Doctor Who_ History 101 - Mags L. Halliday [109]
‘How dare you? How dare you judge me on my colour, on my background?’
She expected the slapdown to come but her tormentor was just staring at her. ‘I’m British, European. Whatever. But I’m not a “stupid black bitch” you racist bastard.’
He suddenly frowned at her, fell to his knees, one hand on his forehead. She took a step forward, wondered if she dared to kick him in his ribs, make him hurt the way he had tried to hurt her. Maybe it was a ruse though? She’d not even touched him and she doubted that her words were enough of an attack to send him reeling to his knees.
‘Step away from comrade Burton,’ a voice barked from the hidden speaker. That resolved her uncertainty and she backed away from Burton as she heard the doorlock click. They’d be piling into the room any moment. She glanced between the bent figure of Burton and the unlocked door. Was it worth trying to run?
‘Anji?’ Burton croaked out.
She felt the rough concrete of the wall behind her and realised she’d kept backing away. She rubbed the back of her knuckle across her upper lip and was disturbed to realise that the dampness was a thin trickle of blood. Burton looked up at her and she saw a kind of horror in his eyes. They widened as he took in her appearance, turning guilty and full of self-loathing.
‘Anji?’
She took one step towards him, sensing that somehow he was the man she had first met six months before. But how could she be really sure, how could she trust him? He stood rapidly, crossed the room in five long strides and grabbed her upper arms. She tried to struggle, bringing her knee up but lacking the force needed. He had her off-balance now and she settled for kicking at his shins. It had been a trick, a way of getting her off-guard again.
‘Anji, listen to me,’ he hissed in her ear, leaning in, pushing her against the wall. ‘You have to listen. I’m sorry . I don’t know exactly what I was doing and I’m sorry if I’m responsible for your injuries. But you have to trust me so we can get out of here.’
‘Trust you? You hit me, you abuse me and you expect me to trust you?’
‘You must. You don’t understand, how could you? I haven’t been myself. It’s as if something was forcing me to see things their way. And I found myself responding to it, believing it.’
‘Yeah, right. And I should believe you because...?’
‘We don’t have time, just follow my lead.’
There was the sound of boots in the doorway, heading towards them over the concrete. Blair stepped backwards and dropped his arms. He gave her a final pleading look.
‘Comrade Burton: is everything all right?’ One of the guards had come right up to his shoulder.
‘Yes, comrade. Take the prisoner out to my car.’
‘Comrade?’
‘I think she will only talk when she faces a bullet.’
‘We will accompany you.’
‘Of course, comrade.’ Blair stepped further back, starting towards the door. One of the soldiers grabbed Anji’s arm, pushing her forward. She stumbled, but made her feet work. She had no idea what Blair or Burton or whoever was planning. Was he just pretending, getting her to go along quietly with what he said, or was his volte-face genuine? She hated the confusion, the paranoia. She hated that she was succumbing to such irrationalities. She realised she was walking without taking in her surroundings, blindly going as she was directed by the rough hand on her elbow.
They reached an office, with a high counter. They were walking briskly through it. Blair hurried over and took down a greatcoat from a hat stand and gestured for the guards to continue.
‘Comrade Burton!’
Anji turned her head in surprise. Pia was hurrying after Blair, clutching a file. She was in her uniform clothes, a pencil stuffed in her hair. Anji blanched. This was where Pia worked? She was involved in this? Had she known? Had she been aware that one of her friends had been held in a cell for days? Maybe she had no idea.
‘Comrade Burton, I need you to initialise this transcript of your session with Amaya Alvarez.’
She was part of it, she had known. Blair signalled for the men to wait, grabbed the file and opened