Doctor Who_ Cat's Cradle_ Warhead - Andrew Cartmel [95]
‘Fine,’ said Ace. ‘But what is the plan?’ She was looking at a display advertising children’s vitamins. It featured an image of a pumpkin‐headed humanoid in a greasy old‐fashioned black jacket. He was holding two hideously sticky carving knives. His fingers looked like twigs.
‘Why don’t you tell me?’ said the Doctor. ‘Tell me how much you’ve worked out and I’ll fill in the blanks.’ He turned and walked down one of the long aisles. They seemed to extend for miles and this was just the vitamin section. Ace followed.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘You need a weapon. Those two kids are the weapon. I don’t know what the target is but I can guess.’ They were in the homoeopathy section of the drugstore now. A smiling boy in an apron was offering samples of an all‐natural toothpaste. ‘That girl’s got a thing about cars, pollution, the environment. She’s a bit psychotic.’
‘Perhaps. But she also happens to be right,’ said the Doctor. ‘This planet is reaching the point of no return. Ordinary people don’t have the ability to alter the course of events. Only the big corporations and the very rich have the power to do that.’
‘Yeah, but eventually they’ll have to do something,’ said Ace. ‘They have to breathe the same air we do.’
‘Not necessarily,’ said the Doctor.
‘But I’m right otherwise,’ said Ace. ‘Right?’
‘Yes.’
‘So tell me why we’re standing in the middle of New York city in a chemist’s.’
‘Drugstore,’ said the Doctor. ‘Try to speak the language and adopt local ways.’
A man brushed past Ace, not apologizing or even glancing at her. He wore the uniform of a private security guard. ‘Are we supposed to meet somebody here?’ said Ace. ‘Besides Vincent and Justine, I mean.’
‘Yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘And Vincent isn’t coming back. Justine is arranging for him to go directly to the Butler Institute.’
‘The Butler Institute. They’re the target?’
‘Yes. Or, to be more specific, one of their research projects. We have to put a stop to it.’
‘Just tell me what I have to do,’ said Ace.
‘Well, please don’t be startled if you hear some alarms go off. Or gunfire.’
‘Do you mean there’s going to be a robbery in here?’
‘It’s already started,’ said the Doctor.
‘And that’s part of the plan, too?’
They were nearing the end of the homoeopathy section now, the Doctor strolling as if he had no particular destination in mind. ‘Not exactly. But the security guards will send a signal which summons the police.’ A girl in a leather jacket was standing, her back to them, staring up at a display that showed idealized endless vistas of rainforest. ‘And thanks to modifications I’ve made to their computer,’ said the Doctor, ‘we can be sure that a certain specific police officer will get the call. And she will come here.’
‘And she’s part of the plan.’
‘No, she isn’t part of the plan. But her partner is.’
‘And he’ll be with her.’
‘No. He’s dead, as a matter of fact.’
The girl in the leather jacket turned away from the rainforest display and fell into step with them. ‘Am I on time?’ said Justine.
‘Yes,’ said the Doctor. ‘I was just saying to Ace that everything is going according to plan.’ Two security guards came past them, running along the aisle. ‘Did you manage Vincent all right?’
Justine was toying with a silver locket that she wore around her neck. ‘I did what you wished,’ she said, pressing the edge of the locket. ‘But now I must do this.’ The locket opened with a click, spilling a large yellow and black capsule into the palm of her hand. There were tears in her dark eyes.
‘No!’ roared the Doctor.
Justine put her hand to her mouth and swallowed the capsule. ‘Forgive me, my lord,’ she said. Then she reached out and grabbed one of the racks beside the aisle. Her body convulsed and bottles of homoeopathic mouthwash began to tumble off the shelves. She let go of the rack and reached out towards Ace. Her face was white and the