The Wandering Years 3: Las Vegas (or: Viva!) Part 1
Title: Las Vegas (or: Viva!) Part 1
Author: jadesfire2808
Rating: Adult (for themes)
Word Count: ~7,300 (this part)
Warnings/Spoilers: Nothing worse than you'd see in an episode of Torchwood.
Betas: crystalshard and miss_zedem
Summary: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas...and Jack's going to wish that it would.
Las Vegas, 1978
Now
Vanessa's screams echoed in Jack's mind. He put a hand against the wall to steady himself as another agent pushed past him, joining Brian on the floor beside the body. Someone else pulled the girl away, holding her back so that the men could work.
Even as the wailing gave way to sobbing, Jack knew it was hopeless. They'd been too late at every point on this one. Too late to stop alien material falling into the wrong hands, too late to save Vanessa's brother. And now? Too late to save Hywel.
Brian looked up from the CPR, catching Jack's eye and giving the tiniest shake of his head. The world spun as Jack turned away, trying to look anywhere but the lifeless body. Lifeless. Something flared at the back of his mind.
"Get out," he croaked, making everyone jump. His throat was constricted by emotion and he had to clear it before speaking again. "Take the girl and get out."
The other agent, still trying to breathe life into the dead, looked like he was going to carry on regardless, until Brian put a hand on his arm. Vanessa had to be half-carried from the room, sagging against the agents who wouldn't meet Jack's eye. Finally, he was left alone with the body. With Hywel.
The young man's face was utterly still and so pale. But when Jack knelt and touched his cheek, the skin was almost warm, not yet drained of heat by death. Which meant there was still a chance. And if Jack had learnt anything, it was that sometimes, one chance was all you needed.
2am, Saturday 15th April, 1978
"You're sure she's coming?" Hywel asked for the eighteenth time, pacing in the small hotel room.
"She'll be here." Jack was stretched out on the bed, his tie and jacket long since abandoned. "This is Vegas, remember? She'll still be working."
"It's two in the morning!"
"Like I said." Sighing, Jack closed his eyes. "Do you have to do that? You're making me dizzy."
"Sorry." The bed dipped as Hywel perched on the end. "But are you sure about this? I mean, I've never done anything like this before."
"I'm sure." Jack opened his eyes, smiling at the younger man. "You're going to be fine."
"Okay." Hywel looked at his watch again. "You're sure she's coming?"
"I'm sure." Closing his eyes again, Jack let his mind drift. It wasn't sleep, it couldn't be sleep, but it was close enough for now. "Just relax."
"How do you relax when you're about to do something like this?" Hywel asked.
"You're going to be fine," Jack said again. "Trust me."
"But what if-" Hywel's question was cut short by a knock at the door. The bed bounced as he jumped to his feet. "I'll get it."
Smiling to himself tolerantly, Jack rolled off the bed, standing up in time to meet the girl whom Hywel was ushering into the room. She gave him a weak smile. "Hi."
"Hello yourself." He looked her up and down. "You look like hell."
"Thank you." She sank down onto the bed. "I had trouble getting away tonight and it's such hard work keeping this from them. They're always watching." She looked up at him, her face pale in the dim light. "I'm sorry, Jack, I couldn't get it."
"It's okay," he said, sitting down next to her and beckoning for Hywel to pull up a chair. "But we're against the clock here, so I got you some extra help. This is Hywel, the guy I told you about. Hywel, this is Vanessa Dyers."
Hywel held onto the offered hand for a moment, looking into Vanessa's eyes. "I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Dyers."
"Please, call me Vanessa," she said. "And Peter's the reason I'm doing this."
"Your brother would be very proud of you." Hywel finally let go of her hand and Jack grinned.
"I'm glad the two of you get on so well since, with any luck, Hywel's going to be the next recruit to your exclusive club." Seeing Vanessa's puzzled look, he went on, "Tomorrow night, Hywel, or David Prince as his passport says, is going to spectacularly lose most of his inheritance at the roulette tables."
Hywel gave a sheepish smile and Vanessa nodded. "That should do it. But what about-"
"I'll take care of it," Jack said, cutting her short. "Just you be there to encourage him along the way. I want him all spent out by the time morning comes and he's got lots to spend. And I need the package tomorrow. Without fail."
"I'll do my best," she said, giving Hywel a last smile before getting to her feet. "I'd better get back. See you tomorrow night."
When she was gone, Hywel turned to Jack.
"You were a bit hard on her, weren't you? Her brother is dead."
"So are six others. And if she's not going to be the seventh, I need her focussed. She has to understand how important this is." Jack got to his feet and crossed to the small desk in the corner of the room.
"I think she got it," Hywel said, trailing after him. "And what exactly is it that you're going to 'take care of'?"
Instead of answering, Jack opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a slim black leather case. "There are some things I need to tell you," he said, turning back to Hywel. "Let's sit down."
He laid the case on the bed between them, unzipping it and removing the contents as he talked.
"The package I need from Vanessa is more of this stuff. I've only got enough for a couple of doses and you're going to need them. We need more to send to the lab."
"What the hell is going on? You said you needed me for an undercover mission." Hywel's eyes were wide as Jack placed a syringe and vial on the bed. "You said people were being killed. You never said anything about drugs."
"Not just drugs. Alien drugs." Seeing the other man's worry, Jack became serious. "This is important, Hywel. Vanessa's boss has got his hands on some kind of alien substance that induces telepathy in ordinary human beings. The dead men either worked for him or were business rivals."
"What did they die of?" Hywel was still staring at the accoutrements on the bed, jumping slightly when Jack put a hand on the back of his neck, pulling his attention back.
"Overdoses, for the most part. And two guys who thought they could muscle in were killed by strokes, probably induced. This stuff is seriously dangerous and worth a lot of money in the wrong hands. Think about it. You're sitting across a poker table from someone and you know exactly what cards he's holding. And that's just one scenario. In a town like Vegas, the possibilities are endless."
"Where do I fit in?" Hywel shifted, wariness in his face as he moved away from Jack's hand. Letting go, Jack carried on with his preparations.
"They recruit people who need the money," he said. "People who are willing to take a risk, not scared to gamble and with nothing left to lose. It seems like a good way out."
"So you set me up as their next target."
"Exactly. But in order to do that, we need them not to know that you're with Torchwood. Which is where this stuff comes in." Jack tapped the small bottle. "Vanessa got it last week. I tell you, if the call girl thing falls through, she could have a fine career as a petty thief. It'll give you some practice, let me teach you some things you'll need to know." He picked the bottle up, giving it a slight shake and watching the clear liquid turn cloudy. "The idea is that you get the hang of it enough that you can block your thoughts from them, so they can't scan you. Some people are hard to read anyway and with any luck, they won't be able to get through."
"With any luck?"
Jack shrugged. "It's a risk, I know. But it's better than the alternative."
"What's the alternative?"
"They identify you as an agent, take you out back and shoot you."
There was a long pause.
"That's worse," Hywel said at last.
"Your father would never forgive me." Jack managed to smile despite Hywel's obvious discomfort. "You'll be fine. I can show you what to do." He uncapped the syringe and pushed the needle into the bottle. "Take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve."
Hywel obeyed, watching Jack's movements. "Why aren't you doing this, Jack? Not that it's not good to see you and not that I'm not flattered that you called, but why do you need me?"
"Because I know you. I trust you." Jack finished filling the barrel and lifted the hypodermic to the light. "And because I can't do this myself."
"Why not?" Hywel finished wrestling with his cuff, reaching out to put a hand on Jack's. "Why can't you do this?"
"For one thing, I'm in charge, and you don't keep a dog and bark yourself," Jack smiled, gently freeing his hand and tapping the syringe for air bubbles. "For another, I'm not like you. I don't know what this stuff would do to me and we can't afford to find out."
"Not like me?" Hywel repeated. "What are you talking about?"
"Hywel..." Jack paused, trying to find the words. He'd become so used to Hugh's quiet acceptance and 'don't need to know' approach that he'd got out of the habit of explaining himself, to his friends at least. "It'd take too long," he said, telling himself that it was true. "You just need to trust me on this. Please?" He laid a hand on Hywel's arm. "I know what I'm doing."
Hywel nodded, turning his arm over in Jack's grip, his eyes moving from Jack's eyes to the fingers on his skin and back again. "Will I be able to read your mind?" he asked, a slight smile playing around his lips.
"No," Jack said, releasing his grip and picking up the tourniquet from the bed. "I've got what you might call a natural immunity. Make a fist for me."
