Doctor Who_ Interference_ Book One - Lawrence Miles [12]
‘Ship?’ Bland queried.
‘Look, I don’t think my company’s going to be happy about this,’ Llewis cut in. ‘I mean, you told us –’
‘There’s nothing to worry about,’ Ms Bland cooed. ‘Your company can still have rights for most of the world. And for most of the equipment. We’re just looking after the interests of one country, that’s all.’
‘Which country?’ Llewis asked, automatically.
Bland looked taken aback. ‘Um, let’s just say it’s a country that’s got a big interest in surveillance and counterespionage technology,’ she said.
Llewis remembered what the greasy man had said at the bar. Iran. The Iranians wanted surveillance gear, didn’t they? IPS must have been bargaining on behalf of them. Well, that made sense. Iran was one of those countries the candle‐burners wanted everyone to protest against, lots of secret police cells and electroshock batons and the like. Nobody was supposed to sell them anything, and the DTI had special guidelines on how to get around the sales restrictions without anybody noticing. Getting involved with Mr Guest’s company through a third party like IPS might have been a smart move, politically.
‘Ms Bland’s only interested in our surveillance hardware,’ Mr Kode added. ‘I don’t think there’s any, er, conflict of interests. All disputes within the capitalist infrastructure should be dealt with diplomatically, and with expediency. Apparently.’
‘Good,’ said Bland, smiling in a way that Llewis found utterly repellent. She reminded him of some kind of children’s TV presenter, and dungarees would have suited her down to the ground. ‘Now. Mr Kode was going to tell me what his counterespionage products are capable of, weren’t you, Mr Kode?’
Kode looked ever so slightly uneasy. ‘I think maybe we should wait for Mr Guest. He’s got the full, erm, presentation package. Look, don’t worry. You won’t be disappointed. Believe me.’
‘Top‐of‐the‐range stuff, is it?’ asked Llewis. It was a pointless question, but he wanted to sound like he was paying attention.
Kode just nodded. ‘You won’t have seen anything like it,’ he said. ‘Not on Earth. Not even here. Not even in Britain.’
* * *
2
One of the Good People
(how Sam Jones got to be where she is today)
Now
From a certain height, people tend to look like ants.
Sam lay on the roof of the tower block, stomach flattened against the concrete, binoculars pressed against the skin around her eyes. The binoculars had, like every other useful piece of equipment in her life, been supplied by the Doctor, who’d pulled them out of one of the TARDIS wardrobes the day they’d arrived back on Earth. ‘The very latest in surveillance technology,’ he’d said, somewhat drily. ‘As recommended by the military. Fight fire with fire, that’s what I’ve just decided I always say.’
‘Which military?’ Sam had asked.
The Doctor had looked puzzled. Then he’d checked the stamp on the bottom of the casing. ‘“Made in the Filipino Protectorate. Imaging software copyright 4993.” No, doesn’t ring a bell.’
The rooftop was ringed by a fence, a wire‐mesh job designed to stop suicides and glue‐sniffers going over the edge, but this wasn’t a problem. Sam had programmed the binoculars to ignore any solid objects between her and the target, so the imaging system was filtering the mesh out of the picture, focusing on the terrain around Sandown Park. The tower block was a quarter of a mile away from the racecourse, but that didn’t matter, either. The binoculars knew full well what Sam wanted to look at, and they weren’t going to let a few intervening buildings get in the way.
The racecourse itself was deserted, the rain turning the ground to mud and nibbling the paint from the empty spectator stands. Much more interesting was the building, the great grey lump of cement and steel railings that squatted by the side of the fields, looking somehow content as it basked under the big black rain clouds. Sam swept the binoculars from right to left, making sure she’d covered all the exits. There were people at the doors of the exhibition centre, chatting as they left COPEX ’96,