Doctor Who_ The Dying Days - Lance Parkin [6]
The door opened.
'Sorry I'm late. You wouldn't believe the state of the traffic around the Horsehead Nebula.' The man who was framed in the doorway looked about her age, in his mid-thirties, perhaps a little bit older. He was about her height.
He wore a velvet frock coat that was probably a very dark green, but which might have been a plain-chocolate brown. Either way, it came down to his knees and underneath it was a wing col ar shirt, complete with grey cravat and a shiny patterned waistcoat. He was wearing baggy trousers, tan ones that had never even considered the idea of having a seam. His long face was angular, with a jutting chin and aristocratic nose, but it was softened by a mass of dark brown hair that swept back down all the way from his high forehead to his broad shoulders. He had a full mouth and sad blue eyes.
'Doctor?' she asked, unsure why.
'Bernice!' he jumped forward, a broad open-mouthed grin on his face, and tried to hug her.
Benny took a step back, almost tripping over one of the garden chairs. The stranger pulled himself back. 'What's the matter?' he asked. His voice had a hint of the Doctor's Celtic lilt, but only a trace.
'What do you mean "what's the matter"? What do you think?'
The man paused, stroking his top lip as he considered the question. 'I've changed my appearance since we last met,' he concluded, with a faraway look on his face.
'Wel spotted. You've also started to go in for hugging. You know I don't like that.'
8
He fixed her with those eyes of his. 'We were alone in your tent, on a planet cal ed Heaven. The Hoothi had been destroyed. You were packing, ready to leave. There was a Japanese fan in your hand. I asked if we could be friends and put my hand on your shoulder. You asked me not to touch you. You said that I was very tactile, but you weren't and that you'd prefer it if I didn't.'
The Doctor put a hand on Benny's shoulder.
'I am the Doctor, Bernice. Your friend.'
She hugged him.
'You're wet,' he whispered softly.
'I was in the shower. Where's Chris?'
'Gallifrey. He stayed behind, but he said he might pop around to see you. A lot has happened to me since then.'
Benny yawned. 'It's been pretty damn action-packed here, too, I can tell you. I'll get dressed and tell you about it.'
***
The helicopter maintained a steady 230 kph at 1750 metres altitude. From the ground it was a tiny black dot, making its way silently across the clear blue sky.
Inside, the guards didn't know who their prisoner was, not for certain, but they knew that he was a convicted multiple murderer and that he was to be considered dangerous at al times. They had been briefed about that before they had left, and given orders to shoot him if he even looked like he was trying to escape. There were four guards in all. The prisoner was handcuffed to one guard, with another, armed, man opposite. The prisoner wore dark blue coveral s, a uniform without pockets, belts or buttons, fastened by a single strip of Velcro down the front.
They'd searched him twice, once in his cell and again at the helipad.
The prisoner wasn't allowed to speak, but the noise of the rotor blades and the engines would have drowned out anything he said anyway. Everyone in the helicopter was wearing bright orange ear-protectors. Not a word had been spoken since the start of the flight, over an hour ago. The prisoner was in his early fifties, and was stil in good shape. He had the square jaw and bearing of a military office. His face was striking, with a chisel ed profile and distinctive eyebrows that darted up over his temple. It was one of those faces you were sure you'd seen before, in a colour supplement, perhaps, or on television. He sat in his harness, looking around with a keenness entirely lacking in his wardens.
Only Caldwell, the man in charge of the transfer operation knew who the prisoner was. In his day Alexander Christian had been notorious, but that day had long gone. The tabloids had plenty of other killers to vilify, and they'd forgotten about him in favour of the Yorkshire Ripper, Myra Hindley and Rosemary