‘It’s not going to be you, Owen,’ she said. ‘So just sit down and get over it.’
‘Look,’ Toshiko cut in. ‘Let’s not argue. Let’s decide this logically.’ Her eyes flitted nervously around the room. ‘As long as it’s not me.’
Gwen groaned. Owen sighed and turned away.
‘Wait.’
None of them had even noticed that Ianto had buried himself behind a laptop until he looked up. ‘I think I’ve found something.’
‘Jack?’ Gwen raised an eyebrow. ‘Finding Jack might solve our problem.’
‘I don’t think you should joke about it.’ Toshiko’s eyes were wide. ‘What if he never comes back?’
‘Of course he’ll come back. This is Captain Jack bloody Harkness we’re talking about. He’s just off being Jack somewhere.’
‘Does anyone mind?’ Ianto stared at the women. ‘If I could just finish – this,’ he pointed emphatically at the screen, ‘might actually resolve things.’
‘Light us up then, Ianto,’ Owen grumbled. ‘Trust you to find an answer in the computer.’ He darted a look over his shoulder. ‘I’m surprised Tosh didn’t beat you to it.’
Gwen saw the flinch at the edge of the Japanese girl’s eyes. Owen Harper could truly be a bastard sometimes. She and Toshiko didn’t always see eye to eye, but Gwen had started to understand the other woman’s qualities. And it didn’t take a genius to see she was in love with their medical officer. Part of Gwen wondered why he didn’t just sleep with her and put the shy, geeky woman out of her misery. It wasn’t like he hadn’t slept with just about every other woman he’d ever been left alone in a room with. The thought made her feel uncomfortable again.
‘Gwen?’
She looked up to find the other three looking at her. ‘Sorry, Ianto. Go ahead.’
‘I don’t know why you’re asking her permission, she’s not—’
‘Owen!’ Toshiko and Ianto both cut him off.
He raised his hands in supplication. ‘I’m just saying. . .’
‘We know what you’re saying,’ Ianto sighed. ‘We know you want to be in charge. But apparently what you or any of us want, doesn’t count. Apparently there are regulations to cover this situation.’
‘What kind of regulations?’ Owen frowned.
‘Look.’
The three other remaining members of the Torchwood team gathered round and peered over Ianto’s suited shoulders. Scrawled writing filled the screen as if it had been scratched there with an old-fashioned calligraphy pen.
‘It’s from an early Torchwood manifesto. Rules and Regulations, drawn up early in 1900 by Emily Holroyd. The original document has been scanned into the system.’
‘I can’t read that writing.’ Owen grumbled. Ianto clicked a small icon, and the handwriting transformed into typescript.
‘Voilà.’
‘Smart arse.’
There was a moment of silence as four sets of eyes scanned down and then slowed as they read the appropriate paragraph.
‘Oh gosh,’ Toshiko Sato whispered.
‘If you’ve got a swearword in you,’ Gwen said, ‘then maybe this is the time for it. Whether you like it or not, you’re in charge.’
‘But that’s ridiculous!’
‘I don’t believe it,’ Owen added.
‘It’s there in black and white. She’s the longest-serving member of the team, therefore “in the continued absence of the commanding officer, and without written instruction to the contrary from the Torchwood Institute (London)”, she takes over. She’s got the most experience.’ Ianto looked up and smiled at Tosh. ‘And let’s face it, there’s only four of us. And we’re all capable of taking the responsibility if we’re pushed.’
Gwen wondered if he’d emphasised the last bit a little too much. Had he been waiting for someone to suggest he take over? Gentle Ianto? She couldn’t see it. But then now they had Tosh as their leader; Tosh who hated conflict and tried to please all the people all the time. Especially Owen. They were in for some interesting times. Bloody Jack Harkness. They thought he’d died for good, and then just as suddenly as they’d realised he was still alive, he disappeared again. Still, it wasn’t just her that missed him. They all did. It was like the light in their lives had temporarily gone out. But they were just going to have to make the best of it and get on with their work until he got back.
‘Oh gosh,’ Toshiko said again, staring glumly at the table. ‘I don’t even like black coffee.’
‘Coffee’s going to have to wait.’ Ianto was staring at something on the laptop.
