The last chapter ...

Getting Even

Chapter Sixteen

"I'm sorry, Wally, Torchwood screwed you up. But I want to make amends. You can't go back to your old life but with these you can make a new one, maybe one that's better."

John Wallswell picked up the British passport and turned it over a time or two before opening the back cover. His face looked out at him. The date of birth and other details were correct except for the name. This identified him as Walter John Grahame as did the heavy vehicle driving license he'd already looked at. He laid the passport down and took up the one-way 'plane ticket to Melbourne, Australia, business class, also in the name of Walter Grahame. Also on the table were: a mobile phone; a stack of Australian dollars; credit and bank cards for an account containing sufficient money to last him six months, more if he was careful; details of jobs for long-distance lorry drivers and references from previous employers; and a pre-paid hotel booking for one month.

Wallswell looked up. "Okay."

"You won't regret it. Be a fresh start for you." Jack smiled and stood up. "Let's go and see if we can find Ianto. I need a coffee." He made for the stairs that led out of the interrogation room.

"Jack, why are you doing all this? I killed twelve people."

Jack stopped on the first stair. "You didn't know what you were doing. Normally I'd have given you Retcon but that's what started this. Better you know what happened and deal with it head on. Fresh start in a fresh location will help. Least, that's what my doc says."

"Karen would have shot me. In the old days, so would you."

"That was a long time ago and things have changed. I've changed." The two men stared at one another for a long minute then Wallswell nodded once and took a step forward.

Owen moved away from the viewing window. "They're on their way up."

"We know." Gwen was standing by Toshiko watching and listening to the CCTV feed. "Does it sound stupid to say I'm glad he accepted?"

"Not as stupid as a lot of things you've said." Owen reached his desk and sat down, swivelling round to face the two women.

"I'm glad too," put in Toshiko, heading off an argument. "Like Jack said, Wally didn't know what he was doing."

It was Monday, two days after the shootings. Cardiff residents had taken this latest incident in their stride and were back in their normal routines. Those who had lost loved ones were grieving in private, keeping out of the spotlight as much as possible. Local and national media were divided between sympathy for 'the grieving father driven to despair' and 'an avenging killer' but as he had committed suicide no one would ever know the truth. John Wallswell would soon fade in people's memories and become just a name in dusty newspaper archives and electronic databases.

The man himself had been shattered when told of what he had done. Owen had spent hours with him, talking and administering medication as necessary. Jack had helped too, spending all Sunday night and into the early hours of Monday morning listening to and reassuring his one-time colleague. Gradually, Wallswell had accepted that the Retcon given him twenty-six years before had made him temporarily crazy and was responsible for the deaths. His practical nature reasserted itself and he was resigned to a quick death, that was the way of the Torchwood he now remembered. Instead he had been offered a new start. He had rebuilt his life once after finding himself in Manchester without a job or a home, he could do it again in Australia. His single biggest regret was that he had not been a better father to Becky; her loss would be with him for the rest of his life. Penance of a sort.

"Ah, Ianto, just the thing." Jack paused as the Welshman approached with a tray. "You don't know what you're missing, Wally."

"If he prefers tea, that's fine. Here you are, sir." Ianto held the tray for Wallswell.

"Thanks. It's very good tea." He sipped it.

"Not as good as the coffee," said Jack. Mug in hand, he was walking to the work area. "Wally here has decided to take up our offer of relocation. Everything in place?"

"Documentation's all done, as you know," pointed out Toshiko. She'd worked hard to get it all finished in time and establish an electronic history for Walter Grahame that would convince anyone who decided to look. "Flight leaves Heathrow at 21.30 tonight."

"I've got clothes and other necessities downstairs," said Ianto. "We can go through them when you like, make sure I've not forgotten anything."

"Not very likely," said Jack. "Get him to pack for you. Ianto loves putting things into small spaces."

"Christ, Jack, give it a rest!" protested Owen. "I'll give you a supply of those anti-depressants you're on, Wally. Take them when you feel you need them but no more than once a day."

"And I'll run you to the airport. Only take a couple of hours up the motorway," said Jack. He was still grinning at Ianto's pained expression.

"Thank you. I was saying to Jack, I don't feel I deserve all this," said Wallswell. "Especially after what I did to you all." He was embarrassed to remember how he had trussed them up and kept them captive.

