Gary Russell - The Twilight Streets

‘There, you got what you wanted, Jack. Happy now? Will you finally leave me alone and get the hell out of my life?’

Jack was speechless at first, then ran a hand through Idris’s hair. The younger guy pulled further back.

‘Don’t touch me, Jack. You don’t have that right.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Jack said. ‘I didn’t realise it’d affect you that much. How long did it take for the pill to wear off?’

‘I thought the point was that it wouldn’t wear off. That people you dosed up stayed amnesiac for good, those memories scratched out of their lives?’

Jack nodded. ‘But occasionally a shock or just a strong personality can overcome it. Depends on the strength of the pill I used on you.’

‘And you don’t remember, do you? I bet you never remember any of the lives you screw around with at Torchwood, do you?’

Idris went past Jack and down the stairs. ‘I can’t have this conversation here. Outside. Now.’

Jack paused. ‘You know, I’m not usually one for following orders, Idris.’ He shrugged. ‘But I do kinda need your help.’

Jack followed Idris down and out of the building and across the grass. They crossed the road at the traffic lights and walked silently into Cathays Park, just behind Cardiff’s famous castle.

For a few moments, neither of them said anything. Then Idris sighed. ‘Well?’

‘Well what?’

‘Well what do you actually want today, Jack?’ Idris checked his watch. ‘You have five minutes. Real minutes, not Torchwood minutes.’

‘Like I said, I need your help. I need records.’

Idris laughed humourlessly. ‘That was what you said last time, after Margaret Blaine disappeared. Remember that? My boss, the Mayor. One minute you and your mates are chasing her, the next, she’s gone. Death by Earthquake was the official answer.’

Jack looked hard at Idris and remembered the confused young man he’d seen at the bus stop one day, a bundle of books under his arm.

The man who’d run over, shouting ‘You! It was you!’

Jack had had no idea who he was.

‘I saw you, at the office!’

Jack turned and headed back down, past the Millennium Centre and towards the water tower. He hadn’t banked on Idris’s determination and, when he stepped onto the special stone at the foot of the tower, the stone that was part perception filter, Jack should have effectively vanished. Not in a blink, but in a peripheral vision way; Idris should have believed he’d just lost sight of him for a second.

But as Jack stood there, using his Vortex Manipulator to activate the elevator at his feet, Idris was still facing him, still shouting straight at him.

‘Yes, you! The American!’

And Jack realised Idris could still see him. Which was unfortunate as the elevator began its descent.

Idris was open-mouthed. The last thing Jack saw before he sank below pavement level was Idris screeching ‘Bastard!’

As the elevator reached the Hub, Jack stepped off, yelling for Toshiko.

‘Guy by the tower, staring at our so-called invisible elevator.’

‘Got him on CCTV,’ Toshiko replied. ‘ What about him?’

‘I need to know who he is. He knows me, I haven’t set eyes on him before. And I’m pretty sure I’d remember a cute Welsh blond, blue-eyed geek like that.’

‘Geek chic your thing, is it now?’ asked Suzie Costello, Jack’s number two.

‘Jack has “things”?’ Owen called out from his workstation, next toToshiko’s. ‘I thought Jack just shagged… anything.’

Jack ignored them and headed to his office. Something tingled in his mind.

He began flicking through Suzie’s reports: sightings of a Gladmaron Cruiser over Pontypool; a Weevil cluster in a ruined church; some aliens wanting to serve a writ on Earth for transmitting offensive radio waves at their star system (Toshiko had worked out from the time-distance ratio that they were getting broadcasts of Hancock’s Half Hour from the late 1950s); no sign of Torchwood Four still…

His door eased open and Suzie came in, putting a printout in front of him. A CCTV image of Idris, and his ID pass from City Hall.

‘Personal Assistant to the Mayor,’ Jack read. ‘Nope, why me?’

‘The Mayor, Jack? She disappeared a month ago – after the earthquake.’

And Jack remembered.

‘You insisted we all stayed down here, all four of us. No one was allowed to go outside the Hub till it finished, cos you said you knew it’d be OK. Remember?’

He nodded. ‘Good job, too. The earthquake could’ve damaged this place more than the last couple did.’

Suzie shrugged. ‘You keep too many secrets from us, Jack. Teamwork, yeah?’

Jack smiled. ‘I’ll deal with Mr Hopper,’ he said and waved a bottle of amnesia pills at Suzie.

She shrugged and went back out to talk to the other two.

Jack thought about how he’d had to stay down below a month before. Because there was another him up above, 150 years younger but identical to look at. There’d not only been the risk of confronting himself; if Toshiko, Suzie or Owen had seen his earlier self, he’d have had to explain his past to them. He adored them, yeah, but that was a step too far.

He knew he’d have to deal with poor Idris now. He took a level two pill out of the box – twenty-four hours would be enough to have Idris forget seeing him without causing too many problems for him at work.

Now, how to get it to him.

That new Italian restaurant, on the corner of Mermaid Quay, by the fish and chip place (he’d never understand twenty-first-century humans and the allure of fish and chips).

He left the office, grabbed his greatcoat and went back to the elevator.

‘Using the lift wise, Jack?’ asked Suzie.

‘Nope,’ he replied. ‘But it’ll get his attention.’

Which it did.

Jack stood there, facing Idris. ‘Idris Hopper, no one else but you can see me. Quite an achievement on your part. Well done you. Fancy a drink?’

Idris said nothing, just looked at the passers-by who were ignoring Jack completely, although one woman gave Idris a very peculiar look.

Jack stepped off the stone and a teenager instinctively swerved round him, muttering a ‘sorry’ as if it were perfectly normal.

As they walked to the Italian, they chatted about Idris (he was single), his family (his mother was dead, his father had moved to Newport six years ago), the movies he watched (he utterly hated the movie version of Hi Fidelity and had seen Finding Nemo a few more times than might be considered healthy) and his hobbies (he loved rare and antiquarian books, spending most of his less-than-stellar salary on them, and restoring some of them, which he’d then sell on at book fairs and suchlike). Once they’d sat down and ordered, Jack explained Torchwood. And perception filters. And aliens. And the missing Mayor. And the aliens that came through the Rift.

Three hours later, Idris was agog, untouched spag bol on a plate in front of him, utterly convinced by Jack and his explanations.

‘You know, Idris, Torchwood could use a guy like you in a position of authority. Keep an eye out at City Hall for weird happenings, let me know. I’d really like you to be our point man, a sort of affiliated agent.’

‘I can’t, I work for the Council,’ Idris said. ‘I mean, they take precedence.’

‘Oh sure, of course,’ Jack said. ‘No one would ask you to betray the office. No, it’s just more if we get something, and we think we could do with a gap filled in, maybe I could call you and you help me. And of course, if it’d break confidences from the new Mayor, then I utterly understand, yeah?’