Torchwood Long Time Dead (23 page)

But now... now there was conscious malice there.

The
things
that lived inside it were watching and
learning and they were so, so hungry.

She rubbed her eyes and took in a deep, shaky
breath. She needed to get a grip. There had to
be a way out of this. There always was. She was
Torchwood. The thought made her laugh and sob
all over again. Jack Harkness, wherever he was,
would have something to say about that. All her
time of good service had been forgotten when the
trouble with the Resurrection glove came along.

And of course Miss close-to-bloody-perfect Gwen
Cooper. Jack had liked her. Suzie had seen it.

He'd liked Gwen Cooper more in that first couple
of days than he'd liked Suzie in all the time
they'd known each other. It was as if he'd always
somehow known that Suzie would end up being
damaged goods. She hiccupped out a short loud
laugh. He wouldn't have been wrong, of course.

But she would bet that he'd never have envisaged
her as the one to cause the end of the world, and
very probably the universe. What was inside her
would consume it all, eventually, she was sure of
that.

Suddenly the world, even the grubby inside of
the station toilets, seemed beautiful. There was so
much light and laughter and joy in it. Yes, there
was pain and heartache and death, but there was
so much more. It was all she'd ever wanted. To have
a chance to enjoy that for longer. To
be
someone
that mattered. Last night, she'd found someone
that she mattered to and who could matter to her.

Someone equally damaged. What would he think
of her if he could see her now? If he could see what
she'd done?

She turned her phone on again and stared at
it. Had he given up calling? She hoped not. Did he
hate her already? How much could he know? The
phone beeped several times with answerphone
messages, and then the text tone went off. She
opened it. She couldn't help herself. It was from
Cutler.

I know something alien is making you do this.

I can help you. We can get out of this. Check the

news. Meet me at the Hub at ten p.m. The vault.

Trust me. Sounds stupid but I think I love you.

She stared at the message for what felt like an
eternity before she realised her eyes had dried. It
could be a trap. It was
probably
a trap. How could
he help her? Surely, he just wanted to catch her?

Still, her heart thumped rapidly, and as her hope
grew she felt some small control over the darkness
return. Somewhere, several of the dark patches
that stained Cardiff disappeared and drew back
inside her. It wasn't enough, but it was something.

She needed to stay strong. She re-read the last two
sentences over and over and then finally got to her
feet. She needed to find somewhere with a TV.

Back at the station, in a secure room, Elwood
Jackson watched the news story unfolding on the
screen. Even though he knew it was a fabrication,
he still felt decidedly strange about it. Still, it
had been approved by both his military and
Department bosses, and to be honest they hadn't
had a lot of choice. It
had
to be him to make it
convincing. No one else would have had the access
to either the systems or the equipment without
being questioned. He was glad, however, that he
didn't have a wife sitting at home, kept out of the
loop of course, and watching this unfold. It was
a lonely existence he'd chosen, but it had always
been his belief that only selfish soldiers married
and had families. Why would you burden anyone
with so much potential grief? Today, he was pretty
damned sure he was right in his thinking.

'Although the police are refusing to comment at

this stage, it is believed that Commander Elwood

Jackson, the official in charge of the excavation

project on Roald Dahl Plass, has been arrested

in connection with a series of murders that have

taken place in Cardiff over recent days. The police

are taking control of the site, and all work there

appears to have been suspended until further

notice. This has once again raised concerns about

the nature of the government facility destroyed

in a terrorist attack last month. Dr David Jones,

an eminent professor at Cardiff University's

Department of Scientific Research, told reporters

that, in light of the massive increase in reported

suicides over the past forty-eight hours, some sort

of mood-altering virus leak cant be ruled out

Toil think she'll believe this?' Jackson asked as
they switched the TV off.

The key thing here is that she'll
want
to believe
it. And that's half the battle won.' Cutler lit a
fresh cigarette, despite the building being entirely
non-smoking. It would appear that, for now, they
were operating outside of normal rules. Saving
the world clearly got some allowances made. As
he watched the tendrils of smoke dancing up to
the ceiling, Elwood Jackson was very tempted to
ask for one himself.

'Don't talk to me about battles,' he muttered,
making do with taking a deep breath of the scent
of Marlboro Lights that filled the room. Those I
can deal with.'

'Well, in my line of work, it's nearly always
a psychological battle. Whatever is going on, I
imagine she's going to want this to stop as much
as we do. The Hub is somewhere she's familiar
with - even in the state it's in, it's as close to a
home as she's ever had. She'll feel safe there, and
right now I think feeling safe is what she wants
most of all.'

'You really think she'll turn up with the device?'

Jackson had little understanding of women, but
having seen Suzie Costello acting as normal as
the next person while at the same time killing
strangers with the device and then doing what
she did to that man in her flat, he wasn't entirely
convinced.

'I told her I loved her,' Cutler said. 'And told
her to trust me.' The policeman's face darkened. 'I
don't think anyone's told Suzie Costello they love
her in a long time. She'll come. She's going to want
my help.' He blew out a long stream of smoke.

