Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues - Andrew Cartmel [79]
There was a momentary silence in the room. Then Ace spoke, in a voice that began softly but swiftly rose until it was almost a shriek, ‘You mean you 137
did all this to collect a record?’
Ray rocked back from her defensively. He picked up his record bag and clutched it to his chest as though it was a child in need of protection.
‘A whole bunch of records, man.’
138
Chapter Eleven
California Death Cult
‘I don’t care how many effing records you’ve managed to collect,’ said Ace.
She was spitting out the words with such venom that saliva sprayed from her mouth, but she didn’t care. ‘You opened a portal between dimensions for that?
You tampered with the fabric of reality just for that?’
‘Desire, baby.’ Ray seemed upset that she didn’t understand. ‘That was the key. The final piece of the puzzle. My equations only took me so far. Then Silk and Lee got their hooks into me and took me the rest of the way with their hoodoo. And, baby, it worked. I could cross over into a universe that had what I wanted. But they came too, man. Silk and Lee and their crew. They came with me. That was the deal.’
‘Or the pact,’ said the Doctor coldly. ‘You do realise that you’ve jeopardised this world? That with your twenty-first-century knowledge of physics you are in danger of destabilising the atomic bomb programme?’
‘I didn’t know it at the time, man. I knew there’d be a price to pay, but I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t realise what Silk and Lee were up to. They’re fanatics, man.’
‘And do you know what they’re up to now?’
‘They don’t tell me everything. But I’m not stupid. I know it’s not good.’
‘That’s a considerable understatement,’ said the Doctor.
‘It certainly is,’ said a woman’s voice. They all turned to look at the stairwell, where a figure was rising gracefully from the shadows. The woman was elegant and diminutive. She wore a green-and-white checked jacket, tailored to swell at the shoulders and taper sharply at the waist. Under the jacket she wore a top made of a single panel of clinging dark green silk with a circular neck. Her skirt was made of the same silk and under it her legs were bare.
She wore black slippers on her small feet. Seeing her face in photographs had in no way prepared Ace for the reality of the woman’s beauty. Her skin was a shade of ivory and her eyes a deep green that matched her clothing. Slen-der sculpted black eyebrows echoed the curves of her high cheekbones. Her exquisite lips were a deep, bright shade of candy red.
Lady Silk came up the stairs and into the room, her slippers whispering on the floor. She walked past Ace and the Doctor, tied in their chairs, as if they 139
didn’t exist. Ray Morita looked up at her as she came and sat down beside him on the raised semicircle of floor. ‘I thought I asked you not to wander off, Ray.’ Her voice was a gentle purr. Ray lifted his head to look at her like a cow raising its head to the man in the slaughterhouse who held the hammer. His expression was an odd amalgam of fear and tenderness.
‘I heard that there were prisoners, Silk, and I had to see if they were my buddies. So I came up to take a look.’
Lady Silk adjusted her skirt to cover the pale curves of her knees, thereby drawing the attention of anyone who hadn’t already noticed her bare, shapely legs. Ace felt a wave of hatred for the woman that seemed strong enough to tear her out of the chair, to rip apart her bonds. But it wasn’t. Lady Silk looked up at her with a lazy amused smile, as if she sensed Ace’s rage. ‘And were they? Your buddies?’
‘Yeah, man. They’re my friends. So can’t we let them go?’
‘Sure, Ray. Why didn’t you say so?’ Lady Silk got to her feet and lifted her skirt high above one perfect thigh. There, strapped to her, was a knife in a sheath. She drew the knife and held it high. In the dimming light of the room its blade looked blue. She went over and stood behind Ace. Ace