Torchwood Soho: Parasite

NORTON: (sigh) Folgate, Room 13, What's your inquiry? (pause) Yes, you may, of course, speak to my boss. For you, Liz, another dead Nazi.

LIZBETH: Hayhoe here, apparently you've a dead Nazi for me? (pause) No, bits of him is fine. In the Ganges, really? Pleased to hear that endeavors bit the dust. (pause) No, no, thanks, thanks for letting me know, but really next time Folgate's good enough, toodle pip.

NORTON: Good enough?

LIZBETH: Well, you are. So, chunks of an Obergruppenführer washed up downstream from a dark monastery. One of yours?

NORTON: One of mine. Grapevine said he was heading there looking to steal their-

LIZBETH: Crystal skull?

NORTON: Crystal skull.

LIZBETH: Occultists really are the accountants of Nazis. So you tipped off the chief Rabbi-

NORTON: Actually, they call him the Kokusai Fukyoshi.

LIZBETH: Huh, now there is.

NORTON: Look it up!

LIZBETH: So, you tipped off the chief Rabbi and they saw to the rest? Good souls. (sigh) I'll cross another off the list.

LIZBETH: You've got to stop treating Project Hermod like a box of chocs, at this rate there'll be no Nazis left by Whitsun.

NORTON: (groan) I'm bored, Lizbeth.

LIZBETH: Of course you are! Only failures are bored.

NORTON: I am not a failure. Am I?

LIZBETH: After your last little scrape you expected to be running Torchwood, instead they stuck you in Room 13, with me!

NORTON: The department of discontinued lines.

LIZBETH: Unkind.

NORTON: Apart from Project Hermod there's nothing fun to do! I'm answering the phone for you, that's all.

LIZBETH: (sigh) They used to send me keen ex-Wrens. Then they got wise to that. No more jolly girls for Hayhoe. This is as much a punishment for you as for me.

NORTON: But we could be doing something!

LIZBETH: Such as?

NORTON: The Stagnant Pond taking over the streets, or the way that people are dying in the smog.

LIZBETH: None of this is Room 13's pigeon.

NORTON: Come on! There's something living in the fog, you know there is. We could just have a peep at it.

LIZBETH: No.

NORTON: Tiny peek?

LIZBETH: No-ho. I've had my fingers burned once too often. No ones interested in the smog, not after that business in '52, and I'm not getting dragged into one of your schemes. It has been made quite clear to me that Lizbeth Hayhoe is not wanted on deck. So, I'm biding my time and steerage until I get a pension, a cottage in Hebden Bridge, and a bitter old bulldog I call Marjorie to bicker out my twilight with.

NORTON: You've one of the finest minds here. In one of the ugliest bodies-

LIZBETH: Ha!

NORTON: But surely you want more!

LIZBETH: No. We sit, waiting for the phone to ring.

NORTON: But, the fog, we could at least send a clerk to get samples-

LIZBETH: No, and that's final. Tell you what, we should celebrate your Nazi. Lets toast some crumpets.

GIDEON: Excuse me, miss! Miss! (sigh) Could I see the menu?

NORTON: The only thing you're going to get shown here is your place. Mind if I sit?

GIDEON: You're sat already.

NORTON: So I am. Waitress!

WAITRESS: Sir...

NORTON: Thank you! We'll have two teas, and two scrambled eggs, and I would like my friends to contain the same amount of nasal hair as my own, thank you.

WAITRESS: Sir.

GIDEON: Thanks. I, uh, don't like scrambled eggs.

NORTON: Oh, then you'll hate them here. It's that powdered stuff, but you'd have stood no chance getting fed otherwise.

GIDEON: Sure...

NORTON: Our teas, thank you! Seriously, did you really think you'd get served in this teahouse?

GIDEON: Why wouldn't I?

NORTON: You know why. Don't you people have your own places?

GIDEON: My people?

NORTON: Just- uh- No I mean- Wouldn't it make things easier, to get tea?

GIDEON: (sigh)

NORTON: Okay, but then surely you then make your tearooms better than the other ones, which wouldn't be hard, and then everyone would want to come to yours and there wouldn't be a problem anymore.

