"Doctor!" Sarah cried happily. She felt a weight lift off her shoulders when she saw the Time Lord speaking to Martha and Rohstan at their designated meeting place.
"Sarah," he said, turning to her with a look of deep relief. He gripped her upper arms and just scanned her face hungrily for a moment, then reached up and brushed her hair back, letting his hand rest on her cheek. "You're alright."
"I'm fine," she said with a smile. Then the smile faded. "Well. If furious and worried sick can be considered fine." She sighed, then smiled up at him again. "You're better."
He nodded, then rolled his eyes. "It was only a cold," he said with a self-deprecating twist of his lips. "Not the..rainbow plague of Peresthenia."
"Sounds pretty," Harry commented.
"And deadly," the Doctor said.
"You did not locate Dor?" Rohstan asked Sarah in an anxious tone.
"No," Sarah said, turning to him. "But we know who has him. And Harry's working on getting him back."
They all turned to look at Harry, who was just standing there, hands in his pockets. "Hmm?" he said, suddenly realizing all eyes were on him. "Oh. Yes. I pulled some strings. Waiting on results." Just then, his mobile played the Mission Impossible theme, and he stepped away from the group to take the call.
"You woke me up," the Doctor said softly to Sarah as they waited. His lips curled in a confidential smile.
"I did?"
He nodded. "I knew something was wrong."
Sarah stared at him in puzzlement for a moment, then her eyes widened and her eyebrows lifted. "Because of the....?" She made a small gesture toward her shoulders.
He nodded again. "We're bonded," he said, very softly and very happily.
She felt herself blushing.
"Blast," Harry said as he slammed his phone shut and turned back to them.
"What?" Sarah asked, worried, the blush quickly fading.
Harry huffed a deeply annoyed breath. "The head of Torchwood showed up at police HQ. Trying to get his operative released."
"Torchwood?" the Doctor said, frowning.
Sarah looked up at him and nodded unhappily. "They tried to take me too," she said, and the Doctor's frown deepened.
Harry grinned at her. "But she apparently kicked the Torchwood girl's..."
"Harry!" Sarah interrupted, looking at him in surprise.
"...tailfeathers," Harry finished without missing a beat.
"Right," Sarah said, rolling her eyes at him.
"...giving the police a chance to apprehend her," Harry continued. "I called in a few chaps from the office to find out where they had taken Galindor." He grimaced. "But the girl wouldn't say a word. And now that her boss is there..."
"We have to find him," Sarah said earnestly.
Harry nodded. "I know. I've told my men to throw as many roadblocks in the way of getting the girl released as possible."
"How's that going to help?" Martha asked.
"Well," Harry said. "Torchwood Three--the Cardiff lot--is a pretty small operation. You saw two of them drive off with Galindor, right?" he asked, turning to Sarah. She nodded. "So, if the boss, this girl, and a third op are all in London, I think the odds are good that they haven't taken Galindor out of the city. At least not yet. Once they get the girl out, they'll high-tail it for Wales."
"So we have to find him before that happens," the Doctor said.
"If we don't want to have to dig them out of their HQ after they've gone to ground, yes," Harry said.
"But he could be anywhere in the city," Sarah said despairingly. "How are we going to find him?"
"After Canary Wharf, all of Torchwood's London properties were confiscated," Harry said. "Except for three they couldn't flog or even lease."
"Ahh," the Doctor said, nodding. "And we know where they are?"
"We do," Harry said with a grim smile.
* * *
It was nearly dark by the time Sarah and Martha arrived at the crumbling brick building that Harry said was one of the three properties still in Torchwood One's name.
"Doesn't look very promising," Martha said, surveying the derelict structure and the weed-grown cracked concrete parking area that surrounded it. The grey light of late evening did nothing to enhance the appeal of the place--just its eeriness.
"Could be like the TARDIS," Sarah said, fiddling with the wristband the Doctor had given her just before they all split up, the Doctor and Harry each taking one of the other properties to recce while Sarah and Martha teamed up on this one. Rohstan, despite his initial protests, finally saw the wisdom of staying out of Torchwood's hands himself and agreed to wait on news back at Sarah's house, with strict instructions to head deep into the TARDIS at the first sign of trouble.
"Bigger on the inside?" Martha asked with a grin.
