Doctor Who_ Atom Bomb Blues Part 8

Instead he skirted the flowerbeds and went around to the back of the house.

The windows here were dark and there was no sign of life. But when the Doctor tapped discreetly on the kitchen door, a light instantly came on and the door opened a crack. A dark eye glinted in the crack and then the door swung fully open.52.

The small Mexican woman the Doctor addressed as Rosalita smiled at them, her teeth pearly and perfect in the darkness. 'Come in,' she whispered. 'We don't want to disturb Mrs Oppy.'

'No, we certainly don't want to do that,' said the Doctor, stepping over the threshold. Ace followed him into the cool darkness of the tiled kitchen. The smell of cooking lingered in the room, garlic and onion fried in b.u.t.ter, sweet and hot peppers and meat and cinnamon. Ace's stomach started rumbling again and she cleared her throat loudly to cover the sound. Rosalita ignited one of the gas burners on the big stove and the kitchen was illuminated by the pale blue glow of the hissing flame. Shadows pulsed gently on the wall, moving in amiable caricature of the people in the room. The little Mexican woman moved to a large brick-red ceramic ca.s.serole sitting on the table. She patted it affectionately. 'Here you go.'

Ace touched the side of the ceramic pot. It was still warm. Rosalita smiled at her, dark eyes glinting with tiny dancing reflections of the gas flame. 'You eat it pretty soon, huh? While it's warm.'

'You bet,' said Ace. She lifted the lid of the ca.s.serole and inhaled a sweet, spicy, complex fragrance, rich with the smell of cooked beef and a hint of something unidentifiable. Rosalita playfully swatted at Ace's hand with a wooden spoon and firmly placed the lid back on again. 'Keep it nice and warm, huh?' She turned and opened the wooden door of a cupboard set into the whitewashed wall. 'I'll get you a basket to carry it away in. You can bring me the basket and pot back tomorrow, huh? Or whenever. No hurry.'

'We shall return everything promptly,' said the Doctor.

'Thank you for preparing this feast for us.'

'My pleasure.'

'I'm sure we shall all enjoy it.'

Rosalita paused in her search for the basket. She emerged from the cupboard and looked at the Doctor. 'All? You sharing the food with someone else?'

'Indeed we are. Do you know Ray Morita? Cosmic Ray. I'm sure you must do. He certainly made quite an impression at the party last night.'

Rosalita straightened up so quickly that she banged her head on one of the shelves in the cupboard. 'Careful,' said the Doctor. Rosalita emerged from the cupboard, rubbing her head with one hand and clutching a large wicker basket with the other. It might have been the shock of the blow to her head but Ace noticed that Rosalita's hand holding the basket was trembling.

'Sure, I know old Ray,' said Rosalita abstractedly. 'He's sure got an appet.i.te, that boy. You wish him good health from me, huh?' She went to the table and lifted the heavy ca.s.serole clumsily while trying to slide the basket under it.

The ca.s.serole trembled in her grip.53.

'Here, let me help,' said the Doctor, moving swiftly towards the table. But he was a fraction too late. The big ceramic pot slid out of Rosalita's grasp, off the edge of the table, and crashed to the floor, hitting the unforgiving tiles and shattering with a sound like a bomb going off. Ceramic fragments and greasy gouts of chilli spattered across the kitchen. Ace looked on, appalled. There was a splash of chilli on the toe of her shoe. She inspected it with dismay.

This had been her dinner.

'What a pity,' said the Doctor.

Rosalita looked on the verge of tears. 'Never mind. I have some left over from the party. This I cooked for you especially, but the leftovers are good too.

I pack some of that for you, huh?'

Kitty Oppenheimer appeared in the kitchen doorway, holding a magazine in her hand. Ace noticed that it was a copy of New Yorker New Yorker with numerous ring stains from wet gla.s.ses on the cover. 'What on earth was that noise?' with numerous ring stains from wet gla.s.ses on the cover. 'What on earth was that noise?'

She peered at the Doctor, Ace and Rosalita. 'It sounded like the gadget being detonated prematurely.'

'Sorry Mrs Oppy. I drop something.' Rosalita was already busy with a mop, swabbing the shards of ca.s.serole and dollops of chilli into a neat pile in the centre of the kitchen floor.

'Why are you standing here in the dark?' Kitty flipped a switch and the electric lights came on. Ace winced in the sudden brightness. Kitty smiled at her. 'h.e.l.lo Ace. h.e.l.lo Doctor. What sort of clandestine activity is this?'

