The Breaking - Chapter Nine
Author: Milady Dragon
Interlude – Agent Johnson
The day had been one major fuck-up after another.
Johnson sighed, rubbing at the headache she'd developed when things began to go wrong…which would have been at 0530 this morning. It was far too early for the day to become so screwed up.
When the agent in charge of the monitoring of Torchwood's mobile phones had reported a conversation between Harkness and someone he called 'Rhys' who was out in East Grinstead, Johnson had known their intelligence regarding Torchwood personnel had been off once more. They'd managed to trace the call, and she'd ordered a strike team in to extract the man from his motel, ordering it for 0530 knowing that most people would have been asleep at that time of the morning.
The team had completely failed because their target had had to take a fucking piss.
Another call had led them out to Grangetown, to a house that was owned by a woman named Alice Carter. That had given them another man named Patrick Delaware, and a woman who was apparently Harkness' daughter and a grandson. It would have been a feather in her cap and just the leverage she'd need to get Harkness out of his lair and into her sights.
But the reports she'd gotten from the men she'd sent to bring in Delaware and Carter had reported back that they'd escaped. Exactly how they had managed it was incredible, and Johnson would have wondered if some alcohol had been imbibed at some point. However, her entire team reported the same thing: that a sudden windstorm had torn off the garage door of Carter's house and they'd simply driven off. A few hours they'd discovered the trail at Cardiff International, that had them running for Berlin, and Carter's car in long-term parking.
Johnson wasn't sure if she believed it, but at the same she had no clue where they'd gone if it wasn't to Germany. She would just have to put their capture aside for the time being, until the trail became cleared.
She'd had words with her contact at Thames House about the complete lack of intelligence on the fact that Harkness had family, and that Torchwood had more members than what she'd been told, and decided that trusting that source had been a mistake. She wouldn't accept anything else from him without outside verification. She had her own people start searching for more information on the other members of Torchwood and Alice Carter.
And what they came up with made Johnson want to hit something.
The motel reservation had been in the name of Rhys Williams. It was obvious that was an alias, because everyone they'd come up with that name wasn't the man who'd rented the motel room, at least according to the desk clerk they questioned. And someone must have gotten to Alice Carter's records, because while they'd been able to get property records and vehicle registration records earlier in the night, when they'd gone to do a complete check nothing about her existed any longer. Even the school records for her son, Steven, were gone. She'd been scrubbed from existence.
However, what they'd found on this Patrick person raised Johnson's hackles. Former US Army; former FBI; an expert in current and archaic weapons…the man was competent in a way that Johnson wanted for her own team.
But the rest of his file…it had been so thoroughly redacted that the pages were practically blackened in. Someone whose background was such high security that not even MI5 could get a hold of it was someone she really didn't want to get involved with, mainly because she didn't have a real clue as to what she was dealing with.
There had also been a call to the Cardiff police, but no names had been given since apparently whoever answered had known who Sato was, and she'd just left a message but with no name, and the message had simply said that Torchwood was going into lockdown, and to not expect her. Whatever that meant.
Johnson had even ordered raids on the homes of the Torchwood operatives…or the ones that she knew of. She had discovered that Harkness obviously lived with Jones, and that Torchwood's Second had eclectic tastes in antiques and owned more gold and gems than anyone should have the right to, and had raised questions about how he'd obtained them. She'd had them confiscated and then had a check on his financials run before freezing his account and found out that the man was at least a millionaire, which was something else they hadn't known.
Harkness was also quite wealthy, but then from what Johnson knew the man was immortal and had had plenty of time to invest. There was so much they hadn't known about the Torchwood team, and it was irritating that she'd been sent in with half-arsed intelligence and practically no way to get more because they'd only managed to get ears into the mobile network. Torchwood was far too secure for them to get any other forms of surveillance in place.
Johnson had to get them out of their hidey hole, and she had no idea how. She didn't even know how many were in the Hub, because there could be other team members she wasn't aware of. There was no way to make a frontal assault; setting up the Tourist Office had been a good idea, since that meant there was an easily defensible entrance down into the Hub, but it seemed as if that entrance was no longer a valid one. Johnson knew there had to be other entrances, but she simply couldn't trust anything that her contact had given her. So, she had one of her agents checking sewer layouts and construction records, to see if there was some way she could infiltrate without giving her movements away.
It certainly didn't help that a major tourist attraction sat right on top of the Cardiff Rift. Even if the place was empty because of the panic caused by the children chanting destroying it to get to the Torchwood Hub would raise more questions they just couldn't afford to have asked.
Johnson was concerned about the children, but it wasn't her job and so she compartmentalised that away and concentrated on the taking of the Torchwood team. Harkness was under Blank Page order – and at least her men hadn't failed in the termination of the others under the same order – and if she could also take out the rest of Torchwood, so much the better. She just needed to get them to come out.
