Chapter 16

Stakeout

Craig "Ace" Rimmer, was sitting in the driving seat of the Torchwood Range Rover, with his field partner, Gwen "Numbers" O'Toole in the passenger seat next to him. They were parked opposite the Queen's Head public house, in Church End, Sandridge, just north of St Albans. Much as they would have liked to be inside the public house, they were on a stakeout, watching a church of all things, where one of the congregation was suspected of being a blood sucking alien, which at the briefing, Rose had called a Plasmavore. There was no camera director with them, as any action would be recorded on the vehicle cameras and their body cameras.

'Not so much praying WITH the congregation, as preying ON them,' Craig joked, as he unscrewed the top on his metal thermos flask.

Gwen rolled her eyes and groaned light heartedly at his pun. Craig poured tea into one of the metal cups and handed it to his partner without asking if she wanted one. He knew she would.

'Thanks,' she said, as she took the offered cup, whilst keeping her eyes on the entrance to the church.

Craig poured himself a cup and put it on the dashboard, the steam fogging a small patch of windscreen. He screwed the top back on the flask and put it in his pack, before rummaging inside and pulling out a packet of Hobnob biscuits.

'Hobnob?' he asked Gwen with raised eyebrows.

Gwen glanced over and smiled. 'Go on then. I'll take one off yer hands.' She dug her fingers into the wrapper to lever out a couple of biscuits. 'Oh look. Two came out instead,' she said cheekily.

Craig laughed and took a biscuit out himself. He watched as Gwen dunked a biscuit half way into her cup of tea. 'Best ever biscuit for dunking,' he told her.

'Mmmmm,' Gwen agreed, as she sucked the tea out of the biscuit and let it dissolve in her mouth.

Craig did the same with his, and looked at his cup. 'I've only got half a cup now. It's sucked all the tea out,' he said with a grin.

Gwen laughed.

'That's better,' Craig said with a smile.

Gwen frowned. 'What is?'

'You, laughing. I've got to say babe, this last week you ain't been the life and soul,' Craig said tentatively. 'Is everything alright?' Usually on a mission, they would natter about anything and everything. Recently though, Gwen had been quieter and in a more reflective mood.

'Yeah. Sorry about that mate. I've had a lot on my mind recently,' she replied, looking forwards through the windscreen.

Craig had a guess at what was troubling her. 'Are you and Ben alright?' She turned to look at him without answering. 'If you want to talk, you know we can tell each other anything. I mean, we've been partners now for what, seven years now?'

'Eight,' Gwen corrected him. 'It was when Jack became director full time back in twenty nineteen.'

'Eight years, yeah. And to be honest, I thought it was your time of month,' he said with a mischievous smile.

Gwen spluttered her drink. 'CRAIG!'

'What?' he said innocently. 'I am married to a woman you know. I know all about "ladies bits".'

'You can stop right there mister. We are not discussing my "lady bits",' She said sternly.

'Oh, heads up,' Craig said, gulping the last of his tea and putting the cup down. 'The congregation are leaving.'

To their left, Church End curved to the right, between the pub and St Leonard's Church. They had a clear view through the lych gate to the grey stone church. Groups of people were slowly walking down the path, chatting as they walked.

Gwen finished her drink and picked up her hand scanner, which had a directional long range sensor plugged into it. She lowered the side window and pointed the six inch long tube towards the people leaving the church. The probe sent telemetry data to the scanner, and Gwen could see body temperature, heart rate, blood pressure, and all the things which indicated someone was human.

'Ah, here we go . . . It's that couple there who've just come through the lych gate,' Gwen told him. 'One of them has a low body temperature and an unusual cardiac rhythm.'

'Which one?' Craig asked. 'The man or the woman?'

'Can't tell at this distance. We'll have to get closer and scan them individually.'

'Right. I'll take the man, you take the woman,' Craig said. 'Ready?'

Gwen unplugged the long range sensor from her scanner. 'Let's do it.'

