Doctor Who_ The Taint - Michael Collier [67]
So, when the Rolls-Royce pulled up beside her in the busy street and a nice-looking man with light-brown curls poked his head out the car window, she almost walked straight past. It would only be hassle.
'Excuse me! Can you drive?'
There was something in his tone that made her turn round. He was looking at her hopefully.
'What?'
'I need to ask a bit of a favour.'
Weirdo or creep, one of the two. 'Sorry, mate, I'm busy.'
'Oh, please!' He'd got out the car, and her suspicions deepened. He was dressed all fancy, wearing a long, green, velvet coat, waistcoat and grey trousers, and holding a funny-looking object. What was she hanging around for?
'Would you mind sitting in my car?'
That was it. 'How dare you?' she began in disbelief.
'Only I've just got to go off somewhere,' he continued. Suddenly, he looked at her, earnestly. 'I wouldn't ask if it wasn't important.'
His eyes were pale blue, sad-looking. They were beautiful eyes. 'What do you want me to do?' she said, more softly.
'I can't find anywhere to park and I don't want to get a ticket. I was wondering if you'd mind car-sitting, and, if a traffic warden comes, driving it round the block for me.'
She stared at the keys he was dangling in front of her. 'But...'
'I'll try not to be too long,' he said.
'But that's a Rolls-Royce,' she managed.
'Very true,' he agreed, amiably.
'But I haven't driven for years! My first husband, he -'
'Watch out for second gear,' he called back as he disappeared into the crowds of shoppers. 'It sticks a little.’
With that, the strange man was gone.
Martha Wynshaw opened the car door, looking round her, expecting someone to run out and laugh in her face at any moment. Nothing. She eased herself into the sumptuously upholstered driver's seat and stared at the walnut dashboard, at the dials and meters it housed."His key was real -
it fitted in the ignition, it even turned. It was true -engines could purr like a kitten.
The man had definitely gone, as quickly as he'd arrived. He was probably a nutter. He'd probably stolen it...
No. No, they weren't a thief’s eyes...
She checked her own in the rear-view mirror.
She could drive off and never come back. Stop outside her second husband's house and flick Vs at him and his new missus. Visit her first husband and honk the horn at his grave. The tank was almost full!
She could go for miles!
She remembered those eyes that weren't thief's eyes, turned off the engine, and sighed. Typical, she thought as she sank back into the seat.
All you got was hassle.
***
The choroid processor interfaced directly with the vestiges of Azoth's nerve endings, connected via the leech to Sam's optic nerve. Sam was looking at Tarr, and Azoth duly received the impression of the man, though his outline seemed distorted, shrouded by something greater.
This was wrong. There should be nothing to see. Azoth felt something stir deep inside his head. It wasn't anything so clinical as data. This was memory .
***
Cynthia trudged along next to Fitz as they walked all round the grounds, stopping now and then to let his mum have a rest. The old woman seemed so ordinary now. It was hard to believe that earlier that day she'd been snarling, swearing, attacking that poor girl, Sam.
Cynthia was gradually feeling better. Out here, everything seemed so normal. The sky was a clear blue, birds were singing, it was a day tailor-made for picnics, weddings and fresh starts. Mad old women and men with guns had no place in a day like this.
No more delays. She wouldn't even give Roley notice - she'd leave straight away. What could he do about it, anyway - dock her wages? She didn't care. Loonies like that old biddy had turned the whole place into a madhouse.
'I'm going back, now,' she announced.
Fitz looked at her. 'Oh, don't go,' he said. 'Safety in numbers, and all that.'
'No, I'd better. Not feeling too well.' She looked at Mrs Kreiner, who was rubbing her stomach as if it was sore. 'She's