Hywel obeyed, still looking more than a little unsure of himself. "How-"
"You'll understand in a minute." Running his thumb over the inside of Hywel's elbow, Jack found what he was looking for. He carefully wiped the skin with an antiseptic pad before pressing the needle in. Hywel hissed, but didn't flinch. "It's going to be fine," Jack said, carefully depressing the plunger. He found a ball of cotton wool, holding it to the injection site as he pulled the needle out and released the tourniquet. "Just relax."
"What's supposed to happen?" Hywel asked, keeping the cotton wool in place as Jack put everything away again.
"It takes a minute," Jack told him. "Just lie back and relax. Vanessa said the first time was a bit overwhelming."
"You tell me this now?" Grumbling a little, Hywel shifted up the bed, leaning against the headboard. Once the black pouch was safely back in the drawer, Jack went over to join him, perching on the edge of the bed and gently holding his wrist.
"How do you feel?"
"Fine." Hywel peered down at his arm, taking the cotton ball away. "I don't seem to be bleeding out of any orifices yet."
"That's a good start." Under Jack's fingers, Hywel's pulse was strong and steady and his face was only slightly flushed. "Close your eyes for me."
Hywel gave him a suspicious look. "What are you going to do?"
"Well, once I find my camera…" Jack began, breaking off to laugh when he saw the look on Hywel's face. "Oh relax. You'll be able to concentrate better, that's all."
They sat like that for a while, Jack's fingers pressed to Hywel's wrist, with only the sounds of traffic on the Strip and Hywel's steady breathing breaking the silence. If he hadn't been listening for it, Jack probably would have missed the tiny gasp, so sudden and swift that even Hywel didn't seem to have noticed. The steady heartbeat jumped for a moment, beginning to speed up just a fraction. Closing his eyes, Jack focussed in on the sensation, letting his own heart beat in time with Hywel's.
The moment of connection was always a shock and Jack's fingers clenched reflexively. Hywel's mind was full of colour and light and Jack was temporarily overwhelmed. Carefully, he used the connection to reach back, touch the flailing senses and bring them into order. After a moment's contact, the muscles under his hand relaxed and the other man began to breathe normally again although his pulse was still a little too fast.
Slowly, Jack opened his eyes, smiling as Hywel blinked, staring around the room as though seeing it for the first time.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Fine. Great." Hywel's eyes were still slightly unfocussed. "I mean, I don't feel that different."
"It's like you can hear properly for the first time, but you don't know what the sounds mean," Jack said and Hywel nodded.
"Yeah. I mean. Wow."
"Enjoy." Jack glanced at his watch. "The effects last about six hours and we've got a lot of work to do."
"Work?" Hywel turned his head, finally managing to look at Jack properly.
Grinning, Jack reached out and ruffled his hair. "You need to learn how to protect yourself, remember?"
"Oh. Okay." Turning away again, Hywel laid back and stared at the ceiling. "Can you just give me a minute?"
"Of course."
Jack picked up Hywel's jacket from the bed, hanging it across the back of a chair along with his own. As he did so, he felt something brush against his mind, gently at first then more persistently. Smiling, he let it continue for a moment, occupying himself with rearranging the hotel stationery. If Hywel was going to learn how to build a wall round his mind, he might as well see one from the outside first. Only when the touches moved from tentative presses to near-shoves did Jack turn around.
"That's enough," he said firmly. "Playtime's over."
"Time to work?" Hywel asked, sounding disappointed.
"We've got a lot to do," Jack confirmed, coming over to sit on the bed again. "Let's start at the beginning."
Now
Jack slipped his hand across Hywel's cheek, reaching down to support the back of his neck. He put the other hand on the side of the pale face, steadying it as he bent over. It took an effort of will not to hold his breath as he leaned closer, trying not to overbalance. He needed his breath right now. Hywel needed it.
Gently, he pressed his lips down on Hywel's cold mouth, closing his eyes and reaching out. This wasn't a process he could control or even understand, not really. But if there was enough of a spark, enough inside the other man to reach out and find him, then it could work. It had to work.
After a moment, he drew back, looking down at his friend. Hywel's eyes were still closed and there was no sign that there was anything for Jack to reach for. Refusing to give in, Jack tried again, fighting down the rising panic and willing Hywel to find him, to still be in there and respond. He tried to ride the adrenaline, use it to break down the wall between them, to feel the other man's mind in his.
There was nothing.
11pm, Saturday 15th April
Jack could hear Hugh's laughter still, even over the noise of the Riviera Casino at eleven o'clock on a Saturday night. His friend had kept it up for at least five minutes after Jack had said that he didn't really like Las Vegas that much. Even down the phone, it had been a good sound.
The noise here was too much, the obviousness of it offended Jack's sense of style and the people got on his nerves. He had no objections on the grounds of morality, only good taste. They wouldn't be able to do opulence right for at least another fifty years, and it'd take another three hundred before Vegas really hit its galactic stride.
For now though, he was stuck in this crass place and time, listening to Hugh in his head while the slot machines beeped raucously and the people cheered at the craps tables behind him. He'd been nursing his second scotch for nearly half an hour and while his generous tipping was keeping the barman off his back, he knew he'd start to attract attention if he didn't move on soon.
Right on cue, he felt the mental equivalent of a tap on his shoulder. Hard enough that he noticed, but nowhere near hard enough to be a serious assault on his shields. She was getting good at this.
"Two Martinis, please." Having ordered, Vanessa leaned on the bar, returning Jack's smile with a knowing smirk.
"Hi there," he said, keeping his voice light, flirtatious.
"Hello." She matched his tone, her fingers playing with the dollar bills in her hands. "Drinking alone?"
"Not any more." Okay, so it was cheesy as hell, but it was all in the delivery. He felt her mind brush against his again, a mixture of genuine amusement and concern. This was how she did it, he realised, feeding back to the men what they wanted to hear. The perfect companion, if that was what you wanted, able to anticipate your every wish. Which, to his mind, took all the fun out of the game.
"Sorry," she said, managing to get real regret into her voice, "but I already have someone to drink with."
"Pity." As the glasses were placed in front of them, Jack fished in a pocket and pulled out a bill. Resting his elbow on the bar, he held it out towards the barman. "Let me."
"No, really." She put her hand on his, wrapping her fingers round and pushing down while she held out her own money in her other hand. "I can't."
"Well, if the situation changes, let me know." Jack let his hand fall back to his pocket, tucking the note away again. "I'm here all week."
"I'll remember." Giving him a last, knowing look, she picked up the glasses and headed away. Jack very carefully didn't turn to watch her, already having seen Hywel at the roulette table earlier in the evening. He didn't need Jack checking up on him. Hopefully. Draining his drink, Jack put the glass back down on the bar and headed for the elevators.
Back in his room, he sat at the desk and took an envelope out of a drawer. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small white packet, about half the size of a playing card, that Vanessa had slipped him. It had been an excellent pass, from the careful misdirection to the expert palming, every move planned and carried out to perfection.
These tricks had been the tool of his trade at one time and he spent a few minutes playing, hiding the packet, palming it and moving it from one hand to the other, making it disappear and reappear, just to prove that he hadn't forgotten how. With a small sigh, he dropped it into the envelope and sealed it. Then he slipped off his shoes and jacket and moved over to the bed, settling himself down to wait.
He was in the half-doze that was the closest he got to sleep when the phone rang, just once, then stopped. Blinking, he peered at the clock. Two-forty five.
Hywel's room was two floors up and in the opposite wing of the hotel from Jack's, but he took the stairs, just in case. There was no point risking being seen at this point. Hywel must have been waiting behind the door, because it opened after Jack's first, gentle knock.
"Come in." Hywel was still wearing his dress shirt and trousers, but the bowtie and jacket seemed to have been abandoned some time ago. He looked tired.
"Did you lose?" Jack asked, taking a seat.
Hywel nodded. "Twenty-four thousand dollars, just about. That's ten thousand pounds." He sighed. "It's a lot of money, Jack."
"That was the idea. You should have attracted someone's attention." Seeing the colour rise up Hywel's face, Jack grinned. "Yes, I think you already have Vanessa's."
"She's nice," Hywel said weakly. "I mean, well, she's a lovely girl."
"Despite the job." Feeling cruel but pressing on none the less, Jack said, "Don't forget that, Hywel. Don't let her fool you."
"Fool me?" Hywel looked genuinely outraged. "What do you mean?"
"I mean she's a beautiful woman in an expensive dress who can look into your mind and see what you want. You're both supposed to be working. Remember that."
"I get it." Grumbling a little to himself, Hywel fell onto the bed, making the springs squeak.
"Tired?" Jack asked.
"Knackered." Propping himself up on an elbow, Hywel looked across the room. "How do you keep it up all the time?"
"Practice," Jack told him, remembering who he was talking to and resisting the obvious come backs. "Also habit and, like I said, natural immunity. But you're holding out okay?"
