Doctor Who_ Cats Cradle_ Witch Mark - Andrew Hunt [66]
Stevens struggled up from his chair. 'I may not have much power, but I am your superior officer and I'd quite like to know what you were doing in the vehicle that kidnapped the American boy called David Gibson.'
'That's more nonsense. I suppose the other one told you that he'd been kidnapped.'
'I saw the crime in progress,' Stevens warned him, 'and I saw the van stop outside here and you get out.'
'No, I think you're wrong there.'
'What?'
'I've been watching the television all night. Somebody pushed some leaflets through the letterbox about a quarter of an hour ago. That was probably what you saw.'
'You don't expect me to believe that!' Stevens almost shouted.
The man's gall was incredible
Believe what you like, sir . Perhaps you'd better go no. It’s quite late.’
‘Yes, perhaps I had better go But I'll be back!'
The driver's door of the car was flung open and Stevens threw himself into his seat, rocking the car on its suspension.
‘Damn.’
'Didn’t go too well huh?'
‘Damn! Damn! Damn!’ He slammed the flat of his hand against the rim of the steering wheel. 'This is what comes from having a special appointment. Nobody respects you. They all treat you like dirt. ' He revved the engine noisily, venting his frustration on his car.
'You’d arranged to meet him?'
‘What? ’
‘A special appointment?'
‘No. I’m the only member of the Yard's Paranormal Investigation Team.’ He gave an apologetic shrug as he spun the steering wheel around. ‘Once the story gets around my credibility is zero. I couldn’t get anything out of Hughes. He knows there’s not a lot I can do. I think we should try and get some sleep and then see what we can do in the morning. I’m staying at the Black Swan in the village. I reckon they’ve got some spare rooms there. How’d you like bed and breakfast at Scotland Yard’s expense?’
Hugh awoke bathed in a clammy sweat. He'd been dreaming about the Doctor and Ace still lying asleep even as the universe ended around them; he knew that the Doctor could save them but no matter how much he and Janet shouted neither of the sleepers would awake.
The bedclothes were damp and he reached across to feel Janet beside him. Though the bed was warm and still dinted from where she had been lying, she wasn’t there, and when he sat up he realized that there was sound corning from the room below him. It penetrated his sleep-befuddled brain that the sound was the beat of rock and roll music. He eased himself out of his bed, pushed his feet into the waiting slippers and then padded softly across the bedroom floor.
He stood at the top of the stairs and looked down into the darkness. A vague anxiety tugged at his mind and he pulled open the door to the Doctor's bedroom. He was still lying there as he had been when Hugh had last looked in. Hugh gave a sigh and then glanced into Ace's room. She was gone - that would explain the rock and roll - and Janet must have followed her downstairs when she had been woken by the music.
Hugh hurried down the stairs and quietly opened the living room door. Only the table lamp was lit and the room was steeped in shadow. The record player turntable spun in endless circles whilst music drifted from the boxlike speakers. Ace sat watching the spinning disc raptly, her face hidden by shade and the mass of dark hair that hung around her shoulders.
‘Ace?' Hugh asked, stepping into the room. Her hand reached up and lifted the stylus from the record.
She turned and rose to her feet. Hugh looked more closely. A face that he had not seen for thirty years except in photographs and as a faded, distorted vision was revealed to him. His mind twisted in confusion and bewilderment.
'Janet?' The word caught in his throat. 'Janet, is that you?'
Her hands reached out to him and he moved forward, hardly knowing what was happening. His wife's discarded nightclothes lying over the sofa barely registered on his consciousness, nor the brittle cracking as he stepped