The Doctor smiled and doffed his hat.

'Merely a clandestine chilli- purchasing activity I'm afraid. Nothing very exciting.'

'Oh, Rosalita's chilli. Sometimes it seems she's feeding half the Hill. And earning a tidy profit thereby. Anyone would think we didn't pay her enough.'

'Ah, now, Mrs Oppy,' said Rosalita with a tight smile. She set the mop aside and used a fragment of the broken pot to sc.r.a.pe the heap of chilli and other shattered crockery into a dustpan. 'You're ribbing me, huh?'

'I'm going to start asking you for a cut of the takings,' said Kitty. 'Oppy doesn't provide me with enough pin money.'

'She's ribbing me,' said Rosalita contentedly, emptying the dustpan into a large metal garbage can that stood just inside the door. She shut the can, gave the floor a final mopping, then bustled to the sink and carefully washed the dustpan, the mop and her hands. While she did this, Kitty turned and looked at the Doctor and Ace.

'Why in heaven's name didn't you come in and say h.e.l.lo.'

'We didn't want to disturb you,' said Ace.

'You looked like you were still recovering from the party,' said the Doctor.

'Well, come on through now. Oppy's out working and Peter is asleep.' Peter was the Oppenheimers' four-year-old and he seemed to Ace to have an 54admirable capacity for slumber. He'd even managed to sleep through the cacophony of the previous night's party. 'I'm all alone out here except for Rosalita,' said Kitty, mock wistfully.

Rosalita dried her hands and turned to the stove. She reached for a large black metal saucepan and dragged it on to the gas flame that still flickered and hissed on the range. 'Now I warm up some of last night's chilli for you.

It'll be just as tasty, you see.'

'Come and visit with me while it's warming up,' said Kitty. 'Rosalita, fix us some coffee.'

'Yes, Mrs Oppy.'

The Doctor and Ace spent half an hour in the sitting room chatting with Kitty and then left with their chilli, safe in a new ceramic ca.s.serole snugly secured in a basket. Ace carried it, swinging the braided handle in her fingers as they walked down Bathtub Row. 'Mind you don't drop it,' said the Doctor.

'Don't worry. I'm not going to lose my supper again. As it were. Doctor. . . '

'Yes?'

'Last night Kitty kept going on about a woman called Tattle or something.'

'Tatlock. Jean Tatlock.'

'She really seems to hate her guts.'

'Hmm. Yes, well Jean Tatlock was a rival for Oppy's affections when they first met.'

Ace strolled along beside the Doctor in the dark. There were trees overhead and the moonlight came through the leaves in gently swaying patches as the branches moved in the breeze. 'An ex-girlfriend. Yeah, I sussed that. But she said something about this Tatlock woman I think she said b.i.t.c.h, actually being one of the reasons that Major Butcher is snooping around.'

'That's correct. You see, Jean Tatlock, Oppy's old flame, was deeply involved in radical politics and under her influence Oppy drifted into similar circles.

Since his marriage to Kitty, however, he has foresworn any such a.s.sociations.

Fortunately for the US government.'

'Why fortunately?'

'Because they don't want their atomic weapons being made by a man who is politically suspect. Which in the current climate translates as communist.'

'You mean they think Oppenheimer might be a spy for the Russians?'

'Ridiculous as it seems, yes. Although Major Butcher would be better off devoting some of his time to snooping around some of the other personnel on the Hill. Our friend, Klaus Fuchs, the Wagner buff, for example.' But Ace was hardly listening. She hefted the basket, feeling the warmth coming off the container and smelling the chilli inside.

'Where are we going to eat? In your room?'55.

'No. I'm afraid in this period people would look askance at your presence in my room, to say the least.'

'Then where are we going to eat?'

Cosmic Ray Morita looked up from the large earthenware pot they had set on one of the small tables in his front room. 'This is very groovy of you cats,' he said, holding his face in the aromatic steam that rose as he tilted the lid. 'Sure smells good.'

'You're sure you haven't eaten already?' said the Doctor politely.

'Oh I've eaten already,' said Ray. 'But so what, daddy-o, so what?' He patted the comfortable swell of his paunch, then dug out some chipped bowls and spoons. Ace discreetly polished hers on her shirt-tail and made certain she got a large serving of the chilli right away. This proved to be a sensible manoeuvre, as Ray proceeded to devour the bulk of the pot with gluttonous speed and gusto. The Doctor only had a token serving, sitting and watching the others.

