CHAPTER 8
"I just call you Doctor?" Sam asked sceptically as he knelt beside the television cabinet, twisting his wrist to feed cables into a narrow orifice at its rear.
The Doctor's blank stare was bathed in blue light from an AV screen as he sipped his tea, "Or the Doctor. I find a certain oomph when a title is prefixed with 'the', don't you think?"
Sam bumped his head against the cabinet in response.
The Doctor peered toward Sam, "Everything ok?"
Sam's upper body emerged from behind the entertainment unit, giving the Doctor a pained scowl as he rubbed his head, "Yeah, just got a little thrown off." He brushed specks of dust off his light blue polo top and navy-blue jeans.
Martha flipped a nearby light switch as she entered the living room, brightening their surroundings now that evening had set in. She smirked, "Sam's still adjusting to your more esoteric antics." Flashing a playful smirk, Martha sank into the maroon three-seater leather couch alongside the Doctor, which emitted a soft hiss. "Ever attempted being normal? Just once?"
He answered, "Once. Never again."
Shooting a gaze at Sam, Martha nudged the Doctor's leg with her outer thigh and calf as an unspoken response to his answer. "Got it connected yet, Sam?"
Sam held up two cables, "Yellow for visual, red and white for audio, yeah?"
Martha nodded, "That's right."
"Then it's having an episode," he answered. "I might need some more time."
The Doctor glanced at a Nintendo 64 unit sitting idle on the carpet near Sam.
"Maybe you just need a new console? It is 2011."
Martha pressed up against the Doctor, snorting jocularly, "Don't. Just don't. Trust me. You'll never hear the end of it."
"Got any Tetris, Sam?"
Martha slapped his arm.
The Doctor pouted sadly, "What? I like Tetris."
"You're asking for trouble," she whispered.
Sniffing, he asked, "Are you wearing perfume?"
Shrugging with innocence, ironic to amorous eyes, Martha asked, "Do you like it?"
The Doctor stood, clearing his throat. "It didn't go unnoticed. Do you mind if I use your study?"
Martha remained seated, brushing her lavender-scented neck with a deflated frown. "I'll see you in a bit."
Once he had exited, Martha pushed up from the couch and approached Sam, squatting as she whispered. "Ok, I need your gaydar. Is he, or not?"
Sam shook his head, "Not in those shoes, honey."
"Suit and hair?"
"Please, it's such a fag-stag getup."
Martha screwed her face up, "Talk about mixed messages!"
Sam delivered his final judgment with a dismissive chuckle, "Then, definitely straight."
HERTFORDSHIRE HOSPITAL
Nightfall had preceded Madison's arrival at level five of Lister Hospital's car park.
She wandered about, knowing this area as a parking zone for executive staff members.
Kate's brief outlined a basic profile of Hirst, her career history, professional network associates, and a description of Hirst's vehicle.
Although there were potential risks of getting caught, Kate was confident that it should be easy to find Hirst's vehicle as there were fewer cars parked compared to during business hours.
Taking out her iPhone 3G, Madison scrolled through her image gallery for a photo of Hirst's vehicle. She stopped on an image of a red Bentleigh, noting its number plate.
"I would have thought that a car in a place like this would stand out," she muttered as padded steps of her McQueen sneakers patted against flat concrete.
Madison explored an easterly section, farthest from the lifts where few vehicles were parked.
Then she saw it. Sitting between two concrete pillars was a red Bentley.
Madison scanned her surroundings for signs of foot or vehicle traffic before dropping to all fours.
Holding her phone in one hand and withdrawing a small, black domed from her jacket with the other, Madison set her phone down and rolled onto her back.
Lying on her back, Madison peeled the adhesive tape from the flat side of the dome base and affixed it beneath the rear passenger door so it was out of sight to passengers or pedestrians.
After sliding away and standing up, Madison tapped her right index finger on her screen to activate the tracker app. "Here we go," she said, crossing her fingers on her other hand. A message flashed:
Tracker located. Activate?
