Doctor Who_ Prime Time - Mike Tucker [51]
Safe.’
Trasker shot a look at Breame. ‘Is he going to give us away?’
‘An interesting idea,’ burbled the Blinnati. ‘Give you away? For what? As a prize? I’ve never given away women as prizes before. That could be a fascinating new concept! I must write it down.’ He started to rummage through the piles of papers, muttering to himself.
‘He’ll be fine.’ Ace smiled sympathetically at Gatti. ‘It makes sense you staying here. You’ll be OK?’
Gatti nodded. ‘I suppose so.’
‘You’d better leave her with that.’ Trasker nodded at the piton gun. Ace opened her mouth to argue, but Trasker stopped her. ‘You can hardly pose as part of the news team if you’re hauling heavy artillery around. Leave it with Gatti. She can act as back-up.’
Trasker pulled a small elegant handgun from under her jacket. ‘Besides, I’ve got this.’
Ace slid the piton gun from her shoulder and handed it to Gatti. ‘Keep your eyes peeled for trouble.’
‘How?’
Ace nodded at the monitor screen half buried in the corner.
‘If you see me on the early evening news, come in blazing.’
‘You got it, girl.’
Ace gave her a hug then stepped out into the corridor.
Gatti closed the door, slinging the gun over her shoulder.
Breame stared at her from over the piles of books. ‘Three ordinary-looking girls, but one of them has a dangerous secret.
Can you guess what it is, boys and girls?’
Gatti stared at him. ‘What do you mean? What secret?’
Breame tapped the side of his nose with a pen. ‘It’s time for twenty questions, and the clock is ticking.’
Ace tensed as she and Trasker stepped into the bustle of the Channel 400 newsroom. Talk about stepping into the lion’s den. A few heads turned in her direction as the glass doors swung open, but on the whole everyone was too interested in their work.
The newsroom was a vast open-plan office. Computers and monitor screens hung in untidy tangles on the ceiling and there was a constant underlying air of barely concealed panic.
Ace dodged out of the way as a news crew barged past.
Overhead the main screen showed the unfolding saga of the Doctor, the Channel 400 live logo blinking in one corner.
Ace could feel herself getting angry. It was as if a small boy had taken red and black ants and stuck them in a box together to see which would win.
The camera was holding a close-up of the Master, his cold eyes twinkling with amusement. The Doctor might still believe that there was some good in him but she didn’t. All she could see was Karra, dying from the wound from the Master’s knife. Dying In her arms.
She shook her head. She had to remain focused. She was letting her hatred for the Master get in the way of the job in hand. Trasker had settled herself down in front of a computer terminal. Ace crossed to her side.
‘I thought we were going to get over to the studio,’ she whispered.
Trasker nodded.
‘Just getting some information. Every little helps.’ She stood up. ‘This way.’
She shouldered her way through the jostling journalists, and pushed open a door. With a last lingering look at the monitor screen, Ace followed.
‘Look! I told you, I bloody told you!’ Rickett nodded at the screen. ‘Black and blue we’re going to be by the end of this.’
Briggs sighed and started to unwrap his sandwich. ‘You heard Gurney, we’re to watch. That’s all, watch. You’re not going to get bruised shins by watching a monitor, are you?’
‘There’s eye strain. You can go blind stuck behind these things all day. No one ever worries about that, do they?’
grumbled Rickett.
Briggs took a bite of his sandwich and grimaced. ‘Why is their bread always stale, hmm? It wouldn’t take much to get fresh bread.’
‘Can’t understand why we let her out if he wanted her back inside all along. Could have saved myself some knocks...’
‘It’s entertainment,’ said Briggs. ‘The punters love it. The switchboard has been jammed all day. My sister’s kids think that she’s fab. Got the toys and everything.’
Rickett grunted.