Doctor Who_ History 101 - Mags L. Halliday [51]
‘Exhausted. She insisted on checking that Blair wasn’t there, then we drove back and spent the rest of the day arguing with McNair. They’ve gone to dinner now – he’s trying to calm her down.’
He wiped his eyes with his hands, then smiled at her. Pia had got used to that smile. It looked sweet and lovely and suggested that you were the most important thing in the world right now. It had taken her several months to realise he wasn’t even conscious that he was doing it.
‘You haven’t heard anything about him, then?’ he was asking.
Pia shrugged. She wasn’t about to answer that directly. The Comintern were becoming increasingly paranoid about leaks of information. Only last month her supervisor had been recalled to Moscow. Pia had assumed he would come back, but a week later a new official arrived and took up his old position. All mention of her former superior was struck from the records – and what fun she had had rewriting all those files. The Party were unhappy with the situation in Barcelona, that much was clear, and Pia was not about to compromise her own position because the Doctor had a cute smile. On the other hand, she had been advised to keep friends with the Englishman and his friend. Someone in the organisation was curious about them, about why they had yet to leave, yet to even apply for the papers to leave. Each day, when she arrived at the office, comrade Burton would ask how her evening had been and she would answer, careful to include any meetings with the Doctor and Anji because if she was keeping track of them then someone may well be keeping track of her. Any number of the unfamiliar faces in the bar might be agents gathering data: if she was not honest, Burton would know. And she had no desire to visit Moscow.
‘All I know is that he is not the only foreigner to go missing in Barcelona,’ she said after a sip of wine. That should cover it. Something for the Doctor to follow, without telling any watchers that she was guiding him. The Doctor leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees.
‘Others are missing?’
‘Doctor, you read the papers. Or you get Anji to. Missing people are not so uncommon here.’
‘You sound like the authorities. They thought he had just run off.’
Pia shrugged again. ‘Many men flee after their first taste of battle. Being under fire can damage loosely held convictions.’
‘Not Blair. He had training.’
‘Ah yes, the much vaunted English public school system. Maybe all the mud and fighting made him homesick?’
The Doctor slumped back in his seat with an exasperated sigh. Pia was tempted to say something, to give another hint, but she had said enough. The Doctor leaned back in his seat, resting the back of his head on it.
‘I’m sorry,’ she offered, ‘he is not the only foreigner to go missing here, is all.’
The Doctor raised an eyebrow at her. Then smiled again. Not his big charming grin but a half-smile that spoke of weary awareness that she would say no more.
‘I’m sorry, Pia, I just feel like I should do something to help and – oh sugarmice –’
He’d suddenly sunk even lower in his seat and grabbed a newspaper to hold up in front of his face. Pia frowned and looked about. She couldn’t see anyone she knew in the bar. ‘Doctor...’
‘Shh!’ He peeked at her from behind the paper, then gestured for her to sit next to him. She scooted over and looked about. She still couldn’t see anyone obvious. Groups of people sat or stood about, talking in low voices, just as they were. She could hear snatches of French, English and Polish, fragments of conversations rising through the murmur. The barman was calling for a ‘Senor Smallbare’ to come to the telephone and an old man was tottering about collecting dead glasses.
‘Over there, by the clock,’ the Doctor muttered. He leaned over so their shoulders were brushing, still keeping the newspaper in front of him, and nodded in the direction of the clock. He lowered the paper slightly and she had a look. Just a typical man. Dressed in an English suit and wearing a hat, a heavy leather satchel slung over one