"Well. Maybe not. But a shabby exterior can be a way to disguise a less than shabby interior." She frowned at the wrist band. "Did he mention the range of this gadget?"
Martha shook her head, looking at it. "Don't remember. Maybe we should get closer. And I promise never to tell him you called the TARDIS shabby," she added with a grin.
They slipped silently around the corner of the adjacent building, hugging the wall, staying in the shadows and out of sight of the old factory as best they could while zig-zagging their way closer to it. When a chained and padlocked gate barred their way, Martha sighed in frustration and started to head back the way they had come. "Hang about," Sarah called softly, pulling a small metallic object out of her pocket.
Martha peered at it in the fading light. "You're going to open a padlock with your lipstick?" she said skeptically.
Sarah grinned. "Maybe." She pulled the top off the lipstick, gave a quick twist to the tube, then aimed it at the lock. The tiny device emitted a high-pitched whine, accompanied by a pinkish glow, and the lock snapped open. Sarah gave it a satisfied nod, blew on the device as if it were a smoking gun barrel, and then grinned at the astonished Martha. "He gave it to me just before we left the house. Said he was going to give it to me after our lunch date but...well..."
"That's turned out to be the longest lunch date in history," Martha said.
"Exactly," Sarah agreed with a chuckle. "And he thought it might come in handy tonight." She pulled the opened padlock free of the chain and pushed the gate open just wide enough to slip through. "He was right."
Once on the other side of the gate, they skulked toward the building in the shadows of a row of volunteer trees that had started life as weeds and, left alone, had sprung to a height that camouflaged two short women quite well. The blank, black windows of the old place stared accusingly at them.
"No broken windows," Sarah whispered, indicating the building with a quick nod.
Martha scanned the wall facing them and nodded. "Odd in a building this decrepit."
Sarah just lifted her eyebrows at her, then consulted the wristband again. "Let's get closer."
They had to run the last ten yards across an open area that afforded them no cover at all. Sarah crouched low, trying to make herself as small as she could, and ran as silently as possible, Martha following close behind. When they reached the wall of the building, they flattened their backs against it so they couldn't be seen by anyone looking out those ominous intact windows.
Sarah again checked the wristband, pushing some tiny buttons and twisting a small dial. "Bingo," she said very softly and unhappily. She showed Martha the readout.
"Alien life form?" Martha said, her upper lip curling in distress.
Sarah nodded. She checked the readout again. "Underground if I'm reading this right."
"Makes sense," Martha said. "Let the visible part decay..."
Sarah nodded. "Exactly. Perfect camouflage. The underground bit is probably ultramodern and in perfect condition."
"And well defended," Martha added with a pointed look at Sarah.
Sarah shook her head slowly. "I don't think so. Harry said the Torchwood group in Cardiff is very small. They surely wouldn't leave their home base unguarded, so they can't all be in London. We know two are elsewhere..."
"I'm not just talking about people. What about alarm systems?"
Sarah patted the pocket that contained the sonic lipstick. "Might be able to get past those."
Martha shook her head bemusedly at Sarah. "You're as big an adrenaline junkie as he is. No wonder you get along so well."
"Don't see you sitting home in a rocking chair in front of the fire," Sarah said with a grin.
"Well," Martha said, ducking her head to hide her answering smile.
Sarah looked at the wristband again and frowned. "Wish I could be sure..." she said softly, trailing off.
"Of what?" Martha whispered back.
"That it's Galindor." Sarah's eyebrows furrowed. "And that he's alright."
"Who else could it be?" Martha asked. "And they wouldn't... Would they?"
Sarah compressed her lips. "Could be a Dalek or a Cyberman locked up in a cell and forgotten after Canary Wharf for all we know. And I wouldn't put anything past these people." She looked up at Martha. "How much do you know about Canary Wharf?"
"Too much," Martha said grimly. "Lost my cousin."
Sarah reached out and placed a compassionate hand on Martha's arm. "Oh Martha. I'm sorry," she said. Martha nodded silently. Sarah squeezed her arm lightly, then looked back at the wristband. After a moment, she looked up again. "You with me?"
"Shouldn't we call Harry and the Doctor?"
Sarah shook her head. "Not till we're sure. If Galindor isn't here, we don't want to call them away from searching the other properties where he might be."
Martha nodded, then looked up at Sarah. Their eyes met, and the pact was sealed. "Allons-y!" Martha said brightly, and Sarah grinned.
