Atonement
by Soledad
Author's notes: For disclaimer, rating, etc. see the Introduction.
Obviously, the whole pseudo-science is being made up as I go. I'm just filling the holes left by the screenwriters.
Chapter 07 – The Enigmatic Mr Parker
In the next couple of weeks Adam's life settled into a predictable – and somewhat dull – routine. He worked his hours during morning shift, rested in the afternoon (as Director Jones, no, Ianto had predicted, the thrill of dealing with alien stuff again burned out quickly enough) and spent a few hours with the graveyard shift each night, learning the functioning of the Hub or studying old cases.
The amount of knowledge stored in the digital database was mind-blowing, even for a certified genius like him.
By now, he was on first name basis with almost everyone, with the exception of Lloyd (because nobody was foolish enough to call her Sara, save Tom Milligan, from whom she, surprisingly enough, tolerated it) and the ever-nervous Dr. McKay. He got along well enough with the entire team, but it was the graveyard shift he'd become closest with.
Like him, Sally and Trevor suffered from insomnia, so they understood if he couldn't stay in his room – a new, larger and much improved one – alone and didn't protest against his presence in the main working area. Ex-PC Andy was a friendly, all-around good guy by nature, and they had lots of fun together. Perhaps the only one never being traumatised by alien encounters (unless being almost eaten by a Nostrovite counted), Andy had the most positive outlook on life and an infectious good mood most of the time.
Rift activity had been low-key in those weeks. There had been barely any Rift alerts, and the only things coming through had been random pieces of harmless junk. The only real thing they had to deal with were the Weevil sightings – and during such an occasion Adam finally got a step closer to his goal.
It was an otherwise quiet night, one of several such nights in a row. Even workaholics like Lloyd, Tom Milligan and Toshiko had gone home by ten o'clock, and Captain Harkness was off to London with Ianto to meet certain people from high places. Owen, being on call, was sleeping in one of the restrooms on Sublevel One, and Adam was absently watching TV on his laptop when the alert came in.
They were having a midnight snack – either Rhys or Emma always saw to it that the night shift was left with a well-stocked fridge – when a sudden incessant beeping interrupted the quiet background noises of the Hub. Sally put down her ice cream hastily and moved to one of the several screens at her desk.
"Weevil," she said with a quick glance. "Multiple sightings. Fortunately, they're both in Bute Park; but we'll still need two teams."
"What is it with Weevils and Bute Park anyway?" Trevor muttered. "We've just picked up whatshisface, Barry, a few weeks ago, and now there are two of them again?"
"Major sewer entrance," Andy, the man with the best local knowledge, replied. "I'll wake Owen."
"He's not gonna thank you," Trevor commented.
Sally chewed at her bottom lip for a moment. "Two Weevils… we'll all have to go out if we want to contain them in time."
"Can't," Trevor said. "We need you to direct us."
"No, you don't need me," Sally looked at Adam. "Are you familiar with CCTV tracking?"
Adam shook his head apologetically. "Afraid not. Never did anything like that."
"Doesn't matter; it's easy enough to learn," Sally tapped quickly away at her keyboard. "You just sit here and follow us through the CCTV network. We'll be in contact through our comm links. All you have to do is to tell us if the Weevils move. I'm sure something with your computer skills can manage."
Adam shrugged. "If you think so. Show me how it's done."
Sally waved him closer while highlighting the positions of the Weevils on one screen and opening another to the network. Then she fished one of those Torchwood-issue earpieces from her desk drawer and tossed it to Adam.
"Put this on. Tap once to activate and twice to close," she instructed him.
Adam placed the comm link in his ear, maneuvering it into a comfortable position, and then tapped it once to see if it was working.
"All clear," he confirmed.
"Good," Sally said. "See that you keep in touch all the time. If the Weevils change position, or if some idiot walks straight into their path, tell us at once. You'll have to watch both teams and coordinate us, since we won't see each other, and alert the other team if one runs into trouble."
"O-kay," Adam swallowed nervously as he looked from one screen to the other and back again.
"You'll be fine," Trevor encouraged him. "It's easier than it sounds. I hate to throw you into deep water without any previous experience, but with Jonesy and the captain in London we can't leave one of us behind."
