The Twilight Streets

NINE

City Hall was an impressive array of buildings and, no matter how often Jack Harkness stood outside them, he couldn’t help but be impressed.

Coat flapping in the breeze, blue shirt, red braces, navy chinos, Jack was an imposing and strikingly attractive figure.

At least, that’s what he hoped the man he had come to visit would think. Still. It’d been a while. They’d not parted on the best of terms last time. Little things: Torchwood policy, words about trust and betrayal, antiques and a cold spaghetti bolognaise that had been slaved over for a good fifteen minutes led to bitter recriminations, name-calling and a bloody good bitch slap, of which Jack was the recipient.

Thinking about it, Jack touched his left cheek. It had been a good slap, and not what he’d’ve expected from someone so… unimposing.

Still, appearances could be deceptive. Wasn’t that what they said on Earth in this era? Oh, if they only knew the half of it.

He entered the building and, avoiding the tourist routes to the marble hall or the conference rooms, he nudged open an insignificant door to the right, which led to a concrete stairwell, peeling paint and dust on each step. No one regularly used the stairway, which is why Jack always liked it. A fast in and out.

But then, that was Jack through and through.

He kept going until he reached the fourth floor and eased open the doorway into a plushly carpeted hallway, a series of doors on either side, with a huge ornate one at the far end. Outside it was a small desk, and sat at that desk was a small, thin blond man in a suit and tie, probably half a size too big for him.

He had stunning blue eyes, and Jack briefly flirted with the idea of sneaking up on him and snogging him.

The man was reading a sheaf of notes and tapping with one hand on a PC keyboard.

Jack realised sneaking up wasn’t going to work. Not in the corridor. Shame.

‘I saw you come in, Jack,’ the young Welshman said. ‘And no one but you would use those stairs.’ He still hadn’t looked up.

‘Oh. Right. OK,’ said Jack. ‘How are you? It’s been a couple of years.’

‘It’s been twenty-two months, eight days and about nine hours, Jack. Lots of things could’ve happened to me in twenty-two months, eight days and about nine hours. Nice of you to ask now.’

Jack stood still. He still wasn’t being looked at. Boy, some people could hold a grudge.

‘Slapped anyone recently?’

The man dropped the notes onto his desk and finally gazed straight at Jack.

‘Oh, tried to feed anyone an amnesia pill in cold pasta recently?’

Ouch. Yup. Grudge time.

‘Oh come on, Idris. You gonna let that little… incident come between us?’

Idris Hopper stood up. He wasn’t as tall as Jack, but the Torchwood leader took a step back anyway – Idris was not happy to see Jack, that was clear.

‘You screwed with my head, Jack. On so many levels. You lied, you cheated. You betrayed me, my trust in you. And then you tried to poison me.’

‘It wasn’t poison. Don’t be so melodramatic. It was for your safety.’

Idris said nothing for a moment, then he strode past Jack and opened an office door.

‘Jan, I need to pop out for a few minutes. Can you keep an eye on the Mayor’s desk for me? Ta love. I’ll get you a donut.’

He then turned back, grabbed Jack’s arm and, with strength that belied his slight stature, almost dragged Jack back to the stairwell.

He slammed the door open and shoved Jack into the vestibule. Jack hit the wall with some force, turned to yell at Idris, and discovered the young secretary snogging him. Hard and ferociously.

After a few seconds, Idris pulled back, his eyes full of anything but love.

‘There, you got what you wanted, Jack. Happy now? Will you finally leave me alone and get the hell out of my life?’

Jack was speechless at first, then ran a hand through Idris’s hair. The younger guy pulled further back.

‘Don’t touch me, Jack. You don’t have that right.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jack said. ‘I didn’t realise it’d affect you that much. How long did it take for the pill to wear off?’

‘I thought the point was that it wouldn’t wear off. That people you dosed up stayed amnesiac for good, those memories scratched out of their lives?’

Jack nodded. ‘But occasionally a shock or just a strong personality can overcome it. Depends on the strength of the pill I used on you.’

‘And you don’t remember, do you? I bet you never remember any of the lives you screw around with at Torchwood, do you?’

Idris went past Jack and down the stairs. ‘I can’t have this conversation here. Outside. Now.’

Jack paused. ‘You know, I’m not usually one for following orders, Idris.’ He shrugged. ‘But I do kinda need your help.’

