The Twilight Streets

THIRTEEN

‘Jack,’ Gwen called as he emerged from the basement, ‘there’s nothing after 1941.’ She waved towards her monitor. ‘Same newspaper reports as last time about the dance hall, then nothing. Bilis Manger simply vanishes.’

‘What about that wretched shop he had?’

‘Gone,’ called Ianto, from Toshiko’s station. ‘No records with the Council, it was never there. It’s been a clothes shop since 1998. Paid up, account in the name of Julia Martin, who seems to be a model citizen of Wales, bar a few speeding fines and a hefty overdraft.’

Jack frowned and passed a sheet of clear plastic sheeting to Gwen. ‘Scan it, it has Bilis’s handprint on it. Silly idiot put his hand on a cell door. I want every system in the world checked, Scotland Yard, Interpol, the FBI, CIA, Mossad, the works. Someone must have encountered him, someone else must have some info.’

‘UNIT?’

‘Been there, tried that, called in a favour from a friend. Nothing.’

Gwen placed the sheet into a scanner and it transferred an image of a handprint to her monitor. Tiny lines blinked to the fingertips and palm, mapping the unique signatures and a series of images of other hand and fingerprints flashed up in a pop-up box as the Hub systems accessed similar records around the world.

Jack’s impatience was palpable, and Gwen said after a minute, ‘It takes time. Go have coffee. Ianto, make the man coffee.’

Ianto nodded and stood to go, but Jack waved him back to his seat. ‘No coffee. No tea, no OJ, no vodka till we have answers.’

‘I have a hit,’ said Ianto shortly.

‘Where?’

‘Hang on…’

‘Where!’

‘Here. Sort of.’ Ianto frowned. ‘This doesn’t make sense.’

‘Let me judge that,’ Jack said. ‘Come on, what’s up?’

Ianto looked back at the expectant Jack and Gwen. ‘He’s on the Torchwood database.’

‘But that would mean…’

Ianto nodded at Gwen. ‘Yeah, he’s staff. But,’ he added quickly, to stifle their questions, ‘that’s impossible. He’s not on any records, no photos, no paper trail. Even Jack has a paper trail. The name doesn’t show up anywhere, but that handprint is given top access here in Cardiff, at Canary Wharf, in Glasgow and at Torchwood Four. But no names, no pictures, no records whatsoever.’

Jack headed to his office. ‘I’m going to talk to Archie in Glasgow. As a strange little old man himself, maybe he’s an expert on even stranger little old men.’ He slammed the office door behind him.

‘You ever meet Archie?’ Gwen asked Ianto.

Ianto shook his head.

‘Owen?’ she called down to the Autopsy Room.

‘What now?’

‘Ever met Archie?’

‘Who?’

‘Glasgow Archie,’ Ianto added.

‘Oh. Old Tartan Archie.’ He appeared at the top of the stairs. ‘Nah. Exchanged a few bizarre emails once.’

‘Bizarre?’

‘Yeah. Not sure he quite got the hang of computers really. Some of the words he used were… interesting and not always used in the right context. And he frequently referred to himself in the third person, so I thought he was a bit eccentric. Either that or the whisky was really good that morning.’

‘I think we need a Torchwood day out to Glasgow. Take Archie out for a drink.’

‘I’ll hire a minibus,’ Ianto said. ‘Probably get it painted matt black quite easily.’

‘Can we go without the blue lights this time. Sometimes, in the SUV, I feel like I’m in Santa’s Grotto.’ Owen headed back to work.

‘I like the blue lights, me,’ Gwen said. ‘What’s wrong with blue lights?’

Ianto shrugged. ‘I think they look sophisticated. Perhaps Owen’s only happy if they’re red lights.’

Gwen laughed.

Jack came out of the office.

‘Blue lights, Jack?’ Gwen asked. ‘Or red?’

Jack stared at the two of them. ‘Sometimes, I’m not sure that office doesn’t lead to a parallel dimension and each Hub I go into is slightly different from the one I left.’

‘I think Jack’s a blue light guy,’ said Ianto. ‘Look at the coat. And those matching shirts.’

‘Oh, the shirts, yeah, dead giveaway,’ Gwen agreed.

‘Owen?’ bellowed Jack. ‘Have you been experimenting with strange gasses again?’

‘Nope,’ Owen yelled back. ‘They’re just weird, those two. I got used to it, why haven’t you? Oh and Ianto, I prefer green lights, not red.’

Gwen gave Ianto an ‘ooh, caught out’ look and laughed.

Ianto winked at her, then called to Jack. ‘Anything from Archie?’

