Doctor Who: Drift (16 page)

Melody rounded the front of the 4WD, her stylish boots making wet crunching sounds in the snow. „Sure I will. Then we can go find your daughter, speak to her nice and calmly.

It won‟t take more than five minutes, tops.‟ She angled her head up at her partner. „And what are you planning on doing exactly?‟

„Me?‟ Parker flashed a winning smile and jerked a thumb over his shoulder. „I am going over to the store to pick up some candy. Your daughter likes candy, right, Martha?‟

Martha clenched her teeth before returning the thinnest of smiles. „Why don‟t you tell me, Agent Theroux? Or isn‟t that covered in your government files?‟

„Touché, ma‟am.‟ He tipped her a salute and turned, crossing the street with an over-easy swagger. Byers was always saying how he got all sorts coming through his store.

* * *

Actually, for all the dragging minutes of their trek, she didn‟t think they had covered a heck of a lot of ground.

The wind was getting up, stirring the crystal flakes into a frenzy.

Jacks forged ahead like she was on some kind of route march. The big guy, Lagoy, was dragging his heels for painfully obvious reasons, and Joanna was watching her step because one slip and she might crack her head against a tree. Hands tethered behind her back, her balance was off and she‟d already earned one vengeful kick from Jacks for a simple stumble.

Vengeful seemed to sum up Emilie Jacks pretty completely.

There was certainly no compassion in her tone when she finally called for a rest break. „Ten minutes,‟ she said, marching back to them. „Here‟s your chance to take a look at Mitch.‟

Joanna turned herself around to be untied, privately thankful. In spite of what he was, she‟d been concerned about Mitch Lagoy. Sure, part of her had wanted him to keel over and never get up, but it was always the lesser part.

Set loose, she yanked her hood up and rubbed her cheeks furiously to get some heat back into them. Her right cheek was still sore from its meeting with the gas can. Lagoy had slumped against the nearest birch, and she knelt beside him to peel tentatively at his coat. Where the blood had stained the punctured fabric, the holes looked especially ragged.

They might look neater when she got to the skin, but there wouldn‟t be any cause for optimism.

She worked swiftly. Lagoy breathing in thick gasps - and wanting to close his eyes.

„Hey,‟ she said. „for what it‟s worth, it wasn‟t me who did this. I didn‟t get a single shot off before your lady friend-‟

„She is no way,‟ he butted in, „my lady friend. She was Crayford‟s squeeze - or the other way round.‟

Joanna remembered the name from a CIA dossier. Jacks was safely out of earshot, hovering across the clearing and trying to out-stare the whiteness. „And there I was just thinking he was crazy for believing in aliens.‟

„Come off it. Lieutenant. We know that you know. That thing we cut from the chute wasn‟t manufactured in Detroit.‟

Joanna was peering underneath her patient to check for exit wounds. There were none and she looked up to meet the big man‟s gaze. She knew the Stormcore must have been in this pair‟s hands when Kristal had sensed it. „What did you do with the pilot?‟ she demanded, her normally brisk bedside manner giving way to anger.

„Pilot?‟ Mitch Lagoy rolled his head side to side against the trunk of the tree. „There wasn‟t any pilot, miss. Just this busted rig with this piece of alien magic inside it. Christ, we thought we‟d found the Holy Grail - then Jacks just threw it away.‟

Joanna felt her heart knotting up with fear. She wasn‟t sure she could take this man‟s word at face value. From what she knew of Jacks already, she knew the woman would be more than capable of dealing with an Air Force pilot standing between her and a prize as valuable as the Stormcore. But what if the pilot had vanished like the cultists at the house?

Somehow, an act of cold-blooded murder seemed like the lesser of two evils.

Curt Redeker knocked back a mouthful of bourbon and rode down the burn in his throat. It was the only thing keeping him in the present, and he was glad he’d thought of it.