GIDEON: Oh my God, you've just solved racism.

NORTON: Excuse me?

GIDEON: I don't know who you are-

NORTON: Norton Folgate.

GIDEON: And I don't know what you do for a living-

NORTON: Librarian.

GIDEON: But you've clearly led a sheltered, innocent life.

NORTON: I'll have you know- (sigh) No, you're right, I'm sorry. But I did buy you tea.

NORTON: (gasps) And scrambled eggs! Scrummo! Ugh, Brenda! Brenda! These are gray!

NORTON: I've got to get back to work. Which way is work?

GIDEON: My auntie has a biscuit tin of London, Tower Bridge, Big Ben-

NORTON: A guardsman.

GIDEON: You know the tin?

NORTON: Everyone's aunt has that biscuit tin.

GIDEON: London looks nothing like that tin. For one thing, there was no smog. Curb!

NORTON: Thanks. They say it's Battersea Power Station, but others say it's a completely natural occurrence. To which I say: turn the power station off for a week, see what happens.

GIDEON: And, oh my God, now you've solved the smog!

NORTON: I'm just saying!

GIDEON: One day without the BBC and electric light and there'd be rioting in the streets.

NORTON: Ha! If they could find the streets.

GIDEON: True. If I'm right, the Strand is... that way.

NORTON: Oh, is that where you work? Haberdashers?

GIDEON: No, Fleet Street. I'm a reporter.

NORTON: Oh!

GIDEON: What's that mean? Surprised?

NORTON: Oh, just, I'll have to be careful around you.

GIDEON: Librarians have a lot of secrets?

NORTON: Cross us and you'll never get your hands on Lady Chatterley.

GIDEON: I consider myself warned.

NORTON: Look out!

GIDEON: Thank you! What is it with those cabs? Even when the fog is this thick and there's nothing else on the road, they just keep going, amazing!

NORTON: They're like giant beetles. How can they see where they're going? Anyway, this is me.

GIDEON: There's a library on this street?

NORTON: Librarians have a lot of secrets.

NORTON: Another power cut? I was just saying they should turn Battersea off.

LIZBETH: I'm using fag ends of candles.

LIZBETH: Someone was supposed to get more!

NORTON: Sorry...

LIZBETH: Someone is also late!

NORTON: Someone met someone.

LIZBETH: Is this going to be one of your wearisome pansy stories? (mocking his voice) "And then the lights came on-"

NORTON: But it was only Princess Margaret looking for ice! "Carry on boys, carry on!" Have I told you that one?

LIZBETH: Many times. There's actual work to be done. See that pile of folders on your desk?

NORTON: I'd rather not.

LIZBETH: Came up from the clerks for you.

NORTON: I sent revenge.

LIZBETH: Stop treating them like skivvies. So, somethings being shipped into the UK through the Suez Canal. Curious markings on the crates, murky ports of origin, clumsy forgeries on the custom forms. So we know it's headed into gangland.

NORTON: And you think it's extraterrestrial? It's going to be stockings.

LIZBETH: That happened once!

NORTON: And they're never letting you forget it.

LIZBETH: I maintain it was a real supply route! And so's this one! And you and I are going to prove it and close it down!

NORTON: Meanwhile, everyone else gets on with the real work of Torchwood.

LIZBETH: Saving the empire from aliens? That was never your kind of thing.

NORTON: Well, sending people to poke into crates of nylons certainly isn't.

LIZBETH: Have a look at it for Lizbeth, or go out and get some candles!

NORTON: (groan)

LIZBETH: (sigh)

NORTON: Ramsgate, three crates. Portsmouth, four crates. Margate, seven crates... Huh. Dreamland.

LIZBETH: Giving up already?

NORTON: Solved it already! I'm bricked up alive in here with you while people are vanishing in the smog and gangs are taking over. I could be doing something about it, but no, black market stuff. If Norton promises to close this, can Norton kill another Nazi, please?

LIZBETH: I'll consider it. Any in particular?

NORTON: Same as ever, another member of Project Hermod, hiding in Panama this time.

LIZBETH: Panama?

