Chapter Text
Cardiff masonic hall was a beautiful building. All dark wood and tiled floors. It was a popular place for events like weddings but at that moment in time it looked more like a slaughterhouse. It was supposed to be an art exhibit and though the pieces were still there they were splattered with blood. Bodies were strewn across the floor, all dressed smartly, some still holding onto the stems of broken crystal glasses. Jack winced as he walked into the room, closely followed by both Gwen and Owen.
“They weren’t exaggerating.” Owen commented, trying to step around a puddle of blood.
Gwen shook her head. “One minute they’re all just quietly looking at paintings and the next they’re ripping each other apart.” She edged around the other side of the room. A thud came from the wooden seating at the back of the room making both her and Owen reach for their weapons. He walked slowly and carefully, checking each line of seats, finally spotting movement. A man who looked to be in his seventies was huddled on the floor.
“Wait! Don’t hurt me!” The old man gasped, seeing Owen.
He put his gun away and approached. “What are you doing back here?”
“I was hiding.” Uncurling himself he revealed that he had a large set of gashes running down the left side of his face.
“Oh christ.” He waved over to Jack. “Call an ambulance and see if they’ve got a wheelchair somewhere around here.”
Jack nodded and swept out of the door.
Owen crouched down in the small space. “What’s your name mate?”
“Rodger. Rodger Herbert Bennington.” The man said shakily.
“Ok Rodger. I’m Owen and the lady over there is Gwen. We’re going to try and help you, ok? How old are you?”
“Seventy eight.”
“Well you’re looking good for it.” He said while checking the mans heart rate.
Roger chuckled, almost smiling even with half of his face ripped open. Gwen had taken a moment to run out to the SUV and grab the larger of the medical kits and handed a large dressing to the man.
“Here. See if we can stop that bleeding.” She said softly, helping him hold it over the wounds.
“Thank you. I look a right mess.” He said, holding the dressing with his free hand.
“Don’t worry about all that. What happened in here?”
“I… I don’t really know… I was sitting here with the curator just talking. My legs don’t like me standing up for too long… We heard a lot of chatter about these three paintings. They’d been covered up. His prized possessions he said. They’d been unveiled and he went to gloat. Next thing I know he’s marching back with a broken bottle in his hand. He hit me and… Well, it’s a little fuzzy after that. I remember hiding under these benches.”
“You’re doing great. Did you hurt anywhere else when you fell?”
“No. My knees are bad but I think they’re ok.”
“Any dizziness?” Asked Owen, removing the blood pressure cuff from Rogers arm.
“No. I can’t open my left eye though.”
“Wouldn’t expect you to at the minute. Right, when Jack gets back with a wheelchair we’re going to get you out of here but I need you to close your eyes until we’re out.”
“It must be bloody awful out there.”
“You’re not wrong.”
Gwen looked over to the door as she heard it open and saw Jack walk back in pushing a folded wheelchair. “Looks like our transport’s here.”
“Right then, let’s get you up off the floor. Gwen, can you support his right side?”
She clambered round and helped to lift the man up and onto the seats. He wasn’t that heavy but it was clear how weak he was. They then moved him to the wheelchair and moved him out of the room as fast as was safe. It wasn’t long before the paramedics arrived and Owen stayed to update them on the mans injuries. Gwen and Jack returned to the scene and checked the area around where Roger had been found. There was broken glass scattered around and the curator lay dead on the floor only feet away with the stem of a wine glass partially sticking out of his back.
“Didn’t the police say that nothing had been touched in here?” Jack asked, looking at one display.
Gwen nodded and walked over to join him. “Yes. Why?”
“Then where are the three paintings that were here?” He gestured to the empty hanging hooks.
“Maybe someone took them in the chaos.”
“Or caused the chaos to take the paintings.”
Tosh studied the photographs of the three stolen images. Not one of the photos was of the complete image. All of them had a sheet covering at least half of the painting. They were painted by an unknown artist some time in the eighteen hundreds and were worth more than a million pounds per piece due to their unique composition. The exhibition was the first time they’d been shown publicly in seventy years. Though there was little information on what had happened during that display she was not one to give up. By cross referencing the time and location she’d found a large number of violent attacks perpetrated by people likely to have attended. Though correlation did not always equal causation in this case she was sure that it did. After all they’d recently known paintings with telepathic properties so there being others in existence was possible. Now she had to find out where they’d gone. The hall had a few cameras but they were old and had a framerate a picture book would be ashamed of so she only had a few stills to work with before the thief escaped. Whoever they were they knew what they were doing. They’d made sure they were out of view of the paintings to avoid their effects and covered them before leaving. They also seemed to know where the cameras were as they made sure not to face them at any point.
Ianto placed a mug of coffee on her desk. “Find anything useful?”
“Thanks. Not really. Well, I know that someone took the paintings but as to who they are I have no idea. These are the only images I could get.”
“So, really good shots of the back of their head.”
“Yep.” She sipped her coffee and relaxed into her chair.
“At least you know he’s part of a masonic order.”
“Hmm?”
“He’s wearing a masonic ring. That’s probably how he walked out without being stopped too.”
“You can tell?” She looked to the screen and specifically the thieves hands.
He pointed to the ring. “It’s the shape. You can see some of the other members wearing them too. I could be wrong but it looks too similar to be a coincidence.”
“I didn’t think you’d be the one to know anything about the masons.”
