Chapter Five
Amy Pond watched as a messenger arrived, bringing news to Rowland Montgomery that was not to his liking. The handsome if sinister soldier listened, scowled, and then struck the other man across the face. Curiously, the impact had no effect. The messenger remained upright. In fact, the savage blow barely moved his head. It was almost as if the man wasn't...
Human.
The redhead squirmed uncomfortably. She had been trussed like a pig in a silk wrapper and plopped down on the top of a wooden crate in some sort of a warehouse. The place was dingy and dim and smelled of salt and fish, so she assumed they were somewhere near the waterfront. She had been brought here blindfolded and gagged, and though the villains who held her had uncovered her eyes upon arrival, they had left the gag securely in place.
Shut up, Doctor! she thought to herself. She could just hear him laughing. In fact, she wished she could hear him laughing – even if it meant he was having a go at her expense. The fact that so many hours had passed with no sign of the Time Lord argued strongly that he had been taken captive. And while she didn't really think the likes of Rowland Montgomery could hold her raggedy man, it might be a different story with whoever – or whatever – this newcomer was. She'd seen a lot of strange things since she'd stepped into that bright blue box in the backyard of her Leadworth home. A lot of them had been awesome, but others were just plain awful. The fairy tales her Aunt Shannon had read to her when she was a little girl had been right.
There were things in the dark that wanted to eat you.
As a matter of fact, she had a feeling one of them was advancing toward her right now. In the time it had taken her to make a wish about her Raggedy Doctor showing up to rescue her, the warehouse door had opened to admit, along with a bright beam of morning light, the emerald woman and the sapphire child she had met at Mistress Waters' dress shop. She had thought them a bit odd that first time. Now, watching them advance toward her with the effortless grace of a pair of skaters crossing a mirror-like surface of ice – when in fact they were walking on uneven planks of wood – made her realize they were more than odd.
They had to be alien.
The pair halted some ten or twelve feet away from her. Amy watched as the woman bent down to listen and then nodded her head. Just like any small girl granted a moment of freedom, the child skipped across the warehouse floor, chanting a little tune, until she disappeared into the shadows on the other side. The emerald woman watched her go and then looked at Amy by pivoting her head like a snake ready to strike.
"Excellent," the woman breathed. "You have done well, Rowland." She gathered her green silk skirts and moved closer. Reaching out with one gloved hand, she lifted a lock of Amy's orange hair. "Such a poor, ragtag, pale looking thing. Why, we'd better fetch a Doctor." This pronouncement was followed by a long, rather smug peal of bone-chilling laughter.
She knew it! Whoever this was – whoever the woman in green worked for – they meant to use her as bait! "Lvvv Mmmrr mmmphhh," Amy snarled, fighting the rag between her teeth. "Mmhhrrgg mmnnn hhlllnnn!"
The woman blinked. "I beg your pardon?'
It was damned hard sounding threatening with the gag in place. Still, Amy was determined. "LVVV MMMMR RGGGGTTTT MMNN LLLN!"
In other words - YOU LEAVE MY RAGGEDY MAN ALONE!
The woman snapped her fingers. "Rowland, remove Mistress Pond's gag. A moment's amusement will help to pass the time."
Montgomery's progress to the woman's side was slow to say the least. Amy watched the soldier hesitantly cross the floor. She thought, perhaps, he was frightened of the emerald women, but once he drew alongside her, she realized she had got it wrong.
He was frightened of her.
"Madame Strangewayes, do you think that is...wise?"
The emerald stare pinned him. "Do it!"
Amy waited until the knot had been unfastened and the gag removed before she snorted. "No. Seriously. You didn't pick a name like Strangewayes, did you? Did you just want to raise a red flag and shout to the world – 'Hello, not human!'?"
The woman's perfect lips twitched, and then she smiled. "Not to the world..."
