Doctor Who_ Father Time - Lance Parkin [60]
Debbie had to get help. She turned on her heel – and came face to face with a young man with spiky blond hair and piercing blue eyes. He wore a glossy black suit, and carried a small object that didn’t quite look like a pistol.
‘Stay where you are,’ he recommended. ‘We want you to see this.’
He closed the door, leaned against it so no one else could get in.
The Deputy turned back to Barry.
‘Do you know who I am?’ he asked.
‘Bazz-dud,’ Barry managed. The effort of sitting up was too much for someone who’d literally not moved a muscle in five years.
The Deputy pulled out a long knife, waved it in front of Barry’s face. ‘I want you to know who I am. So you know who has killed you. There’s no sport in killing a man in a coma.’
And Sallak was swinging his arm round, and there was a long, curved knife in it, and he was stabbing Barry through the chest.
Barry tried to reach for his chest, tried to breathe. He coughed up blood.
Debbie screamed.
The young man smacked her down on to the floor. She sat sprawled there, holding her jaw.
The three of them watched Barry die, choking on his own blood. Debbie couldn’t believe it was real. It felt like watching a video nasty, not like she was in the room. Her husband had little strength; finally he collapsed. A minute later, the Deputy checked his pulse.
‘Dead,’ he announced, unnecessarily.
‘One of our enemies dead. And another delivered to us.’ He looked down at Debbie.
‘You woke him up,’ she told the Deputy. ‘You could have told the hospital how to do it at any point, but you didn’t.
The Deputy smiled. ‘Revenge,’ he said simply. ‘He killed the Prefect, this man’s brother.’
Debbie looked up at the young man. She could see the family resemblance. But this was a young man, almost young enough to be the Prefect’s son.
‘Where is the Last One?’ he asked.
‘Miranda?’ she said, before clamming up.
The Deputy took something from his pocket. One of the little devices that had turned Barry into a vegetable, that had threatened to do the same to the Doctor. A mindeater.
‘She lives with the Doctor,’ Debbie told him quickly.
‘Where?’
‘I don’t know. We... we lost touch. He moved down South.’
The Deputy seemed to know she was telling the truth.
The young man fished a newspaper cutting from his jacket pocket. ‘We know what he is doing. But we want his address. It is not a matter of public record.’
‘I can’t help you.’
The Deputy sneered at her. ‘Oh, I think you can.’
* * *
Bob was standing by the drinks machine, trying to get his money out, when Miranda came over. She was a tiny bit shorter than he was, but because she was a girl, she looked taller. She was, by common consent, very good-looking, but no one who’d ever asked her out had got anywhere. There was something odd about her. She was attractive, but asexual. She just didn’t give out the vibes. Bob didn’t, either, it seemed, but with Miranda it seemed to be out of choice.
‘Hello, Bob.’
Bob liked Miranda. He liked anyone who called him ‘Bob’ without doing a Rowan Atkinson impersonation.
‘It’s stuck,’ he told her. ‘It says it’s giving change but it isn’t.’
‘I wanted some orange juice,’ Miranda told him.
‘Stick with the coffee,’ Bob advised. ‘The orange juice is called that because of the colour, not the flavour.’
A plastic cup popped out and started filling with orange juice. ‘Oh, I don’t believe this,’ Bob moaned. ‘I press the buttons and nothing happens, I say “orange juice” and it can’t stop itself dispensing.’
He reached in for the orange juice. Before he’d finished taking the cup away, another one popped out and started filling.
‘Coffee!’ he yelled, yanking his hand away.
‘Bob,’ Miranda said gently, taking the orange juice from him, ‘do you want to go out sometime?’
It took a moment for the question to sink in. Bob spent the time sucking juice off his fingers. ‘Me and you?’
‘As friends. I mean just the two of us, see how it goes?’ He must have had the oddest expression on his face, because Miranda said, ‘You look horrified.’
‘No,’ Bob said, very quickly. ‘No. Yes.’
Miranda looked puzzled as she sipped