Jack followed Idris down and out of the building and across the grass. They crossed the road at the traffic lights and walked silently into Cathays Park, just behind Cardiff’s famous castle.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. Then Idris sighed. ‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘Well what do you actually want today, Jack?’ Idris checked his watch. ‘You have five minutes. Real minutes, not Torchwood minutes.’

‘Like I said, I need your help. I need records.’

Idris laughed humourlessly. ‘That was what you said last time, after Margaret Blaine disappeared. Remember that? My boss, the Mayor. One minute you and your mates are chasing her, the next, she’s gone. Death by Earthquake was the official answer.’

Jack looked hard at Idris and remembered the confused young man he’d seen at the bus stop one day, a bundle of books under his arm.

The man who’d run over, shouting ‘You! It was you!’

Jack had had no idea who he was.

‘I saw you, at the office!’

Jack turned and headed back down, past the Millennium Centre and towards the water tower. He hadn’t banked on Idris’s determination and, when he stepped onto the special stone at the foot of the tower, the stone that was part perception filter, Jack should have effectively vanished. Not in a blink, but in a peripheral vision way; Idris should have believed he’d just lost sight of him for a second.

But as Jack stood there, using his Vortex Manipulator to activate the elevator at his feet, Idris was still facing him, still shouting straight at him.

‘Yes, you! The American!’

And Jack realised Idris could still see him. Which was unfortunate as the elevator began its descent.

Idris was open-mouthed. The last thing Jack saw before he sank below pavement level was Idris screeching ‘Bastard!’

As the elevator reached the Hub, Jack stepped off, yelling for Toshiko.

‘Guy by the tower, staring at our so-called invisible elevator.’

‘Got him on CCTV,’ Toshiko replied. ‘ What about him?’

‘I need to know who he is. He knows me, I haven’t set eyes on him before. And I’m pretty sure I’d remember a cute Welsh blond, blue-eyed geek like that.’

‘Geek chic your thing, is it now?’ asked Suzie Costello, Jack’s number two.

‘Jack has “things”?’ Owen called out from his workstation, next toToshiko’s. ‘I thought Jack just shagged… anything.’

Jack ignored them and headed to his office. Something tingled in his mind.

He began flicking through Suzie’s reports: sightings of a Gladmaron Cruiser over Pontypool; a Weevil cluster in a ruined church; some aliens wanting to serve a writ on Earth for transmitting offensive radio waves at their star system (Toshiko had worked out from the time-distance ratio that they were getting broadcasts of Hancock’s Half Hour from the late 1950s); no sign of Torchwood Four still…

His door eased open and Suzie came in, putting a printout in front of him. A CCTV image of Idris, and his ID pass from City Hall.

‘Personal Assistant to the Mayor,’ Jack read. ‘Nope, why me?’

‘The Mayor, Jack? She disappeared a month ago – after the earthquake.’

And Jack remembered.

‘You insisted we all stayed down here, all four of us. No one was allowed to go outside the Hub till it finished, cos you said you knew it’d be OK. Remember?’

He nodded. ‘Good job, too. The earthquake could’ve damaged this place more than the last couple did.’

Suzie shrugged. ‘You keep too many secrets from us, Jack. Teamwork, yeah?’

Jack smiled. ‘I’ll deal with Mr Hopper,’ he said and waved a bottle of amnesia pills at Suzie.

She shrugged and went back out to talk to the other two.

Jack thought about how he’d had to stay down below a month before. Because there was another him up above, 150 years younger but identical to look at. There’d not only been the risk of confronting himself; if Toshiko, Suzie or Owen had seen his earlier self, he’d have had to explain his past to them. He adored them, yeah, but that was a step too far.

He knew he’d have to deal with poor Idris now. He took a level two pill out of the box – twenty-four hours would be enough to have Idris forget seeing him without causing too many problems for him at work.

Now, how to get it to him.

That new Italian restaurant, on the corner of Mermaid Quay, by the fish and chip place (he’d never understand twenty-first-century humans and the allure of fish and chips).

He left the office, grabbed his greatcoat and went back to the elevator.

‘Using the lift wise, Jack?’ asked Suzie.

‘Nope,’ he replied. ‘But it’ll get his attention.’

Which it did.