"Oh." That wasn't good. The only other person in this century who would have noticed such a red flag was the Doctor. What did this woman want with the Time Lord? And what could she do to protect him? "So, Strangewayes, where are you from?" Amy asked. "Got a lot of green, there, girl. Are you Irish by chance?"
The woman sighed. Audibly. "Rowland said you were brash. He didn't mention that you also happen to be an idiot."
"Hey!"
"Or, perhaps, you are merely pretending to be one." Madame Strangewayes continued to stare at her, as though reassessing her first impression. "The man we know would not travel with an imbecilic girl. There must be more to you than meets the eye. Shall we see, Mistress Pond?"
Amy's eyes widened with disbelief as the emerald woman reached into the pocket concealed beneath her elegant gown and withdrew a slender silver cylinder with a green crystal at its end, clamped in a claw-like metal grip.
"I see you recognize it."
"No. Nope. Never seen it before," Amy lied.
"Then you won't mind if I point it at you and press this switch..."
She couldn't help it. She flinched. Even though Amy knew the sonic was not a weapon, and that the Doctor had told her it could not maim or kill, she wasn't sure it wouldn't turn her into an intergalactic toad or something worse.
Madame Strangewayes kept her finger just above the switch as she drew in closer, until their faces were scant inches apart. Then she pressed the end of the Doctor's sonic screwdriver to her prisoner's temple. Amy wrinkled her nose and fought a sneeze. Beneath the emerald woman's expensive cologne there was another scent – something slightly familiar, but out of place. What was it?
She smelled something like a polybag.
"You will tell me where the Doctor is," the emerald woman ordered.
"Don't know."
The woman's finger caressed the switch. "Don't believe you."
"You had this oaf," Amy kicked toward Rowland Montgomery who had said nothing, but lingered close by watching the drama play out, "kidnap me, tie me up, blindfold and gag me. How the hell do you think I would know where anything was!"
Madame Strangewaye's finger lay with a little more weight on the switch, causing the sonic to shiver. "I wonder, this close, would whatever waves come out of this little device have the power to scramble your brains? Perhaps an experiment is in order?" She pressed the device into Amy's flesh. "Now, tell me!"
"I told you I don't know where he is!"
The woman paused as if weighing the truth of her reply. "Then tell me this, Amelia Pond, who liberated the Time Lord from prison?"
Amy swallowed her smile. "Didn't know he was in prison. That's the kind of relationship we have, you know? Sort of an open one."
"I am growing weary of this." Madame Strangewayes' voice took on a new tone of menace. "You will tell me where the Time Lord is, who helped him escape from the prison, and how they managed to disable the duplicate we sent there to kill him. And you will tell me now!"
She could hear the sonic powering up. In a minute it would discharge directly against her head. Amy had no idea what that would do. She had seen it increase signal strength, open locks and an android's chest, and overload all of the technology in a given area. She knew little of the science behind the device, but knew it to be powerful. She could make something up, of course, throw out a name or a place or a time... But she really had no idea who could have rescued the Doctor.
Steeling herself, Amy shook her head. "Sorry."
"Well, I'm not!" the woman snarled and depressed the switch.
Amy heard the familiar warble of the sonic and saw a burst of green light.
And knew no more.
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"Boys and their toys," River Song smirked as she watched the Doctor up-end yet another piece of furniture in his seemingly pointless search for his sonic screwdriver. Considering the missing piece of equipment had been manufactured by the Time Lord's beloved Tardis, she was surprised he didn't try sweet-talking it into appearing. Perhaps...no... It was never good to give him ideas.
A shaky voice intruded on her musings. "Madame de la Rivierre, may I ask – what precisely is a sonic screwdriver?"
River turned to the man who sat up in the bed to her right. Henry Abington winced and involuntarily ducked as a small footstool skittered across the floor to land near her feet. She had been surprised earlier when she found she had to fight the urge to throttle the recovering apothecary. Abington had taken no conscious part in infecting the Doctor. Somehow, he had been used by the Nestene Consciousness to do so. In fact, Henry's blood might hold the key to curing the Time Lord – the only problem was, traditionally, the only way to make that happen was to let the apothecary die. Perhaps throttling him wasn't out of the question...
