Gwen watched her go, her mouth not dropped open like the two boys’ had, but still more than a little shocked. What had they done to shy, sweet Toshiko? Gwen could remember thinking that the other woman needed some more confidence not long before looking through the Rehabilitator. The sassy and sexy new attitude must have been provided by whatever Owen had been thinking. Bloody Owen Harper. Sex was never far from his thoughts. She watched the swing of Toshiko Sato’s hips as she strode towards the exit. The change in her had been fun to watch for a while, but knowing it had been brought on by alien technology was just disconcerting. When the bloody hell was the old Tosh going to resurface?
‘Come on,’ she told Owen. ‘You and me had better go with her. We created this monster. We’d better manage her.’
Owen nodded, and Gwen saw an echo of something dark in his eyes as he nodded. For a moment all her irritation at him dissipated as she realised why he’d been such a pain over the leadership issue. She’d been too blinded by her own sense of loss over Jack to really think about how Owen was feeling. The doctor needed to prove himself again. Even though they’d all played their part in the End of Days, it was Owen who’d led the way, and it was Owen who’d shot Jack. And now he’d be feeling more guilt at his part in these changes in Toshiko. Under all the angst in their relationship, Gwen felt for him. That kind of weight would be hard on the soul. She wanted to squeeze his arm and tell him it would all be OK in time, but she figured he’d have to get there himself and, ironically, they had no time for it now. Instead, she just grinned. ‘Race you to the lift.’
‘I’ll just stay here then, shall I?’ Ianto called after them.
‘Get some coffee on and order a pizza.’ Gwen winked as she stepped into the lift. ‘We won’t be long.’
The first sign of a change came when they stepped out of the SUV and onto the pavement. Gwen spotted it in the slight slump of Toshiko’s shoulders and the hesitant nibble at her bottom lip as she peered both ways in the gloom.
‘You all right, Tosh?’ Gwen asked quietly.
‘Yes. Gosh yes, sorry. Just felt a little strange.’ She glanced at the handheld monitor. ‘I think the device is in that block there.’ Her eyes flickered forward and then down again, seeking reassurance in the metal.
‘Let’s go then.’ Gwen jogged ahead, the other two behind her. Toshiko didn’t overtake or even come level. Whatever the Kaleidoscope had done to her it looked like it was wearing off, which in some ways would be a relief, but the technology-altered Tosh had at least taken on the role of leader with relish. How would she cope now?
It was late, but there was plenty of activity around the estate. A group of teenage boys hung out in the central play area designed for those much younger than themselves, laughing and smoking on the swings. Their conversation died slightly as they watched the three strangers go past. Gwen wondered if it was the same gang that had robbed them this morning, but in the gloom she couldn’t make them out and, anyway, she wasn’t here to make an arrest.
Music blared from somewhere above as they paused at the entrance to the central block.
‘What floor?’ Owen asked.
‘Can’t be sure. The reading’s not that precise.’ Toshiko stared at the machine. ‘I think it’s somewhere near the top.’
‘Let’s take the stairs then.’ Only one bulb was working on the ground floor and a vague smell of damp and stale urine drifted towards them from the dark shadows.
‘Do we have to?’ Toshiko asked. ‘Can’t we just take the lift?’
‘And stop at every floor to see if it’s the right one? Have you ever been in one of these lifts? We’ll kill it.’
‘She’s right.’ Owen followed Gwen up the first flight. ‘I don’t know about you, but I don’t fancy being stuck in a lift on this estate. It’d be weeks before anyone found us.’
‘Well OK. If you both think we should.’ Toshiko started to climb.
By the time they were stood outside the right flat, they were all out of breath.
‘Is it just me, or have we done our exercise quota for the day?’ Owen leant against the wall. ‘That sprint this morning was enough for me.’
‘You’re getting old.’ Gwen smiled, before glancing back at Toshiko. ‘This the one?’
Toshiko checked the readout. ‘Yes. It’s here, and it’s active.’
