Skypoint

to right across the dimly lit apartment. There was no movement, only the wreckage of an inexpert and destructive search.

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

‘So much for SkyPoint security,’ breathed Toshiko.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

‘Exactly.’

‘The bastard.’

‘Now we’re making progress.’

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

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

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

‘No, Tosh. Give me the gun.’

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What?

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

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

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

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

SIXTEEN

Toshiko rode the elevator to the twenty-fifth floor with the gun in her hand. She decided there was no point in a pantomime; Lucca knew that she and Owen were not what they claimed to be, and he knew that they had weapons. The fact that she still carried a gun, despite his goons’ search-and-retrieve operation in their apartment, might help limit the discussion and get her what she wanted – and out of there again – faster.

She had gone back to the Lloyds’ party first, looking for Lucca and ready to coax him out of there and confront him. Lucca had already gone. But Toshiko was in no mood to let him get away. She didn’t stop to think about Owen’s concerns for her; she was still running on the pulse energy of anger. She was angry with Owen, and just as angry with herself. There was something to prove here – damn it, there was a lot to prove here. To herself, as much as Owen.

Was she really so pathetic that she could face off against horrible things from far-off galaxies, but she just couldn’t hack it when it came to men? With her scientist’s head in gear she had to admit that the empirical data was not in her favour.

Screw that!

This was where things changed.

She felt the elevator settle on the twenty-fifth floor. She waited for the doors to open. They didn’t. Instead she heard Besnik Lucca’s voice. She almost jumped, it sounded as if he was in there with her.

‘Toshiko. I knew you would come. But, please, put your weapon on the floor.’

Toshiko scanned the elevator cabin. There was a camera. There had to be. She saw her own reflection in one of the mirrors, the gun looked big and heavy in her hand.

‘Please,’ Lucca coaxed. ‘Then we can talk.’

‘We’re not police,’ she called out. ‘We’re not interested in you, Lucca. We’re no threat to you.’

‘My angel, anyone who carries a gun to my door is a threat. Put it on the floor.’

Toshiko did as she was told.

‘Now step back against the wall, and stay there.’

She took a step backwards and felt the cold glass of the mirror on her back through the thin silk that she wore.

The elevator doors parted, revealing two men who looked part-gorilla. One held a gun on her, the other collected the weapon on the floor, then gestured for her to step out.

The apartment was huge, tastefully furnished and decorated with artwork that she knew was both expensive and original.

The two goons left her to wander across its white carpet unhindered. She followed the slight breeze that moved through the apartment and found Lucca standing in the roof garden waiting for her.

It was a warm September night, and he had lost the jacket to his black suit. He stood on the terrace watching her approach, and he was smoking one of the same foreign cigarettes she had seen him with before.

The garden was lit with subtle lighting, and he had been quite right: even at night, it was breathtaking.

He stood next to a table that was lit by lights in the floor. There was a champagne bottle cooling and a couple of glasses. She got the sense that he had known she was coming, maybe before even she had.

‘I see that you chose not to bring your husband,’ he said.

‘You know he’s not my husband.’

‘Which simplifies matters a great deal,’ he said, and poured the champagne.

‘I didn’t come here to drink champagne with you.’

‘That’s a shame. We had seemed to be getting along so well.’ He sipped from one of the glasses. ‘And the champagne is at the perfect temperature.’

He held a glass out to her. Toshiko ignored it.

‘We’re not interested in you,’ she told him again.

‘We?’ he asked, placing the glass back on the table. ‘And just who are we?’

‘Torchwood.’

He looked at her blankly. ‘I’m sorry. It means nothing to me.’