The team of Torchwood 3 assembled in the conference room, tempted from their work stations more so by the scent of strong coffee than anything else. Once everyone was clutching their individual special orders from the suited butler turned field-agent, Jack stood and nodded to the petite technician to activate the wall screen. In between sips from his blue and white striped mug he shared that the night club in question, called "Needful Things", was brought to his attention by British intelligence.
"It seems one of the contractors that is used to equip British government sites with bug-jamming equipment had been doing some free-lancing with technology that was supposed to be only used for places like Thames House. Well, in the process of getting their wrists slapped, they had to give up the names of everyone they equipped with said technology. There were a few paranoid celebrities, some mobster types, but then this location. That in itself, not a big deal, right? Well, the contractor also let it slip that there was some jamming technology that was beyond anything he had ever scene, isolated to the V.I.P. section."
Cued by a another nod from Jack, Tosh took over the briefing. "Breaking past the government grade jamming was child's play and their network was not terribly secure. I called up the CCTV footage archive from their interior security cameras. Here's where it starts to get interesting."
The wall screen split into 4 smaller displays of black and white footage from in the club. As the cameras panned around the bar and dance floor, there was a corner of the club that appeared obscured. Gwen, Owen, and Ianto each leaned in, as if those few extra inches were going to clear up the section of the footage that none could make out.
"It's not your eyes kids, it's a nifty little piece of security technology that is masking that whole section of the club from being recorded by anything electronic."
"Technology that is beyond anything anyone outside of Torchwood or maybe UNIT should have access to at this point in time." added Tosh. "And, nothing shows up when I run a rift-detection scan. But in Cardiff, 'nothing' is what makes that little tidbit concerning." She called up a digital diagram of the city and zoomed into the city block that the club is on. All over the display colors ebbed and flowed like subtle waves on a pond. But as she further zoomed into the club itself, there was an obvious black space.
Using a laser pointer now, Tosh circled the area. "This space is devoid of the daily, always-present low-level readings from our noisy neighbor know as the rift."
"So in trying to hide something, they tipped themselves off by hiding it too well?" ventured the doctor while leaning back in his chair.
"Exactly!" Nodded Tosh with a bright smile, like a teacher to her star student, or maybe to teacher's pet.
"So how do we find out what they are hiding?" Questioned Gwen.
"PC Cooper! Have you been in Torchwood too long to remember good old-fashioned police work?" Jack teased. "I made a couple of field trips to the club, armed with nothing but my baby blues and a vintage keyhole spy camera that still uses real film. The VIP section is protected from any devices that utilize digital technology, but it is still visible to the naked eye and, therefore, traditional film." Jack handed a file to Ianto who dutifully handed out stacks of shiny glossies to the rest of the team before settling back down with his own copies.
"According to a search conducted by Mr. Jones of local government records, that lovely couple holding court in the expansive booth with the best view of the dance floor is Jeremy and Elena Brookfield. They purchased the property about a year and a half ago. The club has now been in operation for the last 14 months. From my recon I have been able to gather that the club serves two purposes. One, it is an opportunity to conduct their business in the safety and excitement of in plain site."
"What business is that exactly?" Asked Owen.
"Smuggling, of sorts. See that lovely crystal center piece in the middle of their table? Well, it appears there around midnight on certain nights. Then they are in business. The Brookfields have their clients come to the club when it is right in full swing. They pay a substantial amount in order to commune with that trinket, and then there is what looks like a mini rift-event, and something comes through for the client."
"What kinds of things are coming through, and what kind of money are we talking about?" Gwen interrupted, sifting through the pictures.
"On the 2 times I visited, there were about 3 clients each night. Each client received something different." Jack explained. "One night one guy looked disgruntled, started loudly demanding his money back but was ushered out by security. I took a chance on his needing someone to complain to, so I followed him out and got him talking. He said he dropped a cool million on the chance to hold the crystal. He was informed by some equally-wealthy friends of his that it was reported to give the customer what they need most in the world. He was warned that sometimes it makes sense and sometimes it doesn't, but he didn't expect what he got." Jack left them hanging and took a dramatically long sip from his mug as he gazed around the room.
With an eye roll Ianto finally piped up "Okay Jack, I'll bite, tell us what it was!"
Jack's eyes glinted and he couldn't hold back a rye smile "A swiss army knife, and not even a great one"
"I'd be pissed too!" Owen said with a huff.
Jack sat down now and got more serious. "Well, he was, and so he chucked it in the garbage cans. Which was too bad. His name was John Stevens. The news hit the papers yesterday that millionaire entrepreneur John Stevens lost control of his jaguar while out for a high-speed country drive. His car flipped over into a canal. Trapped by his seat belt, Mr. Stevens died in two feet of water. Maybe that crappy knife would have come in handy, eh?"
"Shit!" Owen breathed out.
"So why are we concerned about this Jack?" Asked Gwen "I mean, giving people what they need seems harmless enough."
"Let me put it this way, what if the next Hitler visits Needful Things, slaps down his money, and gets what he needs to survive an assassination attempt, or what he needs to destroy his enemies. This is messing with the order of things and could seriously throw off destined time lines." Jack warned.
"What was the other thing?" Ianto said, his brow furrowed in thought. "You said the club served two purposes, so what was the other purpose?"
"This is where is gets fun, and where we find a way to get in closer..." Jack's fingers flitted over his key board and then about a half-dozen images from the CCTV footage started popping up on the wall screen. In each picture, the Brookfields emerge from the cloudy, distorted image that indicated the VIP seating. They mingle on the dance floor, getting very personal with another couple here and there, and then re-enter the fog of the exclusive area with a lucky couple in tow. "It seems the Brookfields like to swing! When business is over they get a lucky couple from dance floor, invite them to the VIP section for drinks and flirting, and then they leave together in their private limo."
Jack stood, clapped his hands together once, and looked around mischievously at his team. "So! Who likes to dance?"
TWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTWTW TWTWTWTW
Author's note: So there's the set-up! This multi-chapter fun frolic will include some of our team showing off their dancing skills and others allowing their jealousy to show through a bit. Should be fun! Remember, it's always the quiet ones that will surprise you! Please review if you feel moved to and if you have any questions or constructive criticism.
