Doctor Who_ Warchild - Andrew Cartmel [135]
‘Except that you’re working for him. And you have been all along. You’re his little helper,’ said Creed. ‘You came with the funding and the approval.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Come on Amy. The Doctor did a lot of digging on this situation. He can get in anywhere with his computers. He knows the score and he told me.’
‘But he didn’t tell you everything,’ said Amy quietly.
‘He didn’t tell you that you started off as my assignment.
But then you turned into something else.’
Evening sunlight was slanting into the car, catching the low branches of the nearby trees. There were dark leaf shadows moving across Amy’s face. ‘That just happened. I can’t control my feelings. I wish I could. Life would be much easier for me if I could.’
Now the leaf shadows were stirring across the pale flesh of her breasts as Creed eased her out of her bra and she moved under him, trying to get her blouse the rest of the way off but it got stuck around her wrists and there it stayed, an obstinate flapping knot of cloth that was sometimes above her head, sometimes rubbing the skin of Creed’s back as she drew him closer to her, giving a small cry as he entered her.
The windows of the car fogged up as they made love, obscuring the outside world in a pearly blur of leaves and late sunlight.
They moved back and forth in the tiny space, a gently rocking cradle of joined flesh. Creed felt the cool tiny crescent of her silver earring pressed to his face, and breathed the warm scent of her hair as she writhed and cried out briefly and clung to him.
‘You have to trust me,’ she said.
Chapter 38
‘Hello, Justine,’ said the Doctor.
He stood in the shade of the big white porch. In the mellow evening sunlight of Concroft Avenue he looked like a visitor from an earlier, more civilized era. An Edwardian gentleman come to call on a mild Indian summer evening, holding his straw hat politely in his hand. The crickets were just starting to sing in the dark yards up and down the long avenue and the streetlights were coming on in the gathering dusk.
Justine gave the Doctor a tense insincere smile and waved him into the house.
The Doctor followed her, looking for somewhere to hang his hat. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear that everything is going as planned,’ he said. ‘Even now my friends have picked up Ricky and Cynthia safely and another friend is looking after your little girl. In fact Eve should be back with you as soon as Roz can get here. She apparently stopped to buy Eve some dinosaur-shaped cookies and then they hit traffic downtown.
I told her not to worry. I said everything would be fine here, since you have Chris to look after you. I do hope I’m not being rude. I seem to be doing all the talking.’
A man stepped out of the shadows holding a gun. ‘That’s because she’s basically too scared to open her mouth.’ He took Justine by the shoulder and moved her away so that he had a clear line of fire towards the Doctor.
‘Hello, Vincent.’
‘Very good, Doctor.’ Vincent aimed the gun at the Doctor’s head. ‘You didn’t bat an eyelash. Are you going to say that you were expecting me?’
Not at all. I was hoping to catch up with you at the school. What have you done with Chris?’
‘He’s fine.’
‘Show me.’
Vincent moved towards the living room, waving the gun to indicate that Justine and the Doctor should precede him.
In the living room Vincent seated Justine in a straight-backed chair beside a gleaming grand piano. He swiftly secured her hands and legs with lengths of heavy black electrician’s tape, and used a piece of the stuff to seal her mouth. It looked like some strange black clown’s lipstick on her pale face. Instead of a neat slice of tape, Vincent used a long messy strip that circled right around and trapped the ends of her hair against her neck. He kept his gun on the Doctor while he worked.
Finally he set the big roll