Jack stood there, facing Idris. ‘Idris Hopper, no one else but you can see me. Quite an achievement on your part. Well done you. Fancy a drink?’

Idris said nothing, just looked at the passers-by who were ignoring Jack completely, although one woman gave Idris a very peculiar look.

Jack stepped off the stone and a teenager instinctively swerved round him, muttering a ‘sorry’ as if it were perfectly normal.

As they walked to the Italian, they chatted about Idris (he was single), his family (his mother was dead, his father had moved to Newport six years ago), the movies he watched (he utterly hated the movie version of Hi Fidelity and had seen Finding Nemo a few more times than might be considered healthy) and his hobbies (he loved rare and antiquarian books, spending most of his less-than-stellar salary on them, and restoring some of them, which he’d then sell on at book fairs and suchlike). Once they’d sat down and ordered, Jack explained Torchwood. And perception filters. And aliens. And the missing Mayor. And the aliens that came through the Rift.

Three hours later, Idris was agog, untouched spag bol on a plate in front of him, utterly convinced by Jack and his explanations.

‘You know, Idris, Torchwood could use a guy like you in a position of authority. Keep an eye out at City Hall for weird happenings, let me know. I’d really like you to be our point man, a sort of affiliated agent.’

‘I can’t, I work for the Council,’ Idris said. ‘I mean, they take precedence.’

‘Oh sure, of course,’ Jack said. ‘No one would ask you to betray the office. No, it’s just more if we get something, and we think we could do with a gap filled in, maybe I could call you and you help me. And of course, if it’d break confidences from the new Mayor, then I utterly understand, yeah?’

Idris wanted to think about it and excused himself. As a waiter went by, Jack asked for Idris’s food to be put in a microwave for thirty seconds.

‘ We don’t use microwaves here, sir,’ said the snooty guy.

So Jack put the pill in Idris’s food, burying it in the sauce. Making sure no one was looking, he aimed his Manipulator at it and gave it a tiny burst of energy. Not enough to hurt Idris, but it’d certainly warm the food up.

When Idris returned, they finally ate.

‘You live locally?’ Jack asked.

‘Century Wharf,’ Idris replied.

‘Nice. Gonna make me a coffee?’ Jack smiled.

And now, here he was, smiling at the memory in Cathays Park.

This time, Idris wasn’t smiling. ‘You’re thinking about that night, aren’t you? When you poisoned me. Or whatever.’ Then Idris gasped. ‘My God, for the first time I just realised. I could’ve had sex with you that night – that’s what you wanted. And if your pill had worked, I’d never have known.’

‘Oh I think no pill is strong enough to completely erase the memory of me in bed,’ Jack laughed. Then stopped.

Idris wasn’t laughing.

‘So, add moral corruption to the list of Jackisms, yeah?’

Jack shrugged. ‘Nothing happened. God, did nothing happen. I wasn’t used to being turned down, you know.’

‘And just like your perception filter not working on me, nor did the pill.’

‘One in 80,000, Tosh reckoned. Completely immune.’

‘So tell me, Jack. What happens when aliens raid the supermarket? And you drug everyone, but someone like me doesn’t get the effect. And they remember everything. Do they turn up a week later, face down in the Bay? Or wake up in hospital a vegetable? Or get swallowed by an earthquake?’

Jack had no answer. Because, yes, once that had been the Torchwood way. That was a Standing Order from Torchwood One in London. But things had changed, and Jack had broken direct contact with London. And thrown their rulebook away. Since then, the problem hadn’t arisen.

‘I’d like to think that, like you, I could convince them to help us. For the greater good. But the situation hasn’t arisen. And the amnesia pill hads been revamped since then anyway. It’s closer to one in 800,000 now. Better odds all round.’ Jack grinned.

Idris stood up. ‘So, what do you want? And don’t say “another kiss” because no, not now, not ever.’

Jack threw his hands up in protestation. ‘Furthest thing from my mind,’ he lied, convincingly he hoped. ‘I need information. And not just PR-level stuff, but deep stuff. The who, why, how and did I say why?’

‘About?’ Idris checked his watch. ‘Thirty seconds, and I’m gone.’

‘Tretarri.’

‘The redevelopment? Why?’

‘How involved do you want to be, Idris?’

Idris looked at him. ‘You got a USB reader on you?’

Jack produced his PDA.

