Until We Burn | Dr Who

Chapter Forty-Seven: Carjacked

The screen at the back of the car buzzes to life, displaying the rotating logo of the NNYPD. The Doctor takes a microphone attached to it. "I need to talk to the police."

"Thank you for your call. You have been placed on hold."

Over his shoulder, he sends me an exasperated look and tries again, "You're the police!"

"Thank you for your call. You have been placed on hold."

"Something tells me they're not coming," I huff. "Can't you call the Tardis to us or something? Then we can just get a DNA lock on Martha."

Grimly shaking his head, he makes his way back to the couple. "Too unreliable, she could leave us stranded. Is there anyone else? We once met the Duke of Manhattan. Is there any way of getting through to him?"

They both share amused glances. "Oh, well, ain't you lordly?"

"We have to find our friend!"

"You can't make outside calls. The Motorway's completely enclosed."

I laugh bitterly. "What moron decided that, then? Can you talk to anyone else here?"

"Well, we've got contact with the other cars, yeah — some of them anyway. They've got to be on your Friends List." Pulling the list up on the console screen, Brannigan scrolls through. "Now, let's see, who's nearby? Ah, the Cassini Sisters!" He picks up a mic and sends his wife a cheeky wink. "Be still your hearts, my handsome girls. It's Brannigan here."

An elderly voice retorts, "Get off the line, Brannigan. You're a pest and a menace."

His feline mouth pulls into a smirk. "Come on, now, sisters. Is that any way to talk to an old friend?"

"You know full well we're not sisters. We're married."

"Ooh! Stop that modern talk, I'm an old-fashioned cat. Now, I've got a couple of hitchhikers here, the Doctor and Inara, or so they say."

He snatches the mic up, glaring determinedly ahead. "Hello. Sorry. I'm looking for someone called Martha Jones. She's been carjacked. She's inside one of these vehicles, but we don't know which one."

With a crackle, another voice comes from the speakers. "Wait a minute. Could I ask, what entrance did they use?"

I look to the others. "Any clue?"

"Pharmacytown."

"Pharmacytown," he repeats, "about twenty minutes ago."

We hear the distant turning of pages. "Let's have a look."

"Just my luck to marry a car spotter."

The other clears her throat rather matter-of-factly. "In the last half hour, fifty-three new cars joined from Pharmacytown Junction."

He shifts impatiently. "Anything more specific?"

The question earns him a warning glance. "All in good time. Was she carjacked by two people?"

"Yes, she was. Yeah."

"There we are. Just one of those cars was destined for the Fast Lane. That means they had three on board, and the car number is 465 Diamond 6."

Letting out a laugh of relief, I let myself relax a little. He isn't as easily comforted. "That's it! So how do we find them?"

There is a pause. "Ah, now there, I'm afraid, I can't help."

"We can call them. We've got the number — Diamond 6," he tries.

Brannigan shakes his head. "Not if they're designated Fast Lane, it's a different class."