NORTON: The other canal. Oh, it'll be dead cheap. You could use a local stringer, given the value of the Balboa, go crazy, hire two flick knives!

LIZBETH: Fine. Let me ask the clerks. The way you treat them will come back to haunt you one day.

NORTON: Will it? I slipped the files under your typewriter, see you later.

LIZBETH: Wait, where are you going?

NORTON: I'm going to Dreamland.

BELLE: (grumbling)

NORTON: Not your lucky day, is it, Belle?

BELLE: It swallows my money.

NORTON: Oh, one armed bandits do that. I only play games where you can see everyone one of your opponents moves.

BELLE: Tell me how to win?

NORTON: Oh, Belle. What's in that for me?

BELLE: But it just keeps taking and taking! (groan) What are you doing in Margate?

NORTON: Same question back at you. Is the Stagnant Pond expanding?

BELLE: You proposing an alliance?

NORTON: Dear God, no. I just want to know what you're doing here. First you take over Soho, now the seaside?

BELLE: I'll answer you if you tell me how to play this damn thing. Ain't like baccara, what do I do?

NORTON: Hold the fruit and nudge.

BELLE: Will I win?

NORTON: No, but I've always wanted to say that. It's good to see you.

BELLE: We ain't seen you in the Stagnant Pond for awhile.

NORTON: No, you haven't. Like you, I don't like games I can't win.

BELLE: Word is, you're a busted flush.

NORTON: I'm still playing. Here on a special project. And, no, Belle, these things don't take guineas.

BELLE: Damn new money! (groan) I thought if I played big I'd win big.

NORTON: Which is why you're in Margate, isn't it?

BELLE: Margate, Margate, Margate. Can't a girl have a day trip?

NORTON: I know what happens to you if you're away from home for too long. It's all the risks for you today, so why?

BELLE: You know the Stagnant Pond, we don't like being left out of the game, s'all. (extended groan)

NORTON: This "game"-

BELLE: (sigh)

NORTON: This "game" wouldn't be certain packages getting delivered to your rivals and you, you're curious.

BELLE: Got a tip-off, did some digging.

NORTON: Of course you did. It's easier for you than for me, prettiest teddy girl in London. I imagine the locals were bowled over.

BELLE: Maybe they took to my manners.

NORTON: Haha! There you are. I'd have got nowhere. So, your plan is to... swoop in and steal the loot?

BELLE: And your plan is to swoop in and steal the loot off me?

NORTON: The very idea! I'm shocked, shocked! I just want a look-see. I want to know what's coming in, because I think it's come a very long way.

BELLE: You ain't gonna stop me getting my hands on it?

NORTON: Not unless it's dangerous.

BELLE: And who decides that?

NORTON: I decide that.

BELLE: Nah. I'd had enough of losing today.

NORTON: Oh, fair enough. Excuse me while I blow this whistle.

BELLE: You what?

NORTON: Well, I know what happens to you if you miss your last train home. Fancy a night in the cells? They've, uh... three plainclothes detectives in here, watching you like hawks would a bunny. And I'm a very good un-pickpocket.

BELLE: Ay?

NORTON: Where is my watch? Oh, no, it wouldn't happen to be in your bustle, would it? Now should I whistle, or cry for help? What's it to be?

BELLE: Wait-

NORTON: Help, oh help, oh thief-

BELLE: Alright, alright, alright, calm yourself. Sake.

NORTON: Where's the pickup happening?

NORTON: Margate Pier, who'd have thoughts whelks would stink so much.

BELLE: This place has come down since my time. They did nice jellied eels. Loved 'em when I was a girl. I'd been hoping for some.

NORTON: Tough. We're cutting it fine if you're going to make your train.

BELLE: What's to stop me running now?

NORTON: You wouldn't be planning it if you brought it up. You're as curious as me.

BELLE: (sharply inhales) It's cold. What time is it?

NORTON: Check my watch.

BELLE: Uh, oh, the deliveries late.

NORTON: How do you know?

BELLE: The package was thrown off the side of a trawler into a fishing boat which is half a mile out. Konstantin hired a motorized boat an hour ago, so he should be back by now.

