Torchwood Long Time Dead (5 page)

'You looked like you'd seen a ghost.' Andy
frowned, concerned. 'Maybe time to lay off the
caffeine.'

'Maybe.' Cutler smiled. He took a deep breath.

It had been nothing. Just his brain playing a trick
on him. Maybe Andy was right. Maybe he did
drink too much coffee.

'That was Jon Weir calling, sir,' Andy said.

'They've checked out the owner of that box, and
you were right. Eryn Bunting is a schoolteacher.

Knows nothing about any safety deposit box and
has been teaching all day. She was in a lesson
when Janet Scott was killed.'

'Get back on the phone. I want a list of her
friends and neighbours. Anyone she shares any
rubbish bins with. Someone used her ID. She must
know our killer.' Cutler looked at the half-drunk
coffee. He suddenly didn't want it any more. 'Sod
it,' he said. 'Let's go and take a look ourselves. I
could use some fresh air.'

He was glad to get out of the bar and back out
onto the streets. He wanted to put some distance
between himself and that strange moment. It was
just his brain, he thought again, playing tricks on
him. Happened to everyone. He climbed into the
passenger seat and stared out of the window as
Andy drove.

It was the coat that was bothering him. Why
would his brain have dressed up a figment of his
imagination in a Second World War greatcoat?

It was amazing what the internet could do when
you knew how, and Suzie had made sure she'd
known how. Within three hours spent hunched
over the slim laptop, she'd created a passable
history for Sue Costa, her new persona. A few brief
news stories on the right websites, the inevitable
Linkedin account, and the activation of a website
for the fictional company that she had apparently
just left the employment of.

It would be enough should anyone conduct

a quick search on her. She doubted they would.

Most people were relatively slack, and the higher
up the food chain you went the more likely it was
that you'd presume someone else had already
done the checking. She remote accessed the
required email account and smiled to find that it
was still working. She'd been prepared to run a
dictionary attack to find a new password, but it
seemed that even in the Department no one in the
admin offices listened to the drill of 'change your
passwords frequently'. She sent her message and
then logged out. Everything was ready.

She poured herself a drink and then paced
the bland, overly modern flat, before eventually
stopping by the window and looking out over the
water that glinted in the moonlight. She knew she
should run. Get out of the country. Go and live in
some warmer climate and sit by a pool all day.

That was probably the sensible thing to do, but
she needed to know exactly what the situation
was first. And anyway, she felt like being a little
daring.

She smiled and let a mouthful of brandy burn
her mouth before she swallowed it. It made her feel
alive again. She would go abroad soon enough, but
not to laze around in the sunshine. Maybe she'd set
up a business of her own. Her eyes hardened. She
could turn a hobby to a profit. Everybody wanted
someone else dead, and she was more than happy
to make them that way.

The sea was black and endless beneath the
night sky. From behind the closed sliding door, it
was also silent. There was no gentle splashing of
waves as they rolled over each other to spill in surf
upon the stony beach. Suzie stared, and to her
there was no nature in that eternity of darkness.

She shivered. It was like death out there, waiting
to reclaim her. Her eyes were tired from the hours
spent concentrating on the small computer screen,
but she didn't want to sleep. She had a horrible
feeling it would try to take her while she slept.

She didn't like her fear. She
was
death. She had
nothing to fear from that darkness.

She wondered about perhaps drinking some

more until she finally passed out, but instead
of walking to the kitchen, she found that she'd
headed to the hall and was pulling on a coat. Her
heart thumped and she smiled as the terrible
dimension behind her eyes cooled her insides. The
surprise she'd felt at its presence was fading and,
as it looked out through her, she turned inwards to
explore it. She gasped. This wasn't the nothingness
of death. This was no empty, black non-existence.

This was... she couldn't find the words for the
sudden dread and terror she felt.
Evil? Was that

it?
It was as close as she could come.

She pulled back and took a moment to compose
herself. Whatever it was, it had brought her back
to life.

She smiled as she passed the mirror in the
hallway. Her eyes swirled slightly and she caught
a glimpse of what others would see. A glimpse of
the horror of that strange dimension. Her eyes
were a gateway and she was death. Energy pulsed
inside her. It was
hungry.
If she fed it some more,
then perhaps she wouldn't need to sleep at all.

Her heart raced and she gripped the knife. The
excitement she felt had nothing to do with the
need to feed the beast within, and everything with
her own desire to kill. The front door clicked shut
behind her and she rode the quiet lift down to
street level. She was smiling when she stepped out
into the night streets, and wondered, idly, when
murder had turned from a practical necessity, to
something she enjoyed so much?

*

Detective Inspector Tom Cutler couldn't sleep.

Something was bothering him. Lots of things were
bothering him, in fact. It wasn't just the man in
the long greatcoat that he had seen in that weird
moment in the bar. That did keep itching at his
head - especially the coat - but it was more than
that. That was like a side show to the main event
and he couldn't figure out why. It was something
to do with the poor dead woman. Something to do
with her eyes filled him with a quiet dread. The
greatcoat. The eyes. There was something there
that he just couldn't connect; or something that
his brain was refusing to connect.

