughed. 'Now, Doctor, you don't expect me to believe that, do you?'

'What is it?'

The robot was about eight feet tall, roughly humanoid although with its long arms and short legs, it looked more like a gorilla than a human.

'It's a RealWar teletroop. A cla.s.s three.'

'I see...'

'You must have seen them on the news. RealWar are always boasting about them.'

'They have EZ logos. So they're a European company? Do the Americans have anything similar?'

'RealWar are a Russian corporation, and they're happy to sell to both sides.'

'You say that with a sneer, but isn't that just free enterprise in operation? They've found a gap in the market and exploited it.'

'Now who's talking with a sneer?'

The Doctor smiled. 'It's excellent workmans.h.i.+p.'

Two of the robots were working together one holding up a building, its back against the wall, the other holding up its arm to act as a bridge to the adjacent building, which was structurally intact. There were half a dozen people hurrying over to safety.

'For the prices they charge...'

'How far away will the operators be?'

'They could be working from the other side of the world. In this case, there will be a base camp close by.'

The Doctor nodded.

Anji held the telephone tentatively.

'Is anything the matter?' Dee asked.

Anji shook her head, unable to think of anything to say.

'What time is it in Was.h.i.+ngton?' she asked, finally.

'Worried about waking the President up?' Baskerville chuckled.

'Er... what are they? Six hours behind? So it would be...'

'My dear, don't you think the prospect of America getting its hands on a time machine is worth interrupting his breakfast for?'

'Of course.'

'How would you normally contact him?' Dee asked.

'Er...'

Baskerville waved his hand. 'Don't worry about that, Dee. Anji, would you like this conversation to be in private?'

'Yes. That's it.'

'Go to your cabin, if you want.'

'Thank you.' She got up, and walked over to the stairs that led below deck.

She'd been allocated a small cabin, second on the left. There were six cabins in total. As far as she could gather, Baskerville and Dee's relations.h.i.+p was platonic. She'd not seen much of the East European guy, but he didn't share with Dee or Baskerville, for that matter. And, somewhere on this yacht, was she presumed the time machine itself, removed from the office block before disaster hit.

Anji took out her mobile, rang directory enquiries she'd asked for the operator, but it turned out to be a fully automated service, and asked for a number for the President of the United States, saying she was CIA. The service automatically connected her, and the phone started to ring.

She a.s.sumed the cabin was bugged, at the very least. Tonight, she'd be undressing under the bedsheets, and probably showering in her bikini. It was like she was a contestant on Big Brother. She'd have to be careful how she played this phone call, too.

Anji didn't expect to get straight through to the President, but she was a bit annoyed to hear some old dear tell her she was through to the White House general enquiries line. It was obviously the one the little kids and nutters were directed to.

'Hi, I'm a CIA agent,' Anji began.

'Of course you are,' the woman said in that way that you'd describe as 'sweetly', but which was oozing with patronising scorn. 'How can I help?'

'Tell the President it's Malady Chang, and then put me through to him.'

The phone clicked, then started ringing.

'Yes,' a deep, firm voice answered.

'Mr President, this is Malady Chang.'

He hesitated for what seemed like three years.

'h.e.l.lo there, Malady. I guess in the circ.u.mstances you're using any phone you can?' He was playing along.

'That's right, Mr President' was that what CIA agents called the President? 'I have to tell you that this line might not be secure. But Baskerville has a time machine, and I've seen it work for myself.'

'Understood, Malady. So...'

The door to the cabin opened, and Baskerville walked in, and took Anji's phone from her.

'We can end this charade. Mr President, this is Baskerville. Mr President, your agent here has seen that I have a working time machine. She says that your government has access to the European ULTRA computer... Are you saying that she's lying, sir?... I require half an hour's access to ULTRA. In return, I will give you the blueprints that will allow you to build a time machine, and I will supply certain components, special minerals and software that will allow you to build a working version... I will only hand over the blueprints to you, personally. And we will do that in Istanbul... Istanbul, Mr President, or no deal... Be at the Green Hotel, Istanbul, in exactly twenty four hours. That's one twenty, European Standard Time.'

Baskerville pressed the b.u.t.ton that ended the call, and turned to Anji.

'Thank you, Ms Chang.'

Cosgrove slumped back in his seat, amazed.

'A trick?' Penny Lik asked him. The young Service lieutenant who'd called him into the communications room was nodding. There were four other techies there, sat at their consoles, connected to ear and eyephones. None of them thought it was genuine not on an open line, without even basic encryption.

Cosgrove wasn't so sure.

'I've met Baskerville, and that was his voice.'

'Voice patterns of the other man match the President.'

'But they wouldn't use an open line,' one of the techies complained, and Cosgrove knew the man was right.

'Do you know who the girl is?' Cosgrove asked. 'She didn't sound American.'

'All we know is that she isn't Malady Chang.'

The picture of an attractive Chinese girl in USAF dress uniform appeared on all the video screens. It was a formal portrait although she looked too old for it to be a graduation photograph. Perhaps it had been taken to celebrate a promotion.

'That is Lieutenant Commander Malady Chang. And is Lieutenant Commander Malady Chang. And this this is what she sounded like last year when she attended a meeting in New Kabul.' is what she sounded like last year when she attended a meeting in New Kabul.'

'Not very much. I'm interested to see you. But there's something I'd like to get finished. It will only take three or four minutes '

A Californian accent, unmistakable, and almost entirely unlike the woman on the phone.

'She sounded English,' one of the techies agreed. That was Stevens, a linguistics expert. The first time Cosgrove had worked with him, he'd been impressed when he'd just said h.e.l.lo, and Stevens had deduced Cosgrove had a Swiss mother and hadn't lived in Scotland since the late fifties. sounded English,' one of the techies agreed. That was Stevens, a linguistics expert. The first time Cosgrove had worked with him, he'd been impressed when he'd just said h.e.l.lo, and Stevens had deduced Cosgrove had a Swiss mother and hadn't lived in Scotland since the late fifties.

'You can do better than that.'

'I can. Like you, Professor Lik, that woman is a university*educated third*generation immigrant brought up in London. Her family were originally from Pakistan, though, not Korea. She's... there's something else in there.'

'Something else?' Cosgrove asked.

'Yes. Everything about the way we speak is influenced by our surroundings. If you work abroad, your voice starts picking up new inflections. That woman... she sounded like she was in her twenties, but spoke like a woman twice that old. There are other things in there I don't even recognise.'

'Something else,' Cosgrove told them. 'She asked for "the operator". Do any of you youngsters even know what that means?'

They shook their heads.

'No, you wouldn't. So, we have an anomaly. Another one.' He rubbed his chin. 'Stevens, Inform London '

'London, sir, not Brussels?'

'I said London, lieutenant.'

'Sir.'

'Inform them that the President of the United States is going to be in Istanbul this time tomorrow.'

He nodded and set about his work.

Brooks turned to Cosgrove. 'We need to increase security to the ULTRA computer.'

Cosgrove smiled. 'No. Let's give them access, see how they get in, and what they really want to use it for.'

'Sir.'

To the next man along. 'We also need to locate the man from Neverland and get an ID on this Anglo*Indian woman.'

Finally, to Brooks. 'And we've still not found "the Doctor". I want him located. See if you can hack the CIA database to see where Malady Chang is posted at the moment.'

Cosgrove turned away.

'Sir,' Brooks said.

'Don't you understand your orders, Brooks?'

'Sir... I've found them. The Doctor and Malady Chang. They're in a Land Rover, heading towards the business district. Here in Athens.'