Cold Case

Episode One

Chapter one: Cardiff

1972: London

The fog had barely lifted at 7:25 AM, and two men attending a murder scene beside the Thames, close by to the infamous Canary Wharf, drew up their collars against the bitter winter cold.

"Found at about five this morning by a drunk couple. Sobered them up right quickly, I expect. According to our forensic team's initial estimate, he'd been dead for about three hours by the time police were on the scene. So from roughly two o'clock this morning." The fifty something, moustachioed detective informed his colleague; a taller, grey-haired individual.

"The head was found just here, where we are?"

The first detective nodded, "Rolled here after separation, no indication that it was tampered with after death. There were a number of other wounds upon the body, most with fatality potential, but it was decapitation that killed him, even without lab results, our team's pretty adamant about that."

"What of the murder weapon?"

"Something that could deliver a quick slice. The head wasn't hacked off; it was done in one blow. It would have to have been something incredibly sharp, quite long."

"So, we'd be looking for a nutter with a sword then?"

"Seems so. But there's not a clue to go on. Forensics has been sweeping the area all morning, I'm keeping them on as long as I can, but we've not turned up a thing. Not a shred of anything that would give a clue to the killer's identity." He sighed, "We don't even know who the victim is. Probably a local tramp or vagrant…"

"Hmm. You're going to hate me for this, but our sword-wielding nutter is no longer our concern."

"What… Why? The investigation is still in it's early stages, we can't close the investigation without even trying, people live and work around here, this nutter could be extremely dangerous to people!"

The taller man shook his head. "You care too much, become too attached. This is no longer an open investigation. Close up, and clean up the mess. I'm sorry."

The other man could only stare and utter one word as his colleague began to walk away from the scene; "Why?"

"Top orders. Special Op's." Came the embittered reply.

The clean up crew began to descend and the moustachioed man took one last look at the headless body. A small disk of metal, clutched into the palm of the corpse's hand caught his attention, and, deftly, he rescued it, unseen by the rest of the team around him. Admittedly, Forensics had probably already entered into the case notes, but still, no one would worry much about its absence, especially now the case was locked. Elsewhere, London began to wake up and pulsate with the start of a new day.

2006: Cardiff

It was barely a blip on the atmospheric monitors, yet the electromagnetic sensors blared out that something was not right. Red lights flashed brightly- an electronic bleeping punctuating each flare. Jack rushed towards Tosh's desk, as she rapidly typed the codes the computers were asking for. The Captain furrowed his brow, peering over her shoulder.

"Tosh, what've we got?"

More typing accompanied her response; "Electromagnetic spike, South of Splott on Freshmoor Road. The others had filtered in, Gwen at a hurried trot, while Owen arrived leisurely, stretching his arms and yawning.

"Perfect," He complained "And here I was, just about looking forward to going home…"

"You mean clubbing" Gwen teased.

"Well, that is where I feel most at home" He joked, in good humour.

Jack rose quickly, yet, strangely at the same time leisurely, asserting both his authority, to take control of the team in an instant, and to reaffirm the need to leave quickly.

"As much as I enjoy the banter you two come up with, I'm afraid we have an electro-atmospheric anomaly to investigate, and the last time I kept one of those waiting half of Splott nearly turned into one of the biggest alien mating grounds on Earth. Let's go!" Jack's greatcoat twisted around him as he jogged towards the exit "Toshiko, keep monitoring, keep us updated!"

Gwen followed with Owen trailing behind them, Ianto had to sidestep to let them pass, as he entered with a small tray of coffee and biscuits.

In minutes the SUV was speeding towards Freshmoor Road, Tosh keeping the team updated. "The signal's dying, but I've patched into CCTV around the area. The nearest one seems to be showing some form of electronic discharge… It's barely there anymore, looks like somebody phoned the police too. Scanning the radio network, there are two cruisers on the way."

"Good work Tosh, we'll be there in a few minutes."

"Great… I just hate it when there's coppers all over the scene" muttered Owen, irritably, while Gwen sat silent and Jack wore his trademark smirk.

"Jack, there's something else," Came Tosh's voice again, sounding puzzled and a little alarmed "According to the police radio, this is a homicide."

An ominous rumble of thunder sounded not far off, and Gwen found herself wishing, not for the first time, that it didn't always have to revolve around death…

Back in London, as the Torchwood SUV sped towards the murder scene in Cardiff, something started to glow. Tucked away in a small wooden jewellery box, stowed amongst a pile of cardboard boxes, a small metal disc began to emit a pale blue light. Strange engravings began to form, carved, apparently, by a stronger, deeper blue light that seemed to emit from within the metal. Almost immediately, this light was followed by a soft electric hum, which soon became a whine. All around the area, dogs began to bark, while the light became stronger, taking a reddish glow. There was a sudden burst of energy as red light shot upwards from the device, cutting through the metal roof and leaving, in the ceiling, a blackened, reversed version of the engraving upon the artefact.

Alerted by the commotion of the lights and barking dogs, the owner of the garage hurried down his garden path and threw open the door, mouth open in astonishment at the scene. The retired policeman was not amazed by the shattered jewellery box, smouldering cardboard or even the fact that his ceiling had a design burnt into it, but rather, what the newly made engravings depicted. Staring down at him, from his ceiling, was the smouldering simplified likeness of Adolf Hitler.