Doctor Who_ Bad Therapy - Matthew Jones [48]
Her face was illuminated by the orange glow of her petrol lighter as she lit a cigarette. She caught sight of the expression on his face and snapped, ‘Don’t start, Chris. We can talk about it later. Let’s just get out of here.’
‘The missus is right,’ Pop grunted, and took hold of one end of the gurney.
‘The guards will have let the dogs out. And worse.’
Chris sighed with angry resignation and gripped the other end of the trolley and started to pull it aggressively across the forest floor.
∗ ∗ ∗
79
Moments later, a shadowy figure quietly slipped through the tear in the fence.
It paused for a moment, as if sniffing the air. And then it headed off in the direction Chris and his party had taken. Keeping low to the ground, it moved smoothly and silently over the forest floor.
‘Why do I get the feeling that your young friend doesn’t like me?’
The Doctor didn’t take his eyes off Jack, who was walking a dozen or so yards ahead of them on the dark Soho street. ‘Well, Chief Inspector, you are a police officer.’
‘You’re suggesting the young man has something to hide?’
The Doctor risked a glimpse at the policeman before turning his gaze back to Jack. ‘Everyone’s got something to hide.’
Harris considered this for a moment. It was late and the streets in this part of town were quiet. They’d been following the young lad through the quieter streets of Soho for a good few hours. Bait, the Doctor had said, for his trap.
Throughout the exercise the Doctor had looked nervous, anxious even. He’d been careful to keep the lad, Jack, within sight all the while. This in itself had been no easy task; the smog was spread thickly and unevenly over the city.
Frequently, they’d turn a corner only to find that the blankets of white cloud had all but swallowed him up.
It was becoming obvious to Harris that the dead boy and this lad had been more than just friends. The Doctor had made a telephone call from the station and they’d met up with the boy outside one of the queer pubs on Charlotte Street. Harris had felt uncomfortable just standing outside it. He hoped none of the regulars had seen him. He’d been part of the team that had raided it the month before. They’d arrested three of them in the toilets that night. Three.
In one cubicle. Filthy business. The Doctor appeared completely unaware of any of this. Made you wonder.
‘You’re worried about the boy, aren’t you?’ Harris began, not exactly sure where he was taking the conversation.
‘I don’t want anyone to get hurt,’ the Doctor replied. ‘Anyone else.’
‘He’s being very brave for. . . well, for one of them.’
‘Pardon?’
‘You know. Well, they’re not really men at all, are they? Unfortunate devils.’
‘Chief Inspector, what are you talking about?’
‘Doctor, you are aware that your young friend is almost certainly a homo-sexual.’ It was not a term Harris was comfortable using. In fact, it was the first time he’d ever said the word out loud.
‘I’d rather gathered as much.’
‘I see.’
80
The Doctor appeared to forget Jack for a moment, turning in exasperation to look at Harris. ‘What? What is it that you see, Chief Inspector?’
Harris didn’t get a chance to reply. A black cab turned the corner on to the road ahead. He immediately knew that this was their quarry. Something about the way it moved.
‘I think I see your black cab, Doctor.’
‘What?’ On catching sight of the vehicle, the little man immediately left Harris’s side and hurried down the road to catch up with Jack. The cab was a little further ahead, wreathed in smog. Harris could see the railings of Soho Square beyond the taxi. The light on the cab roof blazed emerald, its headlights icy white. The rest of the vehicle was just thick, unreflective blackness.
The Doctor stepped protectively in front of Jack, and ushered the boy back to where Harris was standing. They exchanged wary glances, before both turning to watch what the Doctor was up to.
The little man was standing in front of the machine, silhouetted between its blazing headlights. He looked small and vulnerable in front of