They crept silently along the wall of the building, nerves tuned to such a fine pitch that the sound of a dry twig cracking under Martha's shoe had them both hitting the ground simultaneously. Wide-eyed, they looked at each other, then shared a silent, shaky laugh and climbed to their feet.
They rounded the corner of the building before they came to a door. In keeping with the rest of the building, it was a very old and ramshackle door. Its original lock had obviously given up the ghost some years before, as a metal tab and padlock had been installed just above the knob. Sarah pulled out her sonic lipstick and scanned all around the edges of the door with it. Silently raising her eyebrows at Martha and giving her a small nod, she then aimed the lipstick at the padlock, which popped open with a click that sounded crashingly loud in the dusk. They grimaced and froze, listening with everything in them, for a full minute. When no sound came from inside the building, Sarah carefully removed the padlock from the metal ring, then pushed cautiously on the door.
It swung inward an inch with a creak and Sarah quickly grabbed the edge of it to stop its movement and silence the noise. Then she very slowly and carefully pushed it open far enough for her to slip through. She held it in place while Martha slid silently into the building behind her, then pushed it closed again.
They stood for a moment, side by side, allowing their eyes to adjust to the darkness in the building. They were in a long hall which had doors opening off it at regular intervals. The factory offices, Sarah thought, as they started to slowly and silently move down the corridor. She consulted the wristband again, hoping it would pinpoint the location of the alien life form it had detected and thereby keep them from having to search every room on the floor. Again it seemed to register as underground, and at the opposite end of the corridor from where they had entered. She showed Martha the readout and gestured toward the far end of the corridor with her eyebrows, getting a nod of agreement in return. They padded softly down the dust-covered hallway.
They found a stairwell at the end of the corridor, but the stairs in it only went up. Sarah played the sonic lipstick over the floor and walls, but they all proved to be perfectly solid. She looked at Martha and shook her head. "Looks like we're going to have to search the whole floor," she said in a barely audible whisper. Martha nodded, and they headed back into the corridor.
They worked their way down the hall, Sarah checking the rooms on the right hand side, Martha taking the left. After each silent inspection of a room, they would meet in the hallway with hopeful looks, then shake their heads and continue to the next pair of offices.
Halfway down the corridor, Sarah emerged from inspecting a room to find Martha waiting for her. She furrowed her brows questioningly, and Martha hooked a thumb toward the door behind her. "Broom closet," she whispered. Sarah nodded her understanding, and they started down the hall toward the next pair of doorways, when a memory slowed, then stopped, Sarah's feet.
Martha looked at her, and Sarah tipped her head back the way they had come, then headed for the door of the broom closet. Sarah opened the door and walked in, sonicing the small space with her lipstick. She gestured for Martha to join her and close the door. Martha did.
"I once knew a broom closet that was more than a broom closet," Sarah whispered in explanation. She tentatively tugged on the hooks on the wall where various janitorial implements hung. When she felt one give, she grinned at Martha. "Hang on," she mouthed, then slowly pulled the hook down as far as it would go.
With a click and a whirr, the broom closet slowly started to descend. Wide-eyed, Martha and Sarah both did their best to hide themselves in the cleaning supplies on the chance that there was a welcoming party waiting for them on the basement level. But luck--and quiet machinery--were on their side this time, and when they finally opened the door, no one pounced on them. On this level, the corridor opened out at the end into a well-lighted room. Instead of offices along the corridor walls, there were cells. In the cell closest to the lighted room, there was a flash of vibrant color. A feathery flash. Sarah grabbed Martha's upper arm and squeezed it with excitement. Martha nodded and grinned. "Now we call the Doctor?" she mouthed.
Sarah nodded, and they ducked back down the hallway away from the occupied cell and the room. They climbed back into the broom closet elevator, and Martha whipped out her mobile. Then she gave a disgusted sigh, and showed Sarah the screen. "No signal," it said.
"Go," she mouthed. "Back the way we came. Get out. Call the Doctor and Harry." She made a move toward the closet door and Martha grabbed her arm.
"What about you?" she whispered urgently.
"I'll be fine," Sarah assured her softly. "I want to make sure he's okay, and that they don't move him before the cavalry can get here."
Martha shook her head. "I don't like it. Come with me."
