Doctor Who_ Deep Blue - Mark Morris [17]
Still no reply. Was he sleeping or just ignoring her?
Frustrated, she pounded on the door with her fist and shouted, „Doctor, will you please answer me? I need to talk to you!‟
A door further down the corridor opened and Turlough popped his head out. „What‟s the matter?‟
„What does it look like? I want to talk to the Doctor, but he won‟t answer.‟
Turlough wandered up and put his ear to the door.
„Perhaps he‟s not there.‟
„Well, where is he then?‟
He raised his hands as if to protect himself from her anger.
„I only said perhaps. I don‟t know any more than you do.‟
„This is ridiculous,‟ she muttered, and marched down the corridor and through the half-open door into Turlough‟s room. Polite applause from the cricket match on the TV
greeted her as she entered. The carpet bag that the Doctor had lent Turlough was open on the bed, though he had not yet removed any of its contents. Tegan snatched up the phone on the bedside table and dialled the Doctor‟s room number. Receiving no reply, she banged down the phone, then immediately picked it up again and dialled „10‟.
„Reception,‟ said a woman‟s voice.
„Hello, this is Tegan Jovanka from room 404. I‟m trying to get in touch with a friend of mine in room 418, but there‟s no reply.‟
„Dr John Smith?‟ said the woman.
„Er... yes, that‟s right.‟
„Just a moment please, Miss Jovanka.‟ There was a brief pause, then „I‟m sorry, Miss Jovanka, but Dr Smith left the hotel about ten minutes ago.‟
„Left?‟ exclaimed Tegan, her previous suspicions reawakening. „Did he say where he was going?‟
„I‟m afraid not, Miss Jovanka, but I believe he left you a note... Ah yes, here it is.‟
„Could you read it please?‟
„Certainly, Miss Jovanka.‟ There was the sound of rustling paper, then the woman said, „Dear Tegan and Turlough, I‟ve had to pop out for a while. Things to do. See you soon. The Doctor.‟
„That‟s all?‟
„Yes, Miss Jovanka.‟
„Thank you,‟ said Tegan, tight-lipped, and put the phone down.
The Doctor sniffed the air like a bloodhound but could detect nothing unusual. He appeared nonchalant as he strolled along the promenade, hands in pockets, though in fact his mind was attuned to the slightest trace of the telepathic link he had briefly established earlier.
It was an alien mind he had made contact with, of that he was certain. But as to where it had come from, he had no idea. His gaze roamed along the rows of seafront shops and hotels and boarding-houses; he peered up into the diamond-blue sky and watched the gulls wheeling and screeching; he scanned the busy stretch of dun-coloured beach where people were sunbathing, playing football, flying kites, building sandcastles, paddling in the shallows or bobbing among the waves; he stared out to sea, which shifted and rippled and swelled constantly, as if myriad pulses were beating at random beneath its blue and glassy skin.
He ordered a „99‟ from an ice-cream van and asked the heavily sideburned proprietor whether he had seen anything unusual in the town recently.
„Only you, mate,‟ said the man with a grin.
„Me?‟ said the Doctor, taken aback. Then he smiled and touched the stick of celery attached to his lapel. „Ah. Yes, I suppose my attire is a little anachronistic.‟
The man chuckled as if the Doctor had made a joke and leaned forward, elbows resting on the counter of the van‟s serving hatch. „You‟ll have heard about the palaver down by the harbour earlier.‟
„Will I?‟
„I thought everyone had.‟
„I‟m new to town,‟ said the Doctor, licking his ice-cream.
The man nodded wisely, then winked and glanced right and left as if about to impart confidential information that he didn‟t want overheard. „Aye, well, they sealed the whole place off.‟
„Who did?‟
„The police.‟
„Really? Any idea why?‟
„They reckon there was a fishing boat found this morning, just floating out at sea. Everyone on board dead. Murdered, they reckon.‟
The Doctor stared at the man for a moment, then thrust the half-eaten „99‟ into his hand. „Thank you, you‟ve