The cleric had taken his time finding it, but that had suited Curt fine. He’d had the guy set it down on the counter, backed him off with the gun, then snatched it up. He’d had to twist off the cap with his teeth, but he’d barely felt the bite of metal. And the taste of it trickling down inside, man, that purged those shakes right enough.

They’d threatened to return as soon as he’d sighted the smart guy coming for the store.

He’d wanted to break down and cry at that. Today was turning into an echo of his whole life, one rotten turn after another. No lucky breaks, not for Curt Redeker. No, that’d be asking too much, wouldn’t It, Lord? Once in my life, one miserable lucky break.

Screw you. And screw this new guy if he upsets the boat.

Curt jerked the pistol again, backed the clerk up another pace. They were both of them tucked out of sight along the back aisle. He kept the cleric towards him, even though he couldn’t stand that ugly mask staring back at him. Ha, scared out of his wits, yeah.

The door opened and Curt flinched, even though he’d known the bell was going to ring.

Curt’s sweat was turning cold and clammy against the pistol grip. Quietly, he took another swig of the Wild Turkey and kept the pistol centred on the cleric’s face.

* * *

Parker rapped his knuckles on the counter, then flipped his hands over to turn it into a drumbeat. He whistled. Boy did he miss his music. Melody rarely let him enjoy the in-car stereo, accusing him of hogging it with his prog rock.

Sad but true, he and his partner had such diverse tastes: she had none, he had some, as he’d teased her one time. He smiled as he recalled the minor bruise he’d sustained as a result.

With a sniff, he surveyed the store.

As the town’s main store its shelves were stocked with the full range of goods, from hardware to groceries, and it was one of those typical country stores you expect to find in small New England towns. Even the trace of dust in the air seemed like it counted itself as part of the establishment’s charm. It wasn’t the sort of place Parker would ever choose to do his shopping, and the clothing department probably amounted to a few lumberjack shirts, but he had at least anticipated some personal and friendly service.

For the moment, though, the counter stood unmanned.

I want candy, damn It!
Parker thought about shouting his demand and pounding on the counter with his fist for good measure.

He sighed, craning over the counter to see if there was a door through to a storeroom at the back. It looked like there was. but it was shut. Maybe the staff were sneaking a smoke or coffee break out there and hadn’t heard him. ‘Hi there!

Hello!’ he called again.

Parker wandered along the counter to the back of the store.

He could at least see if the door was locked, have a quick poke around. It was in his nature.

As he drew level with the rear aisle, something made him look right.

‘Oh, hey, I didn’t realise you had a customer,’ he smiled at the clerk’s back and the armed drunk in the corner. ‘That’s okay, I don’t mind waiting in line.’

The drunk motioned for him to raise his hands. Parker kindly obliged.

Captain Morgan Shaw brought a gust of icy wind into the hotel lobby along with his small entourage. Derm and his NCOs kept pace, while Makenzie lagged in the rear. The tramp of so many boots jangled the chandelier overhead like a fragile tambourine.

A woman scooted out from reception and headed him off.

‘Morgan Shaw,’ she said. ‘Your man said if I had any problems I should take them up with his Captain. He didn’t mention it was you.’ Then, as a quick addendum. ‘Hello, Makenzie.’

Makenzie must have tipped his hat like the real gentleman.

Morgan settled for a courteous smirk. ‘Janny. What can I say? I realise this must be a major headache, but trust me, your hotel will be fully compensated for the inconvenience.’

Janny’s eyes sparkled patiently. She was a robust sort, her brown hair only now starting to silver. Morgan was sure she’d keep her good looks right up to when they put her in the ground. ‘Your brother always was a smooth talker, wasn’t he, Mak?’ she remarked. ‘Now he’s out playing soldiers in other people’s back yards, he hasn’t changed so much.’

‘Guess not, Janny.’

Morgan grit his teeth behind tight lips. What was with these people, they couldn’t see the uniform? Mak too, ignoring the Captain and treating him like a kid brother. Get over it. He had enough to contend with right now and he didn’t want all his ire getting sapped before he got to the Doc.

