Doctor Who_ Bad Therapy - Matthew Jones [75]
‘Moriah,’ the Doctor whispered, as he popped up beside Jack.
The hoarse whisper belonged to the large, grey-haired man. At first Jack assumed that Moriah was talking to himself, but after a moment he realized that this wasn’t the case at all. Moriah was addressing the globes themselves.
In each of the large crystal balls there burnt an image of a man’s face that Jack knew all too well. It was the young, crew-cut man from the nightclub in Soho.
Gordy Scraton, the boss of the gang that had blackmailed him and made the last few months of his life a living hell.
‘I will get the boy, Lord,’ the thug promised. ‘You’ll just have to be a little patient.’
The Doctor and Jack exchanged puzzled glances. Lord? they mouthed in unison.
In the centre of the circle, Moriah exhaled quickly and loudly, like a bull snorting before it charged. ‘I’ve been patient, Mr Scraton,’ he hissed. ‘I expect total obedience from those who dare to serve me. The. . . boy must be destroyed,’ he said, the tension evident in his voice. ‘And quickly. There are others whom you must kill. Many others.’
Gordy’s image in the globes looked impatient, almost angry. ‘If you’d just see your way to providing some more money then I could put a few more lads on the payroll. Then I could take out whoever you wanted. No problem.’
Gordy paused and then looked small and a little pathetic. ‘Please give us some cash. I’ve had to deal with some local difficulties and I’ve lost one of my regular sources of income.’
Moriah considered this for a moment. ‘You’ll have no more money from 125
me until you’ve proved I have your complete loyalty, that you will serve me faithfully.’
Gordy looked set to interrupt him, but Moriah continued. ‘However, I’ve a few. . . lost souls who might be persuaded to work for you.’
‘Lost souls?’ Gordy questioned, fearfully.
‘Men, Gordon,’ Moriah laughed dryly. ‘Men who’ll carry out your orders.
Think of the kind of men you need for your little gang and you’ll find them waiting for you in the morning.’
The Doctor pulled Jack back down behind their cover. ‘We need to get back to Soho, quickly. I’ve a nasty suspicion that the boy they mean to kill is your roommate’s little brother.’
‘What!’ Jack started, and the Doctor quickly leant over to cover his mouth.
‘Ssh,’ the Doctor whispered. ‘I’m only guessing.’
‘How do you know that it’s Dennis they want to hurt?’
‘Because he and Eddy are of the same –’ the Doctor stopped himself, an uncomfortable expression crossing his face.
Jack felt a chill creep down his spine. Suddenly the Doctor didn’t seem able to meet his gaze. What did the Doctor know?
‘This isn’t the time to explain,’ the Doctor snapped, trying to keep his voice low. ‘We need to see if we can’t find a way to get you back to London. Moriah will be shipping out some men for our friend, Gordy. If we’re lucky we can get you stowed away with them.’
‘What are you going to do?’ Jack asked.
The Doctor winked at him, and forced a smile – which only served to further Jack’s feeling of unease. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ he said. ‘I’m going to try a little subterfuge.’
126
9
Sweet And Tender Hooligan
Gordy Scraton slept badly that night. What kind of men might the devil send him? Zombies? Demons? Goblins? What had the disembodied voice called them? Lost souls. His dreams had been full of cold and pale human-shaped figures who lumbered through the dark behind him, reaching for him with long, broken fingers.
Gordy had woken, twisted up in his black silk sheets and chilled by a cold sweat. Despite being terrified as to what he might find lurking in his secret shrine that morning, he still threw himself into yesterday’s clothes and, without bothering to pause to wash, he made his way down to the basement. What would the devil have brought him?
Gordy felt their presence when he entered the shrine. There were half a dozen figures standing quietly in the shadows.