Jack and Ianto stepped back into the Hub and were instantly pounced on by Gwen and Martha.
"Did you find him?"
"I'm ready to go."
Jack held up his hands. "Whoa, whoa ladies!"
He ducked past them and into the kitchen and poured himself a coffee; anything to take the taste of bile away. He then sat down and looked at the two expectant faces.
It was like looking at a pair of she wolfs, ready to rip anyone apart who dared to hurt one of their own. For a few moments he felt sorry for the Master; but only for a few moments.
"Well?" Gwen said, her arms crossed in that 'tell me or god help you' way.
He sighed. "We think he may be in a CIA run psychiatric hospital."
"Then let's go get him," Martha replied.
"There's one problem and it's a huge one..." He hesitated before speaking, not sure of how to say the words.
Ianto saved him the dilemma. "The Master, he's not dead."
Martha and Gwen gasped.
"How can he not be dead? We watched his cremation."
"If he is then either he had a twin or that was one hell of a face job," Jack sighed and took another mouthful coffee and began telling them about the press conference.
Ianto's mobile rang and he walked away to answer it.
Martha sat down opposite Jack. "They tricked us," she said in a disbelieving tone.
"Yep," Jack said.
"Bastards," Gwen said. "But if he was there than he escaped. Why haven't they got him back?"
"He's Harold Saxon and that tale he span will have the press and the public eating out of his hands. They might want him back, but I don't think they dare try."
Martha sat up suddenly. "If he knows the Doctor's here."
Before Jack could reply Ianto came back into the room. "Jack, that hospital, it just went up in flames. It's all over the news," he said and flicked on the TV.
A few seconds later the phone in Jack's office rang.
"Unconfirmed reports are saying that the hospital, rumoured to be a psychiatric unit used by the CIA was the target of a terrorist attack. We are not being allowed near the actual blaze, but it is believed that at least fifty people have died and there are also unconfirmed reports that there was only one patient in residence at the time. The CIA are denying that the patient was a victim of the fire or was the intended target of the as yet unconfirmed terrorist attack."
Jack was on the phone for a long time and the others sat watching the news. After the report on the fire, it switched to another story that made them all sit up.
"Jack!" the all shouted together.
Jack walked out of his office, phone in hand and looked at the screen. "Yes, I'm seeing it. I call you back."
He watched the screen in silence.
The Master looked out of the window of his private jet as it came to a halt. He could see the gaggle of journalists and camera crews. He could also see the figures hanging back, he knew exactly who they were and that was why he'd tipped off the news stations that he'd found John as was returning to the UK tonight.
He was still seething...heroin, of all the narcotics they could have used, it had to be heroin. It was an insidious drug for humans, but for Time Lords and Gallifreyans it was disastrous.
Oh, the Time Lords had their own nasty habits, but none were overly addictive; not like human narcotics.
When a team of sociologists had brought back a sample, it had soon become the narcotic of choice. But the effects on Time Lords were unforeseen and by the time the dealers were eradicated and all addicts were treated over five hundred Time Lords and countless ordinary Gallifreyans had died.
But the effects on the Time Lords were the worse. It had triggered unprecedented psychosis and many had committed H'ast Misa in their insanity.
They were the lucky ones; the unlucky ones were empty shells, locked in their own nightmare. Some had become violent and had to be hidden away in secure sanatoriums.
His aide cleared his throat and the Master looked round.
"The ambulance is just arriving sir. Do you want security to remove the press?"
"No, just make sure they don't get any pictures of John."
"Yes sir. Bring the ambulance as close as you can and keep them away from John."
As the door opened, the journalists moved collectively but had to stop when an ambulance pulled up to the steps.
Several tried to move forward but were stopped by policemen and security staff.
Cameras flashed as someone covered in a blanket was carried down the steps and into the ambulance.
As the ambulance sped away, all eyes turned to Harold Saxon as he walked down the steps and stopped at the bottom.
"Is that John!" someone shouted.
Harold Saxon raised his hands to quiet the crowd. "Yes it is John and I would ask that you respect our privacy as he has endured physical and emotional stress. A full statement will be released to the press tomorrow morning, thank you."
With that he climbed into the waiting car and drove off.
He let the mask slip once inside the car and snapped a finger and his aide poured him a large whiskey.
"The ambulance will take him directly to the clinic sir."
"Good, tell the driver to hurry. I want to be there before he wakes up."
Jack had retreated to his office and had been on the phone ever since.
Everybody looked up when he came out.
"Pack your overnight bags, we're going to London."
Author's Notes
Translation
H'ast Misa- Ritual Suicide
