Doctor Who_ Illegal Alien - Mike Tucker [34]
'They was talking to Sharkey. Usually that means Cody's got a job on. They stayed maybe half an hour, then left.
Sharkey he had a couple more beers, then took his ass home to sleep it off, I reckon.'
'Sharkey...' The Doctor didn't like the sound of the name.
And where can I find him?'
'Oh, stay awhile. He'll be here. An' who do I say is wantin'
to talk to him?'
'Oh, the Doctor. Just... the Doctor.'
The Time Lord stationed himself at a remote table to wait and watch. It had been a long time since he had had the leisure to sit and observe the human world going about its everyday business. He scarcely had it now, or the inclination: he was too worried about Ace. Nevertheless, waiting and watching were all he could do. He watched a small man in a voluminous, dark, pinstriped suit, a thin cigar jutting out from beneath a thin moustache, holding court in a nearby alcove as women with bleached, stacked hair and pencilskirts ebbed and flowed from his presence, shimmying and giggling, and men whispered to him in low voices, hanging and darting on his every nod.
He watched a group of English soldiers, so very young in their illfitting khakis, nervously enter the bar, grinning AWOL
grins, and order American beer.
He watched two men, big and bearded, armwrestle each other to a standstill at a nearby table, shaking and straining, blind to everything but their struggle, until the table collapsed beneath them. Without a word, without a smile, they picked themselves up, reerected the table and began to wrestle anew. He shook his head sadly. It would be many millennia before humankind finally learned the simple lesson of the futility of blind conflict. They wouldn't learn it from this war, nor the next. No, for generations they would go on trying to master one another, tables being reerected and collapsing endlessly beneath them.
It was two hours before a shiftylooking man slipped through the door of Mama's, ever wary, eyes darting between the shadowy corners of the huge room. The Doctor watched the little man sidle up to the bar, watched Mama talking to him, nodding in the Doctor's direction, watched the little man turn furtively, momentarily catching the Time Lord's gaze, then look away. Must be Sharkey, the Doctor concluded.
More words were exchanged with Mama before the little man made his way cautiously to the Doctor's table.
'Mama says you're looking for McBride,' he muttered, staring into the table top.
'Yes,' the Doctor replied.' Or, more specifically, I'm looking for a young woman whom I left in Mr McBride's care. I understand you might know something of their whereabouts.'
'Like you say,' said Sharkey in his nevermorethan a whisper voice, 'I might know something...'
'I take it you're angling for some sort of financial incentive,' said the Doctor, coldly.
'Well...' The informant glanced momentarily up at the Doctor. He started. Those eyes. They seemed to hold him, to penetrate him, to know him.
'Mr Sharkey, I'm not here to play games,' said the Doctor, suddenly
harsh, 'I suggest that you tell me everything you know forthwith.'
'I...' Sharkey hesitated.
'Forthwith, I said.'
'McBride and the girl came in here earlier they was asking about that new bomb they found down Watling Street, the one the soldiers took away. They wanted to know where it might have been taken, like. I sent them off to see a man I know, calls himself the Professor. Knows all about that sort of thing, bombs and science and what have you. Used to work for the government. Lives up Belsize Park way fifteen Primrose Gardens.'
Sharkey stopped, breathless, shaken. He had never been so forthcoming in his life. One thing he wasn't was a babbler. You couldn't be in his profession. Information was his currency; it was his breadandbutter. Information was power. When had he first heard that? Sharkey was not a powerful player in the information game. What little nuggets he could gather he sold, usually to McBride, for a few poxy quid here and there. Always smalltime stuff; never worth more than a few quid.
And now this. Almost afraid to