Gwen banged on the door. She did it hard and fast and with the confidence that only the police would use when waking up strangers in the middle of the night. It was a specific kind of thump that demanded an immediate response. She repeated it until eventually the door opened.
A small boy stared blearily back at them. He wasn’t one of the youths that had robbed them that afternoon; that much was obvious straight away. This child was a good four or five years younger than any of those had been and he was short and skinny. They’d have caught this boy without a problem.
‘Look,’ Toshiko whispered.
Gwen had already spotted it. The Rehabilitator hung at the boy’s side.
‘Hello.’ Gwen smiled. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Danny,’ he answered quietly.
‘What’s going on?’ A man shuffled into view out of the gloom and flicked a light on. He looked half-asleep, his dressing gown barely pulled across his naked chest. He placed one arm protectively around the boy’s shoulders.
‘Are you Danny’s dad?’ Gwen asked.
‘Yeah, I’m Steve Dillard. Anything wrong? Is Danny in trouble?’ His concern wasn’t what Gwen had expected, given how untidy the flat looked from her position on the doorstep. Everything was coated in grime and dust gathered at the edges of the tatty carpet.
‘Can we come inside?’
‘Who are you?’
‘Torchwood. A government agency.’
‘Never heard of you.’ Mr Dillard still stepped aside, and Gwen led the other two inside, before following the boy’s father into the sitting room. From the corner of her eye, she saw Toshiko’s nose wrinkle slightly. If a seat was offered, Gwen bet that none of them would take it. She felt sorry for the poor kid, standing between them with big wide eyes that she thought had probably been scared for as long as he could remember. She’d seen that look a few times over the years. This was a kid that fell just under the radar of social security; abused just a bit, but not badly enough to be taken away. He might not get fed enough, but he got fed sometimes, just in the same way as he might not get beaten all the time, but he definitely did sometimes. It looked to Gwen that little Danny Dillard was a boy who had no idea what it was like to be truly loved.
‘Where did you get that, Danny?’
The boy looked from Gwen to his dad and back again.
‘You’re not in trouble.’ Toshiko smiled. ‘Honestly.’
He shrugged. ‘Some of the older boys gave it to me. They didn’t want it.’
‘What is it, Danny?’ His dad frowned as he looked at what his son was holding. ‘When did you get that?’ He paused. ‘You shouldn’t be hanging around with those kids. They’re trouble.’
‘I wasn’t. I was just reading my comic,’ Danny whispered.
‘Make sure it stays that way. You’re clever, Danny. You’re better than them.’
The boy stared at his dad as if he was a stranger, and Gwen felt a trickle of realisation. It was the middle of the night and the boy had answered the door with the Rehabilitator in his hand. She knew how dull ordinary things looked through it, certainly not interesting enough to keep a young boy up. There was only one person in the flat Danny Dillard could have been watching through it: his dad. How long had he been doing it? How different was the Steve Dillard of tonight compared with the Steve Dillard that had got up that morning?
‘We need to take that machine back with us. Sorry.’ Gwen held her hand out. ‘It’s stolen government property.’ She smiled softly and very slowly Danny held out his arm. He looked like he might cry.
‘It’s very heavy. Be careful with it.’
‘Thank you.’ Gwen took it from him and tu
cked it into the inside of her jacket.
‘What on Earth is it?’ Mr Dillard frowned.
‘Nothing very exciting.’ Owen stepped forward. ‘But unfortunately we have reason to believe it may be mildly radioactive.’
‘What? But—’
‘It’s really nothing for you to worry about. I’ve got a pill here for each of you to take that will completely wipe out any negative effects your systems may be undergoing.’ He tugged a small container from his pocket. ‘Now, if you could just get you and Danny here a glass of water? We need to see you take these for the sake of paperwork.’ He smiled.
Within a few minutes, both the father and son were asleep and the team had got them back into their beds. By the morning, the Retcon would have done its job and all memory of Torchwood and the Rehabilitator would be gone. Sometimes Gwen found it strange to wonder how many people were wandering around Cardiff thinking that nothing extraordinary had ever happened in their lives and all because of that magic little pill. Maybe one day she’d be one of them. The thought made her shiver. The other two were obviously having similar thoughts, because for a few minutes the atmosphere in the SUV was as dark as the night outside.
