Part 13 (1/2)

Her real concerns were about the Doctor.

She'd spent months down at Fort Meade running psych evaluations on graduates of the Agency's Grill Flame programme; not so long ago that she'd forgotten how to recognise a higher intelligence when she met one.

More significantly, she was sure she had read a file or several on a character going by that same alias. Parker was a wizard at remembering the most obscure bets and she needed to consult him before she was a hundred percent sure. Ninety-nine simply wouldn't do.

Besides, if her suspicions about this Doctor held water, she would need her partner's backup as well as his input in deciding what to do next.

Those thoughts carried her up the steps to the store. They were replaced by a whole new set from the instant she turned the handle on the door.

Her partner was standing with his hands up, looking along the back aisle.

Melody eased the door open and reached inside her coat.

The bell rang above the door. She swore silently.

'Who's there? Who the h.e.l.l's just come in?' a man's voice demanded, spitting its words.

Melody executed a quick scan, looking up towards where the walls met the ceiling. There: over in the middle of the right wall, just above the pet foods and cleaning products. No CCTV camera here. Only a security mirror.

And in it: Parker's most immediate problem.

The figure's back was hunched and distorted in the mirror, but Melody could see the pistol, an automatic, and she could even recognise the label on the bottle. The hint of another figure curled around the edge of the mirror. The question occurred to her. was the drunk helpfully debilitated, or was he experiencing one of those moments of clarity?

It could, she decided as she drew her own gun. make all the difference.

Now that he had the Doc pretty much all to himself. Morgan was hopeful of getting a rein on his famous good mood.

Chaos was okay; he could handle chaos, hut only as long as it eventually learned to do what it was told.

'All right. Doc, what's the something important we're missing? Other than the flight recorder and a million other pieces of my aircraft?'

The Doc snapped out of whatever deep thoughts he'd been having and answered with a scowl. 'Do you have to keep shortening a perfectly good name? How would you like it if I started shortening all your precious codenames or addressing you as Cap, Cap, hmm?' hmm?'

Morgan stared. This was not going to plan.

'Information. Captain Shaw,' the Doc regarded him at a curious angle. 'Perhaps you can fill in more of the blanks than you realise. For instance, tell me what happened from your point of view. Presumably your team must have been monitoring the flight from the ground.'

Morgan took a moment to realise they were back on track again. 'Absolutely. Constantly. Right up until we lost radio contact, radar contact and - everything.'

'Everything?'

'Everything.' Morgan sighed. The Doc wasn't going to settle for sc.r.a.ps. 'Kristal was in direct psychic - I don't know - communion with the Stormcore. Theory was, by manipulating the device's emissions, she manipulated the weather system. with the Stormcore. Theory was, by manipulating the device's emissions, she manipulated the weather system.

It was her directed Psi waves that kept it active. She was our co-pilot on the ground, if you like.'

'I don't like, but do go on.'

Morgan couldn't help wondering what Derm was thinking, seeing his 'Cap' put on the spot like this. What the h.e.l.l, he needed to fed they were getting somewhere.

'All right. The Stormcore allowed for the transmission and reception of commands or data, what the Grill Flame techs termed psychosensation. Or what Kristal calls clairvoyance.

You ask me, the name doesn't matter. What matters is, she was getting all kinds of data hack from the device - visual. IR, radar, the whole spectrum - seeing through every one of its senses. Then,' he made a cutting motion with his hand, 'zip.'

'Well there you are,' concluded the Doc. as if that solved it.

'There I am what?'

The Doctor held his gaze for a heartbeat. 'If the Stormcore was kept active by Kristal's directed psychic energies, and then it suddenly cut out, I think we can safely a.s.sume her psychic link was cut. Or jammed '

'That's one h.e.l.l of an a.s.sumption.'

'Well,' considered the Doctor at length, 'it would be. But then again, I have the benefit of some additional insight .'

'Which is?' He wasn't going to stand for the Doc holding out on him now.

'Let's just say, I know how she feels'

Curt listened intently for footsteps after the door had closed.

The clerk's face in front of him was a stone mask. The man who'd introduced himself as Parker had instructed whoever it was to leave before Curt had thought of how he wanted to play it. He was furious with the guy for stealing the initiative.

'You b.a.s.t.a.r.d. They'll go and call the cops.'

'Well, maybe, but I think the cops in this town are busy, you know.' The man called Parker shrugged an apology.

'Anyway, I don't think that old lady saw anything too suspicious. Me with my hands up, is all. And I'm pretty sure she couldn't have seen Mr Byers here '

Curt made a face like he was in pain, although he couldn't feel much of anything. Nothing distinct anyway. Only the threads of cold running through him and the sweat all over, making him s.h.i.+ver. It was getting to be the gun was the steadiest part of him.

Curt concentrated. No, there was nothing. The old lady must have gone like the guy said. n.o.body could move that quietly, not on these old boards. And yet, he could swear he felt another presence in the room.

The man, Parker, spread his hands wider. 'We've got some time to talk, pity to waste it.'

'Shut the h.e.l.l up! I'm trying to think.'

The clerk hadn't budged and Curt could see the tiny nervous tremors in his facial muscles. Those minute tics were starting to aggravate. He thought about putting a bullet into that stone face - then another in the face beyond it. The one with all the pretence of friends.h.i.+p.

'I don't know you. You're not my G.o.dd.a.m.n friend.'

'h.e.l.l, no!' shouted Parker, and the volume was like a shock of hot water. 'You're pointing a gun in my approximate direction here and it's making me nervous I get real talkative when I'm nervous, it's a bad habit I know but what can you do to break a habit. Huh? I mean. I have a hard enough time trying to kick the smokes, you know what I'm saying?'

The rising tone was driving Curt into a panic. He felt pearls of pure ice standing out on his forehead and his breathing was feverish. He was on the verge of whimpering as he poured every grain of energy into keeping the gun on Parker.

He could sense a danger heir, feel it coming at him like a freight train, but all he knew for sure was he couldn't take his eyes or the gun off that man. Not for a second.

'Drop the gun and get down on your face NOW!' NOW!'