Another Life (34 page)

‘Yes?’

‘Kill him if you can’t.’

‘Sir…?’ He detected a note of incredulity in Ianto’s voice.

But the line had gone dead.

You didn’t expect to be so hungry, so badly, so soon. It clutches at your stomach, and your limbs ache. You’ve seen enough junkies sweating it out in the confines of an A&E to recognise addiction. The tremendous high. The hedonistic rush. But the brain develops a tolerance, and it demands more and more.

You thought about this when you were Megan. Now you’ve got another doctor’s perspective on the matter and, better still, you’re a doctor who has significantly more medical familiarity with alien organisms. Through Bee and Wildman, Applegate and Tegg, you’ve learned that the craving that wrenches your guts is now more than just a biochemical process in the brain, it’s a dependency.

Your undergraduate tutor called it ‘the interaction of opportunity and vulnerability’. If she asked you now, you could make her proud by describing it as a function of the cortico-mesolimbic dopaminergic system. But nothing you said to her could convey the consuming, overpowering, blinding urge to kill and devour and satiate that animalistic need. To satisfy the yearning any way you can. And to indulge, too, the dark thrill of the chase.

Behind that is the sheer excitement of being here at all. You are starting to realise where you are, what the potential is. No wonder the others feared and hated Torchwood. With what you know now about the history of the organisation, the people who work here, the contents of the vaults, there is even more to strike terror into their hearts.

Gwen and Toshiko and Ianto are searching for you. You’ve covered your tracks well. Your mobile phone is concealed in the cells, because you know that will be standard procedure for tracking you through the building. So long as you can stave off that gnawing hunger, you can rifle the inventory in Jack’s office for technology to power or repair the ship. Maybe even Bruydac technology, who knows. The others will be too busy in the cells to stop you.

Especially since you released the Weevil.

Whenever you’ve stared into that animal’s eyes before, you’ve known that its one desire is to kill. Three weeks ago, you and Toshiko visited the cells and looked at the thing, apparently asleep on its cot in the far corner of its grubby enclosure. But when you both approached the security glass that encased it in the cell, the creature scented you both through the air holes. The nostrils twitched, and the arched, deep-set eyes flickered open in anticipation. ‘This one puts the “evil” into “Weevil”,’ Toshiko told you then.

Well, when she locates your mobile down there, she’ll have a chance to find out for herself how evil that animal really is.

The walk-in safe that dominates one side of Jack’s office is sealed. Only Jack has the key. There’s nothing of use below the hatch in the floor. There’s a kind of daring to your actions. You’d never have attempted this kind of break-in before. Such a pity that all you’ve unearthed with your new-found bravery is a heap of confidential paperwork and two bowls of fresh fruit.

It’s the fruit that sets you off again. Thinking of food. Your guts ache, and the familiar appetite reasserts itself. You slam your fist against a filing cabinet, but even the pain of that doesn’t distract from the urge to feed once more.

You stagger out of the office, reeling with the longing. It’s impossible to distract yourself with a calm medical analysis. No chance to dispassionately recall how there are modified ependymal cells in the choroids plexus, when your whole self is aching to sink your teeth into Gwen’s spine and chew and grind until you’ve breached the final barrier of the meninges to drink down the salty dregs of her cerebrospinal fluid.

In the Autopsy Room, you’re almost unable to control your drooling. Even the stained tray where you conducted Wildman’s post-mortem is setting you off. On the instrument rack you find tools – a bone saw hangs beside the duralinium enterotome, the bulb-ended scissors that you use for cutting through intestines. There’s a small box of curved flat-sided Hagedorn needles. And beside that, the hooked hammer with which you pull the calvarium from the lower portion of a severed skull. Why not take some of these with you? You can use the Stryker saw to cut through the skull, and get at the spinal fluid without the usual mess and fragments of bone in your mouth.

Convenience food. You could strike Gwen down, and then open her up like a packed lunch.

Suitably equipped, you set off for the lower levels.

Gwen didn’t like sitting alone in the Hub, not at the best of times. This was worse, sitting by a computer terminal in the Hub while Ianto and Toshiko tracked Owen through the basement. At least she could guide them while she waited for Jack to return. She watched their identification icons slide silently across the computer schematic that showed the labyrinth of interconnecting tunnels that criss-crossed the Torchwood basement.