They climbed out of the Range Rover and checked their stun guns, before walking along the road towards the church and the middle aged couple who were walking away from them. The man appeared to be in his forties, wearing a dark suit under a brown overcoat, and carrying a bible. The woman appeared to be a similar age, wearing a light green trouser suit, black overcoat, shoulder bag and sensible flat shoes.

'Excuse me,' Craig called out, holding up his ID as he approached. The couple turned to see who had called for their attention.

'Hello. I'm agent Rimmer, this is agent O'Toole. We're from the Torchwood Institute, and have reason to believe that one of you is in mortal danger, and one of you is a blood sucking alien.' Both agents raised their scanners.

'Mortal danger?' the man asked, his brow furrowed into a disbelieving frown.

'Alien?' the woman said, and then turned to the man. 'You're an alien? Oh my God. That's why you wanted to walk me home!'

Gwen quickly glanced at the man, who was protesting his innocence and stating that it was the woman who had said she didn't feel safe walking home and would he escort her, when a blow to her jaw split her lip, buckled her knees, and sent her to the pavement.

'GWEN!' Craig called out, as the woman athletically somersaulted the stone wall of the church and weaved through the gravestones. He crouched down to check on his partner.

'Get her!' Gwen told him, as she spat out blood and rubbed her bruised jaw. Other members of the congregation were gathering around to see what had occurred and if they could offer any assistance.

Craig straightened up and drew his stunner in one action. 'Everybody stay back,' he commanded.

He rested his arms on the wall, took a deep breath to steady his hand, and tried to anticipate when the retreating alien would zig and when she would zag. She zagged to go around the back of the church and he pulled the trigger before she made it. "Zap". A bolt of blue-white energy hit the Plasmavore in the back, with a resulting web of energy briefly sizzling all over its body and sending it spinning to the ground.

'Gotcha!' Craig said with satisfaction, and then turned his attention back to his partner. 'You okay?'

'Yeah, fine . . . I can't believe I let her hoodwink me like that,' Gwen said, wiping the blood from her lips with the back of her hand.

'Well, she was convincing. Had me going there for a bit,' Craig said in an attempt to make her feel better.

'Yeah. But you didn't let her slug you on the jaw, did you?'

'You must be slowing down in your old age,' Craig said cheekily.

'Oi. You're older than me, you cheeky bugger,' Gwen told him with a friendly slap to his arm.

Craig waggled his eyebrows at her. 'Look at it this way though. What happened to you could have been worse.'

'How so?'

'It could have happened to me.'

['Carrionites?! Those were the three witches in Macbeth Shakespeare wrote about, yeah?'] Rose asked in her head, accessing their shared memory.

['That's them,'] John replied. ['They tapped into a synaptic engram in Will's head, and in Peter Sharpe, the architect of the Globe theatre.']

['And y'reckon they've done the same to Darren Parker?'] Rose reasoned.

['I reckon so. I've accessed the incident file and see he's in Grantham and District Hospital,'] he told her, having used his Torchwood log in on his home laptop. ['I need to go and speak to him.']

['But I thought he was in a coma.']

['It'll be more like a catatonic vegetative state if the Carrionite had anything to do with it. They did a similar thing to Peter Sharpe, back in 1599 in the old universe.']

['Are ya gonna be alright?'] Rose asked him, wondering if the Carrionite would teleport onto the hospital ward, like it did in Peter Sharpe's "room" in Bedlam.

John picked up on her concerns. ['I'll be fine, Love. And if the Carrionite does make an appearance, I can use the naming to dispel it.']

['I thought it only worked once,'] she reminded him.

['It does, and I haven't used it in this universe yet.']

['Oh yeah. Clever clogs,'] she thought at him with a smile.

John was standing at the console in the TARDIS, and smiled to himself. ['See you later.'] He set the coordinates for the Grantham and District Hospital, left the temporal coordinates in neutral, and engaged the Time Rotor. After a few pumps up and down of the central piston, he disengaged the Time Rotor and shut down the console.