"I'll try my best," Adam promised, and in that moment he genuinely meant it.
Only when they left through the tunnel leading to the garage did he recognize the golden opportunity they'd just handed him on a platter.
He settled himself in Sally's chair and watched them on the screen as they got into the SUV, Trevor bickering with Owen who clearly didn't like being waked up – or the idea of leaving Adam back in the Hub alone. The doctor was clearly a suspicious bastard; Adam made a mental note to be doubly careful around him. Even so, he was not willing to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. There might not come another one for a long time.
"Adam, can you see us?" Sally's voice echoed in his ear, and he nodded, momentarily forgetting that she couldn't see him.
Realizing his mistake, he tapped his comm link.
"Yeah, I see you," he said quickly.
"All right," Sally sounded relieved. "The system tracks us automatically, so you should be able to locate us any time. What you need is to keep checking on the Weevils. They might decide to take a walk, and there are always blind spots."
"What if I lose them?" Adam asked nervously.
"Don't," Sally prompted. "You can move the cameras with mouse or keyboard controls, should they actually move on from their current positions. Make sure you keep them in sight."
"I'll try," Adam replied, playing a little with the basic functions of the tracking system, just because he could.
Oh, this was good! More than good, actually; this was pure gold!
Having already memorized the position of the CCTV cameras watching the main Hub itself, he shifted in his chair just a little bit, so that his body would screen his hands and his forehead would be obscured. Then he clicked his fingers.
The infospike emerged, downloading the tracking patterns and all other available information from the security system within nanoseconds and covering its activities at the same time, via a highly effective and virtually undetectable little Trojan it left behind.
Adam suppressed a smile. The Torchwood gang was good, their equipment high-end by twenty-first century standards, but the piece of technology in his head was two hundred millennia ahead of them. No matter what Toshiko thought, Adam was sure that not even their sentient supercomputer would be able to find out his little sabotage easily. Not for a while anyway; and if he kept behaving unobtrusively they'd never suspect anything – until it was too late.
Had Ianto or Captain Harkness – Adam still hadn't find it him to call the man Jack – been in Cardiff, he'd probably reconsidered such a stunt. Especially Ianto seemed to have an almost uncanny knowledge about whatever happened at the base at any given time. And Captain Harkness still made Adam nervous. His obvious disdain towards him was unpleasantly reminiscent of that of the Doctor's, and Adam always tried to be at his best behaviour around him.
Fortunately, they were both off-town at the moment, and Toshiko – the only one with a vague idea about Adam's computer skills and what his infospike could do – was off-duty. This chance couldn't have come at a better time.
"Have the Weevils moved?" Sally's voice interrupted his thoughts, and he blinked to re-focus on the screen.
"No, they're still where they were," he told her and hurriedly closed the infospike, staving off a sudden wave of restless anxiety and even a touch of guilt.
That had been close.
In the next forty minutes he had to concentrate really hard. It was the usual catch-and-release mission, with using the suppressing spray on the Weevils, checking them for subcutaneous tracking chips and then herding them back to the sewers, but keeping an eye on both teams simultaneously and watching out for any potential dangers gave him a headache.
Unless that was a result of using the infospike, of course. But it had been worth it.
"Ours is untagged," he heard Owen's sour voice. "A male, according to his pronounced spine ridge. Seems fairly young, too; bone and muscle density is less than by a fully grown specimen."
"Ours is male, too, but already in the system," Andy replied. "He's been tagged… wow! Back in 2000? This is the oldest one I've ever heard of!"
"It was Jack who invented the whole tagging method when he took over Torchwood Three," Owen explained. "Before him, Weevils were simply shot by sight. That's why we have no data from earlier, save for some random autopsy reports, although the first sightings go back as far as the early 1930s."
"In any case, they don't show any aggressive reactions," Sally said. "Let's send them home and return to the Hub."
They were done and back within another twenty minutes, with pizza and beer to celebrate a job well done.
"I'll add the new Weevil to the system," Sally said. "Whose turn is to write up the report?"
Three pairs of eyes turned pointedly to Owen who pulled a disgusted face.
"I wish Teaboy weren't so obsessed with those sodding reports," he groused. "We did just fine without them under Harkness. Who the fuck cares how many Weevils we sent back to their stinking sewers anyway?"