Sarah tightened her lips and shook her head. "I'll be fine," she repeated. "Just get them here. Fast." Martha still stood, holding her arm. Sarah gently disengaged her hand and opened the door carefully. "Go." She quietly slipped out the door and closed it behind her. She waited a moment, then gave the door an approving smile as she heard the well-tuned mechanism of the elevator start to take Martha up to the ground floor.
Sarah crept silently back down the hallway toward the cell where she had glimpsed Galindor. As she did, she heard a male voice speaking, and was suddenly intensely grateful for mobiles and the fact that they tended to monopolize their users' attention.
"Jack, what's holding you up?" she heard the man say. She took a few more cautious steps in the direction of the light and the voice, positioning herself where Galindor could see her. As soon as he looked her way, she put a finger to her lips to signal silence.
Apparently, a finger to the lips is not a universally recognized sign, she quickly learned. "Sarah Jane!" Galindor crowed happily. "Thank goodness you have come to find me. Please take me home." Makes sense, a small detached part of her brain said. No lips.
"Oh, and Jack?" the man on the phone said, turning to look at her. "I have the Smith woman." He hit a switch on the wall. "What should I do with her?"
Sarah turned on her heel and ran for the broom closet elevator, hoping Martha had sent it back down. She tugged fruitlessly on the door, expecting at any moment to be taken down by a flying tackle. When that didn't happen, she stopped fighting with the door and turned to look down the hallway.
She saw a fit young man with short, dark hair standing with his arms crossed, the mobile held to one ear, watching her with a look of sardonic amusement. "No, I saw what she did to Tosh. I'll be careful," he said into the phone. "She isn't your average middle-aged lady. I get it."
"Well, thanks for that," Sarah muttered as she walked down the hall towards him. She strode up to him, planted her feet well apart, folded her arms and glared at him. "Who are you?"
His sardonic smile grew more crooked as he looked down at her. "Owen Harper. Torchwood."
"That part I knew," Sarah said with a disgust she didn't even try to hide. "And what gives you the right to kidnap peaceful, friendly aliens and imprison them?"
He looked at her as if she were dim. "It's what we do," he said finally.
"No, what you do...what you are supposed to do...is to protect the earth from hostile aliens." She glanced over at the cell where Galindor stood patiently. "This alien is most definitely not hostile. Although I wouldn't blame him if he were after this."
"Sarah Jane, can we please leave now?" Galindor asked plaintively from his cell.
She glanced over at him. "Not just yet. Are you okay? They haven't hurt you, have they?"
"It is not very comfortable to have my arms pinioned by steel rings," he said. Sarah frowned at him, and he turned to show her his wrists still cuffed together behind his back.
Sarah turned back to Owen, her eyes spitting green fire. "How dare you treat him like a criminal! Take those things off him immediately!"
Owen's eyebrows shot up. "Yeah, you heard her right," he said into the phone, which he still held to his ear. "She just ordered me to uncuff the bird bloke." He listened for a minute. "Right. I put the building into lockdown so she's not going anywhere." He leaned toward Sarah. "Even if she does beat me up," he said with a mocking tone and a patronizing grin.
With a sick lurch of her stomach, Sarah remembered him nonchalantly flicking a switch when he first turned to look at her. She crossed her fingers behind her back for Martha to have got clear of the building before he hit that switch.
"Well, get Tosh out of there. Fast," Owen said into the phone. "This one's not daft enough to have come here on her own without letting anyone know." He looked at Sarah appraisingly. "At least...I assume she isn't." He rang off, folded the mobile and stuck it in his pocket, pulling a gun out of another pocket in the same smooth movement and training it on Sarah. "Up against the wall," he said, motioning with the gun barrel.
Sarah complied, leaning against the cell door. Owen patted her down on one side, then the other.
"I don't carry a gun," she said dismissively.
"What's this then?" Owen asked as he patted her pocket, then reached into it. He pulled out the sonic lipstick and held it up.
"Lipstick," Sarah said, giving him a disdainful glance. "A lady likes to look her best even in trying circumstances." Her voice dripped sarcasm.
"Right," he said, handing it back to her. She took it and put it back in her pocket. Keeping her covered with the pistol, he opened the door of the cell next to Galindor's and, with a courtly half-bow and a graceful wave of his arm, invited her to step in. With a disgusted huff of breath, she did so. The door clanged shut behind her.