Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [71]
‘Yes. I still want to know who the hell Uncle Sam is.’
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Chapter Ten
Chapel of the Red Apocalypse
In the shadowy seclusion of the baggage compartment they tore away the TARDIS’s shroud of brown wrapping paper and went back inside, where the Doctor, with the aid of a yellow and crumbling 1944 Los Angeles telephone directory, an equally yellow and fragile gas-station map from the period and a sophisticated computer the size and shape of a glistening black pearl that projected a detailed three-dimensional map of the city, set their co-ordinates.
‘Which address on Duke Ellington’s list shall we investigate first?’
‘Well,’ said Ace, ‘as much as I liked the sound of those drinking establishments, especially the less salubrious ones, I think probably that church-type place.’
‘I agree,’ said the Doctor.
The sun was setting as they arrived, painting the Los Angeles sky in shades of salmon pink and scarlet. They materialised among a verdant patch of shrubbery in the grounds of a large Mexican-style house. The grounds were screened from the road and neighbouring dwellings by a white brick wall topped with curved red tiles. The air in the garden was clean and clear and full of the smell of flowers. ‘I was expecting smog,’ said Ace, sniffing appreciatively at the evening breeze. ‘It being LA and all.’
‘That particular ecological nightmare is still some ten or twenty years away,’
said the Doctor, sealing the door of the TARDIS. There were trees and bushes all around, and these provided useful concealment for the incongruity of the blue police box. By the time they’d walked ten feet from it, the TARDIS was effectively hidden from sight. The Doctor studied the house. It was a cube-shaped dwelling with pink-and-white stucco walls, and elaborate arches over the windows and along a balcony that appeared to run around the entire second floor. In the centre of the flat roof was a curious domed structure.
The Doctor peered up at it. ‘Astronomical observatory, by the look of it.’
‘You mean they’ve got a telescope in there?’
‘So it would seem.’
‘For watching the neighbours undress?’
‘Quite possibly. Now I suppose the thing to do is to cook up some kind of story to get us inside.’
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‘Why didn’t we just land the TARDIS inside in the first place?’
‘Because then we would have had to cook up an even more elaborate story to explain how we’d got inside.’
‘I suppose you’re right,’ said Ace, following the Doctor across the neatly trimmed lawn, past lush flowerbeds shedding their delicate fragrances as the day faded around them. ‘It doesn’t look much like a church.’
‘This is California, Ace.’ They emerged from the palm trees fringing the garden onto a pink gravel driveway that led down in one direction towards a gateway in the white brick wall fitted with a black wrought-iron gate, and in the other direction up towards the front of the house. The Doctor turned and walked down towards the gate.
‘Where are you going?’
‘We just need to confirm something before we go any further,’ said the Doctor. He reached for the gate and took hold of its black iron bars and pulled on them. The gate gently eased open with the creak of rusting hinges. ‘Excellent,’
said the Doctor with satisfaction.
‘So the gate opens. So what?’
‘The gate is unlocked, Ace. We might have had some trouble explaining how we’d got inside if, say, it had been sealed with half a dozen formidable padlocks and a substantial length of chain.’
‘You could always say you were Harry Houdini.’
‘Right country, wrong period,’ said the Doctor. Ace followed him back up the driveway towards the house, the gravel shifting under her shoes. From somewhere nearby there was the somnolent splash of running water.
‘So what story have we cooked up?’ said Ace.
‘Hmm, good point.’ The Doctor checked his pockets. He took out the small wallet he had shown to Duke Ellington. ‘I still have this rather impressive-looking badge with me. It seems a shame to let it go to waste.’
‘Right, so a Fed it is. Or a G-man.’ The sound of water splashing was