Doctor Who_ The Banquo Legacy - Andy Lane [79]
The Doctor crossed to the bed and sat beside Simpson on the rumpled covers. With Susan Seymour’s aid he examined the butler’s leg. While Hopkinson piled more furniture against the door I crossed to the window where Catherine stood.
‘How do you feel?’ I asked as gently as possible. She glanced up quickly, like a startled rabbit.
‘I don’t… I’m not sure…’ she said hesitantly. ‘I think I’m dreaming all this. I feel so confused.’
‘Don’t worry,’ I reassured her. ‘It’ll all be over soon.’ I felt superfluous; what could I say that would not sound patronising?
Hopkinson glanced over to me from where he stood by the barricade. I crossed the room to where he stood.
‘At least we know who the killer is now,’ he said, and smiled. The smile faded from his face as he considered the implications of what he had just said. ‘I suppose that makes me responsible for all this,’ he said quietly. ‘If I hadn’t –’
I interrupted him brusquely. ‘There’s no time for recriminations now. We don’t know what’s going on here. Let’s wait until we get out before assigning blame.’ In a way Hopkinson was right, if he hadn’t sabotaged Harries’s equipment, none of this would have happened. But Catherine Harries did not yet know of Hopkinson’s part in the death of her brother.
Death? However it was phrased, I did not think it was the best time for her to find out. There was enough tension already without my adding to it. I could not tell whether Hopkinson understood my reasons for cutting him off. He had his glasses on and I could not see his eyes very well.
Susan Seymour glanced over at Catherine. ‘What do we do now?’ she asked, neatly summing up my feelings. Then I realised she was talking about Harries.
‘We hope he goes past, then double back to the stairs,’ the Doctor replied. ‘How’s that feel, Simpson?’
‘It hurts a lot, sir. I don’t think I can move it.’
There was concern in the Doctor’s eyes as he gazed at Simpson. ‘I think you can drop the “sir",’ he said quietly. ‘After all, you’ve dropped other parts of this façade. Under normal circumstances,’ he went on, ‘I would expect it to heal… quickly. Very quickly. But as things are…’
I did not understand what the Doctor was getting at, but Simpson obviously did. ‘It’s a… draining… time for all of us,’ he replied. ‘I’ll just have to let nature take its course – human nature, that is.’
‘Perhaps there’s something I can do.’ The Doctor seemed quite insistent. ‘If only I could just flick a switch and make things better.’
‘It’s not as simple as that.’ Simpson subsided, a spasm of pain crossing his face. ‘There’s a certain amount of unexpected improvisation going on, Doctor, but I’m still going by the script.’
‘It’s a clean break,’ said Susan helpfully. ‘So long as he doesn’t walk on it, it’s not serious.’
‘Serious enough as far as we are concerned,’ Baker muttered. ‘Perhaps… ’
The handle of the door turned. So much for Harries walking past. We could hear something scrabbling at the door, seeking to gain admittance. The scratching continued for a few seconds like a rat in the wainscoting, then it stopped.
A pause.
The door shuddered and bulged inwards slightly as something heavy slammed into it. Everyone took a rapid step backwards in reaction. The backs of my knees hit the bed and I fell awkwardly across Simpson, fortunately missing his injured leg. The hammering on the door continued over the resulting confusion as we disentangled ourselves. As I stood up I distinctly heard a small metallic ping from the lock as something gave.
‘What the hell do we do now, sir?’ asked Baker. A fine mist of sweat covered his forehead and he mopped at it with a handkerchief.
‘We’ve got to find out what is going on,’ I snapped, wishing I knew how to go about it.
‘What good will that do?’ The strain was beginning