Doctor Who_ Interference_ Book Two - Lawrence Miles [95]
Tick-tock, tick-tock, went the invisible clock.
‘Well,’ the Doctor muttered, obviously addressing the blind man. ‘I think you’ve got some explaining to do. Don’t you?’
‘After you,’ I.M. Foreman told him. He sounded as though he had something in his mouth.
If it hadn’t been for the blindfold, Sarah would have assumed that the two of them were trying to stare each other out. Perhaps they were, in dimensions that dopey little human beings like her couldn’t see properly.
‘Look,’ she said, deciding to end this face-off before it got silly. ‘I don’t understand any of this. I saw you get shot.’
I.M. Foreman looked dubious. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell. When?’
Sarah would have rolled her eyes, if she’d thought anybody would have noticed. ‘Outside. One of those men in armour. He shot you. I saw your head jerk back.’
‘Oh, that,’ said I.M. Foreman. ‘Yes. Thanks for reminding me.’
With that, he spat out the object in his mouth. There was a tiny plink noise as the bullet hit the floor.
‘Caught it in my teeth,’ I.M. Foreman explained, with a miniature shrug.
‘That’s not possible,’ said Sarah.
‘Isn’t it? Showmen do it all the time, back where you come from. It’s the oldest show-stopper in the book.’
‘But that’s just a trick,’ Sarah insisted. ‘Nobody really catches bullets in their teeth. It’s a circus act. It’s an illusion. You need a fake gun to do it.’
There was a long silence. The Doctor raised a quiet eyebrow. I.M. Foreman frowned to himself.
‘A trick?’ he repeated.
Sarah nodded.
‘Are you sure?’
‘I’m sure,’ said Sarah.
‘Mmm. That explains why it took me so long to get the hang of it, then. I did wonder how your people made it look so easy.’
OK. Right. Fine. Sarah glanced around, looking for a reason to change the subject, and it wasn’t hard to find one. ‘Look… this wagon of yours,’ she tried. ‘It’s a TARDIS, isn’t it?’
‘God, no,’ said I.M. Foreman.
‘It’s a complex event,’ the Doctor added, obviously suffering from the delusion that he was being helpful. Still, at least he was talking again, rather than just brooding about being upstaged by the showman. He still had his eyes fixed on the competition, though.
‘Sorry?’ said Sarah.
The Doctor took that as his cue to spout technogubbins at her. ‘The TARDIS is a complex event in space-time, modelled according to strict mathematical principles. Numbers to program the continuum, so to speak. And this place…’ He waved his hand around the interior of the wagon, trying to make it clear how inferior it was to his trusty old police box. ‘This place is the same sort of thing, but not contained. Not what you could call a ship. Not attached to a TARDIS’s extradimensional framework, and not connected to any sort of direct power source.’
‘You mean, it’s like a TARDIS, only not in a box,’ Sarah suggested.
The Doctor ignored that particular piece of wisdom. He turned back to I.M. Foreman, and gave the man an extra-special glare.
‘I assume you stole it from Gallifrey?’ he asked.
‘I didn’t “steal” anything,’ I.M. Foreman countered. ‘It’s not technology. It’s not a machine.’
‘Oh no? Then what is it?’
‘It’s a process.’ The Doctor scoffed at that, but I.M. Foreman kept talking. ‘You don’t need solid hardware. There are other ways of getting from A to B. Not that the Time Lords ever use them these days.’
‘Gobbledegook,’ said the Doctor.
‘Wait a moment,’ said Sarah. ‘I sort of thought… you were a Time Lord, as well.’
‘No,’ I.M. Foreman told her. ‘I’m a Gallifreyan.’
Sarah looked at the Doctor. He’d raised his eyebrows again, and his hand had frozen on his chin.
‘Not all Gallifreyans are Time Lords, Sarah,’ he murmured. ‘The Time Lords are just the elite of the planet’s society. The creme de la creme. Or so they say.’
‘They like to think they’re the only ones who can make an impression,’ I.M. Foreman added.
‘Which begs the question, what are you?’ the Doctor asked. ‘Only Time Lords have access to time technology. That’s the law, anyway.’
‘It’s the law now,’ I.M. Foreman corrected