Gary Russell - The Twilight Streets

Susi shook her head and looked at the contents of the envelope.

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There was a phone number at the bottom, a Cardiff number. Susan smiled. Her pleas had been answered. Call or email? Oh, let Jan decide.

She passed the flyer over. ‘Jan, look at this. I think our Tretarri problem has just been solved! How cool is that?’

Ianto Jones breathed hard on the glass and used a handkerchief – burgundy, same as his shirt – to clean the SUV’s wing mirror.

Today, he’d chosen to park it in the space marked PRIVATE, on the lowest level of the underground car park, beneath the Wales Millennium Centre in the Bay, right next to the Hub.

Not that anyone in the WMC knew that, any more than they knew that the door marked private with absolutely no handles, locks, etc led into the winding corridors threaded through the Torchwood base.

Ianto looked up as a man in a suit walked through the car park, heading towards a nice BMW parked in Bay 18.

Colin Rees: 38; wife Joan; two children. Moved to Cardiff in June 2007 from Llanfoist, because he’d taken up a job in the new Welsh Assembly building in the Bay. He earned £59,000 plus bonuses, liked Joan Armatrading, Macy Gray and Mary J Blige, and had recently bought his youngest, a girl called Tarryn, a pony, and his son Sean an X-Box 360. They’d be enjoying birthdays in September and October respectively.

Ianto prided himself on knowing things like that. It was his job. He knew everything about everyone who regularly came into contact with the SUV in whichever of the regular parking places he used.

‘Morning Mr Jones,’ Rees called out. ‘How’re the tourists?’

Ianto was known to everyone in the Bay as the man who ran the Cardiff Bay tourist information shop in Mermaid Quay, just by the jetties.

It was a good cover story.

‘Great, thank you. How’s Joan?’

‘Oh, so-so. Summer cold, hay fever, the works. Moaning, as always. Women, eh?’

‘Oh yes, absolutely,’ Ianto called back cheerfully.

Rees got into his car and seconds later was heading out to the streets above.

Ianto blew air out of his cheeks and walked over to the CCTV camera that pointed into the car park, by the handleless door.

He stared straight into it and, a second later, the optical recognition software activated the time-delay lock. With a dull click, the door opened.

Ianto had eight seconds to get in before it locked again. A deadbolt seal inside would freeze the CCTV camera systems, and it would be six hours before the door could be unfrozen.

Once past the door, he pushed it gently shut, listening to make sure it locked. He started up the short stairway into the corridors, walked down a couple until the glow of light ahead told him he was nearing the Weapons Room.

He activated another optical system, and the door slid soundlessly open, he walked past the impressive array of weapons (how many fingers did you need to operate that one?) and into the Hub.

It was empty – the rest of the team were downstairs in the Boardroom, nestled amongst the endless winding corridors that had been carved out of the rock beneath Cardiff Bay a long, long time ago.

Ianto was proud of the new Boardroom – he and Toshiko had renovated it (from a plan of Jack’s, of course) when the old Boardroom in the Hub had simply got too small. And he’d been fed up with always wiping handprints off the old glass walls.

This new room was wood-lined, with steel struts to support it.

Once upon a time it had had another use, he was sure, but he had no idea what. It didn’t feature on any Hub blueprints. It just… was.

Moments later, he was outside the room. He straightened his already perfectly straight tie and strode purposefully through the door.

Jack was giving a briefing. Standing there, blue shirt, braces, flannelled slacks, hair immaculate (how did he do that?). But his face – a scowl. Not a Happy Jack today then.

‘And another thing,’ he growled as Ianto wandered in, ‘where’s the coffee? Is it too much to ask for coffee at the start of a briefing?’

Ianto never even broke his stride, just turned left, pulled open a side door, revealing a small area replete with jugs, mugs and a mini coffee-maker, a sort of dwarf version of the ensemble upstairs in the Hub.

Before Jack had even got his next sentence out, a hot mug of his favourite blend (and no, Ianto was never going to tell anyone what that was) was in front of him.

Owen Harper coughed slightly, and looked meaningfully at Ianto. With a sigh, Ianto glanced across at Gwen Cooper and Toshiko Sato.

And yes, their eyes all said, they wanted refreshments too.

Moments later, everyone was drinking, and Jack’s mood seemed significantly lighter.

‘OK guys, Ianto’s done his bit – all say thank you to Ianto.’

They did. In very dull, deadpan voices, like schoolchildren thanking a policeman who’d given them road safety tips at morning assembly.

But he nodded as if taking applause. ‘I aim to serve.’

Jack waved him to a seat. ‘Now then, I have to go away for a few days. And yes,’ he looked at Gwen, anticipating her next question, ‘I will have my mobile with me at all times. And no, I’m not disappearing to the far ends of the Earth. I just need… some leave.’

Owen shrugged. ‘Cool. Take Ianto with you.’

‘Why?’

‘I want to take the SUV out for a spin, off-road, really ramp up the gears and speed and get it caked in mud.’

‘Why,’ Ianto repeated, ‘would you want to do that?’

‘Because,’ Owen leaned in conspiratorially, ‘it’d piss you off and I couldn’t bear to do that if you were around. Even I’m not that cruel.’

‘OK guys,’ Jack said quickly. ‘Overlooking Owen’s testosterone-inspired madness – remember what happened last time, Owen?’

Ianto looked straight at Jack. Then Owen. ‘Last time? There’s been a “last time”?’

‘Couple of last times,’ Owen replied.

‘I was glad you weren’t around,’ Toshiko added. ‘It was very… muddy.’

‘Muddy?’

Gwen touched Ianto’s arm gently. ‘I think they told you it was alien slime from a meteor crash. But it wasn’t.’

‘No,’ Ianto said darkly. ‘It was just mud.’

‘And you scraped it off beautifully, and gave it to me to test,’ Toshiko added.

‘And she did all those tests, trying to find Cortellian nucleotides.’ Owen grabbed Ianto’s unmoving arm. ‘Sorry mate, but it was dead funny at the time.’

Toshiko fiddled with her glasses, so as not to catch Ianto’s eye. ‘Sorry Ianto. We didn’t know when to stop. But it was very… well, yes, funny.’

Ianto nodded, staring at his team. His friends. And smiled – inwardly.

Revenge would be so sweet…

Jack cleared his throat, bringing them back to the matter at hand. ‘Now, I’ve checked my diary – well, the half-dozen scraps of paper on my desk I pretend represents a diary – and there’s nothing much going on. Tosh, keep going with those upgrades to the Hub defences – we’ve had too many uninvited guests lately. Owen, call me if the Tammarok eggs hatch, I want to be here for that. Ianto, we need more Weevil spray. And Gwen… Gwen, say hi to Rhys and go sort out a venue for that wedding. You have four days. Cos when I’m back, no more wedding talk for, oh, at least a week.’