But no. The Doctor would never permit such a thing.
River drew a breath and answered as evenly as her rising fear would allow her, "Sonic? I think the term he uses is sonus." That was, of course, Latin for 'sound' – something a trained man like Abington should know. "A sonus screwdriver is one that is...sound. Useful." She doubted that would fly, but it was worth a shot.
The auburn head shook. "I believe, Madame, that is a misuse of the Latin. Sonus, or sonitas is used for 'noise', while I believe the term you are looking for is, Compos, as in Compos Mentis, 'a sound mind and body'."
The blond woman rolled her eyes. "Oh, you two are going to get on sooooo well."
They had agreed that they had to take the apothecary with them to Albany. Not only did he hold the key to a possible cure for the Doctor's condition, but he might soon pose a real and present danger to everyone and anyone around him. Without the sonic they couldn't discover if he was a carrier or not. All her mediscanner – which they had used while he was still sleeping – showed was that Abington was no longer infected. The virus had run its course and left him alive, if weak. There was another reason. They had yet to discover how the apothecary had been infected and if anyone else might have suffered the same fate.
As usual, when the Doctor was around, there was more than one time bomb ticking.
"Damn and blast!" the Doctor snarled. "Not here either. Where are you, my beauty?"
"Over here, sweetie," River replied, wiggling her fingers.
The Doctor pivoted on his heel, speechless.
She loved it when she made him do that. Leaving Henry's side, she moved closer to the Time Lord and lowered her voice as she spoke. "I think it is evident that your little toy is not to be found. You must have been a bad boy. Someone has taken it and locked it in their desk drawer."
"And I can't have it back...until the beginning of the next session?" he replied.
If he made it to the next session. The man standing before her was out of breath. He was slightly hunched over, like someone who has taken a punch to the stomach. And his eyes... Reflected in them was something of the sudden knowledge of his own mortality. River's smile faded. "How bad is it?" she asked suddenly.
He gave her his usual reply to any type of concern she showed. A shrug. "Been better," he said at last. Then added with a forced grin as he straightened up. "Been worse too."
Before he could turn away, she caught his arm and pushed back the sleeve of his coat. In this incarnation the man she cared so deeply for was near bone-thin and pale as Devon cream. He looked like a marble statue carved by Michelangelo, with very prominent blue-grey veins showing along his inner arms. There was now a steady progress of infinitesimally small pulses moving along them. And here and there was a small spot of blood where one of the nano-robots had broken through the surface of his skin.
"I don't understand," she confessed, her voice hoarse with fear, "the apothecary shows no signs of this. From what I have heard of the virus, it simply changes the blood and after death turns the host..." River paused, searching his face. "It turns the host into a raving, ravaging monster, or worse, a carrier. It doesn't eat them alive from the inside out!"
"Telalleraen," he answered, his voice a haunted whisper.
"What do you mean? There was an outbreak of the Bluhdouls there. The Time Lords in their arrogance took it upon themselves to pass judgment, and to destroy the entire civilization. "But how does that connect to this?" She indicated his rippling veins with a nod.
He drew a steadying breath. "River, the Telalleraens were Time Lords. And they weren't all destroyed. One escaped to carry the virus into the galaxy."
"What?"
"I say..." Henry Abington's voice rang out, startling her. "Could someone lend me a hand?"
River jumped. She glanced at the apothecary and then back to the Doctor. They had both forgotten the other man was there. She stared at the Time Lord for several heartbeats and then, promised, "I will not let you die. Not here. Not now."
"Oh, it won't be now." Pulling his arm from her grasp, the time traveler went to check his wristwatch, only then remembering that it was missing. "Blimey. Not a gadget left." He flashed that maddening, wonderful smile at her. "Nothing but brains and beauty."
"You're hopeless," she sighed.
