Doctor Who_ The Algebra of Ice - Lloyd Rose [31]
Shoes. And with feet in.
Ace jumped back. Bollocks! Why wasn’t he at the medical ward? Presuming it was Molecross. She carefully peeked in again. The shoes weren’t moving, and there was no way to tell who they belonged to, except it was clearly someone with big feet. Hands in pockets, she looked around, squinting against the bright morning sun. Cycling out she had begun to sweat and had undone her jacket.
Chapter Eight
67
Now she was cold again. She wasn’t going to wait around here freezing. She’d go back to UNIT and try to get in touch with the Doctor. A sudden bump and bang came from inside the cottage, and when she looked through the window again, the feet were gone.
Ace retreated to the spinney, where she refastened her jacket and settled in to wait. Molecross’s cottage was isolated behind a hedgerow with a few red holly berries among its twistings of blackberry thorns, and backed up to spindly woods. She wondered how much of the land actually belonged to the house –
he’d wake up one morning and find them bulldozing to build a shopping centre.
Now, however, it was quiet except for the occasional car passing on the other side of the hedgerow.
Curious about Molecross’s own form of transportation, she moved softly through the trees till she could see the back of the cottage. A beat-up, pur-plish Mini, at least ten years old, sat among the weeds. She supposed he had to have a car to travel around investigating. Ace was of two minds as to whether Molecross was a total loony. She’d seen enough outrageous things in her time to reserve judgement on reports of strange happenings. On the other hand, she’d had mates in Perivale who were into all this paranormal stuff and it had always struck her as soft. Even after her mind-opening travels with the Doctor, she was still inclined to think it was rubbish.
It was odd, she thought, for the Doctor to be taking someone like Molecross even half seriously. But he always had his reasons, and they were always good reasons, just like he was good. He was going to stop these aliens and fix this time mess, and like always she’d watch his back. And commit a little b-and-e when necessary. Ace grinned. She quite enjoyed breaking and entering, actually, and it was nice to have an excuse to do it in the cause of right.
Whenever she finally got the opportunity. Molecross could be in there all –
hang on. Ace stepped farther back into the trees. Molecross came weaving out the back door towards his car. It must be an automatic, or how could he drive?
She hoped he was returning to the medical ward; he looked well ill. All white and wobbly. Probably shouldn’t even be driving. Maybe it would be better to stop him and explore the house later – but as she hesitated, he drove the Mini, its exhaust spitting fitfully, through a gap in the hedgerow and was gone.
Ace sighed, put Molecross out of her mind, and went to the door. Unlocked.
Disappointed, she pushed it open and entered a tiny, extremely clean kitchen, the neatest kitchen, in fact, she’d ever been in. She looked in amazement at the spotless stove and shining lino and was unable to resist peeking into the refrigerator. Equally neat.
68
The Algebra of Ice
The Doctor hadn’t been worried about Molecross’s computer, into which he could easily hack. He had asked her to look through his papers instead, particularly any notes he might have made. Well, hard cheese for the Doctor, she thought, examining the well-polished computer desk. Empty and shiny as a new-washed plate. She opened the drawers, but they were all filled with disks.
Responsibly, if grudgingly, she went through each of these, reading the labels: Animal Mutilations, UFO sightings, UFO sightings America, UFO sightings Asia and Europe, Raptures – the last puzzled her and she brought it up on the computer. Something