‘Nice,’ said Idris. ‘I’ll be back in ten. If I’m not, it means I’ve changed my mind and I never want to see you or anyone else from Torchwood ever again. Is that clear?’

‘As crystal.’

And Idris headed back to City Hall.

Jack wasn’t sure if it was worth waiting. But then, he was a pretty good judge of character – and Idris was, at heart, a good guy, with a Jack-sized chip on his shoulder.

Jack stared at the people milling around the park. And again, that feeling of pride in humanity hit him. So much wrong with the planet, so much wrong with their lives if only they realised, and yet nothing would stop them. As a people and as individuals, calamity might hit, but they always found a way to bounce back. Twenty-first-century humans were great.

And somewhere was an ancestor of his. Walking around, unaware that one of the descendents from a colony world 3,000 years into the future was sat in Cathays Park, Cardiff. At least he hoped they were unaware.

Assuming he was descended from humans. Hmm… A bit of family tree research might be in order. If he ever got the chance to go home, which he was in no hurry to do.

‘Excuse me, Captain Harkness?’

Jack looked up. A young brunette, early twenties, was standing in front of him. She smiled and passed him a USB flash drive.

‘Idris asked me to give you this. And something else, which he said I’d have no trouble giving you.’ She smiled. ‘And he was dead right.’

And she snogged him, passionately. Hard, long and very probingly.

After a good minute, she slowly drew back, and ran a finger across his lips.

‘Wow,’ she breathed, then turned and walked away.

‘Wow indeed,’ Jack said quietly. ‘God I love these people.’

He watched her retreating figure, slim, tight ass, nice legs… and blew air out of his cheeks, then got his PDA out and inserted the flash drive into it.

Info copied across and he read it quickly. Details of the redevelopment, plans, conveyancy reports, recommendations for construction crews, requisitions for trucks, concrete, trees.

Details of a fast-tracked licence for food, drink, music and street performers for a week-long party, stipulating no sale of alcohol in case of minors.

And the architectural plans.

It all seemed innocuous enough, but he’d get Gwen and Ianto to plough through it, check dates and so on. There had to be something.

Idly he opened a few reports. Nothing on the surface. He was about to give in for a bit, when he clicked on the architects’ plans.

And saw the architect.

He considered going straight back to Idris, but decided his time would be better spent back at the Hub. Instead he sent Idris an email via his PDA.

Thanks for the information. So, this guy doing the architectural design. He intrigues me. Tell me whatever you can about Mr Bilis Manger x

Extract from the testimony of student Owain Garrett, 1986. In attendance, DI Laurence and WDC Meredith. With Garrett was his tutor, Professor Edward Nicholls. Legal representation was waived.

There was one house in Coburg Street that no one went near. No one really knew why, some put it down to the general feeling about Tretarri, but no one stayed long enough to work out why.

It wasn’t true, all the newspaper reports, the ones that said no one ever lived in Tretarri. We did. Group of us on Bute Terrace. Number 9. We were on the corner of Coburg Street, and number 6 was the weird house.

Michele and Janet had done some research on the area. During the war, people had tried hiding here to escape the Cardiff Blitz, but had ended up taking their chances on the streets of Butetown. Martin found out by going through the local papers that as far back as the thirties the place was rumoured to be haunted. I mean, people would turn up here, move in, settle, whatever. Then inexplicable events occurred, lights, phantasms they often called them, noises. Dogs and cats died, fresh food went off, light bulbs would die then come back to life, brighter than before and objects would move around the place.

Michele and I woke up one morning to find our bed had moved across the room in the night. We assumed Janet or Marty had done it while we were asleep, but Marty hadn’t come home that night, and no way could Janet have done it by herself.

There were a few other student houses in Tretarri, but people didn’t stay long – and we realised after a few weeks, one house wasn’t occupied at all. I mean, never. We looked into the windows, I swear it hadn’t been touched since it was built, no sign of anything modern.

Marty talked to some old guy who’d lived on the streets for years in the area, and he was chatty – especially if there was a few pounds and some chocolate in it for him. He said he’d seen people come and go from every home, but not number 6.

Because it was haunted. He said it was haunted by the lights. We weren’t sure what he meant because he also said there was a man in the house too. Who lived there sometimes, but he’d never seen him. We didn’t understand that. He said no one ever saw him, but they knew he was there.

