Peter Anghelides - Another Life (Torchwood)

TORCHWOOD
ANOTHER LIFE

Peter Anghelides

Contents

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Epub ISBN 9781409073253

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Published in 2007 by BBC Books, an imprint of Ebury Publishing.
Ebury Publishing is a division of the Random House Group Ltd.

Peter Anghelides 2007
Peter Anghelides has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

Original series broadcast on BBC Television
Format BBC 2005
Torchwood and the Torchwood logo are trademarks of the British Broadcasting Corporation and are used under licence.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the copyright owner.

The Random House Group Ltd Reg. No. 954009. Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.co.uk.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN 978 0 563 48653 4

The Random House Group Ltd makes every effort to ensure that the papers used in our books are made from trees that have been legally sourced from well-managed credibly certified forests. Our paper procurement policy can be found at www.randomhouse.co.uk.

Torchwood is a BBC Wales production for BBC Three Executive Producers: Russell T Davies and Julie Gardner Producer: Richard Stokes

Project Editor: Steve Tribe Production Controller: Peter Hunt

Cover design by Lee Binding @ Tea Lady BBC 2007 Typeset in Albertina and Century Gothic Printed and bound in Germany by GGP Media GmbH, Poessneck

In memory of my dear friend

Craig Hinton

19642006

Also available in the Torchwood series:

BORDER PRINCES
by Dan Abnett

SLOW DECAY
by Andy Lane

ONE

Youve never been the kind of soldier who would disobey a direct order. Thats about to change right now. Because here you are gripping the cold and pitted plastic of the steering wheel in a stolen Wolf Land-Rover. The Wolf is loaded with equipment, and you are staring into the barrels of two SA8O rifles. Those L85 individual weapons are what have stopped you driving the Wolf through the barracks exit barrier. In the bright midday sunlight, the barriers tattered candy-stripe is still the most colourful thing among a swathe of brown earth, the dirty grey guard post, and the sentries khaki uniforms.

You recognise both the soldiers who are aiming those rifles at you, of course. Privates Foxton and Kandahal. Its only a few months since you first saw them in training, at the start of their twenty-four weeks. Ross Foxton looks the more nervous, with none of the cocksure swagger of his first days at Caregan training camp. His pale face is flushed, threatening to match his cropped ginger hair.

Sujit Kandahal is shorter, stockier, dark in appearance and demeanour. He is bracing his feet in the dirt to steady his stance. Hes got a good grip on the weapon, hes balanced well, and hes positioned himself to your right with a clear view of you beyond the bonnet of the Wolf. In other circumstances, youd tell him you were impressed. Turn the engine off and step out of the vehicle with your hands raised. Sir, he adds, like an afterthought. Not used to giving orders. Especially to you.

You can feel the hunger rising again. So soon, much sooner than youd thought possible. You try to swallow it down, and then watch for the reaction that this provokes in the sentries. Maybe Foxton interprets it as nerves, because he steps calmly to your left, some of that old confidence returning. Sergeant Bee, you have to step out where we can see you. A clear, shouted statement. No hesitation in his Scots accent. You stare at the weapons, and dont make eye contact with the soldiers. Your face is impassive. Youll give them no more clues.

All right, you say, calm and loud. Im coming out. You reach down. slowly, and kill the Wolfs Rover V8 engine as easily as youre going to kill one of these sentries.

As you step from the vehicle, you scoop up your Browning and slip it into the rear of your waistband. At nearly two pounds weight, its not comfortable or safe to hide the pistol there, but its out of Foxton and Kandahals line of sight.

The light wind wafts the sound of church bells to you from the local village, heralding the afternoon service as usual. You think: Time of death, twelve thirty.

No point in running. Just time for a quick smile. See you again, you tell them brightly. Soon.

The muscles in Kandahals forearm twitch. I said hands in the air, Sergeant

Even before hes finished speaking, youve brought the Browning around in a double-handed grip and loosed off two shells in quick succession. The first takes Kandahal in the forehead, just below the badge on his beret, and he sprawls in an ugly pile on the tarmac.

Foxton still has you cold. You let him fire the killing shot, and hope for better luck in another life.

TWO

People live here, Jack Harkness said to Gwen as they stepped out of the Torchwood SUV.

Yeah. Awful, isnt it? she answered. Even when its gone eight oclock in the rest of Wales, itll still be 1955 in Splott.

Jack looked at her sideways. No, I mean they live here. He gestured around the alley, at the concrete walls of the flats that stretched nine storeys above them on both sides. They dont just exist. They breathe. They love. Play, decide, plan, laugh, screw. It has the smell of life.

It has the smell of something else, if you ask me. Vomit and piss.

And just a dash of dog shit, conceded Jack. Labrador, Id say.

Now youre just showing off.

Well, watch your step. And you wanna take a look at him while I check out the victim? Jack pointed to a hunched figure opposite, and then strode off down the alleyway into the crime scene, his long military coat flapping around him.

Police Constable Jimmy Mitchell had his head in his hands when Gwen went over to him. She didnt recognise him immediately. She only saw the burly policeman sitting on the kerb, where he clutched one leg of the nearby road sign as though he was frightened to let go. The uniform, the fluorescent jacket, should have given him an air of authority. Instead, he was like a lost child. His posture looked defeated and his peaked cap was discarded on the pavement beside him. There was a fresh pool of vomit near his feet. He looked up, and she almost didnt know him then either, because his face was grey with shock. Shed worked for a while with Mitchell on late patrols, weeks ago, the usual boring driving tour of night-time Cardiff, enlivened only by the chance to break up a bottle fight in a dingy pub at closing time.

Mitch? Gwen asked him. Oh God, whats happened to you?

Mitch opened his mouth, but for a moment couldnt speak. There were flecks of vomit in his moustache. He gestured wordlessly back down the alley. Should she leave him to take a look, or stay with him to make sure he wasnt injured or badly in shock? An angry shout from Jack decided the matter, and she hurried down the alley to join him.