"Fine." Hywel frowned. "Someone tried to get in at one point, but I don't think they found anything. Vanessa helped me."
"Good. She's had more experience than you."
"Did you get the packet?"
"It's in an envelope ready for the FBI. They're on stand-by, just waiting for a location." Jack rubbed his eyes. "The main supply won't be on the premises and we need to know where it is before we can make a move."
"Right." Hywel slumped down again and Jack smiled.
"I'll let you get some sleep. You're going to need it."
"Thanks. Hang on, Jack. Wait a second."
One hand on the doorknob, Jack turned back to the bed. "What is it?"
"Why me?"
"What?"
"If the FBI are on stand-by, they must be in on it. And I know there are Torchwood operatives in America. You recruited most of them. So why fly me all the way out here from Cardiff?" Hywel was still lying flat on the bed, his head turned towards Jack, who took a deep breath.
"Maybe I just wanted to see you," he said. Seeing Hywel's surprise, he went on quickly, "Maybe I wanted to work with someone I could trust; who I knew was up to the job."
"How did you know I would be?" Hywel asked, sitting up a little. "We've never worked together before. Not really."
"Your father said you were," Jack said simply. "And I trust him."
Considering this for a moment, Hywel's expression relaxed although his eyes were still clouded. Jack kicked himself for not realising how tired he'd be. Finally, Hywel gave him a crooked smile. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. Get some sleep."
"You don't have to go," Hywel said quickly, struggling to sit up properly. "I mean, I'm not that tired yet."
"Yes, you are and so am I," Jack lied, turning back to the door. "You're going to need all your energy tomorrow."
"I suppose." Stifling a yawn, Hywel gave a sheepish smile. "I just meant, well, it's good to see you."
"And you. Look after yourself."
"Goodnight, Jack."
Slipping out of the door, Jack paused in the hallway for a moment, leaning against the door and taking a deep breath. Then he walked silently to the nearest junction which gave him a view down to the elevators. Peering round the corner, he saw a large man in a badly-fitting suit sitting on what looked like a very uncomfortable chair right next to the elevator doors. Smiling to himself, Jack turned and went back to the door for the stairs. It was a nice feeling, being right. It also gave him something to think about besides the look on Hywel's face when he'd asked him not to leave. As if Jack didn't have enough on his mind already.
Shaking his head to try and banish the thought, Jack headed down the stairs and back to his own room to wait out another long night.
Now
Getting slowly to his feet, Jack crossed the room towards the table, pulling his jacket off as he went. He concentrated on the movement - five steps, count them, focus on this not the madness at the edge of your mind - stepping carefully over Hywel's body and hearing his footsteps echo in the quiet.
Five vials sat on the table, seeming to glow under the harsh fluorescent lights. Next to them was a box of syringes. Jack hesitated for a moment as he rolled up his sleeve, glancing back over his shoulder. If he left it much longer, even this might not work. Of course, this might not work either, but he couldn't look Hugh in the face and say he hadn't tried.
In the long litany of crazy things that he'd done, Jack decided that this was possibly the craziest. But his hand barely shook as he reached out and picked up a needle.
3.15 pm, Sunday 16th April
The café downtown was the last place that a successful businessman staying at the Riviera Hotel and Casino would be found, which was why Jack was sitting at a booth in the corner, ignoring a cold coffee and watching the passers-by.
He didn't turn when someone slipped onto the bench opposite him.
"It's under the table," he said, eyes still on the street. "It should be enough for the lab to analyse."
"Do we have an address yet?"
Jack shook his head. "I should have it for you tonight or tomorrow. Be ready."
"We are. How's your man holding up?"
Turning at last, Jack met Brian Smith's curious look. "He's fine."
"Really?"
"Really." For all that he liked and almost trusted the FBI agent, this wasn't the time or place for doubts. They were too far along for that. "He's tougher than he looks."
"It's your call." Brian ordered two more coffees from the waitress when she came, then looked back at Jack. "I was told not to tell you this but you've got to know. We found another body this morning."
Jack's stomach lurched. "Where?"
"City limits. Exactly like the others. Not a mark on him, just blood in his eyes, ears and nose. The post mortem showed that half the blood vessels in his brain burst."
"Was a he a user or a victim?" Jack asked and Brian snorted.
"You're telling me there's a difference at this point?" Seeing Jack's frown, he said, "A user. He worked security at the Riviera."
Jack swore under his breath, turning back to the window as the waitress brought their drinks.
"You'd better take care of your boy," Brian said evenly, adding sugar to his coffee. "Sounds like the stakes are going up."
"Yeah." Forcing his mind away from all the unpleasant scenarios that presented themselves, Jack said, "Any sign that he's been made?"
"No. Things are pretty quiet."
"Apart from the dead bodies."
"Well, yes. Apart from that."
Jack sighed. "I'll tell him to be careful. They rang him this morning, told him to be in the lobby at two. I don't think they took him to the source, but we might just get that little bit closer."
Brian glanced at his watch. "It's gone three. When will you know?"
"Later tonight, if it went according to plan."
"Good." Jack heard the rustle of paper and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Brian tuck something into his jacket pocket. "Look after yourself."
"Always. You'll hear from me."
Jack let his second coffee go cold as well, watching Vegas pass by his window. At last, he tipped the waitress, pulled up the collar on his beaten leather jacket and headed back to the hotel.
11pm, Sunday 16th April
That night, he watched a rather more subdued Hywel playing the Blackjack tables. Given the nature of the game, it was probably meant to be a test rather than a serious exercise. Let them see if the new boy was up to the job.
Vanessa had moved on, hovering behind the shoulder of a sweating craps player, feeding him scotch and encouraging noises as he laid down enough money to buy her company every night for a week. Even Jack had to admit a grudging admiration for the easy way she led the man on, using every trick Jack knew and a few that were only available to her. It was probably a very expensive dress and would have to be worn over very expensive lingerie. And what was the point of spending all that money if no-one got to see it?
Smiling to himself, Jack headed towards one of the poker rooms that he'd been drifting around for the past few nights. It was seriously suspicious to come to Vegas and never take a seat at a table, even if your cover story said you were a successful, cautious businessman just here for a bit of R&R. Nobody that cautious came to Vegas to relax.
He played with little interest for half an hour or so, not losing or winning too much and so attract attention to himself. Two of his fellow players changed, the new men bringing new money and a breath of fresh air to the table, despite the enormous cigars that seemed to be the accessory du jour. Jack won a hand, lost a hand and let his eyes wander round the room between deals. Someone in this room knew exactly what everyone round this table was holding, how high they were willing to bet, how far they'd go to win and what that winning meant to them. Jack held back his smile, reaching for his drink instead. If you were good enough, you didn't need to read minds to know all that.
The bland, faintly amused expression that he'd worn for the whole game stayed in place, even as someone touched the edge of his mind. It was distracting, a feather-light brush rather than a serious probe, but if they found nothing, Jack knew they'd try again. Nodding for two new cards from the dealer, he forced himself to concentrate on the game, letting the thoughts bob to the surface of his mind.
Two queens. Could be enough. Opposite hasn't got them, the cards or the guts, I'll bet. Next guy might. Bluff him out. No reading third guy, can't tell 'til he bets.
It took more effort to broadcast the thoughts than it had done to protect them and Jack had to be careful. Any outward or inner slip and he and Hywel were in deep water.
Tossing his chips into the centre, he kept up the running commentary that all players had in their heads, while his eyes did another circuit of the room. His basic, responsive ability didn't give him any kind of directional indication, so it might be anyone from the dealer to the guy in the Hawaiian shirt lounging in the corner to the woman in the paste diamonds to the-
Gotcha.
He called, laying his hand down and letting his smile creep from half to full as he raked in the chips. The man he'd spotted, in a dark suit and tie, was watching the game with an intensity that it really didn't deserve. He carried on watching, and frowning, as the following hand played out. Jack folded early on, taking the chance to observe his fellow players and concentrate on the growing battle in his mind. Blocking a probe was easy. Blocking a probe without the prober knowing he was being blocked was damn difficult, especially if you were trying to play poker at the same time.
It was even harder to concentrate through the next hand, although he kept his half-smirk in place and ordered another drink from a passing waiter. Nothing outward was the key.
Oh yes. Three threes. Please, baby, please. Just this once.
He could feel the intruder pounding at his shields, all attempt at subtlety gone. Every blow hurt. Jack kept his mind and face as blank as possible, maintaining the gambler's liturgy as he discarded and accepted, all too aware that the running commentary was dangerously draining on his resources.
Damnit. Still just threes. Not enough. Or is it. Let it be. Let it be enough.