At first, the sound of their voices over an open channel made her feel less alone. Then she decided that Owen would also be able to hear them describing their progress. When Gwen brought this up, Toshiko considered restricting the broadcast to a point-to-point message between them and the headset at the terminal where Gwen sat, but on further reflection decided that Owen was just about smart enough to hack into that if he wanted.

‘Doesn’t that apply to these icons too?’ Gwen asked. ‘If I can track you on the schematic…’

There was a further silence from Toshiko. ‘You’re right,’ she said eventually. ‘He’s a sneaky sod. Did I mention that he breached our firewall with that virtual reality game?’

‘Only seven times.’

‘I am so going to slap him when I find him. OK, Gwen, we’ll reconnect if we need to. Ianto, you need to switch off your mobile. Now.’ Toshiko’s line cut out. The two identification icons on the schematic faded away into nothing.

Gwen listened to the hum of the computers, the drip of water, and the occasional rustle from the pterodactyl up in the rafters above the second floor.

The ping of an alarm drew her attention to a second display. It showed a high view of the surrounding area, seen from the top of the silver water tower. Only the humped outline of the Millennium Centre’s entrance made the image recognisable. The evening light had faded dramatically under the leaden skies, and sheets of rain swept over an expanse of murky water. The Bay water flooded right up as far as the tower and completely obscured the paving stones.

The alarm detected changes in heat signals from the immediate area. At the top of the image, there was the imposing outline of Jack Harkness, making his way knee-deep through the water. He had his head down against the prevailing wind, and his greatcoat trailed in a wake through the storm water behind him. He splashed his way to the paving slab by the water tower, and activated the lift.

The relative calm of the Hub was disrupted at once. A square column of dirty water began to cascade from the ceiling as the paving slab began its descent.

Within seconds, Jack was visible above it, like a drenched statue on a tall, liquid plinth. ‘Close it! Close it!’ he spluttered down to her.

Gwen fumbled with an override control, and a replacement paving slab slotted into place and shut off the flow of water as abruptly as it had begun. She made her way over to the lift’s hydraulic pole. The basin in the centre of the Hub was overflowing with water now, so she negotiated her way across by clinging to a higher walkway. A fish briefly broke the surface of the pool as Gwen shuffled tentatively across.

The slab reached floor level. Jack was soaked from head to toe. She helped him as he shrugged off his drenched coat. Gwen ruffled his hair, which was plastered flat to his forehead. He slicked it back with his hand, and she saw the watch on his wrist. ‘It really is waterproof, isn’t it?’

‘Better believe it,’ Jack told her. ‘American craftsmanship.’

His soaked coat was heavy with rainwater. Gwen laid it over a railing.

‘Take your brolly next time, eh?’

‘Must be in the car,’ he smiled. ‘I left the SUV a coupla streets back, uphill. Thought I could drive all the way back, but wasn’t sure where to drop anchor.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Gwen. ‘No traffic wardens out in that storm. It’s not going to be towed away.’

‘Hope not,’ agreed Jack. ‘Three dead bodies in it.’

‘That’s got to be worth at least twelve points on your licence.’

‘If I had one. Never needed to.’ Jack had sauntered over to the basin. He was sopping wet, so he didn’t seem to care about wading across through the flood water. ‘You got the scuba gear I asked for?’

Gwen indicated a pile of equipment on the other side of the basin.

‘Suit up,’ said Jack.

‘Aren’t we going to help Ianto and Tosh find Owen?’

Jack was already stripping off his outer clothes. ‘No time. That ship you found, it’s still coming through the Rift. You and me can best help Owen by getting back there.’

‘Getting back there how?’

Jack pointed at the flooded basin that separated them across the Hub. ‘This is a tidal pool. There are some valves and safeguards to negotiate on the way, but it’s the fastest route. The ship will have come much further through the Rift now, because it’s displaced a huge amount of water in the Bay. C’mon, get your gear on.’

Gwen considered the precarious railing to the side of the basin, and the flooded walkway. She was going to get wet anyway. She shrugged, and waded across the basin to join Jack.

‘Did you bring a harpoon gun?’ Jack asked her as she started to strip.