YES OR NO
Madison pressed 'YES', and another message displayed:
TRACKER ACTIVATED
"Awesome," she whispered, swiftly moving toward the stairwell. Madison tapped an icon of a planetary globe. One final notification displayed on her screen:
GEOLOCAL SCANNING ACTIVATED
A map of England appeared, zooming in on Hertfordshire with a red dot pinpointing Lister Hospital.
Approaching the stairwell, Madison was nearly thrown into a nearby wall as a door swung open brazenly.
Eyes ablaze, Madison used her free hand to grip the door frame to slow it, narrowly avoiding a broken nose, and shouted, "Watch it!"
Her words were met with an isolating, cold stare from a blonde woman dressed in a black overcoat, grey skirt suit, and black leather stiletto shoes.
The blonde woman's lips parted into a thin, horizontal slit as her eyes fixed on Madison with the reticent precision of a sniper rifle, daring any further interjection.
Madison felt goosebumps hardening on her neck, a chilling sensation creeping down her spine.
She stood still, swallowed nervously, and waited for the woman to pass.
The blonde woman locked her stare with murderous focus. Madison knew which car she was headed toward – a red Bentleigh.
MARTHA'S APARTMENT
The Doctor and Martha were alone in her study, illuminated only by a desktop lamp.
Their surroundings were compact, comprising a single-seater desk and two bookshelves.
Instead of sitting in a chair, Martha was perched on the edge of the desk, her calves crossed over one another. Her hands were spread out on either side of her as she spoke, "You remind me of my sister, Tish. She loves attention."
"Actually," the Doctor trailed off while scrolling the screen, "Reverberating chimes of chaos in my head during solitude works for me."
She scoffed sarcastically, "Oh, so deep! Dramatic much? You're so showy!"
His eyes compressed defensively, "Showy?"
Martha shrugged, "You like attention. You know, that big smile, glowing skin, that hair."
"What's wrong with my hair?"
"Nothing! Tish loved attention when we had guests over and constantly tried to rope me into it. You should meet her."
"Domestics aren't my thing," he muttered as he reached for a stack of Post-it notes.
"She's single and looking," Martha whispered.
"I'm sure she is," he grumbled while his hands turned over a small stack of looseleaf papers on her desk. Finding what he was after, he clutched a gold pen.
"Whatever," Martha sighed, looking at the pen he was holding. Her frown warmed to a smile, "That pen has such a random story! Want to hear it?"
"I'm not hearing an option."
Martha curled her lip moodily and raised her middle finger at the Doctor while he scribbled on a post-it note.
CORRIDOR
Shadows loomed over polished wooden flooring in the dimly lit corridor leading to Martha's apartment.
Militaristic stomping echoed as three security personnel, dressed in SWAT-like uniforms with helmets, visors, bulletproof vests, and cargo pants tucked into combat boots, approached.
Each team member tightly gripped an assault rifle, with their hips strapped with pistols and grenades.
Regis watched Martha's apartment door, signalling with a raised right hand once he located it.
They halted with their rifles prepared for action.
Regis whispered, "Fusebox?"
MARTHA'S APARTMENT
Martha opened a nearby drawer, taking out another gold pen, "That pen in your hand was a gift from my grandmother. What do you notice?"
Staring at Martha's gold pen and then at his, he found them to merely appear as two similar pens. He asked, "They're the same?"
Martha shook her head, "Nope. Identical! Look again."
Taking it from Martha's hand to compare, he observed, "I see. So, the engraving and the name on them are the same." He looked to Martha. "So, it's two pens?"
"Two pens with precisely identical markings on them? Even the scuff on its head? Or the scratched paint from down near its tip?"
Holding them side-by-side, he concluded, "Your grandmother just sent you two pens?"
"My grandmother has been deceased for five years. That pen you're holding was received eight years ago. I only received this second pen last week with some orchids – my favourite flower. The card was written in that same gold pen, signed by someone named 'Vagabond Scout.'"
"So, a psychotic admirer with no sense of direction but an uncanny eye for affectionate stationery?"