Let this be enough, Jack hoped, swallowing hard as his mind was suddenly enveloped by the other. It was a trick he hadn't expected and it took all his concentration not to let his surprise show on his face. Carelessly throwing a chip into the centre, he stacked his cards together as he always did, watching the other men.
If you can't remember what you've got, you shouldn't be in the game. Just place the bet already.
He was drowning in fog now, hot, red darkness at the edge of his vision as the other mind swamped his, trying to find a way in. There were ways to fight off that kind of attack, but not without your opponent knowing what had happened. Jack called and raised as his turn came round, making his decision as the chips hit the baize.
Without warning, he slammed his mental shields back into place, fighting to control his breathing as relief washed through him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other man sag a little, half-raising a hand towards his head before he could stop himself. Jack flicked his eyes round his fellow players again, watching for the tells and tricks, knowing that, despite the lousy number of spots on his cards, this hand was his.
The others must have sensed it as well and finally the last of them folded without a fight. Nodding all round, Jack pushed a few chips towards the dealer and got to his feet.
"Thank you, gentlemen. And good night."
Jack left without looking back, only glancing to one side to check that Hywel was still in place before heading for the elevators and the sanctuary of his room. The excitement and danger over, he could feel his defences starting to crumble and could only hope that his disorientation was misinterpreted. The four brandies he'd had during the game should help with that, although he was seriously regretting them now.
Getting to safety was harder than he'd thought. He fought the urge to put out a hand to support himself as he made his way down the corridor. Finally inside, he leaned his head against the wall, savouring the coolness and fighting down the surging emotions. You couldn't suppress that hard for that long without there being consequences. He closed his eyes briefly, then snapped them open again, scrambling for the bathroom door. He just about made it inside before he threw up.
2.45am, Monday 17th April
Hywel's eyes widened as Jack opened the door to let him in. "God, Jack, what happened?"
"I'm fine. Or I'll be fine. Or something like it." Tightening the belt of his bathrobe, Jack waved Hywel into the chair as he sank back onto the bed. "How'd you get on?"
"Great! It went like a dream." Hywel tipped his head back, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Offered me a chance to get my money back, laid it all out nice and clearly."
"They gave you the drug?"
"Yup." Hywel sat up, turning his bright smile towards Jack. "The stuff they gave me? I think it was stronger than what Vanessa gave you. I feel great. Amazing."
"Really?" The enthusiasm was catching and, despite his weariness, Jack found himself smiling back.
"There's so much to it," Hywel said, sitting forwards and leaning his elbows on his knees. "Starting with what you showed me but going further, reaching out."
"How far?"
"I don't know," Hywel admitted. "But it was like I was suddenly aware of everything around me, like it was all in my head somehow. I could feel everything, sense everything."
Jack leaned against the pillows, letting Hywel talk and watching the young man's hands dance in the air. That was the problem with telepathy, he reflected. Speech hadn't quite found a way to describe it yet. Abruptly, Hywel stopped talking and Jack dragged his full attention back to the conversation.
"Sorry," he apologised. "It just took a bit out me, that's all."
"What happened?" Hywel asked, moving to sit at the end of the bed by Jack's feet.
"One of your drugged-up friends took a swipe at my mind. I couldn't keep him out indefinitely, so I had to blow my cover, just a little." He waved a hand, trying to dismiss Hywel's worry. "We'll be long gone before it becomes a problem. At the moment, he's just suspicious."
"Right." Hywel caught the waving hand, giving it a small squeeze. "As long as you're okay."
"I'm fine." Gently, Jack pulled his hand away. "But please tell me you have something for me."
"Of course." The sly smile that spread across Hywel's face did little to allay Jack's fears. "It was easy."
"Easy?" Jack repeated, then realisation came. "You took it from one of them, didn't you?"
"Like I said, easy. And I am getting the hang of this." Hywel shifted closer, brushing a hand against Jack's leg and reaching out with his mind. "Let me show you."
"Not right at this moment." Feeling the situation spiralling away from him, Jack shifted his feet and nodded towards the desk. "I know it's boring and traditional, but could you write it down for me?"
"Sure." Not in the least put out, Hywel crossed the room to sit at the desk, pulling a pen and piece of paper towards him. Jack took the chance to swing his legs off the bed, cursing silently. He needed to get back in control now, while he still could, although it was probably too late to do anything about the bathrobe.
When he was done, Hywel turned in the chair, his mind touching Jack's again as he looked him up and down.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "you really do look like someone worked you over."
"Thanks. Looks aren't always deceiving." Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Jack turned towards the door, stretching his back a little. "You're right about the potency of that stuff. The guy nearly took my head off."
Without warning, Jack felt the bed dip and hands rest lightly on his shoulders.
"Let me," Hywel said, half-whispering. "Mam always says I give the best shoulder massages."
"Hywel…" Jack trailed off as strong fingers pressed into his tense muscles, kneading and easing them. It did feel good and, just for a moment, he let himself go, dropping his head to his chest and breathing deeply. He felt Hywel move closer, spreading warmth across his back even as his muscles began to relax for the first time in a week.
Above and behind him, he could hear Hywel's steady breathing and a humming in his mind told him that Hywel was pressing closer there too, strengthening the connection. Before he could object, hands pushed the bathrobe down, fingers digging deep into his skin. In the same moment, the pressure on his mind became more urgent, trying to break through his weak defences.
Jack teetered on the edge, lost in the sensations that were coming from the hands on his shoulders, the feel of Hywel's breath against his scalp and the headiness of their linked minds. Then he steadied himself, fighting the influence of Hywel's emotions which were driving him, reaching into his mind and forcing him onwards. The combination of pleasure, admiration and delight was intoxicating, playing with his senses so that he couldn't seem to focus properly.
Struggling, he began to free himself, untangling his own feelings from Hywel's. The hands on his shoulders tensed, slipping down to his chest and pulling him backwards against the warm body behind him. Jack wanted this so badly; to lose himself in that maelstrom of emotion, just for a moment. But it was too much for his fragile senses and a surge of panic washed through him as Hywel's mind forced itself into his again, overpowering his thoughts and feelings. Pushing forwards, Jack tried to release himself physically and mentally.
As his shields wrapped around his mind, Jack felt a stab of frustration and anger which slammed into the mental walls. He gasped in pain as Hywel tried to force his way in and nails dug into his skin. With a final effort, Jack broke free, tumbling off the bed and landing hard on the floor.
Breathing fast, Jack lay still, trying to work out what the hell had just happened. He looked up, not sure what he expected to see. Hywel was half-sitting, half-lying on the bed, his eyes closed and face flushed.
"Hywel?" When there was no answer, Jack got shakily to his feet and crossed the short distance to the bed. "Hywel, are you alright? I didn't mean-"
"Don't." The word wasn't much more than a whisper. "Jack, I..." Hywel trailed off, finally opening his eyes and looking up into Jack's worried face. "I thought I felt..."
"You felt it. But there's a time and a place. What you just did-" He broke off, torn by the hurt and guilt he could see in the young man's face. He sighed. "You need to be more careful. Despite what you may have heard, there are some things that I even I don't do. One of them is that I don't ever force it." Tentatively, Jack reached out and brushed a hand against Hywel's cheek. "Another is that I don't take advantage of friends when they're drunk or high."
"Just your friends?" There was a glimmer of amusement in Hywel's voice.
"If they're enemies, I probably got them drunk in the first place." Jack managed to smile, sitting gingerly on the bed. His head still ached from the double battering he'd taken and he winced "You're stronger than you look, you know."
Hywel flushed deeper red, dropping his eyes to the coverlet. "I'm so sorry."
"It's alright."
"Thanks." Turning his head, Hywel looked up at him. "So does that mean when I'm not high…"
As he smiled weakly, Jack's mind ran through all the possible answers. It didn't take very long and none of them were good. Apparently Hywel must have sensed this too, because he uncurled his legs and stood up.
"I should go."
"You need to get some sleep." A glance at the clock told Jack it was nearly three in the morning. "We both need some rest."
"Yeah." Hywel stared at his feet for a moment, then turned to face Jack again. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Hopefully we'll be out of here tomorrow." Jack smiled. "You did well tonight."
"Yeah," Hywel said again, turning back and heading for the door. "Good night, Jack."
Jack sat motionless for a long time after Hywel was gone, staring at nothing. Once, his eyes flicked towards the phone, trying to calculate the time-difference to Cardiff, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it came. What would he say to Hugh now? What was Hywel going to say to Hugh? Right at this moment, he couldn't see any way out of this one.
And so he lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling and letting his mind drift again. There was no point searching for answers that weren't there and he had hours before he could do anything. It was going to be another long night.
Author: jadesfire2808
Rating: Adult (for themes)
Word Count: ~7,300 (this part)
Warnings/Spoilers: Nothing worse than you'd see in an episode of Torchwood.