She paused and looked at him. ‘You are joking, right?’

‘Not at all,’ he said as he adjusted the straps on his diving mask. ‘You do remember the size of that starfish thing, don’tcha?’

THIRTY

The cell tunnels invariably smelled damp. Ianto could always tell if one of the team had been down there, because the clammy odour of mould clung to their clothes when they got back to the upper levels of the Hub. It was just like he’d been able to tell, back in London, when Lisa had been for a pub lunch with Trish, from the smell of cigarettes on her hair. Even though she didn’t smoke. Doesn’t smoke. That was a long time ago. Ianto looked nervously down the far corridor.

‘All clear,’ hissed Toshiko. She raised her gun and moved swiftly and quietly into the next corridor.

The lower basement was filthy. No point trying to keep it clean, Ianto knew. He wondered why Owen would choose to flee down here. The signal on Ianto’s PDA told him that Owen was still in the middle of the three main cells. He hadn’t moved from the area for fifteen minutes now. He seemed to be wandering between the different cells.

Was he waiting for them?

Toshiko pushed open the dungeon door. There were three glass-fronted cells to one side of a short corridor. Opposite were three more cells behind solid doors with tiny square windows. Once Ianto was in the corridor with her, Toshiko pulled a lever in the wall to seal the main door behind them.

The caged strip light hung above from the ceiling. It cast a pallid glow over the whole corridor. The three cells had their own internal lights, which showed up the grimy marks that smeared the glass fronts. Ianto knew that they had a Weevil secured in the middle cell, though the glass was angled up and so it was difficult to see where the creature was at the moment. The nearest cell had been empty for ages now, and the far one hadn’t been occupied since the incident last month with the Cyclops.

‘Hang on.’ Ianto put his hand on Toshiko’s shoulder.

She was surprised by this unexpected contact. ‘What?’

Ianto had worked out why light was sliding off the glass in the middle cell differently. Why he couldn’t see the Weevil inside.

The cell was open.

He checked the PDA again. Owen’s signal was behind him. He could smell the foul stench of something breathing close by. Something snorted in his ear. Belched and growled. He whirled round, shouldering Toshiko aside from the creature behind them.

The Weevil must have been lurking in one of the other cells, unseen behind the heavy studded door. She had stopped sniffing him now, and glared furiously. Though she always looked furious, thought Ianto. It was something about her deep-set eyes and the permanent furrow of lines in her forehead. That and the way her savage jaw seemed genetically incapable of smiling. It was snarling at him now.

Toshiko scurried aside as best she could, scuffling across the floor on her backside. The sound distracted the Weevil for a second. Just enough time for Ianto. He snatched the device he’d been carrying from his jacket pocket, and plunged it into the gap at the top of the Weevil’s overalls. It connected with the leathery flesh of her neck, below the chin and her slavering fangs.

The Weevil barely had time to twist her head towards him before he slid the activation switch on the gadget. Her eyes stared into his briefly, and then squeezed closed in agony as the device sent a disabling jolt through her whole body. She slammed backwards, smashing into the fire-hose reel on the opposite wall. Ianto pressed forward, holding the thing against her neck as she slid down the slimy bricks.

The Weevil’s eyes were closed now. Ianto stepped back, breathless, dazed, relieved. A bit incredulous at what he’d just done.

Toshiko clambered back to her feet and brushed the dirt from her trousers. ‘Ianto. That was very impressive, but…’

‘But what?’

Toshiko took the device from his hand. ‘I’ve not seen this thing before.’

He took it back from her. ‘Something we scavenged from the wreckage of Torchwood One. It doesn’t last for long. Look, it’s discharged already. Useless now.’

‘It could be lethal.’

‘I suppose,’ Ianto said quietly. ‘Better her than you and me, though, eh?’

‘Not what I meant.’ Toshiko’s brow was furrowed almost as much as the Weevil’s. ‘You came equipped, Ianto. We didn’t know the Weevil was loose. You brought it because you thought you might use it on Owen.’

Ianto stooped down to grab the Weevil’s ankles, and dragged her back into her cell. Something tumbled from the pocket in the Weevil’s overalls and clattered onto the floor. ‘That explains a lot.’ Ianto showed it to Toshiko. ‘Owen’s mobile phone.’