"Right-o. Now, come on, Madame Rivierre...we need to pack up Master Abington, use this to rent three fast horses," he flashed the psychic paper, "find Amy, locate the Marquis de Lafayette, figure out if he is suffering from the same condition, cure Henry, cure the Frenchie, save the world and, what's more, the galaxy for glory, liberty, and democracy!"
"And all before lunch, I suppose," she replied smartly.
Abington tried again. "I say..."
"There in a second, Henry," the Doctor flung over his shoulder. Turning back to her, he held out a hand.
"What?" she asked.
"Obviously, we know who the 'brains' of this outfit is. Me." He laughed. "So that makes you..."
River actually blushed.
"Come along, my beauty."
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They hadn't made it far.
Sergeant Boggs paced the small anteroom outside of his general's bedchamber. They had traveled no more than an hour, covering perhaps two miles, when a question he posed to the Marquis had gone unanswered. He had looked across the carriage to see that the young man had not fallen silent, but had lapsed into unconsciousness. A physician had been sent for, but he had not yet made an appearance. Upon their arrival at this place Boggs had sent a messenger as well to Washington's camp, a short eight miles away, to inform His Excellency of Lafayette's current condition.
Which was grave.
After a brief word with the guard he had posted in the hall outside the sick man's rooms, Daniel Boggs returned to Lafayette's side. He took his accustomed seat beside the bed and reached for the young man's hand, which was laying limp on top of the coverlet. The fever raging through him was frightening. Boggs released the hand and turned to the bedside table that held, among other things, a bowl of cool water. He took the cloth hanging on its side, dipped it once again, wrung it out, and then used it to wipe the Frenchman's face. At its touch, Lafayette stirred.
"Adrienne...," he murmured. "Est cela vous, la femme?
Boggs knew little French. But he did know of the owner of that name. "Sir, you are still in America. Your wife is in France. We were headed to Albany when you became insensible. Sir?" Boggs hesitated and then decided the circumstances called for it. Catching the sick man's hand again, he said softly, "Gilbert. It's Daniel, your friend."
His charge's brown hair and black lashes stood out in stark contrast to a complexion gone white – with the exception of two bright pink patches where the fever burned in his cheeks. Lafayette's eyelids fluttered open, and a shadow of a smile touched his pallid lips. His grip was weak, but he made an attempt to squeeze the frontiersman's hand. "Daniel. Mon ami."
Daniel placed his other hand on top of the Frenchman's. "I have sent for a physician, sir. And to General Washington." When the young man stirred as if upset by this news and made as if to sit up, Boggs used his more authoritative voice, "Major General Lafayette, your Commander-in-chief has given orders to be kept informed of the whereabouts and condition of his officers. You know that."
Lafayette sighed and settled back against the pillows. "Oui. But I do not...wish...to cause His...Excellency undue...worry..."
The Frenchman lapsed back into unconsciousness.
Boggs sat back, exhausted.
Any worry General Washington felt for this officer was far from 'undue'.
Leaving the cloth on the young man's forehead, Boggs rose from the chair and began to pace the room. Where was that physician? And why had his messenger to Washington not returned with an acknowledgement that word of the Marquis' deteriorating condition had been delivered?
Almost as if in answer to his unspoken questions, a soft knock came at the door.
Boggs stepped smartly over to it. Upon opening the door, he expected to find the young soldier he had left on guard. Instead, he was surprised – and delighted – to find Jeremy Larkin. The young freedom fighter wore the mud of the road on his cape and boots. He looked like he had been riding hard.
The frontiersman stepped out into the hall. "Jeremy!" he remarked, clapping the other man on the shoulder. "It is good to see you. Where have you been?"
"At camp," Jeremy replied. "I saw General Washington and pleaded the Doctor's case." At his look, the blond man raised a hand. "Our disagreement on that subject will wait until later. I have been some hours searching for you. I was sent by His Excellency to inquire after the Marquis."
"Did you not meet the man I sent with news on the road?" Boggs asked.