‘Janny, my team gives you any trouble, you have any complaints, take it up with Makenzie. He’ll pass it on.

Meanwhile, I’m kind of busy, so if you’ll excuse me-’

He spun for the dining room, not waiting on her answer.

‘You make yourselves at home,’ Janny called after him. ‘Just you take care and mind my fixtures, is all.’

Lord have mercy. He felt like he’d just talked to an ex-girlfriend, and he realised the whole town was like that.

Melvin Village. Once his home, she was familiar and even retained a degree of warmth when he thought of her; but man, the distance that separated them now was a chasm.

And if he could get through this mission without having to cross it, that would suit him just fine.

Now where the hell was I? Oh yeah. Morgan threw back the dining room doors.

The Doc, the girl and Pydych looked his way at once.

‘Ah. Captain, I’m glad you could make it. You’ll never guess what we’ve found out.’

Morgan Shaw took a deep breath ‘Impress me,’ he ordered.

Guns or no, Martha had wanted to scream into the guards’

faces. The two soldiers posted at the hotel door had helpfully told her the Police Chief was inside with the Captain, and yeah, the girl was in there too. Then they’d stared back like she was crazy when she’d demanded to be let through.

While Martha wondered which guard to scream at first, a voice of perfect calm had said, ‘Agent Quartararo.’ A single flash of an ID set both guards standing straight, and Melody led her through into the lobby. Simple as that. Martha was annoyed that the woman had proved so useful. She didn’t want to be fooled into thinking they were on the same side.

Inside the lobby, Janny Meeks lurked behind her desk, immediately giving Martha one of her holier-than-thou looks.

A voice, like a velvet-stringed cello, floated out from the hotel dining room, saying. ‘Whoever attacked your aircraft.

Captain, they had to be after the Stormcore.’

Martha went over and yanked the door open. She was met by Makenzie’s broad back.

Past him there was a small gathering of soldiers, a dark-haired young guy - had to be the Captain - being a tall, bizarre character with a sort of permed lion’s mane. Another soldier, with glasses and a face wrinkled like a pale raisin, was standing over what might have been a junkyard sale; and at the far end of the room was Amber.

Makenzie turned his head, surprised and not ecstatic to see her. The soldiers did an about-face. There was something vaguely familiar about the young Captain.

‘But if your cultist friends had brought it down with some psychic assault. I can’t help thinking they should have known precisely where to look for it.’ The tall weirdo didn’t seem to mind her intrusion in the least. He carried on flapping his battered hat about as he spoke, and she caught his words as a kind of backing track. ‘By which token we should have found it at that house, taking pride of place in their collection already, wouldn’t you agree? We’re missing something terribly important.
Hallo’.’

Martha realised the man was addressing her, eyes all huge and friendly - and faintly disturbing. She tried to ignore the sudden attention and looked across at her daughter. ‘Amber, honey, your Mom needs to talk to you.’ Then she tugged at Mak’s sleeve. ‘And you. Mak. Something’s come up.’

‘Jeez, Kenzie!’ the Captain threw up a prolonged shrug.

Martha recognised the face then: Makenzie’s brother.

Makenzie didn’t keep any pictures on display but there were plenty in the old photo albums. ‘Can you please take your domestics elsewhere?’

‘Excuse me,
sir,’
Martha chewed, ‘but this isn’t any place for my little girl. You want to tell me what she’s doing in here with you all in the first place?’

Makenzie laid a protective hand on her shoulder, ‘It’s okay.

Martha. She’s going to help with a few questions, is all,’ he told her. ‘Five minutes. Morgan promised.’

Martha had shaken off the touch before he’d finished. ‘Like hell she is!’

‘Martha has kindly agreed to let me conduct an interview with the child,’ explained Melody in such sweet tones that Martha wanted to slap her. Melody took a step into the room.