"Jonesy does," Trevor reminded him. "Besides, with his new registration system you don't have to actually write any reports. You just fill out the required fields with the data and can be done within ten minutes, tops."
"Unless you dawdle around whining about having to do it," Andy pointed out, grinning.
"Well, why don't you do it, if it's so fucking easy?" Owen scowled.
"Cos it ain't my turn," Andy replied easily. "I had to do all the paperwork for Gwen while we were with the police. I've sworn never to let people cajole me into it again."
The others laughed and finished theirs hare of beer and pizza – home-made meals were nice and good, but sometimes one simply needed a little junk food – while Owen sat at his computer and typed up the very short report with a murderous expression on his face. Adam, sitting a little apart as always, nursed his own lager, his mind awhirl with ideas how he could use what he'd learned from the security system for his advantage, should it become necessary in the (hopefully) near future.
Two days later Jack and Ianto returned from London, late in the night. They were remarkably tight-lipped about the trip. Even at the meeting in the next morning they only told the others that they'd done some research on Colonel Oduya – which has resulted in nigh to nothing so far – and called in some old favours to get some dangerous stuff moved from where it had been collecting dust in remote warehouses once owned by Torchwood London. In that, at least, they'd proved successful.
Ianto prepared his legendary orgasmic coffee on the ancient copper-and-chrome machine no-one else was allowed to touch because, as he put it, he needed his own brew after the last two days. Then he took his usual chair at the conference table and gave the others an expectant look.
"So, what have we missed?"
"Not much," Tosh replied. "There's been only one Weevil sighting – a double one in Bute Park – but the night shift dealt with them most efficiently."
"Any Rift activity?" Jack asked. Tosh shook her head.
"None. Everything was quiet during your absence. Well, almost everything."
Ianto's eyebrow climbed to his hairline. "Details, please."
Tosh showed him a diagram on one of her many screens. "Look at this. I detected it at 5:17 this morning."
Jack leaned over to get a better look. "It seems awfully like an energy spike," he commented.
Tosh nodded. "My thoughts exactly. I've never seen anything like it before. But it definitely doesn't come from the Rift."
"Where does it come from then?" Ianto frowned as he was watching the screen.
Tosh connected her laptop to the big screen and called up the city map of Cardiff to lay it over the energy readings.
"Apparently, it comes from the Parker house… well, estate would be a better word for it," she sounded surprised. "What could Mr Parker be up again?"
Jack's face split into a big, blinding white grin. "Good old Henry John Parker. What a looked he used to be sixty-some years ago… or was it more?"
Owen pulled a disgusted face. "You're a sick man, Harkness!" he said.
Jack shrugged. "Well, he's eighty-odd now; even I have my limits."
"Yeah, sure," Ianto muttered. But the look he gave Jack was one of fond exasperation, not one of real anger.
"So, who is this Mr Parker?" Trevor asked in the name of all Torchwood newbies.
All those not from Cardiff, that is.
"Your basic millionaire collector of alien hoo-hah," Jack explained, not very helpfully.
"Sounds like that Van Statten bloke Adam used to work for… will work for… whatever," Andy commented, but Jack shook his head.
"Not really. He hasn't tried to take over the world or the government… or the internet," he glanced at Ianto. "Didn't we file him in the 'mostly harmless' category?"
"We did," Ianto agreed," but categories change according to the situation. Right now, the big question is, what's our Mr. Parker gone and found this time?"
"Why?" Adam asked. "Do you think he's a threat?"
The others looked at him in surprise, apparently having forgotten about his presence. It was an awkward moment, even though – in theory – he was supposed to be on the morning briefings.
"He hasn't been up until now," Ianto finally answered. "He's a bit like Howard Hughes, in fact. We know he's there, we know he's not a threat, but that's basically all you can know about him. He hasn't left the house since his wife died. Nobody's seen him since 1986."
Adam was a tad baffled, imagining someone not having set a foot outside his house since he was three year old. But millionaires tended to be odd at the best of times. Mr. Van Statten was the best proof for that.
"Wow!' Tom Milligan whistled. "That's a long time. Do you know why he's turned into a hermit?"