‘Come on,’ Gwen said softly. ‘Let’s get this thing stored away back at the Hub and then maybe we can all go home and get some sleep.’
For once, Owen did as he was told.
It was a fortnight later when Ianto found Gwen staring at the Rehabilitator, a frown eating into her pretty face.
‘What’s up? I thought we were done with that.’
‘I keep thinking about chocolate,’ she muttered.
‘I’m not with you.’
‘The amount of chocolate me and Owen ate that day when we’d looked at Tosh through this thing.’
‘What about it? We know the Rehabilitator is addictive, it said so on all that information Tosh found.’
Gwen looked up. ‘That’s my problem.’ She clicked on the intercom through to the main area of the Hub. ‘Owen?’
‘Yep.’ His voice had an edge of metal.
‘Addiction. Is it a physical or a mental thing?’
‘Could be either or, depending on the addiction. Why?’
‘That kid that had the Rehabilitator is bugging me. I keep thinking about all that crap we ate that day.’
There was a pause as Owen thought this through.
‘Oh. I see where you’re coming from,’ he said at last. ‘The Retcon cleared his memory, but if this thing had a hold on his system. . .’ The sentence faded. ‘Shit.’
‘We need to check on him. Where’s Tosh?’
‘I’m here.’ Toshiko came in. ‘I heard.’
‘Me and Owen will go and check him out. You and Ianto may as well stay here.’
‘Will do.’
Toshiko was perfectly capable in the field and had proven her bravery on lots of occasions since Gwen had met her, but she was happiest amidst the technology in the Hub. Gwen and Owen were the natural field agents and always had been.
Gwen noticed the change in the flat before they’d even got inside. The door was covered in a new blue gloss coating and a small pot plant sat outside the door. She raised an eyebrow at Owen. Toshiko had been back to her normal self ever since they’d got the artefact back, but it looked like Danny Dillard’s work had had more lasting results.
‘Yes?’ Steve Dillard opened the door. He stared at them for a second and then, before Gwen could speak, his eyes blurred with hope and dread. ‘Have you got news about Danny?’
Gwen glanced at Owen, and they stepped inside. The flat was clean and fresh, the dirt they’d seen two weeks previously had been stripped away, and it looked like Mr Dillard himself had lost weight. Gwen had been pretty sure that he’d been missing a side tooth when they’d spoken last, but now he had a full set. Just how many changes was that piece of technology able to bring about in a person? How much would Toshiko have changed if they’d kept on looking?
‘News?’ Owen asked carefully.
‘Yes, he’s been missing three days now.’ Steve Dillard paced slightly. ‘You are the police, aren’t you?’
Gwen ducked the question. ‘We just need you to go over the events leading up to Danny’s disappearance for us again.’ Her heart thumped. Danny was gone.
‘He didn’t disappear. He ran away.’ His voice dripped with pain. ‘And I don’t know why. Things have been good.’ He stared out of the window. ‘It started about two weeks ago. He got moody; bit withdrawn. I thought it was just teenage stuff or something at school, but he wouldn’t talk about it. To be honest, I’ve been a bit fuzzy myself lately. It’s only been the past week or so that I seem to have sharpened up. . . and then this happens. Anyway, he was staying up late and saying he couldn’t sleep and eating loads of sweets and chocolates. I think he was stealing them.’
He sighed.
‘Three days ago, I came home and he was gone. And so was his backpack and some of his clothes. I started a new job last week, so I hadn’t been around to check on him, but I know he ran away. He took fifty quid from the jar in the kitchen.’ Steve Dillard’s voice broke. ‘And that worries me, because he won’t get very far on fifty quid. What will happen to him then?’
‘I’m sorry,’ Gwen whispered. ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘We’ll do our best to find him,’ Owen added.
‘But what will happen to him if he doesn’t come home?’ the man repeated plaintively.
