Doctor Who_ Alien Bodies - Lawrence Miles [14]
The Black Man opened his eyes, at last. His irises, Homunculette saw, were as dark as his skin. ‘They’ve always sold weapons in this place,’ the Black Man said. ‘Weapons to their friends, weapons to their enemies. Got the works. Plasma rifles. You want plasma rifles? Real ex-military. Got pistols, got mortars. Even got alien bigshot guns. Expensive, those alien bigshot guns.’ His smile widened ever so slightly, and his face wrinkled up, making him look several decades older than he had before.
Having said that, Homunculette wasn’t sure how old he’d looked before. ‘Relics. I’m interested in relics. That’s all.’
The Black Man laughed at that. The laugh was almost subsonic. ‘What kind of relics you thinking of? Relics that go “boom”?’
Homunculette shook his head, then leaned forward, so he could hiss the next three words without the mannequins hearing.
‘The Toy Store,’ he said.
The Black Man didn’t reply straight away. Homunculette watched his irises widening, blotting out the whites of his eyes. Homunculette wondered if the man was using some kind of narcotic. It’d explain the smile, anyway.
‘Expensive,’ the Black Man said, eventually.
‘Not important,’ Homunculette snapped.
The Black Man nodded. ‘Whatever you say. Got most of the stuff they kept in the Toy Store. Got things the Cybermen left behind, back in the 2030s. Got real Ice Warrior relics, from before they dropped the rock. Your kind of line?’
‘No. I’m looking for something specific. A box. A casket. Two metres long, made of metal. It’s got –’
‘Sorry,’ the Black Man cut in. ‘Can’t help you.’
Homunculette flinched. What was that supposed to mean? ‘It’s important,’ he insisted.
‘Can’t help you.’ The Black Man shrugged, and stretched, but he didn’t stop grinning. ‘Try next door. Try the zombie-men in the House of Lords. Hah-hah.’
Homunculette bared his teeth. ‘Listen to me. You don’t know who I represent. We want the Relic, and we know it’s here. We scanned this planet’s entire timeline. We worked out that this was the most opportune moment to remove it.’ He emphasised the bit about scanning the timeline. If this man dealt in alien technology, he’d probably heard of the Time Lords, even if it was just as a rumour.
The Black Man didn’t look impressed, though. ‘Don’t got it,’ he said. ‘Had it.’
Homunculette felt himself blanche. ‘You... had it?’
‘Had it. Went.’
No. No, no, no. The High Council had been sure this timeframe was the best era to seize the Relic. If the Black Man had already sold it, it meant...
...that someone else had intervened.
Someone time-active.
The enemy?
‘We need it,’ Homunculette gibbered. ‘You don’t understand. We need it. The war... if we’re going to stand a chance...’ He stumbled towards the throne, fists clenched, adrenaline glands working overtime. He guessed there were probably self-targeting defence systems around the chamber, homing in on him even now, but at this stage he didn’t much care. The Black Man threw up his arms, presumably in a gesture of peace.
‘Careful,’ he said. ‘Careful.’ Calmly, he reached into the pocket of his topcoat. ‘Matter of fact, my buyer... the man in question... said there’d be someone else turning up after the property. Left a message. See?’
He held something out for Homunculette to inspect. Homunculette blinked. It was a card, like a business card, but thinner than paper and a brilliant silver in colour. Cautiously, he took it from the Black Man’s hand, then turned it over in his palm. The card was covered in scratches and swirls, which seemed to reorganise themselves as he watched, forming words in High Gallifreyan. He noticed a set of co-ordinates, apparently for a TARDIS navigational system.
‘An invitation?’ Homunculette queried.
‘See? You want the property, you go talk to the new owner.’ The Black Man leaned back on his throne. ‘You want any bigshot guns, you come back, hah?’
Homunculette looked up at him, but the man had already closed his eyes. He waved at the walls, and the female voice started shaking the floor again.
‘...every time we say