Something in the Water (17 page)

‘Yeah,’ said Gwen dully, as the WPC started coughing again. ‘Thanks, anyway.’

Jack drove them back to the Hub. He had been very quiet following his conversation with Mrs Strong, listening silently to a report from Ianto.

‘Tosh has made some progress. She’s isolated the alien cells from her own body and matched them with those she found in the Greendown Moss corpse.’

‘Quelle surprise,’ muttered Owen. His head was resting against the passenger window and he had his eyes shut. His face was grey and shiny with sweat, reflecting the flashing blue lights which ran up the sides of the SUV windscreen.

Toshiko was struggling to focus. Not the ideal thing for carrying out delicate experiments in a controlled environment. Not that any of this was very controlled. Her vision kept blurring and her hands were shaking as she adjusted the controls on the microscope. It took every ounce of her self-control to keep her mind on the job, to ignore the sound of her heart thudding in her chest, the pounding of the blood in her head. She knew she was close to finding what she was looking for, she just had to keep concentrating.

She had to keep stopping to cough as well. She had hoped that the warm, humid atmosphere of the Hothouse would help – in theory, it should have kept the respiratory passages clear and open. It was a common and simple remedy for croup, after all. But now it felt like there was something at the back of her throat, swelling all the time, threatening to choke her, and she just couldn’t dislodge it. On a number of occasions she found herself on her knees, or lying on the floor, utterly spent with the effort of coughing.

Then, when she finally found the strength to pick herself up and carry on, she would grab a tissue, wipe her chin, lean against the workbench and tell herself not to give up. Just carry on. Don’t think of anything else but the work.

There was a knock on the glass door behind her. She turned around and saw Ianto; a large pot plant partially obscured his face, but she could see that he wasn’t well either. His face was pale and drawn and there was a thin rime of blood on his lips.

‘Why don’t you come out?’ he said through the intercom. His voice sound hoarse. ‘You need a break.’

‘No. Got to keep working.’

‘There’s no point remaining in quarantine,’ Ianto pointed out. ‘We’re all infected.’

‘It’s OK.’ She managed a faint smile. ‘I work better alone like this. The isolation helps concentrate the mind.’

‘The others are on their way back to base,’ Ianto told her. ‘They’ll be here soon.’

‘That’s good. Any news from the outside world?’

‘Nothing good. The flu story isn’t being accepted. Perhaps people aren’t as gullible as the Government hoped. They’ve changed their minds now and they’re saying it’s an isolated outbreak of a tropical disease. Nothing to worry about, no serious risk to the public, no need to panic, but they’re sending in specialist army medical teams to various locations across South Wales and England to help relieve the pressure on local doctors and hospitals.’

‘They’ve no idea what they’re dealing with,’ said Toshiko.

‘Do we?’

In the SUV, Ianto’s voice came through, husky and pained: ‘Jack, I have a call for you. It’s the PM.’

‘Now?’ Jack snapped. ‘All right, put him through.’ Jack took a hand off the wheel and tried to clear his throat, which turned into a full-on coughing session before he could resume speaking. ‘Hello, Prime Minister,’ he croaked. He listened for a moment and then said, ‘No, sir, the situation is not under control. Yes, I know it’s fast becoming an emergency. And yes, Torchwood is doing everything it can to resolve the situation.’

He listened for a minute longer, his face grim in the light of the dashboard. ‘With respect, sir, we don’t operate on those lines. If you want to flood the area with troops in NBC gear then that’s your call. It won’t affect what we’re doing. But no, I don’t think it’s a good idea. For one thing it won’t do a damn bit of good and it’ll probably start a panic … No, I should think the Home Secretary is probably safe. There is no need for him and the rest of the Cabinet to go into the secure facility … Oh, you already are. OK, well you sit tight, sir, and don’t worry. And tell the Home Secretary it’s probably just a cold. We’ll handle things from here.’

Jack broke the connection and bared his teeth in feral anger. ‘Dumbass. He thinks we’re responsible.’

‘Us?’ queried Gwen incredulously.

‘The disease is concentrated around the Cardiff area and South Wales. Of course, it’s started to affect some areas in England, so now Westminster’s worried. The finger is being pointed at Torchwood.’

‘It must be something to do with the Rift,’ Owen pointed out. ‘It’s connected somehow.’

They had to cross through the Trynsel area, and Owen realised that they were passing near the medical centre. But the first thing they saw was a lot of police cars, blue lights flashing, then a fleet of ambulances. Paramedics and cops were walking around, heads down.

