Doctor Who_ Trading Futures - Lance Parkin [36]
Still, there were five hundred English words for people who worked in banks, or who otherwise had a job pushing money around. Most of them repeatable in polite company.
Anji was distracted by an elderly astrologer on television claiming he’d predicted this very disaster on his website this morning. He cited the URL, and a screengrab came up from it, and this was treated by the newsreader as definitive proof he was dealing with a genius.
If there were psychics, they’d do far better playing the markets than writing columns for online magazines. And why dress so ridiculously and act like such berks? If they dressed normally, Anji would at least be able to take them seriously.
She smiled as she reached a new understanding of the way the world worked. Of course they talked and dressed funny. It was the first principle of stage magic – distraction. If you spent your time concentrating on the colourful jumper, you wouldn’t be concentrating on challenging the big questions about what they did. More than that, it meant that, at some unconscious level, you started picturing the astrologers in suits, the ones who were making a fortune selling stocks and shares. The real astrologers. You started thinking that the whole astrology thing really could be plausible.
But what did Anji know? She flew around time and space in a police box, and was currently the guest of a man from the future.
She went over to Baskerville.
‘Are you OK?’ she asked.
‘A little sad,’ he admitted. ‘I know it had to happen, but even so…’
‘If it’s any consolation, the disaster served its purpose. You clearly have knowledge of the future. Now, there’s no way we can check your story, but you’ve acted in good faith, you’ve demonstrated you have a time machine.’
Baskerville nodded. ‘I just want to get home,’ he said sadly.
‘Tell me about it,’ said Anji, with feeling.
‘I will if you want. It’s a time of great scientific advance. There’s no disease, no poverty.’
‘An end to war.’
‘There are wars. There are always wars. Death and taxes aren’t inevitable. Wars are.’ He almost seemed happy at the thought. ‘It’s time you made a call, don’t you think?’
‘A call?’ Anji asked.
Baskerville gave a puzzled chuckle. ‘Don’t you think? It’s time for you to call the President and move this to the next stage. You have a phone.’
‘In my cabin.’
‘Then make the call.’
* * *
Chapter Nine
After the Deluge
The air in the vault was starting to get stale, but the Doctor had insisted that they stay put for exactly an hour.
The old couple were worried about their son and his wife – they would have been at work. The Doctor couldn’t offer them any words of comfort. The old couple tried to remember if anything like this had ever happened before. They couldn’t think that it had.
It hadn’t dawned on anyone else that the Doctor and Malady seemed to have foreknowledge of the tidal wave.
All the time, Malady stood, silently, wishing that people wouldn’t waste oxygen chatting.
In time, the manager’s watch beeped that it was one o’clock. The Doctor opened the safe, using the same tool that he’d used to get them in. Some sort of remote control, Malady assumed. It put her own lockpick to shame. Whoever the Doctor was working for had some nice gadgets.
The water was about an inch deep, and surprisingly dirty. There was already a strong musty smell, the damage was comprehensive – broken windows, mud everywhere, all the leaflets and wallpaper sodden wet.
The old couple were crying, imaging their home like this.
‘Come on,’ the Doctor said.
‘Where?’ Malady asked. She was numb – even having seen the tidal wave bearing down, she’d held the faint hope it wasn’t real. The safe had been soundproof – for an hour, everything had been so quiet. Outside, all the time, a city had been dying.
‘Baskerville’s office block. We need to find that time machine.’
‘He knew about the tidal wave