Doctor Who_ Trading Futures Part 4

The usher came over. 'Unorthodox, but you got rid of that nest. Here.'

He handed Fitz a five hundred Euro chip.

'Er, thanks. Is that it?'

'Until they drop another tank in the area. Report back on,' he checked his list, 'Friday at two.'

The Chinese girl was smiling. Fitz went over to her.

'Another great day for democracy and freedom.'

'I try to do my bit. I'm Fitz Kreiner.'

'You're German*English?'

'Er, I suppose so. I don't really think of myself like that.'

The woman smiled forgivingly, and Fitz wasn't sure why. Did she think he was a simpleton?

'I mean my parents were German. But I was born in Britain. Went to school in Britain. I think in English. I think.'

Fitz caught himself wondering what language the Doctor thought in.

'Everyone thinks in English these days,' the woman a.s.sured him, 'it was easier teaching the rest of the world English than trying to teach American or British kids other languages.'

'Er, right. Can I, er, get you a coffee or something? My shout?'

She checked her watch. 'Nine*fifty. I've got ten minutes to kill, so why not?'

Ever since the Doctor had warned Fitz about the soldiers, Anji had been on the lookout.

They were surrounded by people, any of whom might be secret service types. She looked around. Well she could probably rule out the young family immediately adjacent to them. And the pensioners in front of them.

Or perhaps that's what they wanted her to think.

The Doctor had twisted the catches on the briefcase, claiming that was what James Bond did. She'd seen the film, and found herself flinching, expecting the case to explode in his face.

This was not a normal reaction to have, when faced with a briefcase.

'You were reading the Financial Times Financial Times earlier,' the Doctor said quietly. earlier,' the Doctor said quietly.

'Yes. I was trying to get some context for this US/EZ situation. I watched the TV news last night and I couldn't make any sense of it.'

'And what did you find out?'

'There's a power vacuum in North Africa a couple of the old regimes collapsed. It's right on the EZ's doorstep, so they don't want refugees coming over or anyone setting off ABC weapons, whatever they are. The US see it as a whole new market, and strategically important. Well it's access to Africa, the Mid East, southern Europe...'

The Doctor nodded. 'I'd gathered it was something like that. So both Zones have sent in peacekeeping forces?'

'Yeah and both are meant to be working together, but they're actually compet.i.tors and they know it. It's not a war yet, but both sides are taking up positions. And they both know that the person who starts it will have an advantage.'

'When you finished with the paper, you put the share pages in your bag.'

'Er... yes.' She knew what he was going to say next.

'You're planning to use the knowledge when you get home.' It wasn't a question.

'I don't think there are any DTI regulations against it. And I don't see what harm it will do.'

'You'd use the knowledge for personal gain?'

'For the gain of MWF, I suppose. I mean, I would gain, obviously.'

The Doctor raised an eyebrow and was just about to say something when, completely of their own accord, the catches of the briefcase snapped open.

'Careful,' Anji warned, as the Doctor leaned in.

'It's all right. It was obviously on some sort of timer.' He held out his pocket watch. 'It opened at exactly ten a.m.'

He opened the case. After a quick search, all he had found was a piece of card, and a small arrowhead.

The Doctor handed Anji the arrowhead. 'Recognise it?'

Anji turned it over in her hand. 'It's old.'

'It's from eleventh*century Scotland.'

'It's in good condition.'

'Yes... yes, it is. Almost as good as new. Not what I was expecting to find. Not that I knew what I'd find.'

'So what does that card say?'

'"The bearer of this card is invited to..." and then it's in code,' the Doctor told her. 'Give me a minute or two and I'll work it out.'

He handed that over, and took the arrowhead back. Anji saw a string of numbers.

'It's a map reference,' Anji told him. 'You know, like a GPS uses. I've got a GPS database on my organiser, we can look it up.'

'What about the equation on the second line? Three, slash, seven, s.p.a.ce, nine, colon, zero zero?'

'It's a date and time.'

'Oh yes, of course it is.'

Anji had fished her Psion organiser out of her bag and was waiting for it to boot up.

'The seventh of March.'

'More likely it's the third of July tomorrow. So, where do we have to be?'

'Hang on.' She entered the numbers on the card. 'Athens.'

'Athens? Not that far, relatively speaking.'

'So, I'm Fitz.'

'Malady Chang.'

'Is that Chinese?'

'It's English. It means "disease". I'm not sure my parents knew that. Do you think your parents knew what "Fitz" meant?'

Not knowing what her name meant made him look dim, but not knowing what his meant would make him look like a complete idiot. Fitz settled for offering her a cigarette.

'You still smoke tobacco?'

Fitz was holding out a cigarette. 'Well, yeah.'

'I'm amazed. I suppose if anyone asks, you tell them it's hash.'

'Yeah, that's the one,' Fitz said. Long experience of time*travelling had taught him that you answered questions by politely agreeing with the person asking them. Anji had said once that she never asked a question she didn't know the answer to. It hadn't occurred to Fitz until then, but most people followed that rule. So, on his travels, when people asked 'do you know this is a restricted area?' or 'what shall we do with you, rebel sc.u.m?' or the like, he'd learned to shrug and let them carry on with whatever they were going to do anyway.

'Are you sure you wouldn't prefer a nicopill?'

'A what?'

She handed him a small bottle of yellow pills.

'Nicotine oil capsules. Gets rid of the craving, doesn't leave you with bad breath. Or cancer.'

'What do they taste like?'

'Nothing.'

'Nothing?'

He popped one of the pills, swallowed it. And then realised he didn't want the cigarette he had in his other hand any more.

'Not much fun.'

'Ten years ago they marketed them as a way to help people give up smoking. But people got addicted to them instead. There wasn't tax on them not at first. And you can use them in restaurants.'

'Can I have another?'

'Be my guest.'

'They're very more*ish.'

'That's kind of the point. It's an addiction, but it's not an antisocial one.'

'When I smoke, it relaxes me. And I like the taste. These pills they're killing the craving, but they don't do anything else.'

'That's right.'

'It's a product that serves no purpose?'

'It does what all products should do it makes you want to buy it again. It just doesn't do anything else. It's capitalism in its purest form. Create a need, then exploit it.'

She checked her watch.

'Do you want these back?'

'No, you have them. You don't think I take them, do you?'

'Then what...?'

'Helping the US export drive.'

'Ah, what if I buy British?'

'That pack in your hand is Region One. You'll only want to add to the US balance of trade from now on.'

Fitz glared at her, then popped another pill.

'Do you see those men over there?' she asked.

Fitz looked round.

Two heavyset men in trenchcoats. They looked so much like secret policemen that they couldn't possibly be.

Fitz kept his eye on them. The men hadn't seen them. 'Who are they?'

'I don't know. What I do know is that I killed them last night. Blew the arm off the one on the left.'

'Then, er, the obvious question is...' he turned back to Malady.

She wasn't there.

A couple of seconds later, it occurred to Fitz that vanishing into thin air was a pretty good idea.

The police station was little more than a small hut, just off the beach.