Betas: crystalshard and miss_zedem
Summary: What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas...and Jack's going to wish that it would.
Las Vegas, 1978
Now
Vanessa's screams echoed in Jack's mind. He put a hand against the wall to steady himself as another agent pushed past him, joining Brian on the floor beside the body. Someone else pulled the girl away, holding her back so that the men could work.
Even as the wailing gave way to sobbing, Jack knew it was hopeless. They'd been too late at every point on this one. Too late to stop alien material falling into the wrong hands, too late to save Vanessa's brother. And now? Too late to save Hywel.
Brian looked up from the CPR, catching Jack's eye and giving the tiniest shake of his head. The world spun as Jack turned away, trying to look anywhere but the lifeless body. Lifeless. Something flared at the back of his mind.
"Get out," he croaked, making everyone jump. His throat was constricted by emotion and he had to clear it before speaking again. "Take the girl and get out."
The other agent, still trying to breathe life into the dead, looked like he was going to carry on regardless, until Brian put a hand on his arm. Vanessa had to be half-carried from the room, sagging against the agents who wouldn't meet Jack's eye. Finally, he was left alone with the body. With Hywel.
The young man's face was utterly still and so pale. But when Jack knelt and touched his cheek, the skin was almost warm, not yet drained of heat by death. Which meant there was still a chance. And if Jack had learnt anything, it was that sometimes, one chance was all you needed.
2am, Saturday 15th April, 1978
"You're sure she's coming?" Hywel asked for the eighteenth time, pacing in the small hotel room.
"She'll be here." Jack was stretched out on the bed, his tie and jacket long since abandoned. "This is Vegas, remember? She'll still be working."
"It's two in the morning!"
"Like I said." Sighing, Jack closed his eyes. "Do you have to do that? You're making me dizzy."
"Sorry." The bed dipped as Hywel perched on the end. "But are you sure about this? I mean, I've never done anything like this before."
"I'm sure." Jack opened his eyes, smiling at the younger man. "You're going to be fine."
"Okay." Hywel looked at his watch again. "You're sure she's coming?"
"I'm sure." Closing his eyes again, Jack let his mind drift. It wasn't sleep, it couldn't be sleep, but it was close enough for now. "Just relax."
"How do you relax when you're about to do something like this?" Hywel asked.
"You're going to be fine," Jack said again. "Trust me."
"But what if-" Hywel's question was cut short by a knock at the door. The bed bounced as he jumped to his feet. "I'll get it."
Smiling to himself tolerantly, Jack rolled off the bed, standing up in time to meet the girl whom Hywel was ushering into the room. She gave him a weak smile. "Hi."
"Hello yourself." He looked her up and down. "You look like hell."
"Thank you." She sank down onto the bed. "I had trouble getting away tonight and it's such hard work keeping this from them. They're always watching." She looked up at him, her face pale in the dim light. "I'm sorry, Jack, I couldn't get it."
"It's okay," he said, sitting down next to her and beckoning for Hywel to pull up a chair. "But we're against the clock here, so I got you some extra help. This is Hywel, the guy I told you about. Hywel, this is Vanessa Dyers."
Hywel held onto the offered hand for a moment, looking into Vanessa's eyes. "I'm sorry for your loss, Miss Dyers."
"Please, call me Vanessa," she said. "And Peter's the reason I'm doing this."
"Your brother would be very proud of you." Hywel finally let go of her hand and Jack grinned.
"I'm glad the two of you get on so well since, with any luck, Hywel's going to be the next recruit to your exclusive club." Seeing Vanessa's puzzled look, he went on, "Tomorrow night, Hywel, or David Prince as his passport says, is going to spectacularly lose most of his inheritance at the roulette tables."
Hywel gave a sheepish smile and Vanessa nodded. "That should do it. But what about-"
"I'll take care of it," Jack said, cutting her short. "Just you be there to encourage him along the way. I want him all spent out by the time morning comes and he's got lots to spend. And I need the package tomorrow. Without fail."
"I'll do my best," she said, giving Hywel a last smile before getting to her feet. "I'd better get back. See you tomorrow night."
When she was gone, Hywel turned to Jack.
"You were a bit hard on her, weren't you? Her brother is dead."
"So are six others. And if she's not going to be the seventh, I need her focussed. She has to understand how important this is." Jack got to his feet and crossed to the small desk in the corner of the room.
"I think she got it," Hywel said, trailing after him. "And what exactly is it that you're going to 'take care of'?"
Instead of answering, Jack opened one of the desk drawers and pulled out a slim black leather case. "There are some things I need to tell you," he said, turning back to Hywel. "Let's sit down."
He laid the case on the bed between them, unzipping it and removing the contents as he talked.
"The package I need from Vanessa is more of this stuff. I've only got enough for a couple of doses and you're going to need them. We need more to send to the lab."
"What the hell is going on? You said you needed me for an undercover mission." Hywel's eyes were wide as Jack placed a syringe and vial on the bed. "You said people were being killed. You never said anything about drugs."
"Not just drugs. Alien drugs." Seeing the other man's worry, Jack became serious. "This is important, Hywel. Vanessa's boss has got his hands on some kind of alien substance that induces telepathy in ordinary human beings. The dead men either worked for him or were business rivals."
"What did they die of?" Hywel was still staring at the accoutrements on the bed, jumping slightly when Jack put a hand on the back of his neck, pulling his attention back.
"Overdoses, for the most part. And two guys who thought they could muscle in were killed by strokes, probably induced. This stuff is seriously dangerous and worth a lot of money in the wrong hands. Think about it. You're sitting across a poker table from someone and you know exactly what cards he's holding. And that's just one scenario. In a town like Vegas, the possibilities are endless."
"Where do I fit in?" Hywel shifted, wariness in his face as he moved away from Jack's hand. Letting go, Jack carried on with his preparations.
"They recruit people who need the money," he said. "People who are willing to take a risk, not scared to gamble and with nothing left to lose. It seems like a good way out."
"So you set me up as their next target."
"Exactly. But in order to do that, we need them not to know that you're with Torchwood. Which is where this stuff comes in." Jack tapped the small bottle. "Vanessa got it last week. I tell you, if the call girl thing falls through, she could have a fine career as a petty thief. It'll give you some practice, let me teach you some things you'll need to know." He picked the bottle up, giving it a slight shake and watching the clear liquid turn cloudy. "The idea is that you get the hang of it enough that you can block your thoughts from them, so they can't scan you. Some people are hard to read anyway and with any luck, they won't be able to get through."
"With any luck?"
Jack shrugged. "It's a risk, I know. But it's better than the alternative."
"What's the alternative?"
"They identify you as an agent, take you out back and shoot you."
There was a long pause.
"That's worse," Hywel said at last.
"Your father would never forgive me." Jack managed to smile despite Hywel's obvious discomfort. "You'll be fine. I can show you what to do." He uncapped the syringe and pushed the needle into the bottle. "Take off your jacket and roll up your sleeve."
Hywel obeyed, watching Jack's movements. "Why aren't you doing this, Jack? Not that it's not good to see you and not that I'm not flattered that you called, but why do you need me?"
"Because I know you. I trust you." Jack finished filling the barrel and lifted the hypodermic to the light. "And because I can't do this myself."
"Why not?" Hywel finished wrestling with his cuff, reaching out to put a hand on Jack's. "Why can't you do this?"
"For one thing, I'm in charge, and you don't keep a dog and bark yourself," Jack smiled, gently freeing his hand and tapping the syringe for air bubbles. "For another, I'm not like you. I don't know what this stuff would do to me and we can't afford to find out."
"Not like me?" Hywel repeated. "What are you talking about?"
"Hywel..." Jack paused, trying to find the words. He'd become so used to Hugh's quiet acceptance and 'don't need to know' approach that he'd got out of the habit of explaining himself, to his friends at least. "It'd take too long," he said, telling himself that it was true. "You just need to trust me on this. Please?" He laid a hand on Hywel's arm. "I know what I'm doing."
Hywel nodded, turning his arm over in Jack's grip, his eyes moving from Jack's eyes to the fingers on his skin and back again. "Will I be able to read your mind?" he asked, a slight smile playing around his lips.
"No," Jack said, releasing his grip and picking up the tourniquet from the bed. "I've got what you might call a natural immunity. Make a fist for me."
Hywel obeyed, still looking more than a little unsure of himself. "How-"
"You'll understand in a minute." Running his thumb over the inside of Hywel's elbow, Jack found what he was looking for. He carefully wiped the skin with an antiseptic pad before pressing the needle in. Hywel hissed, but didn't flinch. "It's going to be fine," Jack said, carefully depressing the plunger. He found a ball of cotton wool, holding it to the injection site as he pulled the needle out and released the tourniquet. "Just relax."
