The Way of Things, Chapter 42
The paperwork monster had been relatively slayed by mid-afternoon-helped largely by the fact that they ordered in lunch--and Rose decided it was finally time to make good on her promise of a ‘field trip’ for her team. Peter and Penington had gone missing--she vaguely recalled Peter saying they were going to do something related to the warrant-and so, after leaving a note, she and her team piled into the van to head up to the lab. She didn’t expect they’d be able to do anything-the place had been gone over, again, with a fine-tooth comb by the specialty team sent north by Jacques-but a change of scenery never hurt.
They had just walked to the entrance when Rose’s phone rang. She jumped, surprised, before fumbling in her pocket for the device; three pairs of eyes watched her expectantly as she looked at the caller ID.
“Jacques,” she told them, before answering her mobile and moving off to the side of the entrance.
“Hello, Rose! Glad I caught you. We’ve got two folks heading up your way-Doctor Smith and his crack team got a working prototype to track what we lost. Assuming, of course, it bears any resemblance to what we found.”
“Er...are you sure we can trust them?”
“Oh, most definitely. They’d not have gone otherwise. They’re taking the zeppelin up, should be in your part of the country in no time at all.”
“Who’s meeting them?”
“You are, I should think. They’ll be arriving Kendal in...” Jacques paused, moving some papers around. “Around five, depending on the wind off the Airlann Sea. They know to look for you.”
“Commercial, or private?”
“Private, of course. I’m not having them carry their toys anywhere near the general public, if it can be helped.”
“The code word?”
“Your dear DI has it.”
Rose felt her cheeks flush, even as she felt a wave of surprise. “You rang...the DI?” She only just caught herself from saying his Christian name. She had a feeling Jacques caught her hiccup, but hoped he’d not try to discuss it with her over the phone.
“We did have business to discuss, you know. Still do, but hopefully not for much longer-nothing against the man. I’m heartily sick of McGreevy and the mess he left us.”
“You and me both,” she muttered under her breath. “Who am I looking for?”
“Oh, I think you’ll know when you see them. I’m going to sign off-have other phone calls to make, other cages to rattle. Remember-five o’clock, at the landing field.”
“Right, got it. Thanks, Jacques.”
The line clicked as Jacques rang off. Jake, James, and Mickey were standing next to her, eager to hear the news.
“We have a way to track the thing. We’ll be picking it-and its handlers-up at the landing field.” Rose sighed, looking at the nondescript lab building. “S’pose we may as well head back; the Inspector has some of the information we need, apparently.”
She didn’t miss the looks of surprise from her team-they were a mirror of what she was feeling. Jacques rarely worked directly through the locals, if it could be helped. She wondered what-or who-had encouraged him to change that particular trait.
The ride back to the station was quiet, each of them lost in their thoughts. She was grateful that it was Jake who was driving; she didn’t think she’d be able to concentrate on driving, with the thoughts of Peter, and the case, rattling around in her mind. Something had happened at dinner last night, something indefinable yet big; she had felt it, the shift in the air, in how they spoke to each other. And then, outside of the inn, in the cosy confines of his car...
“Rose?”
Rose blinked, brought back to the present. They were outside the station, the van parked; her team were staring at her in concern.
“Sorry, just thinking.” She smiled apologetically.
“That must have been some kind of date last night,” Jake said slyly.
Rose blushed, hastily opening the van door. “I’m still not going to talk about it, Jake.”
“You don’t need to,” Mickey offered sagely.
Rose was kicking herself as she walked towards the station. This thing with Peter...She’d not been so happy in years. But they were clearly doing a terrible job of keeping it under wraps, and she was badly distracted whenever she thought about it, let alone when she was near the man himself. The suspect they were chasing was dangerous in and of himself, and the technology he had made him even more so-what were they doing, she and Peter, dallying whilst such life-threatening things were going on?
