Doctor Who_ Father Time - Lance Parkin [73]
‘You must spend a lot of time rooting through girls’ bags,’ Miranda noted as she came back into the room, hefting her overnight bag.
‘Going on holiday?’ Bob joked.
‘Staying overnight at Dinah’s.’
‘Wish I’d have known. I’d have asked and brought my pyjamas.’
Miranda leaned in. ‘Ask me nicely and you might not need them.’
His face did odd things. Miranda smiled. Power.
* * *
Ferran looked at the invitation again.
He had already checked the route, scouted the area. He had half a dozen possible escape routes from Dinah’s house ready. The knife was heavy in his jacket pocket, but it didn’t show.
He parked his car a hundred yards down the road, checked he hadn’t been seen, and got out. The weather this evening was calm, not like the storms of the night before. The clothes of the era still seemed absurd, like theatrical costumes rather than anything someone would really wear.
He could hear the party from here – a faint thumping, music familiar to him from the crash course Joel had given him in the indigenous culture. Humans, particularly young humans seeking a partner, set great store by knowledge of the fashions. Joel had ensured that the right labels and symbols appeared on Ferran’s clothing and footwear. Ferran had studied periodicals on the subject: New Musical Express and Smash Hits. He’d memorised the contents of one of Kirst’s compilation tapes, songs she had recorded from the radio on to magnetic tape.
He saw the Last One heading down the street, accompanied by two men. He hoped that the two men would leave her side for a moment, because a moment was all he needed. But they stayed with her, one either side.
Ferran remained out of sight, which was easy enough in the twisting streets and evening gloom. Out of necessity, he was out of earshot for much of the time. When he did hear the conversation, it was banal: one of the men complained that they should have got a taxi. The Last One told him not to be so pathetic.
They soon reached their objective: the house that was the location of the party. The front door was open, Dinah was there, welcoming people in.
Ferran hung back, tried to see what would happen next.
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
The Party of Doom
The door slid open.
Debbie felt sick. The Doctor looked like a condemned man, about to be led away to the gallows. She knew this would be the Deputy, come here to tell the Doctor that his daughter was dead.
Instead, it was a young West Indian couple. He wore a sharp suit and a Rolex, she was in a T-shirt and jeans. The woman seemed far more comfortable to be here. Behind them was a guard in black uniform and full helmet. Without, as far as Debbie could tell, touching anything, he managed to get the door to shut, sealing the four of them in.
‘I’m Kirst,’ the woman said. ‘This is Joel.’
The Doctor said nothing, but brooded in the corner, watching them. Debbie stayed on the bed, let them say what they had to.
‘We heard you screaming last night. We want to check you’re OK. Sallak let us.’
‘They want to kill my daughter,’ the Doctor told them.
‘You’re the Doctor,’ Joel said.
The Doctor nodded. ‘This is Debbie,’ he added.
‘Debbie Castle...’ Kirst said. ‘Sallak’s talked about you.’
‘He killed my husband,’ Debbie told her.
‘Yeah, we know,’ Joel said. ‘We’re sorry about that.’
‘Are you prisoners, too?’ Debbie asked. There was an edge in her voice. Almost hysteria. She tried to get a grip.
Kirst didn’t know where to look. ‘No, we’re... Joel was Sallak’s cellmate. He promised to help us out.’
‘You’re working for them?’ Debbie said, horrified.
The young man brushed his hands against his lapels. ‘He’s looked after us.’
‘He’s not human,’ the Doctor said. His voice was quiet, but insistent. Like a teacher. Debbie realised it reminded her a little of her dad’s voice. She’d not noticed that before.
‘We know that. But it’s not like they want to invade Earth or anything.’ But Kirst clearly felt uneasy even as she was saying it.
‘No,’ Debbie said bitterly,