"What's supposed to happen?" Hywel asked, keeping the cotton wool in place as Jack put everything away again.
"It takes a minute," Jack told him. "Just lie back and relax. Vanessa said the first time was a bit overwhelming."
"You tell me this now?" Grumbling a little, Hywel shifted up the bed, leaning against the headboard. Once the black pouch was safely back in the drawer, Jack went over to join him, perching on the edge of the bed and gently holding his wrist.
"How do you feel?"
"Fine." Hywel peered down at his arm, taking the cotton ball away. "I don't seem to be bleeding out of any orifices yet."
"That's a good start." Under Jack's fingers, Hywel's pulse was strong and steady and his face was only slightly flushed. "Close your eyes for me."
Hywel gave him a suspicious look. "What are you going to do?"
"Well, once I find my camera…" Jack began, breaking off to laugh when he saw the look on Hywel's face. "Oh relax. You'll be able to concentrate better, that's all."
They sat like that for a while, Jack's fingers pressed to Hywel's wrist, with only the sounds of traffic on the Strip and Hywel's steady breathing breaking the silence. If he hadn't been listening for it, Jack probably would have missed the tiny gasp, so sudden and swift that even Hywel didn't seem to have noticed. The steady heartbeat jumped for a moment, beginning to speed up just a fraction. Closing his eyes, Jack focussed in on the sensation, letting his own heart beat in time with Hywel's.
The moment of connection was always a shock and Jack's fingers clenched reflexively. Hywel's mind was full of colour and light and Jack was temporarily overwhelmed. Carefully, he used the connection to reach back, touch the flailing senses and bring them into order. After a moment's contact, the muscles under his hand relaxed and the other man began to breathe normally again although his pulse was still a little too fast.
Slowly, Jack opened his eyes, smiling as Hywel blinked, staring around the room as though seeing it for the first time.
"How do you feel?" he asked.
"Fine. Great." Hywel's eyes were still slightly unfocussed. "I mean, I don't feel that different."
"It's like you can hear properly for the first time, but you don't know what the sounds mean," Jack said and Hywel nodded.
"Yeah. I mean. Wow."
"Enjoy." Jack glanced at his watch. "The effects last about six hours and we've got a lot of work to do."
"Work?" Hywel turned his head, finally managing to look at Jack properly.
Grinning, Jack reached out and ruffled his hair. "You need to learn how to protect yourself, remember?"
"Oh. Okay." Turning away again, Hywel laid back and stared at the ceiling. "Can you just give me a minute?"
"Of course."
Jack picked up Hywel's jacket from the bed, hanging it across the back of a chair along with his own. As he did so, he felt something brush against his mind, gently at first then more persistently. Smiling, he let it continue for a moment, occupying himself with rearranging the hotel stationery. If Hywel was going to learn how to build a wall round his mind, he might as well see one from the outside first. Only when the touches moved from tentative presses to near-shoves did Jack turn around.
"That's enough," he said firmly. "Playtime's over."
"Time to work?" Hywel asked, sounding disappointed.
"We've got a lot to do," Jack confirmed, coming over to sit on the bed again. "Let's start at the beginning."
Now
Jack slipped his hand across Hywel's cheek, reaching down to support the back of his neck. He put the other hand on the side of the pale face, steadying it as he bent over. It took an effort of will not to hold his breath as he leaned closer, trying not to overbalance. He needed his breath right now. Hywel needed it.
Gently, he pressed his lips down on Hywel's cold mouth, closing his eyes and reaching out. This wasn't a process he could control or even understand, not really. But if there was enough of a spark, enough inside the other man to reach out and find him, then it could work. It had to work.
After a moment, he drew back, looking down at his friend. Hywel's eyes were still closed and there was no sign that there was anything for Jack to reach for. Refusing to give in, Jack tried again, fighting down the rising panic and willing Hywel to find him, to still be in there and respond. He tried to ride the adrenaline, use it to break down the wall between them, to feel the other man's mind in his.
There was nothing.
11pm, Saturday 15th April
Jack could hear Hugh's laughter still, even over the noise of the Riviera Casino at eleven o'clock on a Saturday night. His friend had kept it up for at least five minutes after Jack had said that he didn't really like Las Vegas that much. Even down the phone, it had been a good sound.
The noise here was too much, the obviousness of it offended Jack's sense of style and the people got on his nerves. He had no objections on the grounds of morality, only good taste. They wouldn't be able to do opulence right for at least another fifty years, and it'd take another three hundred before Vegas really hit its galactic stride.
For now though, he was stuck in this crass place and time, listening to Hugh in his head while the slot machines beeped raucously and the people cheered at the craps tables behind him. He'd been nursing his second scotch for nearly half an hour and while his generous tipping was keeping the barman off his back, he knew he'd start to attract attention if he didn't move on soon.
Right on cue, he felt the mental equivalent of a tap on his shoulder. Hard enough that he noticed, but nowhere near hard enough to be a serious assault on his shields. She was getting good at this.
"Two Martinis, please." Having ordered, Vanessa leaned on the bar, returning Jack's smile with a knowing smirk.
"Hi there," he said, keeping his voice light, flirtatious.
"Hello." She matched his tone, her fingers playing with the dollar bills in her hands. "Drinking alone?"
"Not any more." Okay, so it was cheesy as hell, but it was all in the delivery. He felt her mind brush against his again, a mixture of genuine amusement and concern. This was how she did it, he realised, feeding back to the men what they wanted to hear. The perfect companion, if that was what you wanted, able to anticipate your every wish. Which, to his mind, took all the fun out of the game.
"Sorry," she said, managing to get real regret into her voice, "but I already have someone to drink with."
"Pity." As the glasses were placed in front of them, Jack fished in a pocket and pulled out a bill. Resting his elbow on the bar, he held it out towards the barman. "Let me."
"No, really." She put her hand on his, wrapping her fingers round and pushing down while she held out her own money in her other hand. "I can't."
"Well, if the situation changes, let me know." Jack let his hand fall back to his pocket, tucking the note away again. "I'm here all week."
"I'll remember." Giving him a last, knowing look, she picked up the glasses and headed away. Jack very carefully didn't turn to watch her, already having seen Hywel at the roulette table earlier in the evening. He didn't need Jack checking up on him. Hopefully. Draining his drink, Jack put the glass back down on the bar and headed for the elevators.
Back in his room, he sat at the desk and took an envelope out of a drawer. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out the small white packet, about half the size of a playing card, that Vanessa had slipped him. It had been an excellent pass, from the careful misdirection to the expert palming, every move planned and carried out to perfection.
These tricks had been the tool of his trade at one time and he spent a few minutes playing, hiding the packet, palming it and moving it from one hand to the other, making it disappear and reappear, just to prove that he hadn't forgotten how. With a small sigh, he dropped it into the envelope and sealed it. Then he slipped off his shoes and jacket and moved over to the bed, settling himself down to wait.
He was in the half-doze that was the closest he got to sleep when the phone rang, just once, then stopped. Blinking, he peered at the clock. Two-forty five.
Hywel's room was two floors up and in the opposite wing of the hotel from Jack's, but he took the stairs, just in case. There was no point risking being seen at this point. Hywel must have been waiting behind the door, because it opened after Jack's first, gentle knock.
"Come in." Hywel was still wearing his dress shirt and trousers, but the bowtie and jacket seemed to have been abandoned some time ago. He looked tired.
"Did you lose?" Jack asked, taking a seat.
Hywel nodded. "Twenty-four thousand dollars, just about. That's ten thousand pounds." He sighed. "It's a lot of money, Jack."
"That was the idea. You should have attracted someone's attention." Seeing the colour rise up Hywel's face, Jack grinned. "Yes, I think you already have Vanessa's."
"She's nice," Hywel said weakly. "I mean, well, she's a lovely girl."
"Despite the job." Feeling cruel but pressing on none the less, Jack said, "Don't forget that, Hywel. Don't let her fool you."
"Fool me?" Hywel looked genuinely outraged. "What do you mean?"
"I mean she's a beautiful woman in an expensive dress who can look into your mind and see what you want. You're both supposed to be working. Remember that."
"I get it." Grumbling a little to himself, Hywel fell onto the bed, making the springs squeak.
"Tired?" Jack asked.
"Knackered." Propping himself up on an elbow, Hywel looked across the room. "How do you keep it up all the time?"
"Practice," Jack told him, remembering who he was talking to and resisting the obvious come backs. "Also habit and, like I said, natural immunity. But you're holding out okay?"
"Fine." Hywel frowned. "Someone tried to get in at one point, but I don't think they found anything. Vanessa helped me."