They all headed back to the main computer mainframe in the centre of the Hub.
‘Something’s happening. There.’ Toshiko pointed, confident in her familiar position surrounded by technology. ‘We’ve got a burst of energy. Nothing the system recognises, so I’m guessing whatever’s causing it is alien.’
‘What part of town is that?’ Gwen asked.
Toshiko’s fingers flew across the keyboard. ‘The Fenmere estate. Down past the docks.’
‘Not a nice part of town,’ Owen said. ‘Maybe you should stay here. Me and Ianto will. . .’
‘Oh that’s right,’ Gwen cut in. ‘Leave the ladies behind? Jack would love that. You’re not in charge, remember?’
‘No, and neither are you, so stop trying to—’
‘Enough!’ Ianto rarely raised his voice and the single word was enough to shut both Gwen and Owen up. ‘I’ll stay here. Tosh, you’d better go with these two.’
Toshiko looked hesitant before taking a shaky breath and drawing herself up tall. It should have made her appear confident. Somehow, she just looked more nervous. ‘OK. Right. Let’s go. Gwen, you drive.’
At least Owen didn’t argue that.
Ianto toyed with the change in his pocket as he watched the others leave, trying his best to ignore the silence descending on the Hub. He wished he was with them, not because he wanted to bang all their heads together and remind them how lucky they all were to have each other – although he did really want to do that – but because there were just too many personal ghosts in the quiet spaces around him. His eyes snagged on Jack’s office door. That space especially.
His shoulders slumped slightly and he felt the ache inside, right in the pit of his stomach, that left him feeling slightly sick. It was there most days, and always when he was in the Hub. This was Jack’s place, and it was empty without him, they all knew that. Ianto could still hear the echo of his laugh and the feel of those hands on his skin. They’d tentatively been starting something that had the potential to be something great when Jack had gone, Ianto was sure of it. And it may have been Gwen who’d sat by Jack Harkness’s side until he woke up, but it had been Ianto who had torn the place apart hunting for him after he’d gone.
Even when he’d realised that the hand in the jar had vanished, it had taken some time to convince him that Jack Harkness had gone on some kind of adventure without them – without him – and without even saying goodbye.
He stared at the office door and wished he could see the dark shape of the familiar greatcoat hanging on the other side. His heart ached. Jack Harkness. Where the bloody hell was he, and when was he coming back?
The Fenmere Estate was the kind of place that would be drab on a perfect summer afternoon; under a grey sky it looked positively bleak. The SUV parked up by the small promenade of tatty shops, most of which were either boarded over or had grilles pulled down and graffiti daubed across them. The three members of the team got out and peered around them.
‘Nice,’ Owen muttered. Over by some railings separating the three large tower blocks from the shopping area, a group of teenage boys stared at them and then laughed. The tallest flicked a cigarette butt in their direction and stared defiantly.
‘Let’s get this done quickly, shall we?’ Gwen said.
‘The signal’s coming from one of the shops over there.’ Toshiko peered at small handheld device and then looked up again. ‘That one.’
‘At least it looks open.’ Owen stepped forward.
Three metal balls that might once have been gold hung from the side of the pebble-dashed concrete building. They looked out of place against the backdrop and the rest of the shopfront failed to make them feel welcome. A single word, ‘Pawnbroker’, was printed efficiently in cracked black on the awning above the door, the letters large and unfussy so even the least educated amongst the local residents could read it clearly. Wide metal bars were permanently fixed at regular spaces across the windows to stop any would-be thieves attempting a smash and grab.
Gwen glanced in as they headed for the door. The contents of the display would make for a pathetic haul – an old electric guitar, a microwave, a DVD player and a Victorian vase – but she knew from her time in the police that there would be plenty of people willing to give it a go.
A bell rang as they stepped inside, and a man in his fifties shuffled out from a room at the back, bringing a small cloud of cigarette smoke with him.
‘What you selling?’ His narrow eyes ran over them expertly, lingering for a second on Gwen’s leather jacket.
‘Just looking, thanks.’ Toshiko flashed him a brief smile, before Owen stood between her and the man’s view so she could scan the room uninterrupted.
‘Those items on that side are for sale.’ The old man sniffed. ‘Just so you know.’
