Doctor Who_ History 101 - Mags L. Halliday [98]
Anji.
‘What about Anji?’ he asked Alberto but the other man shook his head. ‘Would you look for her, for me?’ he asked. ‘She was last seen at the telephone exchange. Please?’
Alberto nodded reluctantly. ‘We’ll find her, hide her if necessary.’
‘Good, I want her kept safe.’
‘Maybe you should have thought of that sooner,’ Jueves commented. The Doctor swung round, frowning. He could sense the tension around the younger man. Then he nodded.
‘Yes, I should have. My friends are very good at looking after themselves, but I didn’t realise things would happen this quickly. Alberto: please find Anji, keep her safe. Jueves: I need to give you a set of instructions to pass to Fitz. Is that all right with you?’
Jueves took off his glasses, folded them away and brushed his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face. ‘And what will you be doing?’
‘I’m going to phone a friend.’
* * *
Fitz didn’t care where he was being dragged to. It was away from Burton and that was enough. He sensed another corridor, with daylight flashing briefly over him as he was taken past the windows, its brightness hurting his swollen eyes. Then into another room. He was deposited into another hard wooden chair. He wondered briefly if this was some new trick. Take him for a nice wander and then dump him back in with Burton. Raise a little interest out of him, maybe even some hope. His concentration was shot though, he could barely remember a few seconds ago, let alone a few minutes. He didn’t care what they did any more. Maybe the Doctor would come. Why hadn’t the Doctor come? Because he doesn’t know where you are, you idiot.
‘I’ll take it from here,’ a new voice told the two guards. Fitz didn’t bother to glance up. He picked slightly at the bandage on his hand, wondering when – if – he could get a clean bit of lint for it. It was going brown now, drying stiff and hard against his raw palm.
‘With respect, comrade –’
‘Fine. Stay. Given the state of him I may have need of your muscle anyway.’
Fitz sensed the new man come forward, standing so that his smart boots were in Fitz’s downcast eyeline.
‘Fitz?’ the voice was saying quietly. He reluctantly opened his eyes and tilted his head back to look, not bothering to shove his hair back. He stared in disbelief at the man stood in front of him. Sasha was looking haggard. He was in civvies, smarter than before. Much the same anonymous clothing as worn by the men who had been at the bar when the arrests started. His hair had grown since Fitz had last seen him at the station, and he’d clearly not shaved for a few days. His face blurred slightly before Fitz’s eyes, and he narrowed them to try to hold the focus. God, he was feeling woozy.
‘Sa‐’
‘Don’t talk unless I tell you to,’ the Russian barked at him.
Sasha grabbed his chin and held his eyes, glaring into them. Then he winked briefly. Fitz groaned.
‘I’ve nothing to say,’ he said, gritting his teeth and trying to sound as stubborn as possible.
‘We’ll see about that once you’re at Alcalá de Henares. I have your transfer details right here.’
With that, Fitz felt himself being lifted again. This time he tried to pay attention as he was hurried down another corridor, across a landing, down more stairs and then out into a cooling evening. The yard was busy with movement and Fitz realised it was the yard of the building in Barcelona. Of course, he should have realised as soon as he saw Pia, but her blanking of his greeting had made him wonder if he was hallucinating her. No, here were the same battered cars, the same gates. Then the two men had shoved him, none too gently, into the back of an old Citroën. One of them deliberately squeezed his bad arm as he manhandled him.
‘Comrade, will you require an escort?’
‘Look at him, comrade. Do you really think he could overpower me?’
When it looked as if the guard was to argue, Fitz felt a handcuff snap tight around his good wrist, heard it thunk