Was she failing in her duty, allowing herself to become so wrapped up in the man she felt so strongly for, was so dangerously attracted to? At the same time, wasn’t it unfair to say she and Peter were ‘dallying?’ What they were doing certainly felt nothing like dallying.
“Don’t overthink it. One date at a time, no more, no less.” Peter’s advice of the day before came back to her as she walked through the station room, down the hallway towards the interrogation room. She needed to stay grounded in the present, to focus on the here and the now, not the wonder of the night before or the thoughts of what it might be like when the case was over.
They needed to make it that far, first. And the only way to do that was to lock her thoughts and feelings about Peter away during the work day, to concentrate on doing what she could to solve the case.
She opened the door to the room, her breath hitching as she saw Peter sitting at the table with Penington, laughing about something. He looked like a completely different man from the one she’d first met all those weeks ago-more like the man she’d come to know after hours, in the privacy of his own home.
He looked at her, still grinning, and she felt her resolve to lock her feelings away waver. She gave him a shaky smile in return, feeling a right cow when she saw his grin falter, the muscles around his eyes tensing just a bit. They’d have to make time to talk, soon, to avoid any misunderstanding; to make sure he at least knew what it was she was trying to do, and why.
“Jacques called,” she blurted out, unsure of what to say, or how.
Penington made to stand, and was waved back into his chair by Peter. “Ah. So he told you to come find me, then?”
“Sir...I really need to go...do....something...”Penington stood, began to sidle towards the door; he clearly had picked up on the shift in mood, and wanted out before things got uncomfortable. “I’ll just be...at my desk.” The PC hurried through the door. Rose briefly wondered where her team had gone to, then decided it didn’t matter as she closed the door-best to talk to Peter while she could.
“What’s wrong?” Peter’s gaze was concentrated on her, his voice low and drenched in concern. Rose walked over to the table, sat heavily in the chair Penington had vacated scant seconds before. Peter leaned over, his hand resting on hers.
“I just...I feel like I’m not pulling my weight on this case.” Rose turned her hand over, wrapping her fingers around Peter’s. She stared at their clasped hands as she continued. “I just...I can’t focus on work. I’ll start thinking about it, about the fact that there’s a murderous man running around with something that makes him very dangerous...and then I suddenly realize I’m thinking about you, or about us.” She sighed, keeping her eyes averted. “I’m not very good at this work-life balance thing they’re always talking about.”
Peter squeezed her hand, leaning in to her as he spoke. “Rose...” His voice was soft. She looked up at him, saw him staring warmly at her. He smiled gently as she looked at him. “You’re the most distracting woman I’ve ever met. I’d love nothing more than to tell work to sod off, to go back to where we were early this morning, and just enjoy being with you. Even if it meant just sleeping.”
He was trying to get her to smile, and it worked. “So you say.”
“I meant it last night.”
“Shame on me for making you break your word.” Her voice was rich with humour, and she saw Peter’s eyes twinkle.
“You naughty minx.”
“You seductive sod.”
He gave her a lazy grin in response, and she felt her heart flutter.
“Peter...I am serious. I...we need to split up, I think.” Peter froze, and Rose hastened to explain. “For work. I think it’s Penny I should work with-I don’t think about taking his clothes off, for starters. And you...Well, fair warning that whoever you work with from my side is going to try to get all sorts of delicious details out of you.”
“I think Jake’s out-might be too distracting for him, you know,” Peter replied wryly. Rose laughed, and he continued, “And I’m still not entirely convinced that Mickey might not like to have a discussion with me in a dark alley.”
“He doesn’t, you know. Well, not anymore.” She paused. “Which means it’s James.”
“So long as I don’t get pulled into staring at a computer all day.” Peter gave an exaggerated shudder.
“Oh, I don’t think there’s any danger of that. Should be straight-up, old-fashioned detecting from here on out. Just your cuppa tea. Or coffee, as you prefer.” She winked at him, and was only slightly surprised when he leaned forward for a quick kiss.