This was why she was walking up to the Cardiff CID.
Patanjali had told her that people in Cardiff had heard rumours of Torchwood, but nothing really beyond that except they were usually involved in weird shit that occurred all over the city. No one really knew what Torchwood did, but then it seemed as if no one really cared, as long as the city was still in one piece in the morning. Others were suspicious, and it was that suspicion Johnson was hoping to play on.
There was bustle inside the large building. Johnson removed her sunglasses and made her way over to the front desk, where two sergeants were fielding calls that Johnson was willing to bet were about the chanting children. She pushed herself to the front of the queue that had formed, getting one of the desk sergeant's attention. The woman looked irritated. "You have to go to the back of the line," she said sharply.
"I'm here to see Detective Chief Inspector Swanson," Johnson replied, her voice in a tone of command.
"Yeah, so are a lot of other people," the desk sergeant answered, unimpressed. "You'll have to wait like everyone else."
Johnson wanted to reach across the countertop and shake the copper. Instead, she reached into a pocket and pulled out her identification. "I'm with MI5." She flashed it at the desk sergeant.
The woman simply rolled her eyes. "Fine. Up the stairs, office back and to the left. But don't expect her to give you much time; we're swamped around here in case you didn't notice."
As Johnson made her way past busy constables and toward the office she'd been pointed to, she thought about what she knew about DCI Swanson. The woman had been a detective sergeant when she'd been transferred from Newport, and had quickly risen through the ranks to finally be put in charge of the detective force there at Cardiff after the terrorist attacks from the beginning of the year had decimated the highest ranking officers on the local force. She'd been the top copper left alive, thanks to her being out in the field at the time. Her record supported the promotion; Swanson was no-nonsense with a fine sense of justice. Johnson felt she could count on her to help dig Torchwood out of its hole.
The door was open, so Johnson simply entered. The woman at the desk looked up at her, dark eyes sharp as she evaluated Johnson. "So, you're with MI5," she said sharply. "Yeah, you show up now. Have a seat and tell me what I can do to get you out of my city as quickly as possible."
Johnson was slightly taken aback by the DCI's attitude. She did sit, setting the briefcase she'd brought with her onto the floor and making her own evaluation. Detective Chief Inspector Katherine Swanson was a striking woman; not classically beautiful, but carrying her intelligence in her piercing gaze and quick appraisal. Her dark hair was done up in tiny braids that were pulled back away from her face, bringing her cheekbones into sharp relief. She was dark-skinned and slimly built, and she looked very competent in the blue suit she was wearing.
Her desk was cluttered, but there did seem to be some sort of order to the documents. Swanson had been working at the computer was well, judging from the pale light from the monitor lighting up the side of her face. There weren't any personal items on it except for a framed picture turned away just enough that Johnson could not make it out.
She'd worked on her cover story before she'd driven there. Knowing Swanson's background and how she'd got her current job, Johnson had come up with something that was bound to get her the help she was looking for.
"Thank you for seeing me, DCI Swanson," she began.
Swanson made a waving motion with her left hand. A flash of red-gold caught Johnson's attention; it was a wedding ring made from Welsh gold. "Look, I don't have time for bullshit. I have panicking parents and a series of break-ins to investigate. So, if you don't mind getting on with it, I'd greatly appreciate it."
Johnson knew at once that the break-ins had been the ones at Jones' house, and Delaware's and Harper's flats. They hadn't bothered with the tourist girl; enough digging had proven that Deborah Morrison was, indeed, a paid worker for the Welsh Tourism Board, which had convinced Johnson that that particular entrance into the Torchwood Hub no longer existed. They'd also had a problem finding Sato's residence; apparently she'd moved somewhere and hadn't left a forwarding address, which would have made Johnson wonder if she was even with Torchwood anymore except that she'd heard about Harkness' deal with UNIT over the scientist. She had to still be in Cardiff, there just simply wasn't anything under her name in the property records.
"Alright," Johnson agreed. "I'm here because we've received word that a terrorist cell has taken up residence here in Cardiff."
One elegant eyebrow lifted, and Swanson leaned back in her chair, arms crossed over her chest. "Oh, really? And MI5 sends an agent of theirs to let me know this, instead of their usual, rather dismissive phone call?"
Johnson should have expected this sort of attitude. The more important agencies were always stepping on local toes, and hers was no exception. "We know you've been through terrorist attacks in the past, and this is MI5's purview, after all."
"Yeah, and where were you when a quarter of the city had been blown up?" Swanson accused. "We didn't see hide nor hair of your lot before or after the explosions. Why are you interested now?"
This was getting out of hand. "That doesn't matter. What does, is that I'm here now to share information and to arrange a cooperative effort between our two agencies in order to bring these terrorists to justice. They may even be the same terrorists who planted the earlier bombs that destroyed large parts of your city."