Ianto shook his head. "Not really. According to Idris Hopper at the City Hall, he's got some kind of medical condition, but nobody knows for sure. He values his privacy and has enough money to ensure that his wishes are respected."
"And now an unknown sort of alien energy pulse is coming from his house," Jack said slowly. "I think it's time to check our enigmatic Mr Parker out a little more thoroughly, ain't it?"
"What for?" Owen shrugged. "We've been monitoring him for ages. There's nothing to be scared of, is there?"
"That's what we're trying to ascertain," Ianto replied tiredly. "Tosh, can you get me a complete schematic of the house?"
Tosh gave him the wounded look of a woman who'd been unjustly accused of incompetence. "Of course!"
"Good," Ianto turned to Adam. "Try to find out exactly what he's got. Get me an inventory of everything that he's bought over the last ten years."
Adam nodded mutely, his mind racing along the virtual pathways of the internet he'd have to follow. Ianto looked at Owen.
"Can you get a hold of his medical history? Sally can help you hack into his files if necessary."
"Sure," Owen's eyes gleamed with excitement. He'd missed a good challenge for quite some time.
"All right," Ianto grabbed his cane and rose. "Let's get to it. I've got another round of physio this morning, but we'll continue when I come back."
"I can drive you," Andy offered. "You should rest that leg of yours after half the night on the train."
"And I'll fetch you and Jeannie afterwards," Jack said. "Rift permitting."
"If not, we'll call a cab," Ianto replied. "Okay, people, meeting adjourned."
Six hours and a shared lunch later they were together in the conference room again, continuing where they'd left things in the morning. This time Jenny was joining them, too, as her knowledge about alien technology could come in handy.
"So, Adam," Ianto said while Emma served them all coffee, "what have you found out about our Mr. Parker?"
"I've identified some of the things he's purchased over the past year," Adam called up the pictures of various alien artefacts from the digital database and displayed them on the big screen on the wall. "We've got a Dogon eye, a pair of Myakian wings, some meteorites, an Arcateenian translation of James Herbert's The Fog, strangely enough…"
"Not so strange, actually," Jack said. "Arcateenians have an avid interest in all kinds of literature, including horror stories. What else?"
"There are a few other things," Adam replied, "but those were not in the database. Neither have I seen any of them in Mr. Van Statten's collection, and I know that one well enough."
"So, apparently, one of the unknown items is causing the energy spikes," Ianto concluded.
Tosh nodded. "Looks like it, yeah. And they're getting bigger, dangerously bigger."
"Which means that we need to get in there and retrieve the… whatever it is," Jack said. "Do we know anything about security measures? Millionaires tend to be rather paranoid about their safety."
"I've talked to Detective Swanson and she gave me some details," Andy said. "It seems Mr. Parker employs a certain Philip Farrington to run security; and Mr. Farrington is an experienced professional who doesn't do things by halves."
"You mean he runs a tight ship?" Jack asked and Andy nodded.
"Yep. There are at least six guards, at any given time."
"What about monitoring?" Sally injected.
"CCTV everywhere, but that isn't the problem, "Andy replied. "We can bring them all down by taking out the generator. The real problem is these," he pointed at some blinks on the screen. "Heat sensors."
"As in body heat?" Tom Milligan clarified. Andy nodded again."
"Yep. Solar-powered. There's one on every doorway, every window."
"So, how do we get past them?" Ianto asked.
"Sounds like we need a dead man," Owen commented with a crooked smile. "Someone with no body heat at all."
Ianto rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Owen."
"No, actually that's brilliant!" Trevor exclaimed. "The nano-termites! That's the solution!"
Jack, Ianto and Owen, who hadn't been there during the vomit-o-matic incident two days previously, exchanged confused looks. Jenny had also been absent, but at least she knew what Trevor was talking about.
"You've got nano-termites here?" he asked in surprise.
"Adam's got them in the lining of his throat," Trevor explained. We could try to reprogram them, so that they'd lower his body temperature to a level where the heat sensors can't pick him up."
"And make me die from hypothermia?" Adam protested.
Nobody listened to him, excited by the possibility as they were. Only Jack was eyeing Trevor doubtfully.
"You can actually do that?"