A small part of Gwen’s heart tore away and burned in the man’s obvious pain. This was her fault. It was their fault. They hadn’t thought the whole thing through properly and had just smugly gone after the artefact rather than thinking through the human effect. Jack wouldn’t have done that, she thought sadly. But Jack Harkness had just left them to it.
When they let themselves out, Steve Dillard was quietly crying, his hands gripping the top of the radiator for support. Gwen’s mouth tasted sour, and she wasn’t sure if it was her own guilt at not thinking through the effects of the Rehabilitator when it mattered, or whether it was just being in the presence of the man’s grief. Perhaps it was a bit of both. Maybe this was why Jack Harkness sometimes hid dark clouds behind his dazzling smile. There was so much to carry inside when you worked for Torchwood.
‘Do you think we’ll find him?’ Owen asked quietly.
‘I doubt it.’ Gwen peered out over Cardiff from the height of the tower block. It was a big city and easy for a kid to get lost in. And that was if Danny hadn’t got on a train and taken himself to a bigger city like London. Her heart felt heavy and she longed for Jack. ‘We’ll try, though.’
They were still quiet when they got back to the Hub. Ianto and Toshiko were in the Boardroom, and the smell of fresh coffee wafted out towards them. Gwen was just about to reach for her own white with two sugars when Toshiko stopped her.
‘Not so fast.’
‘What do you mean?’ Gwen frowned.
‘This is your coffee.’
Ianto moved out of the way, and Toshiko picked up a separate mug that sat on the side. She held it out towards Gwen. It was hot, black and looked strong.
‘I thought we’d established that it isn’t.’
Toshiko shrugged. ‘Rules can be changed. This is your coffee, and we all know it.’
Gwen peered over at Owen, and he smiled.
‘It’s yours. Take it.’
A short alarm buzzed out and four sets of groans and expletives bounced off the walls. Something was coming through the Rift again, and coffee was just going to have to wait.
Danny sat curled up against the wall, the bare floorboards underneath him making his skinny body ache. Still, not for much longer. On the other side of the room, three teenagers with long dreads passed a bong around, each sucking in deep lungfuls of mellow smoke. He was lucky they’d let him in. He peered down at his own small set of equipment. The spoon, the lighter, the belt and the syringe. For a moment hot breath raced in his ear but he gritted his teeth and crushed the memory of what he’d done to
earn it.
At least here he could get what he needed easily enough and there were more ways of getting it. His dad seemed like a long way away, further than six months and more distant than a couple of miles. Sometimes his old life seemed just like someone else’s memory or a vague dream, half-remembered.
With shaking hands, he prepared the syringe and greedily injected. A memory itched at the back of his head of something more beautiful, but he couldn’t quite reach it. At least when he was high that awful sensation faded. He smiled and leaned back.
Behind his eyes, silvers and golds swirled and warmth flooded his body.
The Wrong Hands
ANDREW CARTMEL
‘There’s nothing quite like starting the day with a cauterised cadaver,’ said Jack jauntily.
His words echoed, sounding a little hollow in the tiled room. The police morgue was a cold, bleach-scented place, although ‘cold’ didn’t quite do it justice. There was a chill that crept into your bones. Gwen always felt it, standing in one of these places, looking down at the dead.
In this case, she was looking at the grisly remains of a young man – a teenager in fact – and they were grisly chiefly because they were in two separate pieces, occupying two separate tables, a rare privilege here, where space was always at a premium.
Gwen swallowed. Her throat was a little dry thanks to the aggressive air conditioning in the room. She forced herself to look with detachment. The body had been divided fairly neatly at the waist. And, as Jack had just remarked, the wound had been tidily cauterised.
Gwen made sure her voice was steady and detached and professional. ‘What was his name?’
‘Rhett Seyers. Eighteen years old. Drug dealer. They start them early on the Machen estate.’
‘The Machen? I know it,’ said Gwen. ‘You have to watch your back around there, I can tell you.’
‘Even the police?’
‘Especially the police.’
‘You were so cute in that uniform,’ said Jack. ‘Size nines and a stab vest.’
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