‘Nothing. Couldn’t reach him. Maybe he needs a Ianto to field his calls.’

Ianto pretended to think about this. ‘Cardiff or Glasgow? One’s a nice city, with a nice Torchwood base near the waterside redevelopment, good shops and an enigmatic leading man who’s never around when you want him. Or Cardiff? What should I do, Gwen?’

‘Bet Archie doesn’t have an SUV though.’

‘Oh, good point. And I’m good on coffee, but I can’t tell the difference between whisky and whiskey.’

‘Oh, word puns,’ said Jack at his left ear. ‘Very good. Now, if you can apply some of that smartness to finding Tosh or Bilis, I’ll take you out tonight and show you a good time.’ Ianto turned to say something but Jack beat him to it. ‘Yeah, I know, no rooftops.’

Ianto tried again. ‘Photo?’

Jack raised an eyebrow.

‘We could send a photo of Bilis to Glasgow,’ said Ianto.

Jack snorted. ‘Ever tried emailing an image to Archie? Either it bounces back, or he presses the wrong button and it ends up on the front page of the Glasgow Herald.’

‘Oh, that’s where that Loch Ness Monster story came from. I thought they were a bit close to the truth,’ Ianto said.

‘Loch Ness Monster? Do I want to know?’ Gwen asked.

‘Some kind of dinosaur, apparently,’ said Owen, walking towards them with a PDA. ‘Never believed that myself. Dinosaurs, God, whatever next?’

‘We have a pterodactyl!’ Gwen said, pointing upwards.

‘Pteranodon, actually,’ corrected Ianto. ‘But Pterodactyl does sound sexier.’

Gwen sighed. ‘Sometimes, I think I’m going mad.’

Jack clapped his hands. ‘Tension-breaking banter over, guys. Serious jobs here. I want Bilis Manger. More importantly, I want Tosh safe and sound. And I kinda know you do, too, so let’s say nothing more on the subject. Ianto, thank you for the research, I’m going to plough through more of it now. You and Gwen get out to Tretarri, see if she’s there.’ And then he looked hard at them and spoke softly. ‘And yeah, I read that ghost-sighting report. And yeah, I think it’s got something to do with this, so start your search at number 6, Coburg Street, OK? Owen, what’ve you got for me? I want to be able to pay a house call to Tretarri as soon as possible.’

‘Do you believe in ghosts?’ Ianto asked Gwen as they approached Tretarri in the SUV.

She shrugged. ‘Well, we kind of know that most ghosts are time echoes rather than the “I’m haunting you, Ebenezer Scrooge” types, so no, I don’t believe in ghosts per se.’ She thought about that. ‘Better to say, I don’t believe in malicious hauntings.’

‘Me neither. So why am I terrified of going into Tretarri?’

Gwen looked at him as he drove. ‘My God, you are.’

Ianto was sweating profusely and was looking decidedly green around the gills. ‘I don’t know why,’ he moaned. ‘I know this is completely irrational, I keep saying to myself this is completely irrational but I’m pretty much bricking it.’ He looked at her quickly. ‘Sorry.’

She held a hand up. ‘Not a problem. You want me to drive?’

‘No, nearly there.’ He pointed ahead. ‘Years ago, there were plans to bulldoze this place, create a Cardiff Bay Retail Park rail station.’

‘What happened?’

‘Plans got bulldozed instead. How many Earth pennies d’you want to bet that if we found the sign-off form blocking it, it’d have Bilis’s signature on the bottom?’

‘Oh I think you’d win that one fair and square.’

Ianto stopped the SUV near the retail park and suggested they walk the rest of the way. They went past the gasometer, and Gwen noticed the giant furniture store where Rhys had wanted to buy that hideous cream leather sofa. Apparently, he’d always liked the Swedes – although she was gratified to learn when they were at uni that he wasn’t a great fan of Abba, since men at uni who were Abba fans tended not to be interested in Gwen. Or women generally. ‘Do you like Abba?’ she found herself asking Ianto. As non sequiturs went, it was a good one.

He looked at her. ‘Is this going to lead to a “Jack” conversation?’

‘No.’

‘Fine. Then I admire the Andersson/Ulvaeus writing partnership as craftsmen and songsmiths. I believe “One Of Us” may be the best song written about relationship breakups ever, and I have a soft spot for the fusion of witty lyrical content and poptastic danceability of “Voulez-Vous”, but let me make this absolutely clear: I bloody loathe “Dancing Queen”. All right?’

Gwen stopped walking and just looked at him.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘You’ve had this conversation before, haven’t you?’

