62 - The Domino Effect

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The TARDIS lands in the Scottish capital, Edinburgh, during Easter 2003. The

city is almost at a standstill, its public services close to collapse and its people

terrorised by a bombing campaign.

Within hours one of the Doctor’s friends is caught in a deadly explosion,

while another appears on television confessing to the murder of twelve

people. The TARDIS is stolen by forces intent on learning its secrets. When

the Doctor tries to investigate, his efforts are hampered by crippling chest

pains.

Someone is manipulating events to suppress humanity’s development – but

how and why? The trail leads to London where a cabal pushes the world

ever closer to catastrophe. Who is the prisoner being held in the Tower of

London? Could he or she hold the key to saving mankind?

The Doctor must choose between saving his friends or saving Earth in the

past, present and future. But the closer he gets to the truth, the worse his

condition becomes. . .

This is another in the series of original adventures for the Eighth Doctor.

The Domino Eﬀect

David Bishop

DOCTOR WHO: THE DOMINO EFFECT

Commissioning Editor: Ben Dunn

Editor & Creative Consultant:

Justin Richards

Project Editor: Jacqueline Rayner

Published by BBC Worldwide Ltd

Woodlands, 80 Wood Lane

London W12 0TT

First published 2003

David Bishop 2003

The moral right of the author has been asserted

Original series broadcast on the BBC

Format c

BBC 1963

Doctor Who and TARDIS are trademarks of the BBC

ISBN 0 563 53869 4

Cover imaging by Black Sheep, copyright c

BBC 2002

Printed and bound in Great Britain by

Mackays of Chatham

Cover printed by Belmont Press Ltd, Northampton

For my father,

Clement John Bishop,

for teaching me right and wrong.

The only thing new in the world

is the history you don’t know.

–Harry S. Truman, 1884–1972

Domino Effect: n. a single event that leads to many

similar events elsewhere as a chain reaction.

Contents

Thursday, April 17, 2003 2

France, 1819 66

Friday, April 18, 2003 72

America, 1884 101

Saturday, April 19, 2003 104

Germany, 1941 122

Sunday, April 20, 2003 126

England, 1732 171

Sunday, April 20, 2003 173

About the Author 195

Acknowledgements 196

Thursday, April 17, 2003

Anji could feel herself ﬂoating. Reality swam around her, swirling in the

darkness. Her entire body seemed to be weightless, suspended from the

effects of gravity. Where am I? She couldn’t seem to remember anything. She

knew her own name, the telephone number at her ﬂat, the face of the man

who sold the Evening Standard outside her ofﬁce building every weekday

afternoon. But she couldn’t seem to remember how she’d got here – or even

where here was.

Perhaps it was a sensory deprivation tank. Anji remembered Dave persuad-

ing her to skive off work for a day because he had something special planned.

He wanted to re-enact some 1980s brat-pack ﬁlm, but with events relocated

from Chicago to London. They visited the Tate Gallery, walked along the

Embankment eating ice creams, had lunch at the Oxo Tower Brasserie on

the South Bank and went to a New Age spa near Waterloo for a sensory

deprivation session.

Anji had been particularly dubious about the last activity. She thrived on

the stress and excitement of her job in the City. Half an hour lying in a box

ﬁlled with salt water was not her idea of a good time. But Dave had looked

so hurt when she refused to take part. Anji realised she was being selﬁsh. He

had gone to a lot of trouble arranging everything. She eventually agreed to

try the experience, still protesting it wasn’t her thing.

She had stepped carefully into the tank and tried hard to relax, letting the

saline solution support her. Once the lid was closed, darkness was absolute.

Mellow New Age music was piped into the tank, all gently clinking chimes

and breathy voices sighing. If I hear one note of Enya, I am out of here, Anji

had thought to herself. She closed her eyes and tried to clear her mind of

stress.

She had drifted off, forgetting herself or her own existence. It was startling

when she realised the music had stopped. How long had she been unaware?

Was this what it was like being dead – eternally aﬂoat in darkness, entombed

inside a black box, never to see the light again?

Thursday, April 17, 2003 3

The thought of being buried alive had sent a shiver down Anji’s spine. She

felt panic welling up within. Got to get out. Got to get out! She had tried to

sit up suddenly, but the heavy solution around her compensated, sucking her

torso downwards. Anji recalled thrashing around, banging her arms against

the sides of the tanks, crying out for help.

After what seemed like forever, the lid had been lifted back to reveal Dave’s

concerned face. He helped her clamber out and did his best to soothe her.

