Chapter 3: Rex

Rex had decided not to go with Rose to the station; he had already driven for over six hours in London traffic today, and he didn't want to do anymore driving unless absolutely necessary. In fact, he had something better to do, and had left shortly after Rose did. He walked to a nearby restaurant called Castaway Jack's, which was bedlam at this time of day, for an excellent lunch. He always ate here when he got the chance; the food was excellent, especially the grilled sole with lemon and herbs. He finished that off with a layer cake and a glass of red wine. Then he sat at his table by the window, reading a paper.

The press was speculating about a recent incident Torchwood had attended in Dover, involving a psycho alien with a highly advanced weapon he (or she; its sex was unknown) was using to shoot at trains with. The government had done a great job of covering up the mess, but conspiracy theories were raging like wildfire.

His piece did not last long; it was disrupted by a crack suddenly appearing in the window next to him. Rex looked at it closely, but could see any sign of something hitting the glass. Then, somewhere in the restaurant, wine glass began to explode. The dinners panicked and fled from the building, tipping over tables and chairs as they went. Some, although shaken, remained seated.

A blond waitress was frozen to the spot over by the bar. She was struggling to speak. Rex's hone broke the silence, it was Rose calling. It sounded as though she was crying.

'You have to come, Rex. Something really bad's happened.'

'Rose, what happened?'

'I can't...I can't explain...please...you have to come...'

Then her phone cut out.

'Shit!' Rex said under his breath as he rushed out of the restaurant and made a b-line for his car, parked underneath Torchwood HQ.

As he ran to his car, Rex was unaware that somebody who had access to Torchwood was photographing him. That person had high security clearance; they were a mole. At the time, no one knew how close that person was to Rex and his team.

As soon as Rex had driven off, the mole pulled out a smart phone, an Apple iPhone 8, and dialled an unlisted number.

'Do you have any information for us?' said Siri, the codename the mole's contact used.

'They've found it.' said the mole. 'I am sending you details of its location now.'

Siri's face lit up as a map of Holborn appeared on her computer screen.