Saturday, Day 194, 04.58 GMT
Latitude: 51° 27' 9" N
Longitude: 3° 9' 9" W
The moment the TARDIS vanished from London the pagers the operatives were carrying went crazy, but the Torchwood Three team were the first out of the door, Tosh routing the co-ordinates to her mobile station as she ran to the garage. Despite the fact that Jack knew UNIT could scramble a helicopter within minutes, there was always a chance that the Doctor and Ianto were somewhere the terrain was unsuitable for a landing and Jack needed to be there to make sure they were safe.
"Well?" he snapped, throwing himself into the car and fastening his seatbelt.
The engine revved.
"Talybont Reservoir," Tosh replied, working away. She hadn't had a chance to do her own belt up. "I'm sending the co-ordinates to the Sat-Nav."
Jack bounced his fingers on the steering wheel, watching the garage door crawl open, the car revving as his foot tapped on and off the accelerator.
"Shit," Gwen breathed, looking at the Sat-Nav. "They're in the Beacons."
"Bloody hell!"
The SUV roared to life and the car sped away from the underground lot, tires squealing on the tarmac. Jack didn't care about discretion. The blue lights were lit on the dashboard and Tosh was clearing their way. The timing on Sat-Nav read one hour and four minutes but Jack knew that he could do it in forty.
He had to.
"Tosh," he barked, putting more pressure on the already stretched technician. "Get me through to Martha Jones, UNIT."
"Who's she Jack?" Gwen asked, clinging to the handrail as the SUV tore through Cardiff.
He grinned briefly at her, "An old friend."
Jack's face settled back into an impassive mask. They had the advantage over Torchwood London - they were on home turf and London had to scramble out of the Hub and to their van. So, they had a head start. But it was only a small one.
The phone rang.
"Dr. Jones." The professional, yet sleepy, voice filled the car's speakers.
"Martha Jones, voice of a nightingale-"
"Jack!"
"-and just as pretty," he leered at his team. It didn't carry; his eyes were just too serious for flirting.
"How are you?"
"Stressed."
"Anything I can do?" she sounded genuinely concerned, and knowing Martha she probably was. She wasn't a doctor for the money or the glory - or even the challenge like Owen was - but because she truly wanted to help people.
"Give me the Doctor's number." It wasn't a request and he couldn't say please.
There was an ominous pause and Jack knew she was biting her lip. For moments all that could be heard was his own heartbeat, too loud to his ears, and Tosh's fingers clacking away on her keyboard.
"I know you have it," he prodded, gripping the steering wheel, the sweat on his palms making the leather slick.
"I can't," she whispered, sounding torn.
"Sure you can," he cajoled, desperate not to let either Ianto, or the Doctor, slip through his fingers.
He loved them both too much.
"Jack..."
"Jack!"
He growled. "Not now Tosh." His voice smoothed out, "Come on Martha, it's me!"
"Jack!"
He glared at Tosh through the mirror but, defiantly, she met and held his gaze.
"You need to hear this."
Jack blew out a frustrated breath and beeped aggressively at a lorry driver. He got a, deserved, two finger salute for his fit of pique.
"Martha," he snapped, not caring anymore about sucking-up to her. She was going to give him that number eventually. "Do not hang up."
At his nod Tosh quickly overrode the phone. There was a moment of static before the line cleared.
"...How will we know which he is - I've never seen the Doctor." The voice was young, a distinct Midlands accent colouring his words.
"Torchwood sent a photo. Recent. He's probably still wearing the same clothes."
Jack frowned.
There was a snort. "I can't believe Torchwood is letting us take one of their own."
The silence in the SUV turned deathly.
"It's a deal. Get Jones and they'll let us have the Doctor."
"And he'll go free?"
"Yeah."
"That's good." The young man sounded relieved that the Doctor would go free. "Why'd they want Jones?"
Jack wanted to know that himself.
"Somat about a Cyberman."
The car screeched to a halt as Jack hit the brakes. His face was distinctly ashen, reflecting the shock of his team and he wasn't quite sure that his heart hadn't stopped. A black maw had opened up in his chest and he could remember, very clearly, how easy it was to kill a man. Snuff out his life and send him hurtling into oblivion. He didn't dare look at Owen, sure that he'd do something he'd regret. The steering wheel creaked under his grip and he could dimly hear the honking of horns over the roaring of blood in his ears.
"Jack?" Gwen whispered, but Jack reacted as if her voice had been the crack of a gun.
"Martha!"
The phone clicked back on.
"Martha! I need that number! Now!"