Doctor Who_ History 101 - Mags L. Halliday [69]
‘So whatever you’re looking into, it isn’t the Party. And the only connection between this huge mass of data is perception. You wouldn’t be hanging around here for months if you were just researching an article or book on how perception is used by the media: you’d have been out of here after a month. So you’re looking for something or someone specific. And now they’re looking for you. How am I doing?’
He was looking at Anji now, staring at her with one eyebrow raised. He’d taken off his glasses as he talked and she was struck again by how much harder he looked without them. She bit her lip, looked at the Doctor for guidance. The Doctor carefully marked his place in the paperback he’d been reading when Jueves had started talking, put it on the dresser and folded his arms.
‘We’re looking for something or someone who is altering perceptions, yes. We don’t know who or how.’
‘Doctor, everyone in this city works to alter others’ views, to change minds.’
‘This is different.’
‘How?’
‘It’s difficult to explain –’
Jueves snorted, looking back down into the street again, frowning into the glass. Anji didn’t want them to fall out, didn’t like that he was angry with them. They were supposed to be searching for the truth, yet they couldn’t let go of the story they had built up, the false picture. The lies. He knew they were lying, knew they weren’t giving him the real picture. He leaned on the glass for a moment, his breath fogging up the pane. Anji took a step towards him, stopped when he turned around. He grabbed his jacket from the chair and pushed past her.
‘Well, when you want to tell me what’s really going on here, let me know.’
He slammed the door after him.
Anji had her hand on the doorknob when the Doctor’s grabbed her wrist. ‘Leave it for the moment, Anji. Let him calm down.’
She pulled her hand free and rounded on him. He always had to know best, always thought he knew the best way of dealing with things. They should have told Jueves weeks ago, she was sure. He was trustworthy, useful, open-minded. All of which was unusual enough in this city. But then, the Doctor had been obsessing with the TARDIS’s symptoms, not the outside world. And she hadn’t told him because it had seemed so ludicrous, the kind of silly speech she always felt embarrassed about when the Doctor did it to complete strangers. So now Jueves had stormed off. Probably to get steadily sozzled on cheap wine in a bar in the docks. She even knew which bar he frequented down there. She huffed her hair and dropped into the chair.
‘Great. Another friend to tick off the Christmas card list. Assuming we’re still here at Christmas, which, given the way things are going, we will be.’
The Doctor picked the book back off the dresser and sat on the bed opposite her. He leant over, nudged her knee with a corner of the novel.
‘What?’ She regretted snapping at him straight away. Looked up to see him watching her cautiously. ‘Sorry, what?’
He raised the book up, showed the cover to her. She realised it was the now even more foxed copy of The Age of Reason the Doctor had taken off Fitz back in Paris. She took it off him, glanced at the back. ‘Fitz’s book, so?’
The Doctor was still leaning on his knees, rubbing his hands together, lacing and unlacing his fingers.
‘Is that his writing, inside?’
Anji opened it, flicking through, pausing at the postcard marking the place. Now that had to be Fitz’s, given it was rude. There were scribbles in the margin in heavy pencil. And a name scrawled across the front page.
‘Yeah, that’s Fitz’s.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Well, I can’t say I’ve ever studied his handwriting in any depth, but yes. Look, he even wrote his name in.’
She watched as the Doctor’s body sagged back, his face looking older suddenly. He took the book back from her, stared at the sprawling letters again. Then he tucked it back into the outer pocket of his dark red jacket, felt gently