Swanson examined her closely. Johnson sat serenely, not really bothered all that much by the scrutiny. "So you're saying the terrorists you're chasing might be the ones responsible for the bombings." It wasn't a question.
"I am, yes."
"Alright." She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the open files laying on her desk and staring at her, a challenge in her eyes. "Tell me what you know and I'll see if we can come to some sort of arrangement."
"We do know that they've been in your city for a long time now, but beyond that we're not sure how they started up." Of course, this was a lie; MI5 was well aware of how Torchwood was chartered, but she had to convince Swanson to help her. "We finally have proof that they're behind several attacks upon innocent people, and we need to find them quickly before they can strike again."
Swanson's eyes had narrowed. "Do you have any information about just who these terrorists are?" Her voice had gone hard.
Johnson knew then that she had the police officer. She wanted to grin, but was a professional and could deny herself that pleasure. "We know there are at least five in the cell." She reached for her briefcase, balancing it on her lap as she opened it. They'd prepared some files and pictures to let the DCI look at…all properly cleaned of true facts and fixed to reflect the cover story, of course.
She spread the photos onto the desk. They'd all been taken from surveillance cameras, but she didn't have one of the elusive Rhys Williams, since the motel's CCTV had been down at the time the man had checked in. "These are the ones we know about. This man," she stabbed a finger at one of them, "is their leader, Jack Harkness." She also named the other members of Torchwood. "There's one member we don't have intelligence on; only a name: Rhys Williams."
Swanson snorted. "That's not an unusual name in the area." She was flipping through the photos, stopping at one of them. "I believe I know this one." She held up the picture of Toshiko Sato, which had been taken a couple of years ago from video surveillance from Albion Hospital, when the Space Pig had landed during the aborted Slitheen invasion.
Johnson couldn't help but smile. It seemed she'd come to the right place. "Fantastic, DCI Swanson. Where have you seen her?"
The chief inspector smiled as well, but there was something in it that had Johnson suddenly lose her good humour. "Right here," Swanson said, turning the framed photo on her desk around.
It was obviously a wedding photograph. Mountains painted a beautiful backdrop for the newly wedded pair, and a lake with old trees around it simply added to the serenity of the picture. Swanson was in it, and she was smiling almost soppily into the camera, wearing a white dress that glowed against her dusky skin.
The other half of the couple was Toshiko Sato, also dressed in white and holding a bright bouquet. She was smiling just as soppily.
"You know," Swanson drawled, "there are penalties for bringing false charges. And, since you've obviously decided to target my wife, I'm going to see that you're tossed into one of our cells and the key thrown away." She stood up, shouting, "Davidson!"
Johnson was completely and utterly gobsmacked. She was frozen in her chair, looking at the wedding photo of Swanson and Sato. How had they not known this? This information…this was big. It showed that everything they'd assumed about the relationship between the Cardiff police and Torchwood had been completely and utterly wrong.
This was who Sato left the message for. Her spouse.
It showed that she'd walked into a trap of sorts. That the moment she'd set foot into the building she'd been heading for disaster. She'd thought to find help amid the normal coppers there, and it turned out that their chief inspector was very tightly allied with the very team she'd wanted to seek aid in rooting out of their burrow.
Swanson was smirking. "I can't believe you walked right in here and expected us to help you take down Torchwood. And in case you were interested, that team has done more for this city – for this planet – than you can imagine. Cardiff is always going to be loyal to Torchwood…just as Torchwood is loyal to us. They might not always work on the up-and-up, but what they do is always on behalf of innocents. We may not like the need to have them here, but we're sure as hell glad they are." She looked past Johnson to someone standing in the doorway. "Davidson, would you mind escorting our guest to our nicest cell? I think she's going to be staying here for quite a while and we may as well make her comfortable."
With those words, Johnson shook off her surprise. She also stood. "I don't think I'll be here long, actually. You seem to forget who I work for."
"No, I haven't forgotten," Swanson assured her. "But what you don't seem to consider is that we're really overworked here. Who knows when we'll get around to letting your bosses know you've been taken into custody? Sometimes people just fall through the cracks." She grinned almost evilly. "Davidson, please handcuff and caution the accused."
"Please put your hands behind your back," a cheerful male voice said from behind Johnson. The cold metal of the cuff against her wrist made her jerk, and she considered fighting her way out. But really, how was she going to get out of a building full of cops, even if they were all unarmed?
Besides, this entire mission had been a clusterfuck from the get-go. Perhaps she'd be better off letting them arrest her? At least she couldn't be completely at fault when the shit hit the fan.
"You do not have to say anything," the man Swanson called Davidson began, sounding inordinately happy about the whole thing, "but it may harm your defence if you do not mention, upon questioning, anything that you later rely on in court. Anything you say may be given as evidence. Do you understand?"
Johnson couldn't help but laugh.