“You know me too well.” He grinned, and released her hand. “I suppose we should probably let the team know we’ve just discussed their fates; and then I believe we have some legitimate work to deal with.” He looked at her, the corners of his eyes still crinkled in good humour, and she nodded.
“Right.” She stood, walked over to the door; turning back, she saw Peter still gazing warmly at her. “Thank you, Peter,” she said, softly, before walking out.
She poked her head back into the room. “Oh, I met your coffee lady.”
“Louise?” he asked.
“She recognized your car.”
Peter blinked, evidently not following her. “What do you mean?”
“She recognized that I was driving your car. And then, Inspector, she did a bit of deductive reasoning.”
”Oh.”
She smiled at his eloquence--he looked genuinely gobsmacked. Apparently, he’d not properly thought through the loan of his car. “Just thought you should know,” she grinned, and then headed to retrieve everyone else.”
The rest of the team were in the break room; as she walked in a sudden silence descended. “If you’re done talking about us, we think there might be a few things you want to know about,” she offered drily.
“We just thought...you all might have had some, er, senior level things to discuss,” James offered innocently.
“We did-but as they impact you we thought you should probably be involved.” She grinned, and was met with a smile from James.
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted smartly, and walked out the door. Jake, Mickey, and Penington followed suit, and as she walked behind them she felt a bit like a mother duck herding her ducklings along. She grinned at the image, and followed the men into the briefing room.
There were several knowing looks exchanged as Peter briefed out the change in pairings. Rose met the gazes of James and Penington as they looked at her, fighting down a blush as she did so. This was deadly serious stuff, and needed to be treated as such.
There was a brief silence as Peter finished, no one having any questions for him, and Rose spoke. “Right. We have a means to trace the teleport. At least, the Science Directorate think they have, and are sending it north.” She looked at her watch. “I’ve no doubt we’ll get a thorough lecture and briefing when the team gets on the ground, but the main point is this: it’s keyed to the tech we gave them. If what Swinson has is anything like it, we should be in luck. If not...well, that doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“How many folks are we expecting?” Penington asked.
“Two, I think. They were able to create two devices, at least, so I’d expect we get a body with each.”
“Split into two teams, then?” Mickey asked.
“I had thought so. Unless anyone has another idea?”
“Ah, actually...” Peter spoke up. “I’d say three teams. Two for the field, one to stay back at the station, or in town, just in case.” Rose didn’t want to ask in case of what.
She watched the men in the room nod in agreement. “Right, three groups,” she said.
“You and Penny out with one tracer, James and I with the other. Which leaves Jake and Mickey to hold down the fort.” Peter paused, looking around the room. “I’m not wed to the idea, of course; just seemed it might make things go faster if something comes up, having a representative from each of our organizations present.”
“No, it’s a good plan. I think we’re all in agreement?” Rose looked to James.
“Oh, most assuredly. What of Jacques’ people?”
“I think we ought to leave them to what they’re doing-they’re paired up, and covering key places might help to corral him, should he try to hop about.” Peter’s voice was precise. Rose watched, fascinated, as he shifted into Inspector-mode. “We’ll have to let our beat officers know what’s on, to some degree-if he does try to jump, if our teams find him and he runs, we’ll need everyone to be quite aware of what the possibilities are. They know he has a warrant out for his arrest, but they need to know he has certain capabilities that would render him extraordinarily dangerous.”
“Shall we craft up a memo, then, for shift change?” Rose offered, imbuing her voice with as much innocent helpfulness as she could manage. She fought down a grin as Peter’s eyes flew to hers.
“That would be useful, yes-but in the interest of expedience I’d suggest Penny or I out-and-out brief them. Shift change is right about the time you’re meant to be at the field.”
“Sounds suspiciously like a plan,” Jake said, as the room fell into silence.
“We’ll hope it doesn’t jinx us,” Rose said, lightly. “Now, Inspector-you’ve the magic words we’ll need at the field.”