He stepped out into a service corridor in the basement of the hospital, where old, broken beds, wheelchairs and furniture were stored, each with a hand written note explaining what was wrong with the item. When he turned to close the door of the TARDIS, he could see it was neatly nestled between two cages on wheels which were full of bags of bed linen and blankets. Further down the corridor, was a service elevator which would take him to the ground floor and the reception desk.

Being a Sunday, the hospital was fairly quiet as there were no outpatient clinics, just the occasional group of visitors coming and going. John stepped out of the lift and looked around.

'Oh, look. They've got a little shop,' he said to himself, as he made his way to the semicircular reception desk. There were four positions with computer terminals, but only one was occupied.

He reached inside his jacket pocket and took out his wallet of psychic paper. He smiled his charming smile at the lady behind the desk. 'Hello, I'm Doctor John Smith, a neuroscience specialist from . . .'

The receptionist looked up and her eyes went wide. 'Oh-My-God! It's you.'

'Er, yes. It's me . . .' he replied cautiously.

'Doctor Smith, off the telly!'

'Er, yes. That's me . . .' he repeated, realising that any subterfuge wouldn't work, now he was famous. 'There's a patient in here, Darren Parker. Any chance of talking to the medical team looking after him?'

'Oh, let me see,' she said, as she tapped at the keyboard. 'Ooh, you're in luck. His consultant is on-take this weekend. I'll page him for you.'

'Thank you,' John said. This was easier than making up some story to get the information he wanted. Maybe being famous wasn't so bad after all.

John stood around for a few minutes, his hands in his trouser pockets, watching visitors and staff meander through the reception area, when a phone on the desk rang. The receptionist picked it up.

'Hello, reception . . . Oh, yes. There's a Doctor Smith here at reception who wants to discuss a patient of yours, Darren Parker.' There was a pause as she listened to the reply. 'Yes, of course. I'll send him along.'

The receptionist put down the phone and picked up a folded booklet, which she opened and handed to John. 'Doctor Patel will meet you on Ward Six. It's on the ground floor, if you go down that corridor there . . .' she pointed to her left. 'And there's a little map for you.' She handed over the booklet.

John took the offered booklet and looked at it with an open mouthed smile. 'A little booklet, and a little shop. Brilliant!' He set off to find Ward Six and Doctor Patel.

John stepped onto the hospital ward, taking a moment to get his bearings. The sterile smell of antiseptic filled his nostrils as he scanned the room, his eyes adjusting to the fluorescent lighting. He spotted the nurse's station and made his way towards it.

'Excuse me,' he said to the nurse, who looked up from her charting. 'I'm here to see Doctor Patel, my name's . . .'

'Doctor Smith!' the nurse finished for him with a smile. 'Sorry, love the show.'

'Don't apologise,' John told her. 'Always nice to meet a fan . . . Er, Doctor Patel?'

'Oh, yes. He was here recently, using the phone.' The nurse looked up and saw a care assistant. 'Jenny, have you seen Doctor Patel?'

'He's just reviewing Mister Hobson's discharge notes. Would you like me to fetch him?'

'If you don't mind, that would be lovely.' The care assistant went off to find Doctor Patel.

The nurse raised an eyebrow. 'Is this something to do with Torchwood?'

'Um, possibly. Can't really say until I've seen Darren Parker,' John told her, at which point, the care assistant returned with a tall, young Asian man in hospital blues.

'Doctor Smith? I'm Prad Patel,' the young man said.

John shook his offered hand. 'John Smith. Thanks for seeing me.'

'No problem . . . It's Darren Parker you were asking about?'

'Yes. I understand he was admitted in a catatonic state,' John said.

'That's right. He's been referred to us on the stroke ward, because that was the initial diagnosis, although CVA's in young people are rare. But all the tests and scans show no intracerebral event.'

'Hmm. I've seen something like this before, a long, long time ago, and Torchwood have detected some . . . unusual activity recently which ties in with Darren and his ghostbusters,' John explained. 'Can I examine the patient? I think I may be able to help him.'

Prad frowned. 'Er, yes of course, this way.' He led the way down the ward. 'Ghostbusters?'

