Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [32]
Finally Ray wiped his face on his shirt sleeve, put his bowl aside, and lurched over to the record player. He set about the laborious business of changing needles on the tone arm. ‘Are those cactus needles?’ said the Doctor, as Ray opened the tin.
Ray grunted an affirmative as he concentrated on fitting the new needle.
‘How fascinating.’
Ray finished with the tone arm and set about selecting a record from his large collection. The Doctor inspected the tin of cactus needles. Ray regarded him benignly, as though he was a fellow enthusiast. Ace decided that a belly full of excellent chilli, at the Doctor’s expense, had a lot to do with that benign expression. Ray said, ‘And you can only use each one just one time, baby.’
The Doctor lifted his eyebrows in polite surprise. ‘Really?’
‘Really man.’ A hunted expression crossed Ray’s face. ‘Out here in the middle of the desert and can I get a cactus needle?’ He took the tin from the Doctor. It’s unbelievable, baby.’
‘You seem to be doing quite well,’ said the Doctor.
‘But I might run out, daddy-o, I might run out.’ Cosmic Ray’s eyes glittered anxiously. ‘I might run out at any time.’
‘Ray,’ said the Doctor. ‘Do you mind if I ask you a question?’ Ray shrugged, his back to them, as he put on a record. ‘Transblucency’ by Duke Ellington.
The music blasted and surged. When it was over, Ray turned to the Doctor and spoke as if the conversation hadn’t been interrupted.
‘What question, man?’
‘Why did Major Butcher go to all the trouble of appearing here in person yesterday, brandishing a gun, just to confiscate a record by Lady Silk?’
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‘Well it’s like this. Butcher baby is a stickler for the rules and the rules say that it’s against the law to listen to Silk sing. She might subvert us or convert us or divert us. From our appointed task. She’s in the employ of the enemy, so listening to her is disloyal and un-American and all that jive.’
‘But even so, that hardly justifies turning up with a gun in his hand.
Wouldn’t his time be better employed looking for spies?’
Ray lifted the tone arm, discarding the old cactus needle and inserting a new one. Ace could see a sly grin on his face. ‘That’s exactly what he thought he was doing.’
‘But even if he suspects you of being a spy, why should he be concerned about what music you listen to?’
Ray’s grin widened. ‘He thinks they’re sending me coded messages.’
‘Coded messages?’
‘That’s it baby, in the songs. The songs Lady Silk sings. Butcher thinks Jap high command is sending me messages in the songs.’
It was after midnight by the time they left Ray’s apartment and the moon was high over the mesa, shining on the distant mountains, its white light detailing the unearthly landscape. The Doctor and Ace walked along carrying the basket with the empty casserole in it. ‘You know what Ray said,’ said Ace.
‘About the songs having coded messages in them?’
‘Sounds like a classic paranoid delusion, doesn’t it?’
‘It does a bit. Does that mean that Major Butcher is a nutcase?’
The Doctor sighed. ‘I keep telling everyone not to underestimate Butcher.’
‘But he thinks Oppy is some kind of Russian spy, doesn’t he? And that’s not true at all, is it?’
‘No,’ said the Doctor. ‘Not at all.’ His voice was strangely sad, and after a moment he went on. ‘But despite successfully building the atomic bomb for them, our friend Oppenheimer never wins the trust of his own government. In a few years’ time he is going to be brought to trial over his security clearance.
And guess who will be testifying against him. I’ll give you a clue. You’ve already seen him having a furious argument with Oppy.’
‘Teller?’
‘Yes. Edward Teller. He and Oppenheimer will become mortal enemies.’
Ace looked up