"Showed up some serious deficiencies in current training levels." Jack wagged a finger at his team. "There's going to be some more training over the next few weeks. Can't have you overpowered by any old codger who comes along."

"He as bad as this in your day?" Gwen asked Wally.

"No, he was quieter back then. Must be power gone to his head." Finding Jack was heading the Torchwood Cardiff team had been a surprise. In the 1980s he had been disaffected and detached, staying for reasons known only to himself.

"You can say that again," commented Owen. Jack clipped him round the ear. "Ow!"

Ignoring them, Gwen said, "We've been monitoring the police investigation. Rebecca's murderer will be arrested later today and there's enough evidence to convict. We'll see to that."

He swallowed down the lump in his throat. "I'm grateful. Who was it?"

"A man who got obsessed with her. Someone she didn't even know, not properly."

Wally realised she was not going to say any more. "Totally senseless then. She deserved better. A longer life and a happier one." He got out a handkerchief and blew his nose.

Toshiko broke the moment's silence. "I printed these off, thought you might like to have them. They'll go in your wallet." She handed Wally two photographs. One was the picture that had appeared on television screens and newspaper front pages. The other was of a happy twelve-year old dressed as Little Orphan Annie taken from the programme for a school play.

He looked at them for several minutes before putting them in his shirt pocket. He'd keep the one of the young Becky and lose the other somewhere; he hadn't known that young woman. "Thanks," he said with a small smile.

"Why don't we go and do that packing?" suggested Ianto.

"Good idea. Off you go, Wally." Jack patted him of the back and watched as the two men walked through the arch to one of the nearer storerooms. "Nice thought, Tosh."

-ooOoo-

The playground had recently been refurbished with safer swings, slide and roundabout. Sitting on a bench, Gwen wondered if protecting kids from all danger was sensible. Better to have a few scraped knees and elbows now to teach them to be careful later. She checked her watch; he was late. If he didn't get here soon they'd have to find cover. Rain clouds were obscuring the sun and looked about to release a downpour. Even the weather was back to normal.

She looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. Out of uniform, Andy looked thin and weedy, and taller. Watching him, she wondered how often she had seen him in civilian clothes. Not many, she decided. She had accepted less than a dozen of his invitations for an after-work drink and they didn't socialise otherwise. He had male friends on the force and went drinking with them but girlfriends were never around for long. They were missing out on a good fella.

"This better be important. I've got a hot date tonight." Andy plonked down beside her.

She doubted that but let it go unchallenged. "Present for you." She handed over the large manila envelope that had been on the bench beside her.

"Too late for Valentine's Day." He held the envelope suspiciously.

"You're not supposed to sign the cards, Andy."

Realising he had inadvertently told her he had not received any cards, he blustered, "Got to address the envelope though. Recognise your scrawl anywhere."

"Ever heard of typing? Stop sodding about and open it."

He examined the envelope some more and then finally opened it. He pulled out a 10x8 glossy colour photograph. The head and shoulders view was of a young man looking to the right. Andy recognised him immediately. "This is the bloke from the pub!"

"Conal John O'Reilly. Irish national. Date of birth 14 September 1984. That makes him 24. He works over here ten months of the year and goes home to Cork for the other two. Been a bricklayer for Morris and Sons in Tremorfa for the past couple of years." She paused for effect. "He's got a hot temper and an eye for the girls. A girlfriend in Ireland reported him for attempted rape but the charges were dropped. He likes to drink in Kitty Flynn's but hasn't been back since last Wednesday."

Andy stared at her open-mouthed. Since the original tip-off on Friday, he and some colleagues had been trying to identify this man. They had talked to staff and customers at the bar but while they recognised him as a semi-regular none had known his name. The CCTV image was far less clear than this picture but it was the same man. How had Gwen got all this information? How did she know he was under investigation? "How?" he asked helplessly.

"Lives in a studio at 35 Arran Street. Second floor," she went on ignoring the question. "He's there right now. Hasn't been to work this week, not since finding out Rebecca died. Only trips are to the off-licence on the corner. He'll probably confess all, he's already dropped big hints to one Thomas Henderson, a fellow brickie." She met his gaze. "I suggest you get back into your nice uniform and get round there soon as." She stood up. "All I've just told you is in the envelope with some stuff from Ireland about the attempted rape."

