Doctor Who_ Father Time - Lance Parkin [50]
The girl raised an eyebrow and took another swig from the bottle.
Rex pointed to the door. ‘He’s the best. He charges ten K a day, and he’s worth every penny. He’s a genius. He’s been here three days and he’s already completely restructured this company. I was in one of his meetings this morning. Incredible speaker, cuts through the crap. He’s Thatcherism personified.’
The door to the boardroom opened and a man emerged. A young forty-something, his long light-brown hair tied back in a ponytail. He was wearing an Armani frock coat, had bright-red braces and was carrying a leather briefcase.
‘Doctor!’ Rex said, delighted.
The Doctor smiled. ‘I’m done here. It was good to meet you, Rex. I’ve tinkered a little with the company structure, but it should be right as rain now.’
‘Any redundancies?’
The Doctor looked at him as though he’d never heard the word before. ‘No,’ he said, puzzled. ‘Why would there be?’
‘Well, you know: cutting out the fat.’
‘You’re businessmen, Rex, not butchers.’
‘ “Businessmen not butchers”, I’ll remember that.’ Rex turned to the girl. ‘I told you he was good.’
She grinned. ‘You did.’
‘Are you drinking that from the bottle?’ the Doctor asked the girl sternly.
‘You know her?’ Rex asked, already knowing the answer. Of course – ten thou a day and the Doctor would have blonde teenagers all over him. God only knew what he drove – a different 924 for every day of the week, probably.
The girl stood up and pecked him on the cheek. ‘Rex told me it was the in thing, Dad.’
The Doctor smiled down at Rex. ‘Is it? Interesting.’
But all Rex could answer was: ‘Dad!?’
* * *
The Deputy sat in his cell, reading the newspaper.
He’d learned a lot about Earth in the last five years. Living among their criminally insane was an education in itself. There were men like this in his own time, but the Factions used them, they had a part to play. Rum and Thélash would have been locked away – but how much better to utilise their talents. The whole system here was wasteful – mines and shipyards and steelyards closing every day. Resources wasted in competition and ‘advertising’ and holding elections only to see the same leader returned, time after time.
His cellmate slept on the top bunk. Joel was a man of little conversation, a thief with a penchant for arson, but he’d taught the Deputy some useful techniques for dealing with the mechanical locks and crude security systems of this time.
The Deputy coughed. The medical facilities on this planet – or at least in this institution – were primitive. Hygiene was a matter of crude disinfectants and chemical compounds. But he was being better treated than the prisoners he had taken in his time, and the humans of this island didn’t have the death penalty.
The Deputy started to read the financial section, a story about corporate restructuring. The people of Earth were obsessed with money. One man was causing a stir in the business world, his consultations leading to what the paper called ‘a revolution’. These humans had never seen a real revolution.
He saw the man in the photograph, he saw that his company’s phone number was listed.
The Doctor.
‘I knew you’d show your face sooner or later, Doctor.’
He woke Joel, and asked to borrow his Walkman.
* * *
Debbie Castle held Barry’s hand.
‘Eileen Lewis has started school. She’s got your eyes. You probably don’t even remember Julie, do you? Her husband doesn’t suspect a thing, but I know. They got married very quickly when Julie got pregnant. Sound familiar?’
Barry didn’t respond. He lay there, the machine at the side of the bed beeping away to itself. Thinking about it, he probably would remember Julie. If he woke up now, the events of five years ago would just be like yesterday to him. Not that he would be waking up. The doctors insisted that there was no point talking to him, he couldn’t hear. It had been four years now since they’d decided to call his condition a ‘persistent vegetative state’ instead