‘What’s going on?’ wondered Gwen.

‘We’re near the medical centre where Bob Strong worked.’

‘Where he first met Saskia Harden,’ Jack added.

A policeman in a florescent hi-vis vest waved them down. Jack pulled up and opened the driver’s window. As the SUV slowed, the cop saw the word TORCHWOOD stencilled on the wing and immediately stiffened, practically coming to attention. ‘Sorry, sir, didn’t realise it was you,’ he said. He covered his mouth and coughed painfully. ‘We’re trying to cordon off the area,’ he continued. ‘So we’re redirecting traffic. Just waiting for the diversion signs, see.’

Beyond the last police car, they could see a pair of army medical trucks, large red crosses on the khaki sides. Soldiers were pulling on white one-piece overalls and transparent plastic helmets.

The policeman noted Jack’s look and said, ‘It’s just a precaution – leastways, that’s what they’re telling us. I don’t believe anything they say any more. Do you lot know what’s happening, sir? Only I’m from around here, and I know a lot of people who’ve got the blood cough, see.’ He reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief smeared with red. ‘Myself included. My sergeant says I can’t go off duty, though. All leave’s been cancelled. Half the boys are sick and my missus, well, she’s very worried. We’ve got two kids, you know …’

Jack looked up at him. The cop was no more than twenty-three, maybe twenty-four. Behind him the troops were getting their Nuclear-Biological-Chemical suits sorted. ‘Don’t worry,’ Jack told him. He smiled. ‘We’re on it.’

The policeman waved the SUV through, and Jack accelerated towards the city centre, calling in to Ianto as he went.

‘Tell Toshiko we need results and fast. This thing’s officially out of control.’

‘That might be difficult,’ replied Ianto. His voice sounded strained, but he was doing his best to stay calm and professional.

‘What gives?’ Jack demanded, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel.

‘I’ve just been to check on Tosh. She’s unconscious.’

They took the quickest route to the Hub – pulling up with a screech of brakes by the Millennium Centre and sprinting to the water tower. There was just enough room for the three of them on the paving slab that doubled as a lift platform. No one else could see them – or at least no one else could notice them – when they stood on that particular paving stone right in front of the tower. Jack operated the lift using the remote control built into his wrist-strap and the paving stone began to descend, sliding beneath the ground.

Gwen started coughing, twisting around, away from the others, as the pain stabbed through her. As the mirrored surface of the fountain start to rise above her, Gwen spotted the reflection of a woman staring back at her: thin, blonde, raincoat. Saskia Harden. Reacting instinctively, Gwen leapt off the plinth as it dropped below ground level, scrambling onto the pavement. Several passers-by looked around in shock as she seemed to appear from nowhere.

Jack’s voice was already crackling in Gwen’s ear: ‘Gwen, what’s up?’

‘I’ve just seen Saskia Harden,’ she gasped, regaining her feet, turning in a slow circle as she scanned the area. ‘Oh my God, Jack, she was looking right at us. She could see us. The perception filter didn’t work.’

The paving stone sank into the Hub. Jack had one hand to his ear as he talked. ‘How could she get here so fast?’

‘I’ve no idea.’

‘Maybe she knows where the Rift is,’ suggested Owen.

‘Still doesn’t explain how she beat us here,’ they heard Gwen say.

Jack gritted his teeth, annoyed. ‘Either way, she knows we’re here. What’s she want?’

‘I can’t see her now,’ Gwen said. ‘I’ve lost her. She must be here somewhere …’ Her voice wavered as she talked and moved.

‘Keep looking. We’ll deal with things down here. Stay in touch and don’t take any risks.’ Jack jumped down from the paving-stone platform before it had come to a halt and ran across the Hub and up to the Hothouse. Ianto was already there, inside, trying to resuscitate Toshiko. He was bent over her, head down, mouth to mouth. Owen hurried through, sliding past Ianto, quickly taking over.

‘Tosh? It’s me, Owen.’ He pulled back an eyelid, felt for her pulse. Listened to her chest. ‘You did all right,’ he told Ianto hurriedly. ‘She’s still breathing. Good job.’

‘You broke the seal,’ Jack said to Ianto as he walked slowly out of the Hothouse.

Ianto looked shaken. ‘What else could I do? Tosh was just lying on the floor. She wasn’t moving. I thought she was …’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Jack told him softly.

