Doctor Who_ Alien Bodies - Lawrence Miles [51]
Bregman felt like screaming. ‘Enough, OK? What’s your point?’
‘I don’t think this room’s part of the building at all. I think it kind of... materialised here.’ Sam crossed the floor again, giving the dais a wide berth. She was heading for the other opening, Bregman realised, the archway set into the wall on the far side of the dome. ‘See? Another way out. I’ll bet you any money you like it goes deeper into the ship.’
‘Ship?’ Bregman queried.
Sam stopped by the doorway. She slipped her hand into the back pocket of her jeans, although it looked to Bregman like an automatic movement, like she didn’t really know what she was doing. For the first time, Bregman noticed a big lump in the fabric there. ‘Faction Paradox,’ Sam was saying. ‘Didn’t that man... Homunculette, is that his name? Didn’t he say something about the Faction nicking their technology off the Time Lords? Oh, hell.’
Sam had fished a small paperback book out of her pocket. From the other side of the room, Bregman could see the words GENETIC POLITICS BEYOND SOMETHING-OR-OTHER on the cover. Sam was staring at the book as though she’d just pulled a live mackerel out of her pants.
‘I thought I left this...’ she began, then trailed off. ‘Whatever. The Doctor’s magic pockets must be infectious.’ She started flicking through the book, finally stopping at a page near the end.
She mumbled something Bregman didn’t quite catch, but it sounded like “I wonder if a fraction hose how to builder tar diss”.
It was at 17:44, when he was starting to think about letting the sun set over the Unthinkable City, that Mr Qixotl’s luck ran out and he met up with the Doctor.
Really, he should have confronted the Time Lord as soon as he’d had the chance, but quite frankly Qixotl didn’t have the nerve to go through with that kind of full-scale confrontation. So he’d been scurrying around the ziggurat like a headless cockroach for the last hour or so, finding things to do around the passageways, little loose ends to be tied up before the auction. Anything to put off the inevitable.
Finally, he made the mistake of leaving the high-security section on the second level and taking the staircase back down to the ground floor. The Doctor was waiting for him at the bottom of the steps. That was the way it seemed to Qixotl, anyhow. The meeting was probably accidental, but the Doctor had a nasty habit of making everything he did look preplanned.
‘At last!’ the Doctor said, clapping his hands together.
Just my luck, thought Qixotl, he’s in one of his self-righteous regenerations. Qixotl froze on the steps, giving himself the advantage of height, if nothing else. ‘Erm, yeah. Doctor. Hi. Listen. I’m a bit busy right now –’
‘So I see,’ interrupted the Doctor. Mr Qixotl wondered if anyone around here would ever let him finish a sentence. ‘The Time Lords. Faction Paradox. The living dead. Quite an assortment.’
‘Business is business, Doctor. Can’t begrudge a man for trying to make a decent living, can you?’
The Doctor looked suspicious. ‘And you know who I am, as well. Have we met before?’
‘Er, well...’
‘“Qixotl”. That’s not your real name.’
‘How d’you know?’
‘Because “Qixotl” is what they call the god of ludicrous profit margins on Golobus. Quite egocentric of you, I’d have thought.’ He furrowed his forehead. ‘We’ve met before. I know we have. I’m not sure you always had that face, though. I can’t quite put my finger on what it is about you...’
‘Well, never mind that now, yeah?’ Qixotl realised he was backing away up the stairs. The Doctor was advancing accordingly, matching him step for step. ‘Look, Doctor, you know what it’s like. I’ve got enough on my hands, y’know, what with having to stop the bidders tearing each other to bits and all. I really don’t think they’re going to be too happy about someone like you walking around the place, no offence meant.’
The Doctor took offence anyway. ‘Why? Do I have some kind of reputation?’
That’s putting it mildly, thought