Doctor Who_ The Algebra of Ice - Lloyd Rose [52]
‘Everything,’ Unwin said simply. ‘The rocks and stones. The wind. The water.
Sound and heat.’
‘Is he completely mad?’
Unwin shrugged. ‘I don’t know. He says it’s like a clock, reality – ticking away to nothing. He says he can almost hear it crumbling, atom by atom. Smell the rot as everything decays and passes.’
‘He’s mental.’
‘Is he?’ Unwin’s voice was calm. ‘Life is terrible. We’re comfortable enough.
But what about the wretched of the earth, who are, as you know, the majority?
What about grief and illness and the suffering of children?’
‘You’ve both read too much bloody Dostoyevsky. The Grand Inquisitor.’
‘I never believed Aloysha’s return argument to Ivan – kissed him on the cheek, as I recall. Love. God loves us. Do you believe that?’ Ethan was silent. ‘You see? And Sherry’s in a position to do something about it.’
‘Destroy reality?’
‘No!’ Unwin was shocked. ‘I’d never help him! No, he wants everything to continue. Forever.’
‘Including the suffering.’
‘There won’t be any suffering. The universe will be at peace.’
‘ “At peace”.’ Ethan echoed. ‘It sounds like an inscription on a gravestone.’
‘This is going to happen,’ Unwin said flatly. ‘There’s nothing you can do about it.’
‘Other than not help you. And you’re not getting there on your own, are you?
Not quite.’
‘It’s the primes!’ Unwin pleaded. ‘Your particular interest.’
‘Oh, that’s all right, then. I’d be delighted to screw up existence to indulge my hobby.’
Unwin flushed angrily. ‘It’s not a hobby! It’s the way to the heart of reality itself.’
‘And then you stop the heart.’
‘I can’t talk to you.’ Unwin stood up. There was no place to go in the small room except the window, so he went there. Ethan closed his eyes wearily. ‘I have another set of equations I’m working on. They have nothing to do with entropy.’
‘What have they to do with?’
‘Some sort of code-breaking, I think.’
‘More mysteries. I don’t think so.’
Chapter Twelve
109
Unwin’s lips tightened. He switched on the computer next to Ethan and brought up a screen. ‘Don’t be a fool. Look at this.’ He scrolled slowly through several screens. Ethan frowned:
‘That’s interesting.’
‘Isn’t it?’ Unwin highlighted a number of lines in bold. ‘Very complex. Very impressive.’
‘Stumped you, has it?’
Unwin reddened. ‘Do you think you could do anything with it?’
‘Oh yes. But no.’
‘For God’s sake. Do you want to go back to that cellar? Be tied and tortured?
It can get much worse.’
‘So he does this often? Just curious.’
‘Listen to me.’ Unwin shook him; Ethan cried out. ‘Exactly. How much more of that do you think you can take? Work on this.’
Say yes, Ethan thought desperately, say yes. But when he spoke the word came out, ‘No.’
‘Well, I tried,’ Unwin said, with the air of a man letting himself off the hook.
‘You can’t say I didn’t.’
Ethan didn’t reply. He was shamefully aware of tears in his eyes. He was afraid he was going to vomit up the only food he’d had in 36 hours.
‘So how’s our lad?’
Ethan started. He hadn’t heard Brett come in.
‘He’s going to help,’ Unwin said quickly.
‘Is he?’ Brett took a handful of Ethan’s hair and yanked his head back, looking down into his burned face. ‘What a good boy he is. Still, he seems a bit nervous to me. Are you sure he’s come round?’
‘Absolutely.’
Brett narrowed his eyes. ‘I don’t know. He looks shifty.’
‘Don’t put me down there again,’ Ethan whispered.
‘Oh I think one more night might do you good,’ said Brett, and he heaved Ethan over a shoulder and carried him back to the cellar.
Hiding behind the library door, peeking through the narrow gap between the hinges, Molecross watched fearfully.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Much earlier that same morning, a dreadful thought had jolted Molecross awake. What if his interview had not gone quite as successfully as he’d first thought? After all, he’d given some things away. Mentioned the Doctor. Mentioned Amberglass. Of course, this Brett fellow wasn’t interested in the least, but. . . Was it really a coincidence he’d been at the field the very night the pattern first appeared? Coincidences did