Skypoint

FIFTEEN

Things didn’t go well for Owen and Toshiko after he escorted her away from Besnik Lucca. She hadn’t reacted well to his half-whispered, half-snarled question and as the two of them adopted the positions that couples did when they started arguing at parties – with the minimum of animation and volume, like a couple of wooden figures on a German clock – Owen could still see they were drawing attention from their new neighbours. It crossed his mind that they probably made a pretty convincing married couple – but if they were newlyweds, they probably wouldn’t last long.

In the end they made their excuses and took the argument out into the passageway.

‘So tell me, what was all that about?’ he demanded.

‘What?’

‘You and Lucca.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Tosh.’

And she looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise – and delight. ‘You’re jealous.’

He ignored her. ‘The man is dangerous.’ He was jealous, and she liked it.

‘Maybe I’m attracted to dangerous men,’ she said. After all, Owen had always been kind of dangerous. Maybe not the same way as Besnik Lucca, but he had never been a saint. It shocked her a little to think that may have been what got her on to him in the first place.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that you’d met him before?’

She’d had something like a smile on her face. Owen’s obvious jealousy had delighted her. Now his question wiped it off her face as surely as if he’d slapped her. She considered struggling out of his suspicions, faking complete bemusement, telling him he was imagining things. The trouble was, she was a little scared by the fact she had said nothing to him.

‘He found me in the basement earlier.’

‘Jesus Christ, Tosh!’

‘It’s all right. I told him I was looking for somewhere to smoke. I lied. He seemed to believe me.’

‘And you didn’t think it was worth telling me.’

‘We’re here to find an alien that can move through walls, not an Eastern European crime lord. He’s irrelevant.’

‘We don’t know that. For all we know, he could be what we’re looking for.’

Toshiko shook her head. ‘No. According to the police profile, Lucca has been living in the UK since 1998. If he was really something that had come through the Rift there’s no way he would have stayed off the Torchwood radar this long.’

Owen conceded that she had a point: if he had come through the Rift, Lucca wouldn’t be the first with a murderous track record, but he would be the first to set about building a crime empire, never mind a multi-million-pound property portfolio.

All the same, Owen couldn’t help worrying about her and, perhaps, for himself. He felt awkward, but he couldn’t stop the question slipping out. ‘You don’t fancy him, do you, Tosh?’

Toshiko glanced aside. She didn’t want to look at him when she lied, but the truth was there was something magnetic about Lucca. Something that was unquestionably dark but undeniably sexually exciting. She didn’t want to lie, and she found that she didn’t need to – she saw the door to their apartment was standing slightly open, and that took over in the priority stakes.

‘Owen, look.’

He turned towards the door and she was glad to see that he had brought his gun with him. He pulled it from the small of his back and motioned her to stand back as he pressed himself against the wall of the passageway and edged closer to the open door of their apartment.

There were no sounds from beyond the door, and the only light was the faint orange glow of the Bay lights below.

Owen readied his nerves and bunched his muscles, and sprang through the door, swinging the gun from left to right across the dimly lit apartment. There was no movement, only the wreckage of an inexpert and destructive search.

Toshiko came in behind him, and turned on the lights. The apartment was a mess, someone had gone through it like a tornado that had up-ended furniture, torn out drawers and spread their contents across the floor and, in the bedroom, slashed the mattress.

‘So much for SkyPoint security,’ breathed Toshiko.

But she knew this was no burglary. This was a warning.

‘I’d say someone was on to us,’ Owen observed casually as he put straight an up-lighter. ‘

I’ll give you three guesses.’ Toshiko went into the dressing room. She had hidden her gun and the hand-held computer module on top of one of the wardrobe units. But whoever had turned over the flat had been as thorough as they had disorderly.

‘My gun has gone,’ she told him. ‘And my monitor.’

Owen tossed her the phone from beside the bed. ‘Did he give you his number? Maybe you could ask for them back.’ Toshiko threw the phone onto the bed, angry.

‘This doesn’t make any sense,’ she said. ‘We’re not the police, we’re not interested in Besnik Lucca.’

‘But he doesn’t know that. All he knows is that we’re after something.’

‘I hope you find what you’re looking for.’

‘Exactly.’

‘The bastard.’

‘Now we’re making progress.’

Owen had put his gun down on the bed. Toshiko grabbed it, checked it, and shoved it in the waistband of her skirt. She didn’t care if it ruined the line of her blouse now.

Owen got to his feet. ‘And where do you think you’re going?’

‘He’s got my equipment. I want it back.’

‘No, Tosh. Give me the gun.’

Toshiko glared at him. ‘I’ve held my own against all kinds of aliens, what makes you think I can’t handle Besnik Lucca?’

Owen regarded her carefully. ‘He’s a man.’

Toshiko felt anger course like electricity through her, setting every nerve in her body alight. ‘Screw you, Owen.’

She turned and left the bedroom, headed for the front door.

Owen cursed himself, and went after her. ‘Tosh! I’m sorry – wait!’

But she was already going through the door. She slammed it shut without even looking back.

Owen shook his head, frustrated and angry with himself. The second time today he had acted like a prick. Nothing new there, he’d done it pretty much all of his life. Difference was, this time it was sending Toshiko into big trouble.

Still, he’d catch her before she got to the lift.

He reached for the door handle. It wouldn’t turn.

What?

It wasn’t that it was locked. If it had been locked, the handle would have turned, but the bolt wouldn’t move. But the handle was jammed solid.

He yelled her name, and tugged on the door – but if she heard him she didn’t reply and the door didn’t move. Like the door handle, it was jammed unnaturally solid.

Owen backed away from the door. Instinctively, he knew that something was wrong here – very wrong.

And the thing that melted out of the wall and came for him proved it.