“Well, Miss Tyler, I suppose I do.” Rose felt her cheeks turn pink, the playfulness in Peter’s tone doing nothing for her desire to focus on work. He reached for a scrap of paper, dug a pen out from under one of the piles of notes on the table, scrawled something in his angular script before sliding the paper over to Rose.
She read it, and laughed. “Are you serious?”
“Quite. I asked him to repeat it several times, thinking he was having me on.”
Rose stared down at what Peter had written. Who’s afraid of the big, bad wolf, indeed. She wondered what it meant, if anything-was it a sign, somehow sent many years ago? If so, a sign of what? Or was it just Jacques’ silly sense of humour? He did have a habit of using nursery rhymes and fairy tales in his codes-something which had surprised her, at first. She’d not realized until she started working with Jacques that the fairy tales in this universe were far darker than the ones she had grown up with. Her mum had been horrified when she’d been given a book of them upon having John, asking “Why would I want to read him such horrid tales?” Pete had been taken aback, never knowing there were other versions, and had been absolutely fascinated when Jackie had explained to him that fairy tales had happy endings where she came from. The four of them-Pete, Rose, and Jackie cradling John-had spent many a cosy evening around the fire, trading fairy tales and folk stories until the wee hours.
She passed the note to Mickey, who boggled before handing it over to Jake. Rose saw Peter watching them, taking note of her and her team’s reaction; she had no doubt he’d find a way to ask about it at some point. She had no idea what she’d say when he eventually asked. “I channelled the power of time and space in order to wipe a species out of existence, to save the man I loved” was succinct, but might be a bit intimidating. She sighed: she’d just have to cross that bridge when she came to it.
It was going on four; they’d need to finalize a few more things before heading out for the landing field, including narrowing down who from the group would go. Peter and Penington had a briefing to compile, and needed to ensure they made it into the shift brief. And they’d have to consider supper at some point...
“Right. Peter, you and Penny are staying back?” She looked at him, forcing herself to think of him as her professional partner and not her lover.
“We are. And indeed, we’d best go speak with the Sergeant.” Peter stood, moving around the table. Penington joined him as they walked out the door.
Rose sighed, turning her attention to the three pairs of eyes watching her. “Now that you’ve all been entertained, who of us is going to pick up the new toys?”
“Well...if you and James go, Mickey and I can take care of picking up supper. I reckon you’ll be bringing them back here, first?” Jake’s voice was reasonable.
“Stocking up for a long night in-station?” James asked drolly.
“Someone’s got to make sure everyone’s fed. We all know what a terror Mickey can be when he goes without food.” Jake put on an air of wounded innocence.
“And you,” Rose offered, grinning.
“And me. See-it’s in everyone’s best interests to make sure the food is taken care of.”
“James and I it will be, then. I’ve no idea what the limiting effects of these gadgets are going to be. We’ve got radios, we’ve got mobiles...What will our plan be for communicating if we can’t use either?”
The four of them spent the next half-hour working out backup and contingency plans, identifying emergency signals and words. Mickey and Jake were given clear guidance on when they were to leave the station and come rushing in to help, and Rose made a note to ask Peter to give them the name of a trusted PC working the evening shift in case they had to call for help without the DI or the DC being available.
Peter and Penington had yet to return when it came time for her and James to leave, and she briefly considered leaving Peter a note before walking out the door. She caught herself-she didn’t need to be the one who spoke with Peter every time. Mickey and Jake would be around, would no doubt check in with him before leaving to collect the food for dinner.
She and James arrived at the airfield just as the zeppelin was docking. She was amused to see it bearing the advertising slogan of a lower-end clothing manufacturer, and noted the complete disinterest of the staff at the field. One of the first changes Pete had made, upon taking leadership of Torchwood, was removing the ubiquitous branding of the name; Torchwood had been emblazoned on everything from coffee mugs to response vehicles, and it had made it almost impossible to operate quietly. There had been grumbling at first, but no one could deny how much easier it made operations. They still published reports under the organization’s name; but anything related to the field operations side remained was conducted quietly. They’d no problem saying who they worked for, if asked-but they no longer went around advertising it to all and sundry.