'Yes. Darren and his chums were doing an online ghost hunt when they found some artefacts.'

'And you think one of these artefacts is responsible for his current condition?' Prad asked.

'Indirectly, yes,' John replied as they stopped at the foot of a bed.

There was a young man lying in the bed, apparently asleep. There were three people sitting by his bedside. A young woman, with eyes red from crying. John presumed this was Kirsty, his sister. The other two were presumably Darren's parents.

'Hello,' Prad said quietly. 'Sorry to interrupt your visit, but we have an expert here who thinks he may be able to help.'

They all looked at John and he gave a little wave. 'Hello.'

'Mum! It's Doctor Smith from Torchwood,' Kirsty told them. 'Can you really help him?'

'I think so,' replied John. 'Why don't you go and have a cuppa and I'll see what I can do.'

'God bless you,' Misses Parker said, squeezing John's hand as they left the bedside.

Prad pulled the curtains around the bed, and John blew out his breath. 'No pressure then.'

'So what's the procedure then?' Prad asked.

John sat on the edge of the bed. 'Wellll. It's more mystical than medical.' He saw Prad's expression and grinned. 'Don't worry, it's just science you haven't got a handle on yet.'

He put his index and middle fingers on Darren's temples and started to reach out with his mind. 'Darren? I'm the Doctor, John Smith. Go back three days. Let your mind go back three days. Let your mind go back. Back to when everything was fine. Everything that has happened these last three days, happened to someone else. It was just a story, a video online. Let go . . . That's it . . . That's it, just let go.'

Prad watched with interest. 'Was it a form of hypnosis which did this to him?'

John kept his eyes closed in concentration as he replied. 'Pretty much as you understand it, yes . . . A post hypnotic suggestion placed in his mind via a telepathic link . . .' Suddenly, Darren's eyes snapped open. 'Oh. Here we go.'

'Lilith?' he called out as he sat upright.

'No. I'm John, and this is Prad. What can you tell me about Lilith?' John asked.

Darren looked around in confusion. 'Where am I? Where's Lilith?'

'You're in hospital, and as for Lilith, we haven't a clue where she is. Although I'd put money on her heading for London,' John told him, thinking of a previous encounter with someone called Lilith. 'Can you remember anything?'

Darren rubbed his temple and lay back on the bed. 'I remember we did a ghost hunt in this old house . . . There was a small box with a crystal ball in it, and some papers with weird writing and drawings . . . And this woman's voice calling my name.'

'Lilith?' John ventured.

'Yeah. I had a dream about her . . . she spoke all funny like . . . like she was in a Shakespeare play or something. And then she said I could read the words on the papers, so I looked, and I could, so I read them out for her. She said she'd been trapped in the crystal ball by an evil warlock . . .'

Prad touched John's shoulder and nodded sideways for them to have a private word. 'He's obviously delusional. I'd have said it was LSD or something similar, but we found no trace of psychoactive drugs in his system.'

'Delusional?' John asked in a "you reckon" tone of voice. 'Darren, can you remember any of the words you read in the papers?'

Darren frowned in concentration. 'Er, Betwixt David Shaw's and linear, er something . . . some numbers, and strikes the fulsome grove of Rexel Four . . . Co-radiating crystal.' As he spoke, the curtains around the bed fluttered as though someone had just opened a window.

'Close enough,' John said as they watched the curtains ripple.

Prad opened one of the curtains and looked out. There were no open windows. 'What was that?'

'A coded set of instructions to activate a rift in space-time, so that someone could enter this universe from a transdimentional stasis sphere,' John explained.

['John?'] Rose thought in his head.

['Yeah. You've just had a blip in the Cardiff Rift, haven't you?']

['That's right. Howd'ya know?']

['Our friend Darren here just tried to remember what he'd read in those papers. It wasn't exact enough to trigger a full opening, but it was close enough to initiate the start up.']

'And what does that mean in English?' Prad asked

'It means there's an ancient alien on the loose, who wants to bring all her mates here and cause all sorts of trouble.'