Doctor Who_ The Gallifrey Chronicles - Lance Parkin [30]
Trix felt very self-conscious suddenly. ‘Er. . . Fitz and I were just going to pop into town.’
‘I don’t blame you. This is going to take a while. Cheer him up, would you?’
‘I’ll do my best. Are you going to be all right?’
‘Yes. I’ll chase this up and find you later.’
‘How?’
The Doctor tilted his head towards the screen. ‘Probably best if neither of you do any shoplifting.’
As Trix left, the Doctor returned to his work.
Fitz felt distinctly scruffy as he and Trix entered the lobby. It was a vast, light atrium which Fitz could say with some authority was larger than the one in the palace of a Roman emperor. The building was new, and they’d already passed a display telling them exactly how many architectural awards it had won. It was in the heart of the City of London. It wasn’t quite the tallest building, or the most showy, but there was something about it that exuded power, confidence in the future and – above all else – money. It was like a nuclear reactor that generated cash instead of electricity.
‘We have an appointment,’ he assured the supermodel receptionist, who clearly didn’t believe him.
As she phoned someone, Fitz was getting a little nervous. He’d never really thought of himself as one of the daily worker crowd – that always sounded rather an arduous schedule to him – but he felt as though he didn’t belong in here.
‘What?’ snapped Trix. She, of course, looked gorgeous in her new outfit.
‘It’s a big deal going to see your bank manager.’
Trix rolled her eyes. ‘I keep forgetting you’re from the Middle Ages.’
‘I think I’d rather be with the Doctor.’
‘Looking at computer records?’
65
‘Well, it’s bound to get more lively than that soon, isn’t it?’
The receptionist pointed the way to the lifts. ‘You’re to go straight up.’
‘No sitting around in a waiting room?’ Fitz said. ‘I like that.’
The two of them crossed the floor to the lifts. Outside, it was a cold and grey midday. In here, it was bright and sunny. There were dozens of people, men and women, every nationality, all in their perfect suits, almost strutting.
They moved out of Fitz and Trix’s way. At first, Fitz assumed they were avoiding him. Then he realised they were deferring to him.
‘This way, Mr Kreiner,’ an athletic man in a dark suit told him, indicating the express lift.
Fitz followed Trix into the lift, which started going up without them having to press anything.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘You clearly don’t think this is weird.’
Trix kissed his cheek. ‘All will be explained,’ she added.
The lift slowed and stopped. The doors opened, and they were on the top floor. There were panoramic views of the City, and indeed the city, from here. Fitz stumbled, a vestige of vertigo warning him to stay away from the windows.
There was a large desk at the other end of the office. Behind it sat a very pretty young Indian woman in a designer trouser suit. ‘Hello, Fitz,’ said Anji.
The Doctor checked the address he’d written down.
A large town house that looked as though it had been built just before the First World War. Red brick, with a high-sloping roof and a mock-Tudor frontage. It had a large, slightly overgrown front garden and gravel driveway leading up to a large, separate garage. It was secluded from its neighbours on both sides. But this was a perfectly ordinary-looking house.
It was the end of his trail. After an hour or so working through CCTV
footage, he’d glimpsed a lorry with a grabbing arm, and a time code that was only a few minutes after they’d been in the churchyard. It wasn’t possible to see the number plate, but the name of the hire firm was clearly visible. He’d rung them up, and – with only a little trickery on his part – had persuaded them to pass on the details of the person who’d hired the lorry.
This was the address he’d been given. If this wasn’t the place, then the trail had run cold.
He couldn’t sense the TARDIS. He was linked to the old girl, attuned to her. He often thought he could sense when she was close