'And if your scientists have the data right from the
Hub then there's no reason our plan won't work.

But just remember - if we're not out, you go ahead
with what we've agreed anyway.'

'It's all taken care of,' Jackson said. DI Cutler
might have had some strange experiences in his
working life, but he had no idea about the tough
calls Jackson himself had made over the years. 'If
you're not out, that's it. Good luck.'

Cutler nodded. 'Thanks.' He reached for his
coat. 'Well, I should probably get going. You'll have
to stay here. I'll get someone in your uniform in
the cells and your name logged in the system. Just
in case she's got someone feeding her information
from here. I wouldn't put it past her.'

'Take care, Detective.' The images from

Jackson's nightmares surged in the darkness
behind his eyes. Despite all his practicality and
lack of imagination, he knew the policeman was
right. Something terrible was coming. 'Can I
ask you one thing?' he said. 'You don't have to
answer.'

'Fire away.' Cutler was at the door, and he cut
a lonely figure, heading off to save the world.

'Did you mean it? When you told her you

loved her?' He didn't know why it mattered, but
somehow it did.

Cutler looked at him for a long moment

before answering. 'Yes. Yes, I meant it.' His eyes
darkened. 'But it won't stop me doing my job, you
can count on that.'

Elwood Jackson stood between Peters and Stand,
the two Department men who'd arrived from
London that afternoon. At least a whole brigade
hadn't arrived. Perhaps they hadn't quite grasped
the seriousness of the situation, but he thought
these two at least were surely catching up now.

They muttered to each other occasionally or
turned their backs to quietly take phone calls that
Jackson and his men clearly weren't supposed
to hear. God only knew what they were relaying
back.

Dr Holdt had joined them in the room up in
the higher levels of the Millennium Centre, where
they could look out through the glass windows
between the huge letters to where the police now
guarded the site.

'I hope you've understood the data correctly, Dr
Holdt,' he said, softly. 'Or else, I do believe we're
all in trouble.'

'Let's just hope the woman shows up,' Dr Holdt
answered. He didn't sound quite as respectful as
he had earlier in the day, and Jackson knew it
was because he wasn't dressed in his full uniform.

He was still the Commander though, and this was
still his operation. Even if the Department were
quietly coming up with their own back-up plan.

Not that rank would really matter if that came
to pass. 'So, the data you have definitely shows
that there was alien activity present as soon as
the building was destroyed?' he asked.

'Yes,' Holdt said. 'The monitor hadn't failed;
we just weren't working it properly. The signal
from the day of the explosion is weak and given
everything else that was going on at that time there
were lots of readings to work our way through, but
there was definitely a slight spike of alien activity
in the vault on that day. It stays almost invisible
until the point when John Blackman was killed at
which point the strength was much higher.'

Commander Jackson nodded. Cutler had better
be right with his reasoning. If the explosion was
what had started the device working, then an
explosion should shut it down. All he needed to
do was get it out of Suzie Costello's drip. If she
thought that keeping the device close to her was
keeping her alive, then Cutler was going to need
all his persuasive charm. That worried Jackson.

As far as he could see, Cutler didn't have that
much. Still, as long as what he had worked on
Suzie, that was all that mattered.

'Look,' Dr Holdt said, and something in his
voice had all the men staring out of the window
immediately. There she was, Sue Costa, or Suzie
Costello or whatever other names she had on
passports tucked away in safety deposit boxes
across the country, slowly walking towards the
Hub site. She had balls, Jackson had to give her
that. But then, what else could you expect from a
woman who'd been dead twice?

'Are the explosives ready?' he asked. At a desk
in the far corner, a man hunched over a laptop
nodded.

This was it then, Elwood Jackson thought. The
fate of the world was now in Detective Inspector
Tom Cutler's hands. He was surprised to find that
he felt quite calm. He just had to roll with it. He'd
live or die with the rest of them.

'Given the increased damage levels of the current
situation in Cardiff, I presumed that we'd be
seeing the organ grinder rather than the monkey
today,' Mr Black, the head of the Department said
as he took his seat at the table, a cup of coffee in
hand.

'Ha, bloody, ha. I have the full authority of the
PM to chair this meeting on his behalf.'

Mr Black wasn't the only one to let out a slight
snigger around the table. Yes,' one voice muttered,

'remind me to lose an election some time. Quickest
way to the top these days.'

'Enough.' The butt of their jokes glared at each
of the men and women around the table as he
snapped the word. The group quietened, but more
out of politeness than fear or respect. Most of them
were faces entirely unknown by the general public

- the real faces of power in the country, the kind
of power that came from more than just oratory.

'We're all busy, so let's get to business, shall we?

First, the PM wants to know what the situation is
with the missing Torchwood personnel.' He looked
over to a thickset woman to his right. 'I take it
Harkness and Gwen Cooper are still unaccounted
for? No signs of them at all?'

'Thus far, no. We have a cross-agency alert out

- several heads nodded in agreement - 'but we're
not getting anything. Harkness, of course, may not
even be on Earth, but we're hoping to find Cooper
and her husband within the next few weeks.'