"Good. She's had more experience than you."
"Did you get the packet?"
"It's in an envelope ready for the FBI. They're on stand-by, just waiting for a location." Jack rubbed his eyes. "The main supply won't be on the premises and we need to know where it is before we can make a move."
"Right." Hywel slumped down again and Jack smiled.
"I'll let you get some sleep. You're going to need it."
"Thanks. Hang on, Jack. Wait a second."
One hand on the doorknob, Jack turned back to the bed. "What is it?"
"Why me?"
"What?"
"If the FBI are on stand-by, they must be in on it. And I know there are Torchwood operatives in America. You recruited most of them. So why fly me all the way out here from Cardiff?" Hywel was still lying flat on the bed, his head turned towards Jack, who took a deep breath.
"Maybe I just wanted to see you," he said. Seeing Hywel's surprise, he went on quickly, "Maybe I wanted to work with someone I could trust; who I knew was up to the job."
"How did you know I would be?" Hywel asked, sitting up a little. "We've never worked together before. Not really."
"Your father said you were," Jack said simply. "And I trust him."
Considering this for a moment, Hywel's expression relaxed although his eyes were still clouded. Jack kicked himself for not realising how tired he'd be. Finally, Hywel gave him a crooked smile. "Thanks."
"You're welcome. Get some sleep."
"You don't have to go," Hywel said quickly, struggling to sit up properly. "I mean, I'm not that tired yet."
"Yes, you are and so am I," Jack lied, turning back to the door. "You're going to need all your energy tomorrow."
"I suppose." Stifling a yawn, Hywel gave a sheepish smile. "I just meant, well, it's good to see you."
"And you. Look after yourself."
"Goodnight, Jack."
Slipping out of the door, Jack paused in the hallway for a moment, leaning against the door and taking a deep breath. Then he walked silently to the nearest junction which gave him a view down to the elevators. Peering round the corner, he saw a large man in a badly-fitting suit sitting on what looked like a very uncomfortable chair right next to the elevator doors. Smiling to himself, Jack turned and went back to the door for the stairs. It was a nice feeling, being right. It also gave him something to think about besides the look on Hywel's face when he'd asked him not to leave. As if Jack didn't have enough on his mind already.
Shaking his head to try and banish the thought, Jack headed down the stairs and back to his own room to wait out another long night.
Now
Getting slowly to his feet, Jack crossed the room towards the table, pulling his jacket off as he went. He concentrated on the movement - five steps, count them, focus on this not the madness at the edge of your mind - stepping carefully over Hywel's body and hearing his footsteps echo in the quiet.
Five vials sat on the table, seeming to glow under the harsh fluorescent lights. Next to them was a box of syringes. Jack hesitated for a moment as he rolled up his sleeve, glancing back over his shoulder. If he left it much longer, even this might not work. Of course, this might not work either, but he couldn't look Hugh in the face and say he hadn't tried.
In the long litany of crazy things that he'd done, Jack decided that this was possibly the craziest. But his hand barely shook as he reached out and picked up a needle.
3.15 pm, Sunday 16th April
The café downtown was the last place that a successful businessman staying at the Riviera Hotel and Casino would be found, which was why Jack was sitting at a booth in the corner, ignoring a cold coffee and watching the passers-by.
He didn't turn when someone slipped onto the bench opposite him.
"It's under the table," he said, eyes still on the street. "It should be enough for the lab to analyse."
"Do we have an address yet?"
Jack shook his head. "I should have it for you tonight or tomorrow. Be ready."
"We are. How's your man holding up?"
Turning at last, Jack met Brian Smith's curious look. "He's fine."
"Really?"
"Really." For all that he liked and almost trusted the FBI agent, this wasn't the time or place for doubts. They were too far along for that. "He's tougher than he looks."
"It's your call." Brian ordered two more coffees from the waitress when she came, then looked back at Jack. "I was told not to tell you this but you've got to know. We found another body this morning."
Jack's stomach lurched. "Where?"
"City limits. Exactly like the others. Not a mark on him, just blood in his eyes, ears and nose. The post mortem showed that half the blood vessels in his brain burst."
"Was a he a user or a victim?" Jack asked and Brian snorted.
"You're telling me there's a difference at this point?" Seeing Jack's frown, he said, "A user. He worked security at the Riviera."
Jack swore under his breath, turning back to the window as the waitress brought their drinks.
"You'd better take care of your boy," Brian said evenly, adding sugar to his coffee. "Sounds like the stakes are going up."
"Yeah." Forcing his mind away from all the unpleasant scenarios that presented themselves, Jack said, "Any sign that he's been made?"
"No. Things are pretty quiet."
"Apart from the dead bodies."
"Well, yes. Apart from that."
Jack sighed. "I'll tell him to be careful. They rang him this morning, told him to be in the lobby at two. I don't think they took him to the source, but we might just get that little bit closer."
Brian glanced at his watch. "It's gone three. When will you know?"
"Later tonight, if it went according to plan."
"Good." Jack heard the rustle of paper and, out of the corner of his eye, saw Brian tuck something into his jacket pocket. "Look after yourself."
"Always. You'll hear from me."
Jack let his second coffee go cold as well, watching Vegas pass by his window. At last, he tipped the waitress, pulled up the collar on his beaten leather jacket and headed back to the hotel.
11pm, Sunday 16th April
That night, he watched a rather more subdued Hywel playing the Blackjack tables. Given the nature of the game, it was probably meant to be a test rather than a serious exercise. Let them see if the new boy was up to the job.
Vanessa had moved on, hovering behind the shoulder of a sweating craps player, feeding him scotch and encouraging noises as he laid down enough money to buy her company every night for a week. Even Jack had to admit a grudging admiration for the easy way she led the man on, using every trick Jack knew and a few that were only available to her. It was probably a very expensive dress and would have to be worn over very expensive lingerie. And what was the point of spending all that money if no-one got to see it?
Smiling to himself, Jack headed towards one of the poker rooms that he'd been drifting around for the past few nights. It was seriously suspicious to come to Vegas and never take a seat at a table, even if your cover story said you were a successful, cautious businessman just here for a bit of R&R. Nobody that cautious came to Vegas to relax.
He played with little interest for half an hour or so, not losing or winning too much and so attract attention to himself. Two of his fellow players changed, the new men bringing new money and a breath of fresh air to the table, despite the enormous cigars that seemed to be the accessory du jour. Jack won a hand, lost a hand and let his eyes wander round the room between deals. Someone in this room knew exactly what everyone round this table was holding, how high they were willing to bet, how far they'd go to win and what that winning meant to them. Jack held back his smile, reaching for his drink instead. If you were good enough, you didn't need to read minds to know all that.
The bland, faintly amused expression that he'd worn for the whole game stayed in place, even as someone touched the edge of his mind. It was distracting, a feather-light brush rather than a serious probe, but if they found nothing, Jack knew they'd try again. Nodding for two new cards from the dealer, he forced himself to concentrate on the game, letting the thoughts bob to the surface of his mind.
Two queens. Could be enough. Opposite hasn't got them, the cards or the guts, I'll bet. Next guy might. Bluff him out. No reading third guy, can't tell 'til he bets.
It took more effort to broadcast the thoughts than it had done to protect them and Jack had to be careful. Any outward or inner slip and he and Hywel were in deep water.
Tossing his chips into the centre, he kept up the running commentary that all players had in their heads, while his eyes did another circuit of the room. His basic, responsive ability didn't give him any kind of directional indication, so it might be anyone from the dealer to the guy in the Hawaiian shirt lounging in the corner to the woman in the paste diamonds to the-
Gotcha.
He called, laying his hand down and letting his smile creep from half to full as he raked in the chips. The man he'd spotted, in a dark suit and tie, was watching the game with an intensity that it really didn't deserve. He carried on watching, and frowning, as the following hand played out. Jack folded early on, taking the chance to observe his fellow players and concentrate on the growing battle in his mind. Blocking a probe was easy. Blocking a probe without the prober knowing he was being blocked was damn difficult, especially if you were trying to play poker at the same time.
It was even harder to concentrate through the next hand, although he kept his half-smirk in place and ordered another drink from a passing waiter. Nothing outward was the key.
Oh yes. Three threes. Please, baby, please. Just this once.
He could feel the intruder pounding at his shields, all attempt at subtlety gone. Every blow hurt. Jack kept his mind and face as blank as possible, maintaining the gambler's liturgy as he discarded and accepted, all too aware that the running commentary was dangerously draining on his resources.
Damnit. Still just threes. Not enough. Or is it. Let it be. Let it be enough.