"Hey, I used to work for Cybernetics at One!" Trevor returned, a little indignantly. "If Jenny and Toshiko help me, together I'm sure we can manage."
"We should run a few tests…" Tosh trailed off, her mind weighing the probabilities against each other.
"We'll need a few samples for that," Owen reminded her.
"We already have," Lloyd said. "They're in Tom's lab. We've been poking at them for the last two day. They're highly efficient little buggers, I must say."
"We should be able to increase their output, so that they'd cool him down enough to fool the heat sensors," Jenny was just this side of jumping up and down in her impatience to finally get started with it.
"Don't I have a say in this?" Adam was getting more and more annoyed by the minute. "It's my body temperature we're talking about, after all."
"Later," Ianto waved him off. "Would someone please tell me what the hell nano-termites are? Cos I never heard of them before."
"Sorry, Jonesy," Trevor quickly summarized for him the vomit-o-matic incident and what they'd found out about the microscopic robots during the last two days.
Ianto took it all in a stride. He was a Torchwood Archivist, after all. A Torchwood Archivist whose system was swarming with nanogenes.
"I see," he said calmly. "And you're absolutely sure you can reprogram them? Without endangering Adam's life?"
"We can run tests on Jack's favourite spidery mice," Lloyd suggested. "And on Barry the Weevil, since we've been planning to freeze him anyway. Between the two species, we should be able to calculate the right level of cold output for an average human."
"How long would you need for that?" Ianto asked.
Lloyd, Tom and Trevor exchanges questioning looks, then the doctor shrugged.
"With help… a week perhaps. Two weeks, tops."
"That might take too long," Jack warned. "We need a Plan B, in case we have to interfere sooner."
Ianto nodded in agreement. "Work out one. In the meantime, we need more data. I want every detail about the security measures of Mr. Parker's house. Including a complete background check on each and every security guard working there. We must know what we'll be dealing with."
"Excuse me," Adam injected with exaggerated politeness, "but I can't remember agreeing to become your guinea pig… or your burglar."
Ianto gave him a bland look. "We can't force you to do it, of course. There are considerable risks involved; therefore it must be your decision. Should you choose to work with us on this case, however – and succeed! – I'll consider hiring you as a freelance agent until 2013, with the usual wages. Which, if I may point out, are quite handsome."
"Which would be of little use me as a frozen corpse," Adam returned. Ianto nodded.
"That's certainly true. As I said, there are considerable risks involved. On the other hand, I can't imagine that you'd rather spend your days restricted to the Hub until your time with us runs out."
"C'mon, mate!" Andy said encouragingly. "Where's your sense of adventure?"
"I seem to have permanently misplaced it," Adam replied dryly. "Suddenly, general boredom seems quite attractive. Even if you hired me, I could never lead a normal life again. Not with this thing in my head."
"That's true," Ianto admitted. "Very well. Plan B it is, then; assuming Jack can come up with one that would work."
"Wait," Adam said. "I didn't way I won't do it, did I? I'm just… I haven't decided yet, okay? Gimme some more time; your people can play with the nano-termites until I make up my mind."
Ianto exchanged a look with Jack, who shrugged. "Works for me."
"We'll still need that Plan B," Ianto warned him. "No matter what Adam's choice would be, there's still the possibility that the idea with the nano-termites won't work; and we need to get that energy pulse, no matter what."
"In which case you'll need to inform Kathy Swanson, so that the police can look the other way when we break into the Parker house," Jack pointed out.
"I'm gonna inform her anyway," Ianto glanced at his watch. "We've got a meeting in fifty-three minutes."
"Shall I drive you?" Jack offered, but Ianto shook his head.
"Nah, I'll walk. We're gonna meet in the Mermaid's Dream, just across the Plass; a little casual walk would be good for me after that sodding physio. Well, people, you all know what to do – so do your jobs. I'll be back again in, say, another two hours."
"So much to discuss with Kathy?" Jack teased. "Should I be jealous? You spend an awful lot of time in her company."
Ianto rolled his eyes. "It's called public relations, Jack; keeping good contacts with the local authorities. It might surprise you, but it's more efficient in the long run than pissing them off every time."
"Yeah, but not half as much fun," Jack grinned unrepentantly.
