Part 6 (1/2)

The Doctor chuckled. 'Still, don't be too harsh on the poor fellow. He's been stuck up here on the Hill for months without much in the way of female companions.h.i.+p.'

'Well he isn't getting any companions.h.i.+p from me. Anyway, it's not really me he's interested in. It's just my turbo-charged brain when I'm under the influence of the oil.'

'Yes, it does seem to be your idiot savant aspect that thrills him.'

'Idiot savant? Thanks a lot.'

'Silly expression, forgive me,' said the Doctor. 'Now that I've rescued you from the good Professor I have a job for you.'

'More calculations?'

'No, not calculations. A mission.'

'Good. I was starting to get bored. I could do with a mission. What do you want me to do?'

'Actually, it's more like a diplomatic mission. I need you to make friends with someone.'

Ace paused and shot the Doctor a suspicious look. 'Who?'

'Cosmic Ray Morita.'

'Oh no.'

'Ace, please.'

'You should have heard what he said about my outfit last night. He was drunk out of his mind.'39.

'Well, there you go. Today he'll be sober, hung over and penitent. He'll be receptive to your overtures.'

'I won't be making any overtures. I'm not going anywhere near that big fat. . . '

'You like the records he plays.'

'But I don't like him him.'

'Nonetheless,' said the Doctor firmly. 'I need you to go to him and get to know him. Make friends and let him start talking to you. And pay careful attention to what he says.'

'Why should I? Why can't you do it?'

'I have my own mission. I need to talk to Edward Teller.'

Ace felt a brief, disquieting chill, as though the sun had gone behind a cloud.

'The bloke who was arguing with Oppy? Mr Inflammable Atmosphere?'

'Yes Mr Inflammable Atmosphere. I need to convince him his calculations are wrong.'

'Thank gawd for that,' said Ace, feeling a tremendous rush of relief. 'You have no idea how worried I've been ever since last night. It's been in the back of my mind all day. The idea that the bomb they're building could blow up the entire world. Ridiculous idea, really. It was silly of me to even worry about it.'

The Doctor looked at her, saying nothing.

Ace felt the smile fading from her face. 'I mean,' she said. 'They did detonate it and it didn't blow up the entire world.' The Doctor still said nothing.

Ace kept talking, hoping he might say something, something rea.s.suring. 'And now, I mean now you're going to Teller to explain to him that he's got it all wrong. So everything's all right, isn't it?'

The Doctor didn't reply.

'Doctor please, you're scaring me.'

'Then help me lay those fears to rest,' said the Doctor. 'Go and talk to Ray Morita.'

Ray Morita's building resembled the WAC barracks in its basic plan, being a low rectangular dwelling two stories high, shaped like a stretched shoe box.

But there were certain crucial differences between the two buildings. Ace's had a raw, unfinished look, with tarpaper walls, and was surrounded by an unsightly cl.u.s.ter of telephone poles. It was deemed an adequate dwelling place for the Women's Auxiliary Corps, who represented nothing more than a source of menial clerical labour on the Hill. More important personnel, eggheads like Ray Morita, got a building with beautifully finished wooden walls, surrounded by the pleasant shadows of oak trees.

Ace reflected on this bitterly as she made her way to the centrally placed entrance of Ray's building. This was reached by a low wooden staircase. Above 40the staircase was a pleasant open balcony area where the two halves of the building converged and the privileged scientists could, presumably, loll and catch the sun. Above that, on the roof, were two symmetrically placed rectangular chimneys that no doubt kept the place warm and cosy throughout the long desert winter.

At the Oppenheimers' party, Ace had noted that the primitive record players in this period could only play music for about three minutes at a time. Then you had to reload the stone-age device. Therefore the music thundering from within Ray's apartment some jaunty loping jazz could only have been set in motion mere moments earlier.

So she knew he was in there.

Ace knocked until the music came to an end and paused in the sudden silence. Then she realised that this was the opposite of a successful strategy and hastily began knocking on the door again. Too late. A new piece of jazz commenced blasting from inside, absolute proof that Cosmic Ray was lurking within the apartment.

Ace cursed and increased the volume and frequency of her knocking. The music from inside grew, if anything, louder. Her knuckles were starting to hurt and Ace was considering stopping and waiting for this record in turn to end when the door suddenly opened in a surge of sour body odour and surly, outraged growling. 'Bringing me down, man! All that knocking's bringing me '

Cosmic Ray stood staring at Ace. 'Down,' he said, then fell silent, a look of amusing poleaxed astonishment on his face. Ray was still wearing his red beret, but now he was wearing it with a baggy unders.h.i.+rt and capacious striped briefs. He had sneakers on his feet but no socks. He stared at Ace.

'Can I come in?' she said.

Ray stood aside wordlessly, his face still vacant with surprise, and let her walk into the apartment. The place was nice, a s.p.a.cious, light and airy three-room flat with a lot of light from the window falling on wooden floors. There were rugs thrown here and there, bright Indian patterns, and the minimum of furniture. There was a bathroom, a bedroom and a generously sized living room. Most of the living room was given over to a record player and boxes of records, though in one corner s.p.a.ce had been made for a large, bulbous metallic refrigerator that was almost big enough to step into. There were also at least a dozen potted plants, all of which, to Ace's surprise, were thriving, as plump and s.h.i.+ny in their green way as their owner. Plump Cosmic Ray, s.h.i.+ny with sweat, abruptly moved past Ace and scurried quickly across the room to a small table with several potted plants and a framed portrait on it.

He turned to face her as he did something on the table, fumbling behind his back. 'I know you. I met you that night at the Oppenheimers'. That night 41they had the party.'

'That was last night, Ray.'

'That's right, that's right. I saw you there last night. So what,' he said, 'so what, so what brings you here. . . '

Ace had been pondering what kind of story she could tell him. It would have to be pretty good to explain her presence here. It was all very well for the Doctor to instruct her to go and strike up a friends.h.i.+p with the man. But it wasn't so easy in practice. She decided to lay everything off on the Doctor.

'The Doctor sent me.'

'Sent you? The Doctor? The little guy?'

'Yes.'

'Moved pretty good for an older cat. When he was cutting a rug last night.

When he was, like you know, dancing, man.'

Ray suddenly seemed to realise he was standing there in his underwear.