by Guy Adams
She takes his arm and drags him over to where Jamie Goss is trying the punch.
‘The wonderful thing about punch,’ he says, ‘is that it’s both food and drink in one bowl. I can get charmingly wasted and also keep up with my five-a-day.’ He pops a segment of apple in his mouth and grins at Toby. ‘Not that you’re probably familiar with fruit.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, nothing, I just didn’t imagine you eat a lot of it.’ Goss pats him on the stomach.
‘Jamie is trying to infer I’m fat,’ explains Toby.
‘No I’m not!’ Goss insists. ‘I’m implying it. It’s you that’s doing the inferring. Anyway, I’m allowed to be a bit mean, you’ve made me bring Alasdair to a wedding. It’ll give him ideas.’
‘You should be so lucky,’ Toby tells him, looking over to where Alasdair is laughing loudly at something deeply unfunny that Roger Greene has just said. ‘Anyway, he’ll probably end up marrying my father.’
‘As long as he doesn’t try and bring him home.’ Goss turns to Tamar. ‘I presume he’s paying you to marry him?’
‘No, I no longer sleep with men for money, thank you.’
Goss’s face falls. ‘Oh. I didn’t mean to . . . I mean, it was supposed to be a joke.’
‘Wonderful,’ says Toby. ‘You’ve actually made him stuck for words.’
Tamar picks a piece of orange from Goss’s punch glass and pops it in her mouth. ‘I win,’ she says. ‘Always.’
‘Can I push in?’ Toby thinks that Derek Lime, ex-wrestler and physicist can push in anywhere he damn well likes. ‘Good to see you again,’ he says to Toby, shaking his hand carefully so as not to break it. ‘I knew your name wasn’t Charlie,’ he says, nodding at the banner.
‘Or Keith,’ says Goss.
‘Or Gary,’ says Cassandra, having joined them.
‘Terry,’ Toby corrects her.
‘You were always Gary to me.’
‘It’s all right,’ says Shining, joining them. ‘I have a friend called Leonard who will be wiping your memories before you leave the building.’
Derek laughs.
Goss takes another mouthful of his punch.
Shining takes Toby by the shoulder. ‘Can I borrow him for a moment?’
‘Is Len all set?’ Toby asks.
‘By the time they get home, they won’t have the first idea what they’ve been doing all day. The only exception is Pleasance. After all, she does have to file the paperwork.’
Shining looks at Toby’s father who is trying to dance with Alasdair despite the fact that there’s no music playing. ‘What about Roger?’
‘He’s not cleared to know any of these people.’
‘Oh, I know, but he easily could be.’
‘No. Let him forget the same as everyone else. I’ll tell him I’m married the next time we see him. Which I hope won’t be too soon.’
‘Certainly not for a couple of weeks.’ Shining pats his jacket pocket. ‘I’ve printed off your boarding passes. You’re all set.’
‘Thank you. I do hope we don’t miss the Apocalypse or anything while we’re away.’
‘If you do you do, I managed on my own for long enough. Although . . .’ Shining takes Toby’s arm. ‘It won’t be the same. You know that, yes? The difference you’ve made . . . not just to the Section . . . you’ve given an old man a spring in his step.’
‘I suspect it to be arthritis.’
‘I hope your plane crashes.’
‘If it does, I’ll haunt you.’
‘You’d better.’
Shining gives him a hug, but Pleasance has appeared and that means it’s time for Toby to get married.
Throughout the ceremony, all he can do is stare at the woman he loves, still not quite able to believe it. A couple of times Pleasance has to nudge him to give his responses because at that moment he is all but lost, amazed at the life that now lies in front of him.
They kiss and there is a shower of confetti. Some of it appears to sparkle and pop as it descends around them.
‘Just a little extra I threw in,’ says Cassandra to April who is stood next to her. ‘I don’t think it’s dangerous.’
‘My darling,’ says April, ‘what in this life of worth isn’t?’
Arrábida Natural Park, Setubal, Portugal
‘There’s a phone.’
Toby pulls the hire car in to the small layby, kisses his wife and looks out of the windscreen at the small roadside stall set up next to the callbox.