‘Might have.’

‘Jack?’

‘You honestly think Jack knows anything about music after 1948?’

‘Who then?’

‘Doesn’t matter.’

‘Who?’ She starting walking again. ‘Come on. I might die tonight, never knowing.’

‘Me mam.’

‘Aww. When she found out about Jack?’

‘When I was fourteen.’

Gwen stopped again. ‘I dunno which scares me more – that your mam worked you out ten years before you did, or that the fourteen-year-old Ianto Jones used the phrase “poptastic danceability” without getting beaten up.’

Ianto stopped suddenly. ‘She didn’t work me out, Gwen. No one has. And if I ever do, I’ll let you know.’

Gwen smiled, nudged his arm. ‘Oh come on, smile. Lisa, Jack… being bisexual is hardly a crime. Best of both worlds, isn’t it?’

And Ianto pushed her away. ‘No, Gwen. No, really it’s bloody not. It’s the worst of any world because you don’t really belong anywhere, because you are never sure of yourself or those around you. You can’t trust in anyone, their motives or their intentions. And because of that, you have, in a world that likes its nice shiny labels, no true identity. For Torchwood’s “Little Miss Sensitive”, you don’t half talk crap sometimes. So do me a favour and shut up about it, all right?’

They didn’t speak again till they reached Tretarri.

Gwen had planned to make straight for Coburg Street, but now she was wondering if it would be better to let Ianto take charge for once. She had been stung by his response, but she was also a bit alarmed. Ianto, the least highly strung of the team, seemed to be really ready to fly off the handle. She hoped that was something to do with the Tretarri effect and not a symptom of anything deeper.

‘Where shall we start?’ he said suddenly.

Gwen pointed down Coburg Street. ‘You up for a bit of ghost-hunting?’

‘No, but let’s go anyway. I want to find Tosh.’

They made their way down the darkened streets, wary and alert. Ianto knelt down to the pavement. ‘Freshly laid brickwork, and these uplighters are new, too.’

‘Gonna look nice when it’s all lit up, then,’ said Gwen.

‘Why here, though? I mean there are areas in Cardiff that need this treatment more than this old place. Places where real people live real lives.’ Ianto straightened up, and tapped a notice taped to a lamp-post. ‘Big street party, tomorrow at midday.’ He stopped and looked about them. ‘Gwen, this is weird.’

‘Why?’

‘I was here yesterday. With Jack. None of this was done, it was still a wreck. How do you renovate an entire block like this in one day?’

‘With skill, expertise and a degree of savoir faire.’

They had their guns drawn and aimed at Bilis Manger before he’d finished speaking.

‘Oh my,’ he said. ‘You do seem to always want to point guns at me. And I don’t really see the need.’

‘Where’s Toshiko Sato?’ demanded Gwen.

‘Safe.’

‘Yeah, cos I’m really gonna believe that.’

Bilis walked towards her and Gwen found that she couldn’t take her eyes off him, couldn’t fire her gun, couldn’t move.

Her eyes flicked sideways. Ianto was the same, a statue, looking ahead, even though Bilis was parallel to him now, next to her.

‘Let me show you how safe she is,’ he purred and clicked his fingers.

Some way away, the door to number 6 opened, and Gwen could see a figure walking down the steps, almost as if in a trance.

It was Toshiko, though. Gwen knew that from her outline, the slight sashay to her steps. And she gasped as Toshiko turned towards them.

Half her face, her right, was painted white, and her eye had livid red streaks, outlined in gold, three going up, three down, like fire, or blood. And her lips were whitened, too. And there was something in the way she stood…

Gwen wanted to call out to her, but her mouth wouldn’t work. And now she couldn’t even blink.

‘It’s a trap you see,’ Bilis whispered in her ear. ‘A trap for the man you call Captain Jack Harkness, but known to me as… Well, no, that’s between us. And you, Gwen Elisabeth Cooper, you are the bait.’

He reached over and eased the gun out of her hand and held it aloft. It vanished, just as she’d seen Bilis himself do before. Then Bilis stepped right into her field of vision, obscuring both Ianto and Tosh.

His eyes were gone, replaced by a blazing white light that seemed so strong it was going to burn its way out of his skull.

‘The war between the Dark and the Light is never ending, Gwen. And I can only apologise – if there was any way I could avoid doing this, I would strive to find it. But I can’t. I’m as much a victim in this as you.’

He took her hands in his. And leaned right in to her face, his white eyes roaring with the power contained there.

‘I’m sorry. I am really very sorry.’