ENEMY WITHIN

Chapter 4

After Sylvia left for home, Wilf settled back onto his pillows with a sigh. He began flipping though one of the magazines she'd left behind. Sleep deprived from the constant poking and prodding by medical staff at all hours of the day and night, he soon drifted off.

It wasn't a restful sleep. For he dreamed of an alien monster chasing the Queen, and of a blue police box that wasn't really a police box at all. In his dream, the monster had stopped chasing the Queen, and was bent on eating him. Wilf felt the vague, almost formless creature breathing down his neck, its fierce jaws dripping saliva on his head. Then the monster was gone. Day became night and he was being chased by the Queen. She was howling and chasing him down a dark alley. Then the Queen latched on to the back of his shirt collar with sharp, pointed teeth. She was growling his name, shaking Wilf like a dog.

"Wilf! Wilf, wake up! I need to talk to you." Came the Doctor's quiet but urgent voice, coming almost as if from another world, as he lightly shook Wilf's shoulder.

"Eh—what? Yeah, Doctor. Good Oh. I'm awake..sort of." He mumbled, cranking open his eyes, the strange and slightly scary dream slowly being erased by reality. Wilf saw the Doctor standing over him, Donna hovering nearby. "What is it? Is something wrong?" He asked, slowly stirring. The Doctor gently put his hand behind Wilf's back and helped him to sit up. Wilf started coughing again.

"There ya' go." The Doctor said, adjusting Wilf's position so he could sit up more comfortably, "All nice and comfy." He looked at the sick man with a worried expression. "Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe?"

"No worries, Doctor. I'm alright." Wilf said, after his cough died down. He cast an anxious glance in Donna's direction.

"Everything is fine, granddad" Donna reassured him, coming over to the beside. "We're sorry to wake you. I know you have to rest, but it's important. The Doctor needs to ask you a question."

"Right then, Doctor." Wilf said, more awake now. "I'm all yours."

"This is kind of sudden, Wilf." The Doctor deadpanned, "You could at least offer to buy me dinner and drinks, first."

Looking cross, Donna nudged the Doctor in the ribs. Wilf was taken aback for a moment. He looked at Donna. She stared at the Doctor, who had adopted an innocent look. Then all three of them burst into laughter, until Wilf began coughing again. The Doctor abruptly looked guilty.

"Sorry Wilf." The Doctor apologized. He glanced carefully around, to be sure no one else in the ward was watching. "Now relax, this won't hurt a bit." Reaching out with the tips of his fingers, the Doctor closed his eyes and lightly touched Wilf's temples. The coughing stopped.

"Dunno' what you did just then, Doctor, but it seems to have done the trick, ta." He said gratefully.

"I blocked the cough centre in your brain. It's only temporary, I'm afraid. Your body wants to cough for a reason. At least you'll have some rest for a few hours, anyway."

"Cheers, Doctor. You needed me for something, you said." Wilf asked, "What can I help you with?"

"It's about that low flying jet you mentioned. Did you notice anything about it? The color? Any markings on the plane?" The Doctor asked.

"It didn't have any writing on it that I could see. I'm sure it probably had some kind of aviation registration on it, they all do. Sorry, Doctor, I don't remember what it was. The plane was white, though, with a blue and silver stripe painted down the side. I do remember that." Wilf told him.

"It's a start, Wilf, thanks." The Doctor told him, scratching the back of his neck. "I might be able to trace the paint scheme to a particular aviation company. If I knew which airport is was coming from or going to, that would narrow things down considerably. What direction was it coming from? Was it landing or taking off?"

"Don't ask me why, but I get the feeling it wasn't coming from Heathrow, Doctor." Wilf shrugged. "We're not usually over the flight path for that, this time of month. Though it's always possible, I suppose. They do change it around from time to time. At a guess, I'd say it was coming from one of them other airports. Or maybe even some private airstrip. Ahh—I wish I could be more certain, Doctor. I used to take Donna to the airport. We used to do some plane spotting. Didn't we sweetheart?"

"I remember. We used to spend hours sitting in your car, drinking hot cocoa and watching those big jets." Donna nodded. She reached over and held his hand. .

"I like planes. But I'm no expert or anything." Wilf said simply.

"Don't worry Wilf," The Doctor said, inwardly smiling at the thought of Donna enjoying sitting around watching planes landing and taking off. Especially since she was always complaining about having to hang around the TARDIS anytime he had to stop and fiddle with something. "I think it's enough for me to go on, for now. What might help, is if you can tell me what the date and time was, when you saw this jet. As close as you can guess. Oh, and the direction it came from. And was going to."

Wilf paused and thought about it. "It was Tuesday afternoon, bit past 14:00, near as I can remember. Came in from the south, then seemed to be swinging towards the northwest."

"We'll be off then, let you get some rest." The Doctor said, waving goodbye.