‘There,’ Toshiko whispered, and the small group gathered by a display case in the corner.
Owen frowned. ‘What is it?’
Gwen slid the plastic door back and picked the object up. It looked like a telescope, long and cylindrical. It was heavy; a lump of weight in her hands that felt like dense metal rather than the wood it appeared to be. One end was wider than the other and seemed to be sealed with glossy black glass. The other end was clear, and Gwen lifted it to her eye. ‘I think it’s a kaleidoscope.’
‘Be careful with that,’ the pawnbroker said. ‘That’s going for seventy-five quid, and I’ve only just polished it.’
‘Maybe that was what activated it.’ Owen spoke quietly. ‘He must have touched something accidentally and we picked up the signal.’
Gwen peered through the instrument at the room around her. The only difference she could see was that through the machine it seemed slightly darker. She tried to twist the other end, but it wouldn’t budge. ‘Maybe it’s not a. . .’
She turned, the gadget still pressed to her eye, away from the dark shadow that was the doorway and faced Toshiko. ‘Whoa!’
As her sight fell on the other woman, the view burst into an array of colour, yellows and reds glittering against golds and silvers. ‘This is amazing.’ As the image settled, Toshiko came back into view, a silver aura floating around her like mercury and blocking out the dull surrounds of the bland shop. Gwen stared. It was Tosh, but not Tosh. Her chin jutted defiantly upwards and her eyes glinted right into Gwen’s own. Her dark hair blew back into the strange metallic background is if a breeze ran through the tube, and her skin shone with life and light. Gwen was still staring as Owen tugged the machine out of her grasp.
‘Let’s have a look.’ He held it to his eye and gazed straight at Toshiko. ‘Wow.’ He paused. ‘You look brilliant.’
Gwen blinked, readjusting to the ordinary light. Toshiko just looked awkward as far as she could see.
‘Perhaps you shouldn’t. . .’ Toshiko let the sentence fade as Owen tilted his head, running his view through the kaleidoscope up and down her body.
‘You look gorgeous.’
‘Oh for God’s sake, Owen!’ Toshiko pulled the kaleidoscope away from him, but not before Gwen saw the faint blush creep onto the high spots of her cheeks. ‘I don’t think we should be playing with it.’
Owen squinted for a second and then disappointment etched slightly across his eyes as he looked at Toshiko. ‘All right, all right.’ He sniffed. ‘But since you’re in charge, you can pay the man for it.’
With the transaction complete and the alien technology stowed in Toshiko’s bag, they stepped back out onto the grimy streets of the estate.
‘What’s it made of?’ Owen asked. ‘It felt like metal.’
‘The scanner couldn’t identify it. Metal of some kind, but its denser than anything found on Earth. We’ll have to wait until we get back to the Hub and run some proper—’
Toshiko’s sentence went unfinished, the air knocked from her lungs as a group of boys burst through the middle of the three Torchwood operatives, yelling loudly as they ran. Gwen was flung against the side of the SUV, while Toshiko scrabbled at the floor, desperate to keep herself upright, with more success than Owen.
‘My bag! They’ve got my bag!’
Gwen pushed herself away from the car and sprinted after the boys that ran and whooped ahead of them. ‘I’m on it!’
Her feet thumped the pavement, scanning the youths to try and spot the one with the bag. They were a blur of trainers and baggy jackets. Which one had it? The group split and peeled off as they headed into the housing estate. Damn it, they’d never find them in there.
‘The one on the left.’ A dark-haired figure lunged ahead of her. ‘That bastard’s mine. He knocked me over.’ Toshiko seemed barely out of breath as she ran, and, as Gwen watched her disappear round the corner, she almost stumbled. Toshiko Sato was outrunning her? That wasn’t possible. She pushed herself forward.
As it was, the youths lost them in the warren of houses and tower blocks and the three regrouped, panting and sweating, at the SUV.
‘Well, that’s a good start,’ Owen finally said. ‘We find some alien technology and lose it again, all within twenty minutes.’ He stretched slightly against the car, getting his breath back. ‘Good work, Tosh.’