"But …" He stared up at her.

"Come on, Andy. You want to get him, don't you?"

"How can I use this?"

"Confidential informant." She started walking along the path.

Andy peeked in the envelope and saw several sheets of paper. Stuffing the photograph back in, he hurried after her. Putting a hand on her arm, he said, "Gwen, please, just stop a minute. How'd you get all this?"

"You helped us, we help you. Jack said he owed you."

He couldn't help the swell of pride. Torchwood had owed him and paid him back a hundredfold. With this information they'd be able to get a killer off the streets and he was the one with the information. There was only one thing he had to be sure about. "Did he do it, Gwen? This O'Reilly?"

"Make sure you look under his wardrobe. Take care, Andy." With that she walked out of the playground as the first drops of rain fell.

-ooOoo-

On Tuesday they decided to go to Kitty Flynn's even though they didn't usually go into the city centre; this was a special occasion. Owen stood at the bar waiting for the barman to look in his direction. The place was busy – mainly office workers delaying going home – but not that crowded that he should have to wait this long. He looked round. The pub was a riot of green - some permanent and the rest in anticipation of St Patrick's Day in four days' time - with shamrocks and leprechauns and all the other tat associated with Ireland. Owen hated themed pubs. He waved his twenty pound note again but the barman continued to ignore him.

"Go and help him, Jack," said Gwen. "I'm gasping." Her first gin and tonic had gone in just a couple of gulps and she needed another.

"Why me?"

"Because you know every barman and barmaid in the city," said Ianto dryly. "Slept with most."

Jack grinned and looked hurt at the same time. "You know that's not true." He placed a hand on Ianto's knee, running it up the thigh to the groin.

"Not here!" Ianto pushed the hand away. "Go get the drinks."

With much huffing and puffing, Jack left the table and crossed to the bar. He stood beside Owen. "They've sent me to –"

"What can I get you, sir?" The barman had arrived and, ignoring Owen, was addressing Jack.

Jack eyed the young man up and down, from his light ginger hair to his firm arse. "I can think of lots of things but my friend here wants some drinks."

"I've been standing here for ages," complained Owen. "Didn't you see me?"

"No. Sorry." The barman smiled at Jack who smiled back.

"Drinks?" prompted Owen. "I want two pints of Brains, a vodka tonic, gin and tonic and a glass of water."

"Make that a Jameson's. When in Dublin …" Jack leant nonchalantly on the bar still admiring the barman.

"Right, no water, a Jameson's instead." Owen was relieved when the young man finally stopped staring at Jack and started pulling pints. A few minutes later, they were all back at the table. "Cheers," said Owen, sipping his beer.

"Cheers," responded the others except Jack who said, "Slàinte."

"That's Scottish," pointed out Toshiko.

Jack shrugged. "They're all Celts. What you got?" he asked Ianto who was checking his mobile.

"Text from Wally. He's at the hotel. Says the flight was long and boring and it's raining. He's going to bed." Ianto snapped the mobile shut. Over the next few weeks and possibly months, Ianto would keep an eye on the newly-christened Wally Grahame and make sure he settled in.

"To Wally." Jack lifted his glass and the others did the same. "Saw Andy Pandy on the news before we came out. Actually praised by the Chief Inspector for finding Rebecca's killer. 'Good police work always triumphs' or something like that." Conal O'Reilly had been arrested the day before after the murder weapon had been discovered under the floorboards beneath a wardrobe. He later confessed to stalking and murdering Rebecca Carpenter

Gwen glared at Jack. "Andy Pandy? Do you mean Andy Davidson?"

"That's such a great name for him," spluttered Owen, wiping froth off his nose. Toshiko had a big grin on her face too.

"Thank you." Jack took a little bow.

"That's so disrespectful," complained Gwen.

"Who's Andy Pandy?" asked Ianto.

Owen answered him. "Kid's TV character. A puppet. I always liked Looby Lou."

"Oh no! Teddy in his bow-tie was my favourite," said Toshiko.

The conversation degenerated into a discussion of children's television shows with added singing of the theme songs. It was a great evening.

And so we leave the team. Many thanks to everyone who has read this story with cookies to those who also reviewed. I appreciate it guys - Jay.