Rose and James waited patiently as the ship was moored, and the stairs from the cabin were lowered. She almost laughed when she saw who Jacques had sent-it was Frank, as well as Susan, and both were carrying small hard-sided cases. She felt James straighten as the redhead alighted, and thought that perhaps James would get as little done with Susan around as she would have done with Peter.
Frank walked up to her, grinning from ear to ear. As he hugged her, he whispered, “Who’s afraid of the big, bad wolf?”
She pulled back, smiling, and replied, “Welcome, friend.”
James was already chatting up Susan, who bore his attentions with an air of patience. Rose felt a wave of pity for James; it looked like she was still winning the team’s longstanding bet.
“So, what’s the plan, Rose?” Susan asked when James finally took a break.
“We’re going back to the station-everyone’s there, and dinner should be on soon. I figured you’d want to set to using your...things...as soon as possible?”
“Definitely. Smith swears they’ll work to a good distance, but that assumes our man is anywhere near here.” Frank had a predatory gleam in his eye, and Rose was reminded that he came from a background where niceness wasn’t an asset.
“Good; we’re ready to go, as well. Jacques played coy in who he was sending, though, so we weren’t quite sure what to expect.”
“Will we meet with the group’s approval?” Susan’s voice was dry.
“Oh, I reckon so,” James piped up.
The van ride to the station was filled with idle gossip and chatter-Rose learned that, among other things, Doctor Smith had absolutely destroyed Billings office-and they were soon at the station. It occurred to Rose as she stepped out of the van that Mickey and Jake had been left with no way to go out to pick up dinner; she wondered if they’d choose to leg it across town to pick up sarnies, or if they’d simply ask one of the local restaurants to deliver in.
She’d underestimated the effect of the promise of food; Peter was waiting and informed them that Penington had driven the two men across town to pick up dinner. “They should be back any minute,” he offered, looking curiously at the two people Rose had brought with her.
“Oh! I’m sorry! Inspector Carlisle, this is Frank Marshall, and Susan Wilson. They work for Jacques.”
Peter extended his hand, greeting both of them with a solid handshake and a smile. She didn’t miss Frank staring at the DI, nor did she miss the blush that spread across Susan’s cheeks; neither, apparently, did James, who shifted a bit. She wondered if Peter would believe her now-that he really was an attractive man, someone who people actually noticed.
They settled around the table, listening as Peter shared out what had happened at shift change. He’d had to dance around the particulars of why Swinson was so dangerous; but he had impressed upon the PC’s that he was a cold-blooded murderer and ought to be treated with the care such a person deserved. “I doubt their help will be necessary, but I’d rather not chance that they get thrown into a spot where they’re caught unawares.”
“They shouldn’t be-but it never hurts to be prepared,” Frank agreed.
The room fell into an uneasy silence, everyone stealing glances at the two cases Frank and Susan had carried in, but no one willing to ask what was in them. The silence was broken after a few moments by the arrival of Mickey, bearing a bag of sandwiches. He grinned when he saw Frank, and gave Susan a bone-cracking hug, before setting the food down. “Thank God-I was worried we’d get some desk jockey from Science Directorate,” Mickey stated as he settled in one of the chairs.
“You would have done, had Jacques not put his foot down. Doctor Smith was quite keen to make sure these little toys remained in his staff’s hands.” Frank grinned.
“Rather bold, given that it was two of his staff who got us into this mess,” Jake offered, having caught the statement as he walked into the room. He, too, had a large bag of food, and set it on the table before shaking hands with Frank and Susan.
“Precisely the point Jacques raised when he said we were the ones flying north,” Susan said with a smile.
“I bet he loved that,” James said, reaching for one of the bags, to see what had been brought back. Penington entered the room, carrying yet another carrier bag, this one full of drinks, and paused only briefly before moving to join the group at the table.
