Doctor Who: Bad Therapy by Matthew Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

contents on the bed. Without looking at the debris, he said, ‘Two apple cores, a catapult, fourteen inches of string, a cricket ball, twenty-three Arcturian pounds, the key to an obsolete blue telephone box and three gobstoppers –
    one’s half sucked. That’s all I have in the world.’
    The blackmailer looked at the Doctor as if he were mad. The Doctor continued, his voice measured and even. ‘I don’t have anything. No job, no employers for you to contact, no colleagues for you to whisper to. My doctorate is entirely my own invention. I am a traveller. I have no home here. No spouse and no children. I am not a member of the Rotary Club and the police do not know my name. In fact, I don’t even have a name. Not any more.’
    ‘You’re lying,’ the old man sneered, but he sounded unsettled in the face of the Doctor’s calm sincerity. ‘No one can live like that. Everyone’s got something they’re scared of losing, something they’ll pay to protect. We’ll find out all about you, don’t you worry.’
    The Doctor shrugged and leant forward on his red umbrella-handle. ‘I am not worried. There’s only one very small thing about you that interests me.
    Your work must be very lucrative, am I right?’
    The old man glanced at Jack and sniggered. ‘Well, we can’t complain.’
    ‘I’m sure that you must have made a lot of money out of people, people who can’t possibly refuse your demands. You can go on and on until you’ve drunk them completely dry, and even then there’s nothing to stop you going through with your threat.’
    The old man looked pleased that someone appreciated how powerful and clever he and his friends were. ‘Oh we often expose people even after they’ve paid up. The publicity persuades anyone who might be thinking of refusing us to come around to our way of thinking.’
    ‘That must prove to be most effective,’ the Doctor commented. ‘So why, if it is so successful, so perfect, are you letting this particular “client” off? It’s this strange act of generosity that interests me.’
    ‘What do you mean?’
    29
     
    ‘You said a moment ago that your employers only wanted one more payment from Jack. A large payment and earlier than usual. Why?’
    The blackmailer narrowed his eyes. ‘That’s none of your business.’
    ‘Oh, everything is my business,’ the Doctor scoffed. ‘You’re letting him off because you know something. You know something about the other boy in the photograph. I’m right, aren’t I?’
    The Doctor took a step forward and the old man nervously scuttled to the door. ‘You knew before you came here that something had happened or was going to happen to the boy in the picture.’
    The old man slipped a hand around the door handle, preparing to leave.
    ‘Who are you?’ Beads of sweat appeared on his wrinkled brow. ‘How can you know all this?’
    ‘I’m the Doctor,’ he thundered. ‘And the answers to my questions are written in the fear on your face. You can give your employers a message. You can tell them that they are in trouble. You can tell them that they should expect a visit from me.’
    With no answer to give to this, the old man just snarled a threat at the Doctor and left.
    Closing the door after him, the Doctor’s mood changed dramatically. The darkness left his eyes and, suddenly filled with energy, he ran over to the bed and started to refill his pockets. ‘Right, that will have put the wind up him.
    We’d better follow him to their lair while the trail’s still hot.’
    When Jack didn’t answer him, the Doctor turned to find the boy staring at him.
    ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’ Jack said quietly. ‘Eddy’s dead.’
    For a moment there was silence.
    ‘Eddy. I didn’t know his name.’ The Doctor looked away for a moment, and then met Jack’s gaze and nodded. ‘Yes, I’m afraid he is dead. He was murdered earlier this evening. He was dying when I found him. I tried to save him but I. . . couldn’t.’
    Jack sat down