Doctor Who_ The King of Terror - Keith Topping [9]
‘You ever been to America before?’
‘No,’ said Barrington. ‘I’ve been to the UNIT field operations centre in Der-byshire. They have a full working model of “It’s a Small World”.’
‘I know,’ replied Paynter. ‘It’s terrifying. We’ve all got our little idiosyn-crasies, but they take things to extremes up there, know what I mean?’ The contrast between the cramped Fokker 100 that had brought them from England, and the huge 747 could hardly have been greater. Paynter wiped the condensation from the window and stared at the clouds outside. ‘Think yourself lucky, matey. First time I was over there the flight was delayed and they lost my luggage. Spent three days walking around in the same underwear.’
Barrington ignored Paynter’s scatological humour.
‘What’s the in-flight
movie?’
‘ Tomorrow Never Dies,’ replied Paynter with a sarcastic sneer.
‘Typical,’ said Barrington. ‘Even in a metal tank six miles high you can’t get away from the day job!’ He found himself looking down the aisle to where Bulyjin sat apparently asleep, his jacket turned into a makeshift blanket. Above him in the baggage compartment was the metallic briefcase containing enough plutonium to blow the plane into orbit.
‘James Bond . . . Pfft. Lightweight! Put him in a jeep next to a sixty-foot robot and he’d be shaken not stirred!’
Barrington seemed impressed. ‘You go back all the way to the giant robot?’
he asked. ‘I never knew you were that old!’
Paynter ignored the sarcasm. ‘My first gig. I was seventeen and straight out of basic. Big sweat that, shooters and everything. My bottle was twitching, I can tell you. John Benton told me to expect the unexpected. You know what’s the only thing that’s kept me sane for the last twenty years?’
‘The wages?’
‘No. Sitting down to watch a spy film and laughing at all the inaccuracies!’
‘What’s the alternative?’ asked Barrington. ‘Do you want to be a spaceman?’
The suggestion was not quite as ridiculous as it sounded. ‘Actually, I did when I was six,’ Paynter replied cheerfully. ‘Space travel’s in my blood.’ It was, too. His father had worked with the British Rocket Group in the Seventies on the Neptune missions.
If Barrington was surprised by this revelation, he didn’t show it. ‘What with the Chinese throwing up a rocket every six minutes, and all that work NASA are doing for private companies, there’s a lot of it about.’
‘Space tourism’ll be the next thing,’ Paynter said, folding up his crumpled copy of the in-flight magazine. ‘Five years, maybe less, we’ll have charter 19
flights into space.’
There was a period of silence as the film began, which was only broken when Barrington dug his partner in the ribs with his elbow. ‘Hey look at this,’
he said, holding up the US immigration form.
‘You have to fill one in before they’ll let you into the land of the free. It’s the law,’ said Paynter.
‘Have you ever read the questions on the back?’
‘No,’ replied Paynter. ‘I just tick “no” to everything . . . ’
‘Then check out number three!’
Paynter found the object of his partner’s amazement. ‘“Have you ever been involved in espionage; or sabotage; or in terrorist activity; or genocide?”’ he read aloud.
Barrington and Paynter began to laugh. Softly at first. Then hysterically.
They were still laughing six hours later when the plane touched down at Los Angeles International Airport.
20
Chapter Two
Safe European Home
‘Someone once said, “If you are tired of London, you are tired of life”.’
‘I’ll bet they never had to suffer a breakdown on the Northern Line in the middle of a heat wave, whoever they were,’ noted Tegan spikily.
They walked through the crowds on Oxford Street almost oblivious to the bustle and mayhem going on around them. As motorbikes weaved through the black taxis and red London buses, the couple barely seemed to raise their voices above a whisper despite the cacophony.
When you’ve stared death in the face on other worlds, thought Tegan, a Saturday afternoon in the busiest shopping street in Europe is a piece of cake in comparison.
‘Hmm