“Penny, Frank and Susan. Frank and Susan, Penny,” James introduced, offhandedly. The DC set the bag down before awkwardly shaking hands with the two new Torchwood representatives.
They all ate quickly, eager to get out and see if the gadgets crafted by the Science Directorate would do what they had been designed to. As they ate, the group shared out their plans for the evening, identifying strategies for narrowing down where Swinson and/or the tech might be, as well as the actual tactics for tracing it. Rose briefly reviewed the contingency and backup plans the team had worked out earlier. “Are there any limitations to the...things?” Rose asked finally, turning to Frank.
“What do you mean?”
“Can we use radios around them? Or our mobiles?”
“The mobiles, yes. Radios, no. It’ll interfere with the signal.”
“How badly?” Peter asked, concerned.
“It’ll throw things off by a bit, as I recall. Enough that you’ll wind up in the wrong house, certainly.”
“What’s the radius for that restriction?” Peter leaned forward.
“About fifty metres.”
“Radios off in the cars, then, and be sure to run very quickly, and a good distance, if you need to use the radio.” Peter leaned back in his seat, looking around the table.
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“I suppose we’d best show you what we’ve got...” Frank reached next to him, bringing the black case up to the table. James and Penington hastily cleared a space, and he lay the case down, before gently opening it.
The equipment inside looked unremarkable in the extreme-more like a transistor radio, or the control for an RC car, than anything else. There were several dials, as well as a small screen, in amongst two small toggle switches.
“That’s it?” Mickey asked, disbelieving.
“That’s it. Remarkably simple, really. It finds the signature from the teleport, then utilizes a GPS function to identify the vector. Turns out it’s not quite as simple as disappearing here and reappearing there-there’s a trace in the atmosphere, from where the energy disrupted the course of nature.”
“I’ve no doubt that was oversimplified in the extreme, but I’ll believe whatever you tell me,” Peter remarked drolly.
Frank gave him a quick look, before grinning. “Fair enough. Susan and I received crash training on using these fine objects. We’ll be useless for anything else, since running these requires pretty much staring non-stop at this dial and the display.” He pointed to one of the small white dials. “Rose, how were we going to be paired off?”
“Ah...Penny and I are together, and the Inspector and James. I suppose...Susan with James and Peter, and Frank with Penny and I?”
She hadn’t realized her slip with his name until she saw Peter’s lips quirk in amusement. Ah, well-Frank and Susan weren’t stupid; they’d have realized something was going on between her and Peter soon enough. She suspected Frank had already worked that much out, from her visit to London earlier in the week.
“Sounds like a plan. Let’s get out of here, then, so we can turn these on.” Frank stood, turning to Jake. “Remember-mobiles only.” He closed the case, locking it shut before taking the handle.
“Got it.”
Mickey and Jake remained seated as the rest of the group stood; the room was filled with anticipation as the two teams moved to the doors, out into the station. They stopped outside, looking at each other.
“Ah...cars?” James asked, looking towards Rose in confusion.
Rose laughed; she’d not even thought of that. Fortunately, Peter appeared to have. “We have a small van, usually use it for harmless drunks during the festival. It smells terrible, but it’s the best we could do-it’s not covered in Reflexite like every other vehicle we own. Mickey and Jake have the keys to the squad car, just in case.” He turned to Rose. “And you’ll be using your van?”
“We will. Do you want to set a regular check-in time, between our two groups?”
Peter looked at his watch. “Every hour, at the half?”
Rose glanced at her watch-it was half six. “I’ll call you on the odds, you call me on the evens?”
“Done. Happy hunting.”
Rose watched as Peter, Susan, and James turned and walked around the side of the building. She hoped they’d be safe; hoped Peter would be safe.
Penington cleared his throat. “Shall we, then?”
Rose turned to the two men, smiling grimly. “Let’s go. I want this bastard caught.”