Jeremy frowned. "A soldier went flying by, but said he had no time to waste." He thought a moment. "Young Phillips, was it?"
Young. Boggs hid his smile. Perhaps a year younger than the man he spoke to now. "Aye. So the General will know all there is to know shortly. You can rest. You look as though you need it."
"I cannot. If I am not needed to carry news to camp, then I must return to Henry's side. I must see what I can do for him." Jeremy started to pivot on his heel, but stopped. When he turned back, concern was etched into every feature. "What is the Marquis' current condition?"
The frontiersman stepped aside as he pushed open the door. "See for yourself."
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And he had thought Henry bore the look of a man headed for the grave. Compared to the sight that greeted Jeremy's weary eyes now, the apothecary had shown the very pink of health.
"Good God," he breathed as he moved to the Marquis' side. Noting the pallor of the sick man's skin and the height of color in his cheeks, he added softly, "It is just as Henry."
"Could they have fallen prey to the same corruption?" Boggs asked as he joined him. "Something both encountered when we were traveling together?"
"It seems most like." Jeremy cast his mind back, but found the days before this madness had begun fuzzy at best. They had journeyed from Chester to Philadelphia to join Lafayette and Sergeant Boggs, intending to see the pair all the way to the ship at Boston harbor. Along their route there had been galas and fetes, all intended to show the Frenchman how loved and honored he was by his adopted countrymen. Several sleepless nights and a day's journey in a pelting rain had left them all exhausted, and Lafayette and Henry feverish. Whatever had happened, it had happened at Philadelphia or shortly after.
Jeremy frowned. He turned to Sergeant Boggs and caught a pure, unguarded moment of sheer terror on the frontiersman's face. He thought Lafayette was going to die.
"Daniel..."
Boggs started guiltily. He hesitated, and then began to speak, slowly, softly. "Did I ever tell you about the first time I saw this young man?" He nodded toward the sick man's bed. "I was with General Washington at their nacent meeting. Like the General, I had had my fill of overly ambitious foreign noblemen sailing to America for glory and a commission. I was determined I wouldn't like him." The frontiersman fell silent. He crossed to Lafayette's side and removed the cloth, placing it on the table beside him. "A week later, I didn't. Like the General, I loved him." The admission was hard for the crusty campaigner. It brought tears to Sergeant Boggs' eyes. His jaw clenched and a moment later he struck a fist into his open palm. "This is such a waste!"
Jeremy crossed to the older man. With a glance at Lafayette, he led Boggs out of the room and into the ante-chamber. Though the sergeant protested, Jeremy made him take a seat and went to fetch him a drink. Then he sat at his side.
"Daniel. What do you remember of those days in Philadelphia? If this is poison, then who would have had the opportunity to - "
"The General thinks it was Rowland Montgomery."
"Montgomery?" Jeremy thought back. The last time he had seen Rowland Montgomery, the soldier had just informed them of the guilt of the Doctor and Amelia Pond.
Boggs' look was chagrinned. "Aye. So you were right and I was wrong. That Doctor – strange as the man may be – had nothing to do with this. Nor did Mistress Pond."
Jeremy nodded but said nothing. He knew Boggs' blindness concerning the Doctor had been due to his single-sightedness about the Marquis. "Montgomery. It makes sense. He had been attending the general."
"Aye." Boggs jumped from his seat and began to pace again. "I had so many things to arrange for the trip, I gave him over to Montgomery's care. And I did not know the man from Adam!"
"Rowland came on Congress' recommendation, did he not?"
That seemed to ease Boggs' pain a bit. "Aye, that he did."
"Where is he now? Montgomery, that is?"
The frontiersman shook his head. "Disappeared. I sent him on an errand and since then no one has seen him. It is as though he has vanished."
As had the Doctor and Amy. Jeremy's gaze shot to Sergeant Boggs. Or had he been wrong? Were the three complicit?