She laughed as her boot soles scraped against the carpet. "Deflecting much?"
He sunk back into his chair, placing one pen on the desk, "Is there something you want to tell me?"
Martha winked, "I don't want to deflect."
He sat up, asking, "How many patients do you invite to your place?"
Martha twirled a lone strand of her hair that hung around her ear, answering, "You're the first."
He studied the pen in his hand, "Pen pal?"
She shook her head, "I don't do long distance. Plus, you still owe me dinner."
"What did you have in mind?"
Martha fiddled with her tank top shoulder strap while rubbing her boot calves together, aloof in her thoughts but violently interrupted by an explosive noise that rippled through the hallway.
Jumping with a shriek, she bolted out of the study.
A series of syncopated slams on the door intensified, causing it to visibly vibrate with each thud.
Martha asked, "What was that?!"
The Doctor joined her, looking toward the kitchen, "Get Sam. Now."
Martha looked over her shoulder, whispering, "Sam!" She then frantically hissed, "SAM!"
The apartment lights flickered into darkness, leaving only a sliver of light seeping from beneath the apartment door and the soft glow of evening lights filtering through nearby windows.
The Doctor whispered, "Get him, quick!" He moved further through the corridor while Martha checked the lounge room, "He's not there!"
The Doctor ran his hand through his hair with gritted teeth, "Where's his room?"
Martha nodded toward Sam's room.
Before either could move towards Sam's room, the apartment front door was forcefully kicked open, unleashing billowed white smoke into the corridor.
Red laser pointers pierced through the mist as militant stomps heavily percussed.
The Doctor took Martha's hand, "Too late!"
Martha twisted in his grip to free herself, "I cannot-"
"MARTHA!" He barked as he pulled her toward the kitchen.
Once huddled together in the kitchen, they both heard a door being kicked open reverberated through the entrance, followed shortly by Sam's frantic scream for Martha.
Martha's hands clenched into fists as she heard Sam's helpless cries.
She angrily swatted at his chest with her fists, but he quickly restrained her wrists.
A solitary set of foot stomps approached them.
Martha slid her wrists free from the Doctor and strode to a kitchen cabinet, retrieving the broom she had used earlier.
Martha moved in a squat, creeping toward the kitchen entrance.
She saw a combat boot step into view and immediately drove the wooden broom handle between his legs.
The guard stumbled forward as his legs twisted around the broom.
He crashed face-first, discharging a single shot from his assault rifle into the wall. Gunfire tore through plaster, resulting in a burst of white dust.
A gruff voice barked further down the corridor, "Twelve o'clock!"
A red laser pinpointed the wall closest to Martha.
While kneeling beside him, she reached for a pistol holstered on the guard's hip.
Struggling to tug the gun from its holster, Martha reached for his other hip and unclipped a grenade.
Seeing him raise his head, Martha stood and stomped her boot heel into his head with a snarl.
The Doctor stuck his head out from the kitchen, "I hope he didn't have a warrant."
"Shut up!" She snapped at him while pulling the grenade pin and shot-putted the bulbous object down the corridor.
It exploded in a bright flash of light, spewing white gas.
She felt herself being dragged away by her arm toward the window that led out onto the fire escape.
The Doctor sarcastically chastised, "I'm sure you knew that was a flashbang!"
Martha's rueful glare spearheaded the Doctor, "We have to go back for him!"
"We can't! I will guarantee you one thing. I promise. I will not let them harm Sam. Trust me. Please."
Martha's eyes glinted with conviction as she spoke between gritted teeth, "If anything happens to him, I will fucking kill you! I mean it."
He may not have known Martha for long, but the sincerity in her eyes was unmistakable.
Humbled silence overcame him as he crawled through the open window onto the fire escape.
Martha followed him as cylinders of flashlight beams waved about in the darkened kitchen.
Shards of window glass spat onto the fire escape with bullets roaring after them.
The Doctor took Martha by her hand, ducking them toward the fire escape ladder and into the alley.
Once on the ground, they sprinted toward the street hand-in-hand.