‘Oh, get over yourself, Owen.’ Toshiko flicked her hair over one shoulder and glared at the dark-haired man. ‘And get in the car. We need to get back to the Hub and feed in the data from the handheld.’ She tugged at the passenger door. ‘We may not have it, but we can still figure out what it is and whether it’s going to do any damage. We’ll get it back.’ She looked at both Gwen and Owen, both still red-faced from the chase. ‘What are you waiting for?’
Gwen glanced over at Owen and saw her own surprise reflected on his face. Maybe Toshiko had found her leadership mojo after all.
‘Not a lot here,’ Jude sniffed as he rummaged through the contents.
He was right, Luke thought, rifling through the small purse. A single twenty pound note and a few coins. There wasn’t even a credit card or two that they could have fun with for the afternoon before the woman cancelled it. He’d give the lipstick to his mum and Jude could have the tissues to blow his constantly running nose with.
‘At least the bag looks like real leather. Someone might give us a fiver for it.’
‘What’s that?’ The timid voice cut through the older boys’ deeper growls.
Luke Parry hadn’t even noticed that Danny Dillard was in the Community Centre pool room. No one had actually used the building for years apart from the junkies that came in to settle down and shoot up most evenings, and the broken needles left scattered around stopped the young mums from using the place as a nursery. As did the words scrawled on the outside walls and the cracked and broken windows that the council seemed loath to replace. Luke and his crew didn’t mind though. It gave them somewhere of their own when they needed it.
‘What you doing here?’ He let a little snarl creep into his voice, but he didn’t mean it.
Fourteen-year-old Danny Dillard was harmless. If anything, Luke felt a bit sorry for him; not that he’d ever admit it. Even on the estate, where no one’s life was easy, Danny’s was pretty grim. His mum had run off when he was just a kid and left him in the hands of his dad. Luke’s old man had been in the nick three times during his own seventeen years of living, but he wouldn’t swap him for Steve Dillard. Not in a million years. Steve Dillard was a drunk with a mean reputation across the estate and beyond. It was usual to see both little Danny and his mum with dark bruises
on their faces and arms, and in recent years Danny had been left to take both shares.
‘Just reading my comic.’ The skinny kid shrugged. His T-shirt was too big for him and probably donated by some charity or other at the school. ‘What’s that?’ he asked again and nodded at the brown cylinder that had rolled slightly away.
‘Dunno,’ Luke answered. ‘Just know it’s bloody heavy. Made me think there was something worth having in the stupid cow’s bag.’
‘Must be what she got in the pawnshop,’ Jude said.
‘Then it’s no use to us.’ Mickey chimed in, from where he sat against the wall, rolling a joint. ‘He’ll know we nicked it off them if we try and get a few quid off him for it.’
Luke picked it up. Mickey was right. Even if they could sell the thing, they’d have to take it off the estate and probably only get a tenner or so for it. He looked up at Danny. ‘You want it?’
Danny’s eyes widened. ‘You mean it?’
‘Sure.’ Luke kept his voice bored. It wouldn’t do for the others to see that he felt good about making the kid happy. ‘Just don’t let your dad get hold of it.’
A small shadow crossed the other boy’s face as he carefully took the object. ‘I won’t.’
‘Now clear off, and take your stupid comic with you.’
‘Thanks, Luke. Thanks a lot.’ Danny scuttled back to the corner he’d been occupying and grabbed his cheap anorak and comic, before disappearing out into the chilly grey air.
Jude sniffed. Mickey clicked his lighter. They both stared.
‘What?’ Luke looked from one to the other. ‘We don’t want it, do we?’
Mickey sucked his teeth. Jude swallowed a grin. But neither of them challenged him. Mickey took a long toke on the joint and passed it across. It was good, strong weed, and within minutes Danny Dillard and the strange object were both forgotten.
His dad was asleep when Danny quietly let himself into their small flat high up in one of the tatty blocks. He could hear the thick rattle of his snore, interspersed with wet breaths that Danny knew would stink of sour booze. The door clicked behind him and his nose wrinkled in the stale air that smelt vaguely of rancid milk. Danny did his best to keep the place clean but, between school and trying not to irritate his dad, it was difficult. He carefully pushed the door to the sitting room open and peered in. Horses raced on the old TV in the corner but the betting slip his dad must have been holding had dropped to the floor by the armchair as he’d fallen asleep.
Consequences Page 6