Doctor Who_ Warlock - Andrew Cartmel [148]
The Doctor blew dust off the book and began to leaf through it. ‘Genetic information is certainly alive and it’s ultimately just a collection of chemicals. And this drug also consists of chemicals.’
‘Oh, come on. A random bunch of chemicals isn’t alive.’
‘Warlock is anything but random,’ said the Doctor.
‘But genetic information goes through cycles as living organisms.’ Vincent glanced at his pregnant wife. ‘As human beings.’
‘Warlock goes through a cycle in human beings, too,’ said the Doctor. ‘In their minds, in fact.’
‘That’s exactly what Creed says.’ Justine sipped her orange juice. Her husband flashed her a look of hate but she didn’t look up.
‘But is it intelligent?’ he said.
‘Well, it would seem to be, if it is trying to communicate with humans.’
‘Communicate? Like knocking on the table at a seance?’
‘Possibly. After all, it is a drug which enhances communication.’
‘Where does it come from, warlock?’
‘It occurs naturally in a wild mushroom which grows in one small region of Russia. It’s known locally as the toadback because of its distinctive colouring.’
‘Well, you’re ignoring a flaw in your argument,’ said Vincent. ‘Assume this drug is a living thing. Assume it wants to make contact with human beings. I doubt that it would still be trying. After millennia on earth it would have achieved communication with us long ago.’
‘What if it only arrived on earth recently?’ said the Doctor.
There was silence in the kitchen.
Vincent stared at the Doctor in disbelief ‘Are you saying what I think you’re saying?’
But at that moment everyone turned to look. The back door had opened.
‘I’m sorry about this,’ said Ace. She came into the kitchen, moving slowly, followed by the man holding a gun to her head.
* * *
A cold wind sent dried leaves skittering along Allen Road. Creed helped Benny heave the iron gate open and followed him as he ran out onto the pavement.
‘It’s just up here,’ he yelled. Allen Road curved to the right just outside the gate and he was already out of sight. Benny ran after him.
As she came around the curve she saw the rope‐ladder hanging down from the stone wall. But Creed was ignoring it. He was standing beside a small sports car parked close to the wall.
He stood up as Benny trotted over. ‘What’s wrong?’ she said. There was a look of pain on his face.
‘What is it?’
‘Don’t look in the car,’ said Creed.
Benny looked in the car.
Jammed between the seats was a body. A small man was lying face down and you could see the worn soles of his shoes. There was a hole in one and you could see his threadbare red sock underneath. He was wearing an IDEA baseball cap. The man looked oddly familiar to Benny. But it couldn’t be.
‘Artie,’ said Creed.
‘Oh no.’ It was.
‘Shot through the head.’ Creed had already turned away and begun running back up Allen Road, towards the gate. Towards the house. Benny ran after him. He pelted through the gate and up the gravel driveway. Benny was running as fast as she could but hardly gained on him until they were nearly at the garage.
‘But who did it?’ she gasped, falling in alongside Creed. ‘Who killed Artie?’
Creed didn’t reply. He was opening the trunk of his Porsche and taking something out from under a blanket. A handgun.
Benny followed him as he came out of the big garage and into the herb garden. Creed went through the door into the kitchen with the gun held ready.
‘Welcome back, son.’
‘Hello, Mr Harrigan. Put the gun down.’
The big Texan smiled and shook his head. ‘No can do, son.’ He had a big Colt revolver pointed at Ace and Justine. ‘In fact, I’m going to ask you to do just that for me.’ He wagged the gun at Justine and Ace, who were sitting on stools, crowded into the corner of the kitchen where the spice cupboard met the pantry. The gun was an antique but it looked none the less lethal for that. It was pearl‐handled and silver‐plated. The big skull ring on the old man’s finger had an answering silver gleam.
Creed lowered his own weapon.
Harrigan smiled, clearly a little relieved, and waved