"You take care of yourself, gramps." Donna said, giving Wilf a peck on the cheek. "I'll be back to see you before you know it." She whispered, "That's the thing about traveling with a Time Lord. I can be gone a whole month, and see you tomorrow."

"I know, Donna. Never mind me." Wilf said affectionately. "You go and look after that Doctor of yours. He'll sort this out and get you home before teatime, I reckon."

"...and now for the news at five past the hour. Deputy Prime Minister Johnson, and some key members of the prime minister's cabinet are presently meeting here in London, with officials from the NHS and a representative from Toxilco Pharmaceuticals. Sources say that they are to discuss the possible nation-wide distribution of a new vaccine for the recent flu epidemic. The most recent information we've been able to obtain, has this flu outbreak now the cause of some fifty-seven deaths, in seven major cities throughout the United Kingdom in the past three weeks, with the number of deaths virtually doubling overnight. Some sources fear that the prime minister may have been struck down, but a spokeswoman within Number Ten says that the prime minister is perfectly well, and put such speculation down as nothing but 'hysterical rumours.' She also stated that the prime minster would be issuing a formal address to the public, quite soon. So far, this epidemic has not spread to other countries in Europe or abroad. The government has yet to issue any precautionary guidelines, with an unnamed source saying that some officials seem to be dragging their feet, worrying over the cost, in regards to publishing public safety advisories, as well as purchasing and administering the vaccine to every resident of the UK. An unnamed source within the NHS estimates that the final cost could come to well over a billion pounds. We'll have more on this story as information becomes available, so stayed tuned here on BBC One for the latest news updates...In Dartford , an out of control car rolled downhill through a fence and into a back garden, narrowly missing a man weeding his strawberries ..."

The phone rang. Sylvia turned down the television and answered. It was the hospital. Wilf had abruptly taken a turn for the worse, the nurse told her, and she thought that the family should know, in case they wanted to be there.

"This is outrageous! It is nothing but sheer blackmail!" the MP for Flydell North protested. He was temporary chair the NHS oversight committee, as the present chairman had come down with the flu that very morning. "I ask you." The MP rose up out of his seat and glared up and down at his government counterparts, "Are we so weak, that we give in to gangsters now? Mere thugs posing as corporate executives?" He turned a baleful eye on the pharmaceutical executive, who was seated at the end of the long, highly polished conference table, looking almost bored with the proceedings. "I have news for you" The MP fumed, "We would not have that American car manufacturer dictate government policy on women in the workforce, all those years ago. And nothing has changed. Of late Her Majesty's government has resisted caving in to the demands of banking interests and a certain media mogul. Unlike America, Mr. Huxley, I think you'll find that Great Britain will not allow herself to be coerced or extorted by corporate bullies." The man banged his fist on the table for emphasis.

"No. But you will allow yourselves to be bought and bribed on occasion." Huxley muttered sarcastically, under his breath.

A woman seated nearest to him, Lady Jane...something. Huxley couldn't be bothered to remember her name, apparently overheard his remark. Giving him a reproachful look, she cleared her throat meaningfully. Ignoring her, he pretended to show interest in the speaker. The middle aged, slightly overweight MP from Flydell North had a nervous habit, Huxley absently noted, of constantly turning the wedding ring on his finger.

They were seated in a meeting room adjacent to the Deputy Prime Minister's office. Huxley listened to the man drone on and on. These government lackeys could protest all the liked. He knew they'd decide in his favour, in the end. Her Majesty's government didn't exactly have much choice in the matter. Yet, he decided it was best to let them think otherwise. For now.

Crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair, Huxley sighed. This idiot had to come up for air, sooner or later. Good god, the man was a political whale! Swimming under the surface of all of his clap trap until well past the time for him to shut up. Huxley studied a painting on the wall which was directly behind the MP from Flydell North. It was one of Sir Alfred Munnings' equestrian paintings. It was beautifully executed, but his tastes leaned more towards modern art. Ah well. He supposed he could count this meeting as a good lesson in how to exercise his patience. Most of these insignificant fools would be dead soon, anyway.

The TARDIS wheezed like some overweight heavy smoker trudging up a steep hill. The central column of the control panel clunked up and down in its own shambolic rhythm, bathing Donna and the Doctor's faces with a neon-like glow. Donna watched as the Doctor stabbed at buttons and twisted dials in a seemingly random fashion. He was busy keeping one eye on on the controls, and another on the complex geometrical Galifreyan language, which was scrolling out on the monitor screen.

"How can you be so sure this'll be the right airport?" Donna asked skeptically.

"I Googled it." The Doctor said simply. As if that explained everything.

"You what?" Donna said, raising her eyebrows. "All of this futuristic outer-spacey equipment you have here, and you looked it up on the Internet?"

"Most aliens do." The Doctor shrugged. "Though to be quite honest, I do sort of miss going to the library. Research is a lot more fun and challenging when you actually have to dig up the information the hard way. You were taking your own little journey of discovery. And, when you finally do uncover something, it's like finding buried treasure. Eureka!