Ianto’s lips tightened but he didn’t reply. His gaze was fixed on Owen as he worked, listening as he muttered non-stop to the inert figure. ‘Tosh? Toshiko? Can you hear me? Come on, Tosh … Give me a sign …’

Ianto swallowed and coughed. ‘I came down to see how she was doing. I knew she was weak, but … I found her there on the floor. She wasn’t moving.’ He took a deep, shuddering breath and dragged a hand down his face. ‘I didn’t know what to do … We were all relying on her.’

Jack touched Ianto’s arm. ‘Hey. You did the right thing.’

Ianto looked at Jack, took in his pale, sweating features – so unlike the vibrant, full-of-life man he knew so well. ‘We’re all dying, aren’t we?’

‘We’re not dead yet,’ Jack told him. ‘And we’ve got a job to do – all of us. Gwen saw Saskia Harden just before we came down. She’s searching the area now, but she needs help. Go check the CCTV. Work with Gwen. Find Saskia for me.’

Ianto nodded and moved away.

Jack stepped into the Hothouse and knelt down by Owen. Toshiko was lying in the recovery position, flecks of dried blood on her pale lips. She looked uncomfortably like Bob Strong had when they’d found him on his living room floor. ‘How is she?’

‘She’s spark out. I can’t get a response although the pulse is steady. She’s breathing OK.’

‘You know what I mean,’ Jack said.

For a few moments, Owen was taken over by another coughing fit, bringing up blood which he spat to one side. Eventually he said, ‘If you mean, is Tosh about to throw up one of those things then I don’t know. Maybe. Probably.’

Jack surveyed the detritus around the Hothouse – discarded test tubes, specimen jars, slides, paperwork, tissues. The tangled remains of a fallen rubber plant. Some blood, coughed up and then smudged across the floor. This didn’t look like somewhere Toshiko had been working. She was usually neat and methodical, the epitome of a scientist. Everything in its place and a place for everything. But now even her white lab coat was covered in red stains.

‘It’ll kill her,’ Jack said.

TWENTY-TWO

Gwen stopped to lean against the rail as another coughing fit came. She was shaking and her head was pounding. She hacked and coughed and then spat the result out into the bay. After a few moments, the cold wind blowing in across the water started to refresh her, flicking her hair back from her face, drying out the sweat.

She took a deep breath of the freezing air and stood up straight. This was no time to be ill. She had a duty to perform. With an effort she turned around, leant against the rail with her back to the bay and turned her full attention on Roald Dahl Plass. She could see the water tower and the bronze armadillo shape of the Millennium Centre. There were plenty of people around, but she couldn’t see any tall blonde in a raincoat. There were a hundred places she could have gone, heading away from the Centre, into the cafés and restaurants which surrounded the area, or further into the city. But somehow she didn’t think Saskia had gone. All her instincts told her that the woman was here somewhere. Why else would she come and stand there, watching them, waiting for them? Her business was here, with Torchwood, with the Rift itself.

‘Gwen?’ Ianto’s voice. He sounded rough. She wondered if she sounded as bad to him, and thought that she probably did. ‘I’m checking all the CCTV cameras in the area. No sign of Saskia Harden as yet.’

‘OK, good,’ Gwen responded. ‘Keep checking. She’s here somewhere, I’m sure of it.’ She started back towards the Plass, looking everywhere but still talking. ‘How’s Tosh?’

‘Not good.’

‘OK.’ Gwen swallowed with difficulty and pushed on. She watched a patrol car coming from the direction of Lloyd George Avenue, blues and twos going like mad. She wondered how long it would be before there were ambulances here and army trucks and soldiers in NBC kit.

Jack and Owen lifted Toshiko onto the autopsy table. Neither of the men would look at each other; neither wanted to be the one to acknowledge what this felt like. All the time, Owen was muttering under his breath, ‘She’s gonna be fine, she’s gonna be fine,’ as he busied himself around the room, gathering equipment, wheeling monitors over to the table, plugging in cables.

Jack slumped against the stairs, hands cupped over his mouth as he coughed again. He knew from the taste that there was blood, a lot of it, and something else, too. A thick, foul slime he was bringing up from Hell itself. He spat it out into a cardboard dish and groaned.

‘This going to work?’ he asked eventually.

‘How do I know?’ Owen retorted. He was powering up a piece of machinery by the side of the autopsy table. He still wouldn’t look directly at Toshiko’s still body. ‘We’ve got to be sure, though, haven’t we? We can’t do anything until we’re sure.’