Gary Russell - Torchwood: The Twilight Streets

TORCHWOOD
THE TWILIGHT
STREETS

Gary Russell

Contents

This eBook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the authors and publishers rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

Version 1.0

Epub ISBN 9781407025438

www.randomhouse.co.uk

2 4 6 8 10 9 7 5 3 1

Published in 2008 by BBC Books, an imprint of Ebury Publishing
A Random House Group company

Gary Russell, 2008
Gary Russell has asserted his right to be identified as the author of this Work in accordance with the Copyright, Design and Patents Act 1988.

Torchwood is a BBC Wales production for BBC Two
Executive Producers: Russell T Davies and Julie Gardner
Co-producer: Chris Chibnall
Series Producer: Richard Stokes

Bilis Manger created by Catherine Tregenna and Russell T Davies and used with gratitude

Original series created by Russell T Davies and broadcast on BBC Television 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 Limited 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 1 84607 439 4

The Random House Group Limited supports The Forest Stewardship Council (FSC), the leading international forest certification organisation. All our titles that are printed on Greenpeace approved FSC certified paper carry the FSC logo. Our paper procurement policy can be found at www.rbooks.co.uk/environment

Commissioning Editor: Albert DePetrillo
Series Editor: Steve Tribe
Production Controller: Phil Spencer

Cover design by Lee Binding @ Tea Lady BBC 2008
Typeset in Albertina and Century Gothic
Printed and bound in Germany by GGP Media GmbH

For Scott Handcock

The Torchwood series from BBC Books:

1. ANOTHER LIFE
Peter Anghelides2. BORDER PRINCES
Dan Abnett3. SLOW DECAY
Andy Lane4. SOMETHING IN THE WATER
Trevor Baxendale5. TRACE MEMORY
David Llewellyn6. THE TWILIGHT STREETS
Gary Russell

ONE

He counted eighteen of them, on the platform in their neat little black or grey mackintoshes, caps on their heads, gas masks on their belts, some clutching rope-bound suitcases, some just satchels, a few others with nothing more than paper bags. All shared a big, wide-eyed expression, a mixture of trepidation, fear and bemusement. A few hours earlier, theyd been grouped at Paddington Station in London, saying bewildering goodbyes to parents and guardians, brothers and sisters, friends and strangers. Then theyd been bundled onto the steam train and delivered to Cardiff. To somewhere safer, away from the bombs.

Even Cardiff had its moments though. Just a few months back, part of Riverside Neville Street if he remembered correctly had gone in a German raid, so really nowhere was totally safe. Just safer than London.

At the top of the steps leading to the ticket hall below, a group of strangers moved forward as one, grabbing at the kids, pulling and pushing, checking names scrawled on manila labels. Every so often, a nametag would be recognised and the child claimed, separated from the others and bundled away. One by one the displaced evacuees were going down the stairs, to begin new lives, never knowing if they would go home again, or when the war would end.

Jack Harkness looked at his watch. In about three and half years, he muttered to no one. And then he smiled. There was one kid on the platform, freckled, red-haired, gap-toothed, ears sticking out at absurd angles. A more caricatured evacuee he couldnt believe existed.

He stepped forward to the boy, holding out a hand to reach for his nametag, but the boy stepped away.

Oo are you? the lad said.

Jack told him his name. And you are? Jack got hold of the paper tag. A NEIL. Jack frowned for a second, then laughed. Oh, very droll. You guys.

The boy cocked his head. Gor blimey guv, leave it out, apples an pears, strewth, ows yer father?

Jack shook his head slowly. You dont have a clue, do you. Cool accent though, give you that. You nailed it right down. Never quite got the East London one right, myself.

Luvvaduck, mate, I aint got no clue as to wot on erff your sayin, me old china.

Yeah, whatever, Neil. Come on, we need to get you home.

He took the boy by the hand and led him down the steps, turning right to leave by the rear entrance.

They emerged into the August sunlight. Parked a few yards across the road was a sleek black Daimler. The drivers door opened, and a grey-suited chauffeur stepped out, offering a salute. Jack waved it away.

None of that, Llinos, he said.

Ruddy Nora, said the boy, youre a bit of awright an no mistake.

Llinos smiled and removed the chauffeurs peaked cap, letting her long red hair cascade down her back. Charmed, she said and opened the rear door for the boy to clamber in. Jack went in after him.

As Llinos got back into the drivers seat and replaced her cap, Jack leaned forward and kissed the back of her neck. The Hub, please, and dont spare the horses.

The Daimler eased forward, as Llinos reached down, plucked a Bakelite telephone receiver from the dashboard and passed it back to Jack.

Harkness, he said simply. Then, after a beat, I see. Thats not my problem. You asked me to locate and identify him for you. Done that, delivering him to the Hub then Im out of here. Theres a party in the Butetown docks tonight with my name on it.

He passed the phone back.

Llinos took it and replaced it without ever taking her eyes off the road, turning right into Bute Street towards the warehouses that littered the mud chutes by the basin, across from Tiger Bay.

After a few moments, the Daimler pulled up outside a row of Victorian buildings and Llinos emerged, opened the doors again and smiled at her passengers as she let them out.

Jack hadnt let go of Neil at any point, and he was virtually dragging him towards the warehouses, a determined grimace on his face.

He heard Llinos drive away to park the Daimler in the Square, round the corner. All those resources, and still no underground car park. One day, someone was going to steal that car and find it had a few little refurbishments that the average wartime Daimler didnt have, and then thered be hell to pay.

He rapped on the wooden door of Warehouse B, waited exactly eight seconds, and then rapped again.

The door opened almost immediately, and a uniformed young man naval today, made a change let them in.

Looking good, Rhydian, Jack winked at him.

The young Welshman adjusted his glasses, but said nothing, as always. He crossed to an iron-gated lift and yanked the door back. Jack and Neil entered, and Rhydian closed the door behind them, pressing a button that sent them twenty feet beneath the surface of the Oval Basin.

Jack watched as the concreted shaft slowly went by and then blinked as the harsh lighting in the Hub greeted him. Enough electricity to power most of Cardiff, and luckily hidden from the surface no leakage to draw German bombers attentions.

Next page