Part 4 (1/2)

The man was pale unnaturally so. His head was bandaged, only his lower jaw visible. Needles dotted his arm and his breathing was shallow and regular, keeping time with the ventilator beside him.

The Doctor gave her a disapproving look. 'I did tell you to wait outside...'

'h.e.l.lo?'

Ace s.n.a.t.c.hed at the Doctor's arm. The man in the bed was moving, feebly trying to lift his head from the pillow. The Doctor hurried over to his side.

'It's all right. Nothing to worry about.

'Is that you, Mr Smith?'

Ace looked quizzically at the Doctor who shrugged back.

'Mr Dumont-Smith?' The man reached out with a pale arm, heaving tubes across the bedcovers. Ace felt sick.

'I can't read you...'

'All perfectly normal.' The Doctor pushed the man's hand back down onto the covers and patted his hand. 'Just try to rest...'

The man slumped back, shaking his head. 'Can't tell if you're Dumont-Smith or not. Something's blown. Can't read you... Can't read anyone.'

The Doctor pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing. Ace knew that look.

He was worried.

Abruptly the Doctor unclipped the chart from the end of the man's bed and wandered back out into the corridor. Ace followed him.

'What's he on about?' she whispered.

'I'm not sure, Ace, I'm not sure.'

He started flicking through the papers. 'Our mysterious patient is in the Royal Navy. Fleet Air Arm... or was. A pilot. An astronaut, no less.

Captain David O'Brien.

'And he's been in some kind of accident.'

'Presumably Certainly the injuries listed here would indicate a crash of some kind.' He paused. 'Odd...'

'What?' Ace tried to peer over his shoulder.

'Several pages relating to his treatment are missing... And what's 25 this?' He scowled. 'Why do doctors have such poor handwriting?

British... s.p.a.ce Agency.'

'So? You said he's an astronaut.'

The Doctor fixed her with a piercing stare. 'If there had been a British s.p.a.ce Agency in 1959, I would know about it.'

'Maybe they forgot to tell you.'

The Doctor was about to reply when the double doors at the end of the corridor were suddenly opened by a nurse pus.h.i.+ng a stainless steel trolley. She looked up in surprise. Ace tensed, ready to run, but the Doctor caught her arm and squeezed, ever so gently.

'Ah, there you are, nurse.'

Tucking the chart behind his back he trotted down the corridor towards her.

'Just in time. The patient was starting to get a little agitated.' He lifted the cloth draped over the trolley and sniffed. 'Ah... soup. Just what the doctor ordered.'

The nurse looked frightened. Her gaze flicking between the Doctor and Ace.

'Excuse me, sir, but...'

'Who are we?' The Doctor beamed at her. 'Smith. Dumont-Smith. This is my secretary. I understand that the patient has been asking for me?'

'Well, yes sir, but...'

'Splendid. Well, I'm quite happy that Captain O'Brien is in expert hands. No need to trouble you any further.'

The Doctor pulled his hat from his pocket, crammed it onto his head, then doffed it politely and thrust the medical chart into the bemused nurse's hand. 'You'll be needing this. Come along, Miss Gale.'

With barely a backward glance, the Doctor marched purposefully down the corridor and through the double doors. The nurse stared after him open-mouthed.

Aware that she didn't exactly look the part of a secretary, Ace tried to stride confidently after him, nodding crisply at the nurse as she pa.s.sed. In the stairwell the Doctor was poised like a greyhound, As soon as Ace was through the door, he grabbed her hand.

'Come on!'

The two of them hared down the stairs, the Doctor taking them two at a time, hopping on one leg as he skidded round the corners.

Breathless the two of them burst into the bas.e.m.e.nt. Ace c.o.c.ked a thumb at the boiler room. 'TARDIS?'

The Doctor shook his head. 'Safe enough where it is at the moment.

Fire exit.'

He scampered across the corridor and pushed open the heavy fire 26 doors. They emerged into a yard piled with crates and metal bins. A high wall surrounded the yard, the gates chained and padlocked.

'Lock pick?' asked Ace.

'No time,' said the Doctor. 'Bunk up.'

He ran over to the wall and crouched down, hands cupped ready for Ace's foot. She climbed the wall with ease. It had been designed to keep people out, not in. The top was treacherous, though shards of gla.s.s and broken bottles set into concrete. Quickly she shrugged off her jacket and bundled it up on top of the jagged gla.s.s. Kneeling on it she reached down and hauled the Doctor up alongside her.

'Watch yourself, Professor.'

Suddenly an alarm bell started to ring, strident in the still of the morning.

The Doctor grimaced. 'I don't think our cunning cover story worked.'

Ace grinned. 'Do surprise me.'