So we all decided to break into number 6 and spend the night there, like… like a ghostwatch, I think.

We took a camcorder and a cassette deck too as back-up. Marty suggested a ouija board, but I thought that was a bit… stupid

(Interruption by DI Laurence, asking if Mr Garrett considered a ouija board to be dangerous.)

No, I mean, it’s just a bit of crap really, all that “mediums” and “Doris Stokes” stuff. But Janet, she was scared I think, so I put my foot down. Said no.

So anyway, that night, we got in. I don’t know who actually got us in, I was a bit late cos I’d had to check the camera out of the student union, so the other three were there with sleeping bags and beer and stuff by the time I arrived. I set up the camcorder by the door, so it took in the whole of the, well, living room I s’pose. It meant we were on camera all the time.

I turned it on around eleven, when Michele went out to get the Chinese, and I’d stocked up on 90-minute tapes, so it meant one of us had to wake up every so often to change tapes. So we sorted out a rota. I said I’d stay up first, till the first tape ran out. Michele would do the next and so on.

I sat up while they slept, changed the first tape but was still wide awake so let Michele sleep on. I had a book for class to get through, which was fine. I changed the second tape about two and thought I’d wake Michele up.

But I must’ve dropped off cos the next thing I knew, Marty and Michele were giggling to each other, and it was about four thirty.

And he had the bloody ouija board and was moving the glass around with his fingers. God knows what Michele thought Marty was doing, it was so obvious he was spelling I AM A GHOST or whatever but she thought it was funny.

I watched them for a few minutes and hoped Janet wouldn’t wake up or she’d freak.

Then I noticed the camera wasn’t recording, so I whispered to them but they ignored me.

So I got up. And that’s when they looked at me. Straight at me.

And that was… that was when it must’ve happened. God, it must’ve been then, and I didn’t understand.

I didn’t notice their eyes at first, I saw the smiles. I can see the smiles now, I mean, not really smiles, something so cruel, so twisted… Then I saw the white eyes. Not just white, but like, like bright lights, I’m telling you, it was freaky. I thought maybe something was reflecting into their eyes, cos I couldn’t see pupils or anything, just white… light I s’pose. But there was nothing else on, nothing to reflect.

Janet woke up, I know that cos I heard her swear and yell at them about the Ouija board.

And that’s when I was really scared. Yeah scared, cos they ignored us both then and went back to the board, and I’m telling you, mate, that glass was moving by itself.

And it spelt out two words, I dunno what they meant. Torch and Wood. I thought it meant they were going to burn the building down.

And I can still hear Michele now speaking but it wasn’t… I mean… it just wasn’t her voice, you know? Someone… something else spoke, I dunno, through her? Hold on, let me think about this. Can I have something to drink please?

(Tape stops, then resumes, DI Laurence reidentifies everyone on the tape and states the time and date. See separate report for exact timings.)

OK, thanks. Yeah I’m OK. Right. So, the voice. Janet is well freaked now, and I’ll be honest, mate, I’d almost wet myself. That voice. So cold, it felt like we were in a freezer suddenly. An abattoir or something.

And Janet and I staring at them, our mates… and Michele spoke to us but it made no sense. She just said about the darkness and Phyllis and the lights. It made no sense. And Janet and me, we ran, I mean just got the hell out of there. But we tried to get to the front door and that’s when we saw the ghost. I saw the ghost. Janet says she’s not sure what she saw, but I’m telling you, it was a bloody ghost. A bloke, sort of there and not there. I’m not talking the whole white sheet, Scooby-Doo thing, but a bloke stood there. I could see he was speaking, shouting almost, but couldn’t hear anything he said.

And we were out of there.

But this is important because I think, yeah, yeah, I’m sure sitting here now, I think it was saying what Michele had been saying – the mouth, I’m picturing it, “darkness” and “the lights”, I’m sure that’s what it was yelling.

And then you lot turned up the next day at uni and arrested me. But I’m telling you, that’s what happened. We didn’t hurt them or anything. Why would I kill Michele – we were together, if you know what I mean. I wouldn’t do that to her.

Where’s Janet – she must be able to tell you this… I mean, she was at uni too, wasn’t she? You must’ve got her when you got me, she’ll tell you they were… They weren’t dead when we ran… ran away… from them…