Doctor Who_ Match of the Day - Chris Boucher [51]
She found a booking hostess at Aerospace Main who was sure she recognised the name of one of the dead men from the wood. He was not on the ticket computer of course though this was not altogether surprising Sita thought, because by the time the hostess met him he had already been dead for twenty-three hours. Despite this the girl stuck to her story. She remembered distinctly that Norbert Lung,
the Norbert Lung, had left on a flight to the OTS. She remembered because she had discovered afterwards that there was no the Norbert Lung.
„He was just an any old Norbert Lung. He wasn‟t famous at all, he was a super-rich arse playing games. I tell you, because they‟ve got more money than you can shake a stick at, and they buy themselves a top-rate ticket, they think that gives them the right to make a fool of you.‟
„What did his ID say he was?‟ Sita asked.
„Was?‟
„What was his listed occupation?‟
The girl looked uncomfortable. „I don‟t remember.‟
„But he claimed to be famous,‟ Sita persisted. „A famous what?‟
„I don‟t remember, all right? Look have we finished?‟ She pushed her cup away and got up from the rest room table.
„Only I‟m due back on shift.‟
„This is just between us you know. It‟s not official or anything.‟ Sita tried to look hurt and slightly vulnerable. „I need to trace this man.‟
„Why?‟
„It‟s personal,‟ Sita said. „The bastard took advantage. He made a fool of me too and I‟m not going to let him get away with it.‟
The girl sat down again. „I never saw his ID,‟ she said, lowering her voice. „I should‟ve done. I‟m supposed to check everyone but with all this don’t make a fuss ‘cause I’m famous rubbish I was... I don‟t know...‟ She shrugged.
Sita nodded sympathetically. „Don‟t feel badly about it. The man‟s toxic-drain scum,‟ she said, thinking he didn‟t want you to see an ID because he didn‟t have one or because what he had didn‟t fit him. And the dead man had not been super rich, not rich at all. But what was really odd was the total absence of Norbert Lung on any travel records. He wasn‟t on any of the computers. That was slightly creepy if you thought about it. Assuming the booking hostess was right and there was no guarantee that she was. There was no evidence to support her...
As the girl left to go back to the projection cubicle that put her real-time image behind a dozen interactive checkins, Sita was beginning to regret asking questions. She had the uncomfortable feeling that she might be better off not knowing what she was finding out.
Leela was becoming increasingly uncomfortable with what the Doctor was doing. He had what he called an „office‟ now, which as far as she could see was a cluster of rooms with a lot of unnecessary seating and decorations and many elaborate communications devices. He had even had the TARDIS brought to this office. „You can get anything done if you know the right people and have enough money to pay them,‟ he had told her. She was not sure what money was but it was clearly valuable. But the Doctor had not given money to the right people because he did not have any. This did not matter because he had credit, which was money he promised to give the right people. She could not see how he could do that if he did not have the money already. Where did this strange money come from to begin with? Did just promising to give it to the right people make it appear? And if it was that easy to produce how could it be valuable? It was all very puzzling but there were more important problems to worry about.
More worrying than the puzzle of the Doctor‟s magical money was what he had done with the TARDIS. He had it placed among the decorations in one of the rooms of the office and he showed it off to visitors as if it was an interesting relic that might once have been holy to a powerful shaman such as him but was no longer of importance. Of course Leela had long ago put all superstitious nonsense behind her, but she still felt that it was in some way tempting the