‘I think,’ he says, ‘that if we want a bunch of flowers, some overpriced honey or jars of fruit, we’re in luck.’
‘It is not far until we are at Setubal,’ says Tamar. ‘I’ll let you buy me dinner there.’
‘Fair enough. I’ll be quick.’
He takes his mobile phone out of his pocket and holds it up, still not able to find a signal. Normally, he’d be glad of the fact, but he wants to reply to a panicked text from Shining that slipped through during some magical moment of network coverage on the drive through the park.
Looking over at the stall he sees another tourist browsing the bouquets, the owner of the small Seat parked further along, he assumes. He is all but hidden in baseball cap and sunglasses, scratching at his short beard as he tries to make his choice. Toby mocks himself for paying such close attention, even on holiday – no, honeymoon! – he’s on the lookout for trouble.
It’s the text, he tells himself. Shining wouldn’t disturb them unless it was important.
‘Good price for roses,’ says the stall owner as Toby passes, offering him a smile of tobacco-yellow teeth.
‘No, thank you,’ Toby replies. ‘I’m just after the phone.’
The owner shrugs, returning his attention to the man in the baseball cap who has chosen a bouquet of red roses.
Toby steps into the callbox, inserts some change and dials the number for the office.
After a few moments, Shining answers. ‘Dark Spectre publishing,’ he says. Only Section 37 would choose a small-press horror publishing company as a cover. It does the job but Shining has threatened to start actually publishing some submissions which has Toby wondering when the little free time he does enjoy is likely to vanish.
‘It’s me,’ he says.
‘Toby? The line’s awful. What are you doing ringing me? If it’s advice you’re after, I’m afraid you’ve pegged the wrong man.’
Toby watches as the man in the baseball cap walks away from the roadside stall carrying his bouquet of flowers.
‘You sent me a text,’ he says, ‘saying something serious had cropped up and you needed to speak to me.’
‘I didn’t, you know . . . unless it was April, she keeps stealing my phone. I can’t imagine she’d have wanted to interrupt the two of you, though.’
Tamar is getting out of the car, stretching her legs and lifting her face up to the sun.
The man in the baseball cap stops walking and hands her the bouquet of flowers.
‘For you,’ he says, ‘as a sign of thanks.’
He walks away, leaving her holding the bouquet and looking confused.
Toby is already running, the phone dangling from the callbox as he chases after the man.
He is too quick, the car engine is already running and the Seat pulls away just as Toby reaches the driver’s door. He catches a glimpse of the driver, and now he sees something he recognises beyond the beard, cap and glasses.
Fratfield.
The car drives off, and Toby turns to Tamar who is still holding the bouquet.
‘Why did he do this?’ she asks, picking at the flowers. She gives an angry shout as the thorn on one of the roses pricks her and she drops the bouquet.
From between the blooms, a small piece of paper tumbles onto the ground, is caught by the breeze and spirals up into the air above them.
Toby watches it go and, in the distance he sees dark shapes forming.
‘Come on,’ he says, pushing Tamar back towards the car. ‘We need to get
out of here now.’
‘What is it?’ she asks, getting into the passenger seat as he moves around to the driver’s side.
He looks out across the open country. What looks like a tornado is heading their way, a pillar of dust curling towards them.
He doesn’t answer her, just climbs in the car, turns it in the opposite direction to that taken by the Seat and, in a roar of an over-revved engine, tears off up the road.
‘Young people,’ says the stall owner, watching them go. ‘Always in such a hurry. When will they learn? They have all the time in the world.’
ALSO BY GUY ADAMS
Torchwood: The House That Jack Built
Torchwood: The Men Who Sold The World
Kronos
Hands of the Ripper
Sherlock: The Casebook
Countess Dracula
The Clown Service
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
As always, my team of operatives worked hard behind enemy lines to make this book happen:
At mission control, Agent Macbook led the way and offered vital input on the details of the mission while Agent Greased Lightning handled special weapons and wetwork. At our Andover office, Agent Aladdin Sane handled decryption and clarified the mission reports.
In the field, Agents Moose and Sloth received initial mission orders and checked for hotspots.
I’d have had a bullet in the back without each and every one of them.