“I don’t. There’s an old gentleman that pops into the office for a chat once in a while and he has the same ring. Melody might know more. Any conspiracy theorist worth their salt knows at least something on the freemasons.”
“Well, if we use their list of members it narrows the number of suspects. I’ll ask Gwen to talk to the other members still at the hall.”
“Even if we can’t identify him we could stop the paintings being sold.”
“Black market sales are so annoying to search through. Though I doubt this’ll be advertised online. It might be a case of having to find a private auction.”
“How?”
“I think Jack has a few contacts. When I first joined he went to a private art auction to pick up an alien plasma cutter that they advertised as a modern art sculpture.”
Gwen had pulled the event manager, Ernest Garfield, aside to ask him a few questions. She was led to a quiet room where he offered her a seat.
“Thank you. I know this is a traumatic time for you but we need to find out who caused this.” She explained.
The man nodded and sat. He was in his late fifties and reminded her of a stern headmaster. “I understand. Please go ahead.”
“As you know, three paintings were stolen during the chaos and though we haven’t identified the thief yet we have good reason to believe he is part of your organisation.”
He looked startled. “What? Why would any of us do something so… Awful.”
“I know this is a shock, and you never want to suspect a friend, but the culprit was wearing a masonic ring and seemed to have prior knowledge of where the security cameras are.”
He clearly didn’t want to believe it but there was something in his eyes that suspected someone.
“Even if there’s the slightest chance someone might be involved then please tell us. If it turns out they weren’t then it rules them out.”
“We’ve had a few new members recently. One of them… Well, he’s enthusiastic. A bit too enthusiastic. I’ll get you his address.”
“Thank you Mr Garfield, this helps a lot.” She assured him.
“If it was one of our people, will you be able to tell me? We don’t accept thieves in our order.”
“I’ll do my best to keep you informed.”
He nodded a thank you and walked out, returning minutes later with a name and address written on a piece of paper. “I know it sounds ridiculous but there were rumours that those paintings were cursed. They were the only ones not up for sale.”
Melody collected the morning newspapers. They sometimes got read but most of the time they were used as treats for Janet. Once the staples were removed of course. The weevil could spend over an hour just ripping the papers apart and eating the remnants. Whatever kept her happy Mel supposed.
She set them on the desk and opened the first up to remove the staples when the outside door to the tourist information office opened. She immediately recognised who entered.
“Good morning Andy. I didn’t expect you to pop in here today. Want me to call Gwen?” She smiled brightly.
He had his hat tucked under his arm and a slightly grim look on his face. “Um, no. I actually wanted to talk to you.”
“Me?”
“Yea, any chance there’s somewhere we could have a chat in private?”
Her stomach dropped and she could hear him trying to think of anything other than what he was there to talk about. “Um, ok, let me just call Ianto.” She took her mobile from her pocket and hit his contact. “Hi. Yea, can you pop up here for a sec please?... Kind of has to be now, yea… Ok… Thanks.” She ended the call and looked back at Andy. “He’ll be up in a sec. Are you on your break?”
The officer shook his head. “Not for another two hours I’m afraid.”
“Has something bad happened?” Her palms had started to sweat from nerves and she had to stop herself just looking into his memories to find out the answer.
“Melody, we should wait until we’re sitting somewhere private, yea?” His voice was soft and reassuring but nothing was going to stop the knot in her stomach forming.
The hidden door opened, Ianto knowing that Andy was fine to let in. “Is there something wrong?” He asked, sweeping past to make sure the outer door was closed.
“I need to speak with Melody somewhere private. Sorry to bother you in the middle of the day, but it’s urgent.”
“That should be fine. You can use the meeting room.” He escorted them both to the meeting room, getting a very confused look from Tosh as they went past. He left them in private, not wanting to pry even if he was very concerned.
Andy sat and placed his hat on the table.
“So, what’s going on?” Mel asked, her pendant gripped between her fingers.
He steadied his voice and began a speech he always hated delivering. “I’m sorry to inform you that Delilah Olivia Archer was found deceased in her home this morning.”
She felt like the wind had been knocked out of her.
“I’m so sorry. I thought you should hear it from someone you knew.”
“I… How?”
“We’re investigating-”
“Andy, please.” A tear rolled down her face.
He took a pack of tissues from his pocket and handed her one. “I don’t know all the details but… We don’t think it was self inflicted.”
“I know we didn’t get along but-”
“No, no. You’re not a suspect. I’m pretty certain you have a solid alibi. The reason I came to see you … And I could lose my job for this, but I think you’ll be safer if you know. I don’t know how she managed it but Miss Paul wrangled a home visit over christmas and she hasn’t been heard from since. Her parents say they saw her get into the taxi with her case worker, but after that it’s like she disappeared off the face of the earth along with her case worker. It’s possible she’s already crossed the border but because of the whole Torchwood thing you weren’t on any contact list.”
She let the information sink in. All colour had drained from her face and her hands were shaking. “Do… Do you think it could have been her that... Attacked Delilah?”
“It’s too early to tell. God I’m so sorry.”
“I should… Call my mum…” She sniffled.
He took her hand softly. “Let us inform your parents. You need to take a moment for yourself.”
“Are they going to be in danger?”
“I don’t think so. No.”
“Good… I… If you hear anything can… Of course you can’t tell me. What am I asking.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
She nodded. “Thank you… Can I have a minute alone?”
“Of course. I’ll be just outside.” He stood and stepped out of the door, coming face to face with Gwen. The sound of sobbing could be heard through the door as he quickly told Gwen what was going on.