As that thought crossed his mind Jeremy heard a commotion below, and then footsteps on the stairs. He waited, fully expecting to find that it was the mysterious Doctor and his lovely companion come to make an entrance at precisely the right moment. However, the man who appeared shortly, accompanied by a second close to him in age and size, was not the mysterious traveler.
It was George Washington.
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Half an hour later, after hearing Dr. Cochran's assessment of Lafayette's condition, Jeremy headed downstairs and out of the house the sick man lay within, intending to return to the place several miles back where he had left Henry. His heart was heavy. Though Washington's physician did not pronounce the Marquis's condition incurable, his concerned look left little to question – Lafayette was gravely ill, if not mortally. Cochran, who had attended Lafayette after the Battle of Brandywine, set about his work immediately. General Washington remained at his side, silent and sober; his thoughts only for himself.
Jeremy was concerned as well for Henry. The pair showed all the signs of the same ailment. He had left his friend in the care of the Doctor and now it seemed, the Doctor had left Henry alone. For all he knew, the apothecary's condition could have taken a turn for the worse, and Henry could be –
But no, he would not borrow trouble. Today's worries were more than sufficient for the day.
Jeremy headed for the local farrier's shop. The man was seeing to his horse. He did not know if this day would find him riding back to Chester or, should the Marquis recover quickly as unlikely as that seemed, continuing on to Boston. It was hard to believe the day was almost gone. As it was the heart of winter the sun was already setting, casting a fiery glow on the streets and houses capped with snow. The rebel leader paused as he reached the end of the street. The farrier's shop was some distance south of the house where Lafayette lay. He remembered an alley that he had noted earlier, that would make the trip a shorter one. He hated to admit it, but he was completely worn out with the events of the day. Backtracking, he located the darkened passageway. It ran behind a row of shops and seemed to be deserted. The air was brisk. Most people would have retired to their homes and be warming themselves by the fire by now.
Pulling his cloak tightly about his throat Jeremy entered the alley, moving at a swift if not hasty pace. His concern for Henry increased with each passing moment. The curious disappearance of the man known only as 'the Doctor' bothered him. Could he have been wrong?
Was the man a menace?
A shuffling noise broke into his reverie and brought him to a halt. Jeremy glanced behind, but saw no one. When he turned back around, he was startled to find a man blocking his way. The fellow was large. He couldn't see his face, but there was something ever so slightly familiar about him.
"Sir. If you would kindly step aside, I need to pass," he said, beginning to move forward again.
The man reached out and placed a hand against his chest. "Do you now?"
"Sir. Move aside!"
The man shook his head.
Jeremy waited, and then shifted suddenly in an attempt to duck under the arm and move around the human obstacle. The man caught the front of his cloak and held him fast. The action spun his attacker around into the moonlight and Jeremy gasped when he saw who it was. During his visit to Lafayette's sick bed, he and Sergeant Boggs had talked at length about the Doctor and his disappearance. It seemed a man had been found dead in the Doctor's cell; the man who had been at the tavern the first time he had seen the Doctor. The one who had been throwing darts.
This man.
Even as Jeremy froze, stunned, two things happened. Murder in his eyes, the burly man reached for his throat, and a familiar voice shouted.
"Jeremy! It's the Doctor. You need to drop to the ground now!"
It made no sense to trust him, but trust him he did. Jeremy willed his locked knees to bend and hit the ground just as a pistol shot resounded through the darkening air, echoing off the walls of the cloistered alley. A second later the burly man fell motionless at his feet.
"At least you get prettier when you come back to life," a woman's voice remarked dryly.
At the responsive snort, Jeremy looked up to find the silhouettes of two people blocking the end of the alley he had left behind. He recognized the Doctor by the wild shock of hair and his long, slightly bowed legs. It took him longer with the woman. It wasn't until she stepped into the pool of silver moonlight that Jeremy placed where he had seen her before.
Madame Rivierre lifted the small flintlock pistol she held to her lips and blew the smoke away. She grinned broadly at his startled expression.
"Told you we'd meet again."