Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [4]
‘Why did we have to get that bus?’ said the girl. ‘Couldn’t we have caught the train?’
‘You’ve forgotten, Ace,’ said the little man. ‘We did get a train, as far as we could, from Chicago to Lamy. From Lamy we had no choice but to travel by bus.’ He said it to the girl as if reminding her of a fact she’d been taught in a lesson.
Butcher filed that away. He watched them in the mirror. He had a good view of them, which meant they had a good view of him too. But thanks to his sunglasses they couldn’t read anything in his eyes as he listened and evaluated.
As he drove on the long dusty road back to Los Alamos there was a lengthy silence and Butcher began to wonder if he’d wasted his time by posing as their driver. Then suddenly the little man spoke up.
‘Don’t forget to take your capsule.’
‘Yes Doctor,’ said the girl wearily. She opened the beaded purse she had on her lap, depicting a map of the state of New Mexico in red, white and pale blue beads, and took out a small silver box like the kind you keep expensive eyeglasses in. It was curved at the edges and had an odd, dull glow. It was more like pewter than silver, Butcher decided. He couldn’t see any hinge on the box but the girl ran her thumbnail into what must have been a hairline slit and opened it up.
A bright glow spilled from the box as though it was lined with mirrors and reflecting the bright desert sunlight, shining on the girl’s face. She took out a small, dark, shiny capsule about the size of a plump red grape. The girl made a premonitory wince and popped the capsule in her mouth. She swallowed it with her eyes shut. Then she opened her eyes and looked at the little man.
‘Happy?’
8
‘Come on,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t taste that bad.’
‘I don’t see you taking any.’
‘I don’t need to,’ said the small man smugly.
Butcher’s eyes left the mirror and returned to the road in front of him. The sparse scrub of the desert landscape was opening up into a valley and centred in that valley was Los Alamos. From this vantage point it was clear why everybody called it the Hill. Beyond it, in the distance, was a jagged blue line of mountains. The Jemez Mountains. And, further removed, the Sangre de Cristo.
‘Now are you sure you’re clear on everything?’ said the man in the back seat.
‘Sure,’ said the girl. ‘What’s not to be clear about? It’s another caper like the one with Dr Judson.’
‘I’m not sure I approve of you using the word caper,’ said the small man.
Butcher filed the girl’s comment away in his mind, along with the name Judson, for further evaluation and investigation.
‘Although hopefully it will rain a little less here,’ said the man, peering out at the passing desert landscape.
The girl was suddenly sulky. She said, ‘Well I’m not going to be dressed suitably, no matter what kind of weather we’re having, am I?’
‘I think you look splendid,’ said the man.
‘Thanks for that but we both know I look like Bozo the Clown.’
‘Really Ace.’
‘Acacia.’
‘Really Acacia, you look perfectly fine.’
‘Everyone is going to laugh their heads off.’
‘Everyone will think you look very pretty and striking.’
‘Not unless they’re blind in both eyes. Really, Doctor.’ The girl looked downcast. Butcher wondered what all the fuss was about. He couldn’t see what the girl was wearing under that white rain coat, but he doubted it was anything that would shock the hard-bitten military personnel or the cynical academics who populated the Hill.
‘I told you where we were going,’ said the man.
‘I know but I thought you said the Alamo,’ said the girl.
‘The word has the same derivation. It means the poplars.’
‘Stuff the poplars. I’m going to be a laughing stock.’
‘I’m sure everything will be fine,’ said the little man complacently. Butcher hardly heard these last words, though. He was too busy trying to puzzle out the meaning of the girl’s comment about the Alamo. Butcher himself had never felt moved to visit the historical fort in Texas, but he doubted there was any special dress code in force in its vicinity.
9
The little man