Jack nodded. ‘Great. OK, item six… “man-thing” reported on the commons by Sandhill Way?’
‘Weevil,’ said Owen. ‘We got positive ID off the CCTV footage we borrowed from the police.’
‘And when you say “borrowed”…?’ said Gwen.
‘All right, “stole”,’ replied Owen. ‘It was a Weevil, anyway. Gone to ground now. We’ll keep watching and move on it when it shows again.’
Jack turned another page. ‘Missing pets in Cathays?’
‘Gone quiet,’ said James.
‘Probably another Bartok,’ said Owen.
‘Let’s keep an eye on that too, though,’ said Jack. He flicked another page over. ‘This one from yesterday. An adult male run down on City Road around lunchtime. It’s flagged because, according to witnesses, the guy stopped the car that hit him dead and remained on his feet.’
‘There’s not much more available on that,’ said James.
‘The eye-witnesses also report the man as behaving oddly prior to the RTA,’ said Gwen. ‘General consensus is he was off his face on something Class A.’
‘Probably wound up in A amp;E the moment he came down,’ said Owen. ‘I’ve seen that happen. People so high they wander around with a broken leg until the buzz wear’s off and they notice.’
‘OK,’ said Jack. ‘Put that one in pending. Right… the metallic object found on the construction site on Tweedsmuir Road?’
‘Good thing we didn’t move on that immediately,’ said Toshiko.
‘Yeah,’ agreed Owen. ‘We’d have looked pretty stupid storming in there mob-handed.’
‘Why?’ asked Jack.
‘Because it’s a Bartok,’ said Owen.
‘Why?’ asked Jack.
‘Because… that’s what we call false alarms, isn’t it?’ Owen replied, glancing at the others for corroboration.
‘No,’ said Jack, ‘I meant why is it a Bartok?’
‘Because… uhm…’ Owen answered, pausing again, as if it was a trick question, ‘James’s third-favourite TV show is Eternity Base and, between Seasons Three and Four, they changed the actress playing feisty head pilot Lauren Bartok, and the replacement actress was such a disappointment, there was a huge fan outcry, and the producers got the original actress back in for Season Five-’
‘Owen,’ said Jack.
‘… hence “Bartok” meaning a disappointment and, by extension and usage, “false alarm”-’
‘Owen,’ Jack repeated.
‘… What?’
‘I know why we call it a “Bartok”,’ said Jack calmly, ‘I meant why is this a Bartok?’
‘Ooooh,’ said Owen. ‘Sorry. Well, because it turned out to be the cylinder block from a Hyundai.’
‘A Hyundai?’
‘Or a Subaru. Definitely a cylinder block, though.’
‘You’re remarkably happy today,’ Jack said to Owen.
‘I am. I really am,’ Owen grinned. ‘I feel great.’
Jack looked at the others. ‘Good. So, summing up, everyone feels great, the sun’s out, the day has nothing for us but false alarms, it’s a wonderful time to be alive, and Owen’s gone all geek on us. Anything else?’
‘Costings,’ said Gwen half an hour later, dumping a stack of files on Jack’s desk. ‘As requested.’
He looked up. ‘Thanks. And the viability reports and evaluations?’
‘Just getting to those.’ She hovered, dawdling.
‘Anything else?’
‘No.’
Jack looked up at her again. ‘You look bored.’
‘That’s very perceptive.’
‘You might as well have been wearing a Chairman of the Bored T-shirt,’ said Jack. ‘Come on, the week we’ve had and you’re complaining about a slow day?’
‘No, just the bloody paperwork. I was thinking…’
Jack pulled an overly dramatic face and gripped the sides of his desk with both hands. ‘OK,’ he said, ‘I’m braced. Go on.’
‘You’re so droll. I was thinking about that thing you showed us.’
‘The trick with the paper clips?’
‘No, that thing… the thing in your pocket.’
‘I’m just as God made me, Gwen.’
‘Oh, stop playing! The tile thing. The flashing thing. The secret you decided to share with us.’
‘What about it?’ Jack asked.
‘Well, it’s obviously bugging you that we don’t know anything about it, not properly. I was wondering if I should go up to that Cosley Hall place and see if I could find anything out.’
‘This wouldn’t have anything to do with paperwork, would it?’ Jack asked.
‘No. Yes. But it’s a cause for concern, isn’t it? You’re worried about it and you want to know what it is.’
‘I do,’ said Jack. He got up and removed the flashing black tile from his coat. ‘But I’ve been up to the Hall on dozens of occasions. Been over the whole place with a fine-tooth comb. I don’t know what you’d find that I didn’t.’
She shrugged. ‘Neither do I unless I look. Fresh pair of eyes and all that?’
‘Torchwood’s been studying this ever since it got hold of it,’ Jack said, staring at the small black tile. ‘Thanks for the offer, but I think there are more useful things you could do today.’
Gwen sighed.
‘Hey!’ Toshiko called from her work station below. ‘This is potentially a live one.’
They quickly gathered around her station.
‘I’ve been noting this for a fortnight now,’ she said, tapping on her keyboard and calling up a spreadsheet. ‘Llandaff/Pontcanna area. Complaints to the police and to the Chamber of Commerce about a bloke going door-to-door selling double glazing and loft insulation.’
‘Oh my God, that’s inhuman!’ said Owen.
‘Listen,’ Toshiko said, ignoring him. ‘Eighteen complaints, and six more came through today. The man is very nice, very polite, very credible. Comes cold calling, lovely chat, cup of tea. Then the homeowner signs up on the spot and forks out money. Cash.’
‘How much cash?’ asked James.
‘As much as he can get. Sometimes he drives the homeowner to a nearby bank or cashpoint to get his payout. No cheques. He’s making a killing.’
Jack shook his head. ‘Look, I know everyone is anxious to find something to do, anything to get them out of here on a sunny day, but that’s just fraud. A consumer protection issue. Goes on all the time.’
‘Except,’ said Toshiko.
‘Except?’
‘The police are unwilling to take action because they can’t even get a partial description of the man. He spends hours at a time in the company of his victims, and afterwards they’re at a loss to say what his hair colour is. Total blank. And he’s not just praying on vulnerable people, pensioners or whatever, but affluent homes, people who should know better than fork over cash without a cooling-off period. People who already have double glazing and loft insulation.’
‘Really?’ said Jack.
‘Really. This guy’s getting money out of people who don’t even want what he’s selling. People who tell the police afterwards they have no idea why they did what they did. No idea at all.’
‘Maybe that is a live one,’ said Jack admitted. ‘Print me out what you’ve got.’
‘I’ll go have a nose around,’ offered Gwen. ‘I’ve only got paperwork.’
‘No, thanks,’ said Jack.
‘Why?’
‘Because you’ve got paperwork. I’ll go check it.’
‘Why?’ asked Gwen.
‘Because I haven’t got paperwork.’
The SUV whispered up Cathedral Road into Pontcanna. The day was crisp and autumnal. Street cleaners were scooping up the carpet of fallen leaves into barrows. They drove past an ice-cream van tinkling along.
‘So, what do you think? Hypnotic suggestion?’ asked James.