Finally Ray wiped his face on his shirt sleeve, put his bowl aside, and lurched over to the record player. He set about the laborious business of changing needles on the tone arm. 'Are those cactus needles?' said the Doctor, as Ray opened the tin.

Ray grunted an affirmative as he concentrated on fitting the new needle.

'How fascinating.'

Ray finished with the tone arm and set about selecting a record from his large collection. The Doctor inspected the tin of cactus needles. Ray regarded him benignly, as though he was a fellow enthusiast. Ace decided that a belly full of excellent chilli, at the Doctor's expense, had a lot to do with that benign expression. Ray said, 'And you can only use each one just one time, baby.'

The Doctor lifted his eyebrows in polite surprise. 'Really?'

'Really man.' A hunted expression crossed Ray's face. 'Out here in the middle of the desert and can I get a cactus needle?' He took the tin from the Doctor. It's unbelievable, baby.'

'You seem to be doing quite well,' said the Doctor.

'But I might run out, daddy-o, I might run out.' Cosmic Ray's eyes glittered anxiously. 'I might run out at any time.'

'Ray,' said the Doctor. 'Do you mind if I ask you a question?' Ray shrugged, his back to them, as he put on a record. 'Transblucency' by Duke Ellington.

The music blasted and surged. When it was over, Ray turned to the Doctor and spoke as if the conversation hadn't been interrupted.

'What question, man?'

'Why did Major Butcher go to all the trouble of appearing here in person yesterday, brandishing a gun, just to confiscate a record by Lady Silk?'56.

'Well it's like this. Butcher baby is a stickler for the rules and the rules say that it's against the law to listen to Silk sing. She might subvert us or convert us or divert us. From our appointed task. She's in the employ of the enemy, so listening to her is disloyal and un-American and all that jive.'

'But even so, that hardly justifies turning up with a gun in his hand.

Wouldn't his time be better employed looking for spies?'

Ray lifted the tone arm, discarding the old cactus needle and inserting a new one. Ace could see a sly grin on his face. 'That's exactly what he thought he was was doing.' doing.'

'But even if he suspects you of being a spy, why should he be concerned about what music you listen to?'

Ray's grin widened. 'He thinks they're sending me coded messages.'

'Coded messages?'

'That's it baby, in the songs. The songs Lady Silk sings. Butcher thinks j.a.p high command is sending me messages in the songs.'

It was after midnight by the time they left Ray's apartment and the moon was high over the mesa, shining on the distant mountains, its white light detailing the unearthly landscape. The Doctor and Ace walked along carrying the basket with the empty ca.s.serole in it. 'You know what Ray said,' said Ace.

'About the songs having coded messages in them?'

'Sounds like a cla.s.sic paranoid delusion, doesn't it?'

'It does a bit. Does that mean that Major Butcher is a nutcase?'

The Doctor sighed. 'I keep telling everyone not to underestimate Butcher.'

'But he thinks Oppy is some kind of Russian spy, doesn't he? And that's not true at all, is it?'

'No,' said the Doctor. 'Not at all.' His voice was strangely sad, and after a moment he went on. 'But despite successfully building the atomic bomb for them, our friend Oppenheimer never wins the trust of his own government. In a few years' time he is going to be brought to trial over his security clearance.

And guess who will be testifying against him. I'll give you a clue. You've already seen him having a furious argument with Oppy.'

'Teller?'

'Yes. Edward Teller. He and Oppenheimer will become mortal enemies.'

Ace looked up at the fragments of moonlight falling through the trees. A cool breeze wove past them and she suppressed a shiver. 'But I thought they were only disagreeing about the chain reaction.'

'Just the small matter of whether the world is going to blow up, yes.'

Ace glanced at him but she couldn't make out his face in the darkness. 'Did you talk to Teller? Did you manage to convince him his equations are wrong?'57.

'Yes and no. Yes, I spoke to him. No, I couldn't convince him. But I will persist in trying. It won't be easy. He's a complex fellow, Teller.'

'You did a lot of research on these people before we came here.'

'Yes I did,' said the Doctor. 'And I discovered some startling facts.'

'For instance?'

'For instance, discovering that in the early part of his career Raymond Morita was a mediocrity with a poor academic record and showed no promise whatsoever.'

'You could say the same thing about Einstein.'

'Why, Ace,' said the Doctor delightedly. 'Yes, indeed you could. Cosmic Ray was teaching in a high school. Then something happened to him. He turned into one of the brightest stars in the field of advanced physics.'

'Maybe someone gave him some of your fish oil capsules.'