Doctor Who_ Trading Futures - Lance Parkin [44]
Anji stubbed her toe on something under the bed. She bent down to take a look. Under the bed was the silver carry case, the only thing Baskerville had salvaged from his office.
She pulled it out and opened it up.
It was the coffee machine, the one from the sending room. The jug was still half‐full of coffee.
She waved the time detector over it, but from the lack of a signal, it still looked remarkably like a coffee machine, and not like a particularly bijou TARDIS.
Someone was coming.
Anji was squeezing herself under the bed before she knew what she was doing. There was someone coming down the steps to this deck. A moment later, the cabin door opened. She saw Baskerville’s sandalled feet step in, then the door closing.
She hoped he hadn’t come downstairs for some coffee.
He sat on the bed, his ankles inches from her face. What if he found her? Some people would pay good money to find a semi‐naked Asian girl under their bed.
He was moving around on the bed. She seriously hoped he wasn’t going to sleep. She checked her watch – it was a minute to two. But he could be having a siesta.
He was talking into the radio.
‘Oblimova? Good.’ His voice sounded different. There was an accent there – the same vaguely East European accent as his chauffeur.
Baskerville’s feet appeared again, and Anji began to ease herself backwards. If they should touch her…
‘The bomb worked. Look, there’s been a change of plan. We’re doing a deal with the Americans, now. Yes, well, dollars are as good as euros. Better in many ways. Now, we need to –’
Back a bit further…
Beep!
The time detector in her bag cheerfully registered the time traveller who had just brushed across it.
Two seconds later, Baskerville had grabbed bag and owner, and pulled Anji out from under the bed.
She stood awkwardly. He let her readjust her bikini.
‘Er… hi,’ she said, wondering how he’d kill her.
* * *
‘Doctor,’ the woman said. Her voice was calm, authoritative. She looked and sounded more like a university English lecturer than a… whatever she was.
The Doctor stepped forward. ‘You know me?’
The boy was watching him with thinly veiled contempt. ‘We’re going to take you to our master to face trial. The whole universe will hear of your crimes.’
To their surprise, the Doctor grinned at that. ‘Excellent,’ he declared. ‘That really is excellent news.’
‘He’s pleased, Jaxa,’ the boy said, scandalised.
‘You relish the idea?’ the woman asked.
‘Of course,’ the Doctor said, leaning in. ‘Perhaps there, I might find out what you’re accusing me of.’
He glared at her, waiting for the answer.
‘You’re Time Agents, are you? I’ve met your sort before.’
‘You have?’ Malady asked.
‘Yes, England in the nineteen‐thirties, a place called Little Marpling. They were so keen to maintain established history, they were prepared to explode a nuclear weapon to stop a group of renegade time travellers.’ A thought struck him. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? The tidal wave was you, covering your tracks.’
‘No!’ the boy shouted. ‘That was all part of the web of time. But if it hadn’t been –’
Jaxa placed her hand on his shoulder, silencing him. ‘Roja…’ She turned to the Doctor. ‘I was a Time Agent once, but not a military officer. Now I work for a more noble cause. One that doesn’t take kindly to your interference here.’
‘Moi?’ The Doctor looked offended.
Malady was watching them both carefully, getting their measure. ‘What do you think the Doctor has done?’
‘He is supplying time travel technology to a primitive era.’
The boy was studying a readout on a wristband. ‘He isn’t from this time zone.’
‘You aren’t?’ Malady asked.
‘Guilty as charged,’ the Doctor admitted. ‘But I’m here for the same reason as you.’ He thumbed back over his shoulder. ‘That time machine isn’t mine, it belongs to an explorer from the future, a man who calls himself Baskerville.’
Jaxa moved over to the time machine, ran her hand along it. ‘This isn’t a time machine.’
‘I’ve seen it operate,’ the