As his brain whirred, he'd given up any attempt
at sleep at around 1 a.m. He'd got out of bed, made
a cup of tea, and then turned the TV on. There was
bound to be some sport showing somewhere on the
millions of channels he had and, unlike most men,
if there was one thing that was likely to cure his
insomnia, it was watching sport. He'd found some
baseball and tried to zone out in front of it. He
sipped his tea. He'd forgotten sugar.

In the kitchen he pulled open a drawer for a
teaspoon and then just stared at it. His brain
quietened. Something just out of reach played
in his mind, emptying everything else out. He
closed the drawer, opened it, and then closed it
again. His tea sat cooling on the side as he worked
his way around the small room, pulling open
cupboards and then closing them, repeating the
action several times with each before moving on
to the next. He worked on autopilot. A film settled
on his tea. On the TV one or other of the teams
won the game, and the commentators moved onto
something new. At some point Cutler sat down.

He woke up with a stiff neck at 5 a.m. to the sound
of rugby playing out somewhere in the world. He
stared at the TV confused. His head was thumping,
his throat was sore and his mouth tasted like shit.

He frowned. It wasn't shit. It was...

There was a mug of tea on the low coffee table
in front of him and something was floating on its
surface. He leaned forward. It couldn't be. What
had he done? He stared at the cigarette butts
floating in the cold liquid. After a moment he
counted them up. Six? He'd smoked six cigarettes
in the night? He frowned and rubbed his head.

He needed painkillers, that was for sure. He
remembered not being able to sleep and getting
up and making a drink. That was about it. Had he
hit the bottle at some point? Surely he'd remember

something?

He shuffled into the kitchen. Pills, and then back
to bed for a couple of hours. Maybe he'd remember
more then. His hand paused as he reached for the
handle. Brown masking tape ran in three strips
across the two doors keeping them shut. Confused,
he looked around him. All the cupboard doors had
been taped shut. And the drawers. His headache
momentarily forgotten, he walked slowly around
his flat, his heart thumping steadily more loudly
with each step. It wasn't just the kitchen. All the
cupboards and doors were taped shut.

What the hell had he been doing all night?

What the hell was going on?

'Let me get this straight.' The doctor was sweating

slightly. You want me to cut you open and sew this

into the back of your skin?' He held up the sealed

object.

'Yes,' Suzie smiled at him.
I
thought I'd

made that perfectly clear. It's not difficult to

understand.'

'Do you know how dangerous that could be?'

It was late at night and Suzie didn't have time

for games. So much time was wasted spelling out

the obvious, and she had to be back at the Hub by 9

a.m. She wanted this in and tested by hen.

'I think I probably know that better than you.'

She lay down on the table in his surgery. 'People

have metal placed in their bodies all the time.

Pacemakers. Steel pins. Just think of this as

something like that.'

'But what does it do?' Under the white light,

his balding head was sweating. He really was an

unpleasant little man.

I'm not entirely sure.' She was running out of

patience, especially given that in a couple of hours

all his questions would be irrelevant anyway.

'But that's my concern, not yours.' Her dark eyes

sparkled with good-humour. 'What you need to

weigh up is this. You either do what I ask, or I'll

be reporting you for that stash of unpleasant and

definitely illegal pornography you have. You AND

your little group of like-minded friends. Do what I

say, and you can carry on with your sick pleasures.

Seems like a no-brainer to me.'

She smiled as he started to prep the room. 'Oh,'

she added. 'Local anaesthetic only, please. And

don't get any ridiculous ideas about killing me

on the table. That happens, your secrets definitely

come out.'

She killed him as soon as she could comfortably

move. He wasn't expecting it, but she saw the abject

disbelief in his eyes as they widened in the moment

just before she pulled the knife out of her boot and

stabbed him with it.

'Sorry, Doc,'she whispered. 'Needs must.'

He crumpled to the floor in an unpleasantly

pudgy heap, blood pooling underneath him. She

checked he had no pulse and then, ignoring the

pain in her stomach that was creeping past the

painkillers, she pulled the Resurrection gauntlet

out of her holdall. She smiled. If this thing inside

her could pump out energy, then maybe it could

extend the effects of the glove when she and it were

connected. There was only one way to find out. She

pulled it on, activated it, and then lifted the man's

head.

His eyes flew open; the usual mix of confusion

and fear.

'I thought I was dead... I thought I was... you

stabbed me... you...'

'Shhhhh.' Suzie cut him off. 'You ARE dead.

Well, not right in this minute. And I mean literally

this minute, but you are dead.'

'I don't understand... I don't... Oh god, there

was nothing. Nothing.'

Suzie ignored his panicked mutterings and

counted down the seconds on her watch. It didn't