"So how come you don't do it anymore?" Donna wondered.

"Well, technically I could take the TARDIS and do some old-fashioned leg work." The Doctor said, reaching over to punch a green button with his thumb. "Digging into old files. Reading books. Asking probing questions. Or, I could save time—which I must do, with your granddad in hospital, go online and look it all up in one go. Except for Ask Yahoo. That's rubbish. They should re-name that, 'Ask Every Idiot On the Planet Then End Up Going To The Library To Look It Up Yourself. I suppose that title would be too long for people with short attention spans, though. They'd read it then forget what they wanted to ask."

"What were you looking for online, then?" Donna asked, trying to steer the Doctor back to the original topic of their conversation.

"Anything which could lead me to that plane that Wilf described. Took me, oh, all of about five minutes." He frowned. "Normally it would've taken less than thirty seconds, but my intergalactic service provider is taking forever today. I really should change from dial up to broadband."

"And? What did you find?" She sighed, still trying to keep the Doctor on track.

"Using the data Wilf gave me, I was able to trace the probable flight path of the jet. Factoring in weather conditions and altitude, of course." The Doctor told her, racing around the console to frantically crank something. "There were no planes listed as having flown over Chiswick on that particular day, within that time frame. Not so much as a police or army helicopter. Which is highly unusual. It's could be that whomever had planned this, knew there'd be no other planes in the area at the time it went through. Though how that can be is anyone's guess."

"You mean someone is deliberately flying a jet over our major cities, dumping some kind of germs on us." Donna stated, shaking her head in disbelief. "Germ warfare. Who would do that? Terrorists?"

"I'm not sure. I don't think so, though. I think the answer is much closer to home than that." The Doctor said.

"Because they know about these flight paths?" Donna asked. "But you yourself looked them up on the Internet."

"I looked up flights that had already been in the air. The people who did this may have had some kind of previous knowledge. And that can only come from inside the local aviation authority. You see, Donna," the Doctor explained, as he jumped back over to stab at some more buttons and glance at the monitor, "all flights over London have to file their flight path information with the local aviation admin. The fact that there is no record of this flight, and, that the jet Wilf reported seeing was flying below the radar, tells me something. I think it very likely that it had come from a private airport. And, that airport is located along the route I'd mapped out of our mystery plane's flight path. Lastly, I tracked down what private jets had that blue and silver colour scheme, and Bob's yer uncle, found our jet.."

"Don't you mean, 'eureka'?" Donna asked with a cheeky grin.

"Nah." The Doctor said. "It's only the Internet."

The central column abruptly ceased its movements. Shrugging into his coat, the Doctor pushed open the door, with Donna following behind him. The TARDIS had landed outside a hanger at a small private air strip. There was no one around. A sharp westerly wind whipped the tails of the Doctor's long coat, and ruffled Donna's hair. There was an office trailer parked between two hangars. A small sign on the door read, 'Nighthawk Aviation, Ltd.'

Going up the wooden steps, the Doctor tried the door. It was locked. He'd just pulled out his sonic to open the door, when a gruff voice shouted, "Halt! Stay right where you are! "

A burly young security guard came striding towards them. He'd come from behind one of the hangars. Donna moved quickly to block the Doctor's hand, which was still holding the sonic key, from the man's view.

"Hey, you two! What do 'ya think you're doin' there?" The guard shouted, coming up to them.

"Erm—standing outside a door trying to get in?" The Doctor answered honestly.

"Don't get smart with me." The guard said.

"Yes, I can see where you might find that a bit of a problem." The Doctor replied.

"Are you tryin' to be funny?" The guard said, "cuz' I ain't laughin'."

"To answer your first question, yes." The Doctor said. "As for the the other thing, have you tried calling the police, to see if anyone's turned in your lost sense of humour?" Donna made no attempt to hide her snicker.

"Listen, mister. I don't have patience with jokers like you. If I have to, I'll cuff you to this stair rail and gag you. So you just stand there and shut up. Got that?" The guard told him.

"Uh—Think so" The Doctor nodded. "No patience. No sense of humour. Handcuffs. Gag. Yeah. 'Bout sums you up."

Stepping back from them, the guard spoke to someone on his communications headset. "I've got 'em both right here. What do ya' want me to do?"

The young man spoke with an American accent. The Doctor thought it sounded like Alabama or Georgia.. The guard was dressed in black combat fatigues, with a black beret on his head and brown military boots. The Doctor decided that this man didn't have much fashion sense, if he was going around wearing brown shoes with basic black. He also noted that the guard wore no insignia of any kind on his uniform. That was curious.

There was a brief pause, as someone gave the guard his orders. Donna looked worriedly at the Doctor. He, on the other hand, was looking at a bulge underneath the man's uniform jacket. With good reason. For the guard suddenly reached under there, and pulled a large handgun from a shoulder holster.

"OK you two. You're coming with me. Move!" He said, pointing the gun at them.

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