Ianto released a long-suffering sigh. "You're hopeless. Try not to destroy morale any more while I'm off to that meeting, will you?"
The Mermaid's Dream was one of the older, more traditional-looking pubs near Roald Dahl Plass. It wasn't Ianto's preferred watering hole, but one he'd use to meet his contacts, because it wasn't very flashy and it was fairly quiet in the afternoon, so they could have some privacy.
It was a rather run-down place, with wood panelling on the walls, everything coloured in brown and beige; a bit boring-looking, actually. There were only a few people drinking in the other booths and talking in low tones, and someone playing on the flashing slot machine behind them. Definitely not a place where a lady of true class would go on her own, but it matched their purposes perfectly.
Ianto reached the pub a little before Kathy Swanson and was already nursing a lager when the detective slid into the booth opposite him, putting down her own pint on the scarred surface of the table and removing her suit jacket. She looked supremely elegant, as always, Ianto found; he told her so.
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly and took a sip of her drink.
"Flattery will get you nowhere, Jones; you should know that by now," she said. "So, what's up? You look tired. Rough day?"
"Just physio, actually," Ianto replied with a half-hearted shrug. "Though after a long ride on the night train it was something I could have lived without. Sometimes I really wonder if I'll ever be able to use the damn leg properly again."
She didn't come up with any of the fake reassurances other people seemed so fond of, and for that, Ianto was grateful. Sometimes he just wanted to feel bad about his situation, without being forcibly comforted, and she appeared to be the only one to understand that.
"What's new on the spooky front, then?" she asked, changing the topic.
"Unknown energy source in Mr. Parker's house," he cut to the core at once; even through the relatively low noise level of the pub, they could speak freely. "It's spiking in irregular intervals, at a higher energy level each time. We'll have to… erm… retrieve it before it becomes a threat."
"Is it dangerous?" Swanson asked, narrowing her eyes.
Ianto shrugged. "Not yet, but it might become alter. Fact is, we can't tell before we got our hands on the source and studied it."
"Too bad," she said dryly. "I doubt Mr. Parker would meekly hand the thing over to you."
"We don't intend to actually ask," Ianto answered with his customary bland smile. "We'll try stealth first. If it doesn't work, I'll have to let Jack do it his way – and that's gonna be anything but subtle."
That was certainly the understatement of the month, and Swanson closed her eyes for a moment, her imagination running amok with her, presenting the most unpleasant images of Jack Harkness on a rampage.
"Let's hope your plan works, then," she said. "Breaking into the Parker residence and taking something the old man paid lots of money for by force would cause a scandal not even Torchwood could afford."
"You know I'm not into Jack's grand statements, but it happens to be the fact that Torchwood only answers to the Crown," Ianto reminded her mildly.
"That may be so," she replied, "but you know as much as I do that there's one power that's greater than even the Crown's, and that's money. You don't piss off a millionaire who could buy the entire town from her vest pocket if he felt like it."
"It's not my intention to piss off Mr Parker," Ianto said, "but I can't let him keep a potentially dangerous alien energy source in his house. So far, all he's purchased was harmless junk. We've kept an eye on him, sure, but it was never necessary to interfere. Now it is. It's as simple as that."
"There's nothing simple in crossing Henry John Parker," Swanson warned him. "He's got contacts, even if he rarely uses them. Warn me in time, so that I can cover your back as far as I can without getting fired; and it would be better if you roped in your little friend at the City Hall, too."
Ianto shook his head. "Idris can't help us in this. He's not aware of the real reasons for Torchwood's existence."
"Perhaps it's time to let him in to the big secret, then," she said seriously. "You'll need every kind of support you can get in this case."
Ianto nodded slowly. She was right, in more ways than she actually knew it. With Colonel Oduya on the warpath, Torchwood would need the support of the local authorities, and Idris Hopper, an old schoolfriend, was his only link to the City Hall.
"It's not entirely up to me," he said, "but I'll consider it."
"See that you do," Swanson emptied her glass and shrugged on her suit jacket again. "Well, I'm off. The babysitter's cancelled, and I can't expect Eiry to look after the Imp all the time. A girl needs her mother every now and again."
She waved and left Ianto alone with his thoughts and his half-finished lager.
~TBC~