Let this be enough, Jack hoped, swallowing hard as his mind was suddenly enveloped by the other. It was a trick he hadn't expected and it took all his concentration not to let his surprise show on his face. Carelessly throwing a chip into the centre, he stacked his cards together as he always did, watching the other men.
If you can't remember what you've got, you shouldn't be in the game. Just place the bet already.
He was drowning in fog now, hot, red darkness at the edge of his vision as the other mind swamped his, trying to find a way in. There were ways to fight off that kind of attack, but not without your opponent knowing what had happened. Jack called and raised as his turn came round, making his decision as the chips hit the baize.
Without warning, he slammed his mental shields back into place, fighting to control his breathing as relief washed through him. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the other man sag a little, half-raising a hand towards his head before he could stop himself. Jack flicked his eyes round his fellow players again, watching for the tells and tricks, knowing that, despite the lousy number of spots on his cards, this hand was his.
The others must have sensed it as well and finally the last of them folded without a fight. Nodding all round, Jack pushed a few chips towards the dealer and got to his feet.
"Thank you, gentlemen. And good night."
Jack left without looking back, only glancing to one side to check that Hywel was still in place before heading for the elevators and the sanctuary of his room. The excitement and danger over, he could feel his defences starting to crumble and could only hope that his disorientation was misinterpreted. The four brandies he'd had during the game should help with that, although he was seriously regretting them now.
Getting to safety was harder than he'd thought. He fought the urge to put out a hand to support himself as he made his way down the corridor. Finally inside, he leaned his head against the wall, savouring the coolness and fighting down the surging emotions. You couldn't suppress that hard for that long without there being consequences. He closed his eyes briefly, then snapped them open again, scrambling for the bathroom door. He just about made it inside before he threw up.
2.45am, Monday 17th April
Hywel's eyes widened as Jack opened the door to let him in. "God, Jack, what happened?"
"I'm fine. Or I'll be fine. Or something like it." Tightening the belt of his bathrobe, Jack waved Hywel into the chair as he sank back onto the bed. "How'd you get on?"
"Great! It went like a dream." Hywel tipped his head back, a broad grin spreading across his face. "Offered me a chance to get my money back, laid it all out nice and clearly."
"They gave you the drug?"
"Yup." Hywel sat up, turning his bright smile towards Jack. "The stuff they gave me? I think it was stronger than what Vanessa gave you. I feel great. Amazing."
"Really?" The enthusiasm was catching and, despite his weariness, Jack found himself smiling back.
"There's so much to it," Hywel said, sitting forwards and leaning his elbows on his knees. "Starting with what you showed me but going further, reaching out."
"How far?"
"I don't know," Hywel admitted. "But it was like I was suddenly aware of everything around me, like it was all in my head somehow. I could feel everything, sense everything."
Jack leaned against the pillows, letting Hywel talk and watching the young man's hands dance in the air. That was the problem with telepathy, he reflected. Speech hadn't quite found a way to describe it yet. Abruptly, Hywel stopped talking and Jack dragged his full attention back to the conversation.
"Sorry," he apologised. "It just took a bit out me, that's all."
"What happened?" Hywel asked, moving to sit at the end of the bed by Jack's feet.
"One of your drugged-up friends took a swipe at my mind. I couldn't keep him out indefinitely, so I had to blow my cover, just a little." He waved a hand, trying to dismiss Hywel's worry. "We'll be long gone before it becomes a problem. At the moment, he's just suspicious."
"Right." Hywel caught the waving hand, giving it a small squeeze. "As long as you're okay."
"I'm fine." Gently, Jack pulled his hand away. "But please tell me you have something for me."
"Of course." The sly smile that spread across Hywel's face did little to allay Jack's fears. "It was easy."
"Easy?" Jack repeated, then realisation came. "You took it from one of them, didn't you?"
"Like I said, easy. And I am getting the hang of this." Hywel shifted closer, brushing a hand against Jack's leg and reaching out with his mind. "Let me show you."
"Not right at this moment." Feeling the situation spiralling away from him, Jack shifted his feet and nodded towards the desk. "I know it's boring and traditional, but could you write it down for me?"
"Sure." Not in the least put out, Hywel crossed the room to sit at the desk, pulling a pen and piece of paper towards him. Jack took the chance to swing his legs off the bed, cursing silently. He needed to get back in control now, while he still could, although it was probably too late to do anything about the bathrobe.
When he was done, Hywel turned in the chair, his mind touching Jack's again as he looked him up and down.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "you really do look like someone worked you over."
"Thanks. Looks aren't always deceiving." Still sitting on the edge of the bed, Jack turned towards the door, stretching his back a little. "You're right about the potency of that stuff. The guy nearly took my head off."
Without warning, Jack felt the bed dip and hands rest lightly on his shoulders.
"Let me," Hywel said, half-whispering. "Mam always says I give the best shoulder massages."
"Hywel…" Jack trailed off as strong fingers pressed into his tense muscles, kneading and easing them. It did feel good and, just for a moment, he let himself go, dropping his head to his chest and breathing deeply. He felt Hywel move closer, spreading warmth across his back even as his muscles began to relax for the first time in a week.
Above and behind him, he could hear Hywel's steady breathing and a humming in his mind told him that Hywel was pressing closer there too, strengthening the connection. Before he could object, hands pushed the bathrobe down, fingers digging deep into his skin. In the same moment, the pressure on his mind became more urgent, trying to break through his weak defences.
Jack teetered on the edge, lost in the sensations that were coming from the hands on his shoulders, the feel of Hywel's breath against his scalp and the headiness of their linked minds. Then he steadied himself, fighting the influence of Hywel's emotions which were driving him, reaching into his mind and forcing him onwards. The combination of pleasure, admiration and delight was intoxicating, playing with his senses so that he couldn't seem to focus properly.
Struggling, he began to free himself, untangling his own feelings from Hywel's. The hands on his shoulders tensed, slipping down to his chest and pulling him backwards against the warm body behind him. Jack wanted this so badly; to lose himself in that maelstrom of emotion, just for a moment. But it was too much for his fragile senses and a surge of panic washed through him as Hywel's mind forced itself into his again, overpowering his thoughts and feelings. Pushing forwards, Jack tried to release himself physically and mentally.
As his shields wrapped around his mind, Jack felt a stab of frustration and anger which slammed into the mental walls. He gasped in pain as Hywel tried to force his way in and nails dug into his skin. With a final effort, Jack broke free, tumbling off the bed and landing hard on the floor.
Breathing fast, Jack lay still, trying to work out what the hell had just happened. He looked up, not sure what he expected to see. Hywel was half-sitting, half-lying on the bed, his eyes closed and face flushed.
"Hywel?" When there was no answer, Jack got shakily to his feet and crossed the short distance to the bed. "Hywel, are you alright? I didn't mean-"
"Don't." The word wasn't much more than a whisper. "Jack, I..." Hywel trailed off, finally opening his eyes and looking up into Jack's worried face. "I thought I felt..."
"You felt it. But there's a time and a place. What you just did-" He broke off, torn by the hurt and guilt he could see in the young man's face. He sighed. "You need to be more careful. Despite what you may have heard, there are some things that I even I don't do. One of them is that I don't ever force it." Tentatively, Jack reached out and brushed a hand against Hywel's cheek. "Another is that I don't take advantage of friends when they're drunk or high."
"Just your friends?" There was a glimmer of amusement in Hywel's voice.
"If they're enemies, I probably got them drunk in the first place." Jack managed to smile, sitting gingerly on the bed. His head still ached from the double battering he'd taken and he winced "You're stronger than you look, you know."
Hywel flushed deeper red, dropping his eyes to the coverlet. "I'm so sorry."
"It's alright."
"Thanks." Turning his head, Hywel looked up at him. "So does that mean when I'm not high…"
As he smiled weakly, Jack's mind ran through all the possible answers. It didn't take very long and none of them were good. Apparently Hywel must have sensed this too, because he uncurled his legs and stood up.
"I should go."
"You need to get some sleep." A glance at the clock told Jack it was nearly three in the morning. "We both need some rest."
"Yeah." Hywel stared at his feet for a moment, then turned to face Jack again. "I'll see you tomorrow?"
"Hopefully we'll be out of here tomorrow." Jack smiled. "You did well tonight."
"Yeah," Hywel said again, turning back and heading for the door. "Good night, Jack."
Jack sat motionless for a long time after Hywel was gone, staring at nothing. Once, his eyes flicked towards the phone, trying to calculate the time-difference to Cardiff, but he dismissed the thought as soon as it came. What would he say to Hugh now? What was Hywel going to say to Hugh? Right at this moment, he couldn't see any way out of this one.
And so he lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling and letting his mind drift again. There was no point searching for answers that weren't there and he had hours before he could do anything. It was going to be another long night.