Doctor Who_ Blue Box - Kate Orman [82]
The Doctor brought Luis back to my flat. He made the man take a nap on the sofa while he explained the plan to us in the kitchen.
‘In Luis’s hands, the creature will be harmless.’
‘Harmless to everyone except him,’ said Peri. ‘Won’t it go on changing the structure of his brain?’
‘I’m afraid he’s already badly affected,’ said the Doctor quietly. ‘He can barely function as it is. If the Savant can reestablish contact with his central nervous system, there is a chance we can use it to return his brain patterns to their original state. We’ll need the Eridani’s help, of course, but I think I can convince them to do their bit.’
Peri said, ‘Are you sure we can fix him?’
‘No. I’m not,’ said the Doctor flatly ‘I’m gambling what’s left of Mr Perez’s sanity that he can help us retrieve the Savant before anyone else can be harmed by it. If he can be cured, so can Swan and the people of Ritchie.’
‘He’s like a guinea pig,’ said Peri, but she didn’t protest further.
The Doctor made my bed. This was a strange thing to behold, especially when he plucked a sock from the sheets and flung it over his shoulder without a backward glance.
‘Couldn’t we just use the kitchen table?’ I said.
‘I want something with a little give,’ said the Doctor, making a perfect hospital corner.
I sat down on the laundry hamper and watched as he smoothed out the covers. We had already lugged my TV into the bedroom – an ancient set donated to me by a fellow journalist who said it had been used to watch the Watergate scandal. My joke is that I prefer my television in black and white, like my newspapers. It was set up on the dresser, an inch or two sticking out perilously over the edge of the wood.
The Doctor placed the device in the exact centre of the bed, patting down the covers around the plastic ball. Then he fished in his jacket pocket and drew out an old-fashioned watch on a chain. He snapped it open. ‘Just a moment now,’
he said.
He switched the TV on and started twiddling the tuning dial up and down the channels. We stood, watching the dance of the static, the rise and fall of the ocean hiss. He flicked past the local TV channels without stopping, brief squirts of people and speech; then up and up into the higher frequencies.
‘Ah,’ he said at last. ‘There we are.’
The roar and flicker resolved itself, and Mr Ghislain appeared on the screen. For someone supposedly transmitting from outer space, he looked remarkably crisp. He was still wearing his black suit and his hat – no sign of a spacesuit.
‘– transmit to you,’ he said. ‘The Interrupt will neutralise the Savant’s mental process. This will allow you to detach all undesirable connections. We are pursuing a reversal method for affected neurologies.’
‘Hang on,’ I said. ‘Isn’t everyone in the District also watching this show?’
‘Not at all,’ murmured the Doctor. ‘The Eridani’s’
transmission is targeted to our co-ordinates.’
I wondered why they didn’t just use the speakerphone again. Fear of phreaks eavesdropping on the conversation? Or did it just depend on which satellites they could hijack at any given time? I shook my head. I was starting to buy into the Doctor’s cover story, imagining Ghislain and his exotic parrot lurking about somewhere between the moon and the sun. They were probably in a TV studio in downtown DC, and this transmission was being ‘leaked’ to eager Russian eyes.
‘– affected neurologies,’ said Ghislain, repeating his message. ‘We will do all possible things to comply with your request to “leave the planet as we found it”.’ The message must have been recorded; the screen went blank for a few seconds, and then it started over. ‘Within the prearranged time parameters we will transmit to you. The Interrupt will neutralise the Savant’s mental process.’
‘I don’t think Peri will approve of that,’ murmured the Doctor. ‘A little