She took a shower to remove excess salt and changed back into her clothes,

still shivering at the memory of being trapped in the darkness. The inci-

dent had cast a pall over the rest of the day. Anji’s mood was not helped

when Dave admitted he had chosen the sensory deprivation tanks as a way

of replicating what it would be like to ﬂoat in outer space, one of his many

obsessions. He had got a punch in the arm for that.

Dave was dead now, of course. Anji knew that as soon as she thought of

him, but she refused to stop remembering her lover. That would be denying

their time together. Anji was determined not to let it happen.

All these thoughts and feelings and memories wandered through her mind

before Anji realised she must be asleep. She was in that strange interregnum

between dreaming and waking, on the edge of both states but still capable

of embracing either one. She chose to wake up. Her body jerked in response

as it forgot how to be weightless.

Anji opened her eyes but could see only darkness. A great weight was

holding her immobile. She could shift one hand and her left leg slightly,

but that triggered movement above her. Rocks crashed down against rock,

showering her face with dust. She was entombed in the darkness, helpless,

trapped. And this time she knew Dave would not be coming to lift open the

lid and rescue her. She was buried alive.

Calm down, Anji told herself. It was all she could do to stop from scream-

ing. Anji didn’t think of herself as prone to petty phobias. She was a strong,

independent woman who could fend for herself in almost any situation. But

this wasn’t just any situation.

Deep breaths, try taking deep breaths. She was aware of a heavy stone

pressing against her ribs, constricting her breathing. That could become a

problem if she was trapped here for long. A vague memory from some ﬁrst

aid course stirred, something about shallow breathing having dangerous side

effects. Not as dangerous as being buried alive beneath tonnes of rubble, Anji

thought. That probably edged out shallow breathing in the not-good-for-you

Thursday, April 17, 2003 4

stakes.

Anji tried to remember how she had come to be in this position. She could

recall arguing with someone and Fitz leaving and then –

Fitz! That jolted her. Suddenly she remembered a scrambled catalogue of

experiences: ﬁrst meeting him in 2001, the ice cold of Siberia forming frost

on his stubble, the pair of them talking in a caf´

e, waiting for the Doctor –

The Doctor. The TARDIS. Edinburgh. It all came thudding back now, a

sprawl of memory and realisation. Anji gave herself a moment to let ev-

erything settle into place before reviewing the data. She almost smiled –

reviewing the data. That’s what she used to do for a living. Analyse data,

predict trends, trade in what the future might bring. That was the life she

had been trying to get back to when the day began. . .

Anji was ﬁrst to emerge from the Police Public Call Box, its usually conspicu-

ous markings for once blending into the surroundings. They had materialised

in front of the Assembly Rooms, a sturdy stone building in Edinburgh’s New

Town area. Anji thought the name wonderfully incongruous for a place more

than two hundred years old. In the Scottish capital, that sort of age was com-

monplace for buildings. The centre of Edinburgh was crowded with similar

structures, stately constructions of weathered stone.

Fitz was next out of the TARDIS, clad in his usual shabby garb. He was a

man who could crumple any clothing just by looking at it. Let him wear a

garment and all the technology on the planet could not put a crease back into

it. Anji thought of suggesting Fitz wear linen suits, so his natural louche-ness

found a fabric that crumpling might enhance for once. But April in Edinburgh

was not the place to adopt a lighter wardrobe. It might be Spring, but the

cool air still bit at the back of the throat.

Last to emerge was the Doctor. He locked the tall blue box and surveyed

their surroundings. His eye was caught by the George Street Tearooms,

which stood across the road from the TARDIS. ‘That looks like the perfect

meeting place. Shall I see you in there at midday, Fitz?’

The younger man shrugged and nodded, hands jammed into his trouser

pockets. Anji remembered him staring unhappily at her. ‘Are you sure you

want to leave? I mean, here? Now?’

‘For the last time, yes,’ Anji had replied. ‘We’ve landed in Edinburgh in-

stead of London, but it’s close enough. I want to go home, Fitz. I’ve had

enough. I’ve seen enough. I just want to get back to reality, back to my own

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TheTARDISlandsintheScottishcapital,Edinburgh,duringEaster2003.Thecityisalmostatastandstill,itspublicservicesclosetocollapseanditspeopleterrorisedbyabombingcampaign.WithinhoursoneoftheDoctor'sfriendsiscaughtinadeadlyexplosion,whileanotherappearsontelevisionconfessingtothemurderoftwelvepeople.TheTARDI...

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62 - The Domino Effect

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