Wilson sat in the nurses' lounge sipping lukewarm coffee while tapping his index finger against his cell phone in a vain attempt to make the thing ring. One thing was sure about this day; his wife would kill him when she found out how much coffee he'd drank. She always fussed when he drank too much, claiming it kept him up at night. Doctors should know better, she would say. Well, for now, he needed the caffeine. Having just passed his 55th birthday, the long hours required of the Chief of Emergency Medicine, combined with a private practice, were getting harder. The tired ache between his shoulders mixed with waiting for this last call was as a good excuse as any for letting his mind wander over the mess engulfing this little unit . This whole thing was just downright -- weird.
Wilson had the impression Harkness thought him a bit naive about the workings of the world. If he did, then the man had seriously underestimated him. The way Thete had babbled about the tardis thing, it had to be one hell of a weapon making it imperative to know the man who'd threatened to take Thete out of the hospital. Wilson called in favours from several old friends still in military intelligence, and two old friends in the State Department. Wilson was taking no chances that these strangers belonged to the very group that hurt Thete.
The so-called Torchwood Agency turned out to be a British institution surrounded by so much secrecy as to be unfathomable. Dating back to the nineteenth century no one seemed to know why Queen Victoria started the secret agency but it beat the British Secret Service by twenty years. Adding to the mystery; the only tangible evidence anyone that Jack Harkness actually existed was his passport and an impossibly strong connection to 10 Downing Street.
He swirled the coffee cup watching the little whirlpool form in the brown liquid whilst waiting for his phone call verifying Jones' Kentucky licence and DEA number to ring through. Except for the young couple, the strangers standing in his unit were all -- weird especially Captain Jack Harkness. Wilson still didn't trust the man. A cold, calculating man sitting behind those ice-blue eyes and that smarmy smile. He was not a man who made empty threats, and while he no longer worried this group intended to harm Thete, the threat to take Thete out of the hospital was one that Harkness easily could carry out, and that ... that kind of power was scary.
The Song woman was just as big a mystery. There were no tax records, school records or even police records to show that she existed. It seemed the only making her real was a little thing called a passport. Wilson figured she worked for some CIA type agency. That made her exactly what -- a spy maybe? River Song probably wasn't even her name. The two kids apparently led normal British lives. The husband had a record of employment as an R.N., first in Leadworth, and then in London. The last couple of years were a bit spotty, but they would be if they were off back-packing the world. That was actually the only thing that made sense.
That left Doctor Martha Jones. Her medical reputation, both as a private M.D., and for the work she did for the U.N. was impeccable But at her age, which Wilson guessed to be about thirty, she should just be finishing her residency. Instead, she worked as Medical Director for another secret agency, only this one belonged to the United Nations. His State Department contact told him that Homeland Security approved her to practice medicine in the U.S. without question before her plane left British airspace and that was unheard of.
Wilson took another sip and gagged on the now cold coffee. He still jumped when the tinkle of Lee Greenwood's God Bless the USA finally signalled what he hoped was the answer. Two minutes later, he thanked the voice on the other end, closed the cell phone, and scrubbed his hands over his face whilst drawing a harsh breath. He downed the last of the coffee and decided he would make a terrible spy. All this intrigue mixed with too much coffee was giving him heartburn. He popped an antacid and headed back out. He had to keep this group content enough not to try to move his patient. No matter who or what Thete was before, he was now a frightened, sick kid.
YOU ARE READING
Broken: A Time Lord's Story (Doctor Who Novel)
FanfictionIn the 42nd century, a search for a kidnapped baby takes a man known as the Doctor to Regulus IV where he's kidnapped and brutally tortured. His salvation lies in the hands of a gentle telepathic child. Forced by her captor to tend to his wounds...