NORTON: You are thorough, Belle.

BELLE: People like me. You should try being nice.

NORTON: No.

BELLE: I'm wondering how things are going for you.

NORTON: Very well, thank you. Is that the boat?

BELLE: Word was, after you blew up half Leicester Square-

NORTON: And saved the other half.

BELLE: Word was, you were in the running for the top spot at Torchwood. But here you are, standing on Margate docks, chasing after a package, and furtive as mince!

NORTON: How exactly is mince furtive?

BELLE: You know what I mean. If you need a favor or somewhere to hide, remember the Stagnant Pond.

NORTON: No. Thank you. I'd rather not be in debt to you. And again, can you hear a motorboat?

BELLE: Oh, alright, this time you ain't lying.

NORTON: I never lie!

BELLE: But you'd make a lawyer blench.

NORTON: Here comes Konstantin.

BELLE: Do we off him before or after we steal the package?

NORTON: We're not offing anyone. (pause) After.

BELLE: And I get to keep what's inside.

NORTON: If I decide it's safe.

BELLE: I wasn't asking permission. Uh, he ain't slowing down.

NORTON: Greeks are terrible drivers.

BELLE: He should be slowing down by now.

The boat gets closer, the sound getting louder

NORTON: Hold on, is the man driving the boat Konstantin?

BELLE: Doesn't look like him.

NORTON: Doesn't look like a man.

BELLE: What do you mean?

NORTON: Ah, it's coming right for us!

BELLE: Get away!

NORTON: Look out!

BELLE: Oh my God! It's still moving in the flame! What is it?

NORTON: It's climbing up the steps, you can ask it.

BELLE: Flamin' Nora! What is that thing?

NORTON: Uh, fast!

BELLE: We should run!

NORTON: No, even on fire it's faster than us.

BELLE: Ah, it reeks!

BELLE: You shot it! It didn't do much.

NORTON: No, but useful!

BELLE: Useful?

NORTON: I shot it roughly in the head, the heart, and the major organs, and it's not stopping it. How dolly!

BELLE: Now what?! We die?!

NORTON: No, I've been saving... this!

NORTON: For a special occasion! Ugh, ah well.

BELLE: (gasps)

NORTON: Disintegrator gun. Last shot. Shame, always feels like finishing off a bottle of duty-free créme de menthe. Ah, memories.

NORTON: So, shall we catch our train?

BELLE: But, uh, where's my package?

NORTON: Our package. Looks like someone got there first and left that thing in its stead. Shame it's obliterated, I'd have loved to examine it. Wonder what it was.

NORTON: Funny how bystanders only turn up when the fun's over. Come on, let's get out of here.

NORTON: Ah! There you are, Lizbeth. I got in early, there's a bacon roll waiting for you! Proper bacon, no bits!

LIZBETH: Let me hang up my hat and coat before I deliver your bollock.

NORTON: If you're going to be cross with Norton, he's not going to give you your bacon roll, and that'd be a shame. It's got more sauce in it than Danny La Rue.

LIZBETH: Oh, shut up and give me that!

NORTON: Oi! Not fair!

LIZBETH: Shut up! I can reduce you to tears and eat breakfast.

NORTON: (sniffles) Oh, dispatch says another Nazi is dead. Goodbye Project Hermod! That's good news, isn't it? Isn't it? (sigh) Come on, then.

LIZBETH: Norton, when you were assigned to Room 13- (with her mouth full) Oh God this is good.

NORTON: Yes, the devil has the best fried piggy-wiggies.

LIZBETH: What is Room 13?

NORTON: Room 13 is where Torchwood's intellectual elite-

LIZBETH: The awkward squad.

NORTON: Supervise operations, manipulate events, orchestrate cover-ups, bully clerks.

LIZBETH: (her mouth still full) And most of all, keep out of harm's way. We do not (swallow) get our hands dirty.

LIZBETH: Do you know what this memo says?

NORTON: What memo?

LIZBETH: The memo that I'm currently cleaning my chops with, it's from Rigsby.

NORTON: Of course it is.

LIZBETH: "Forgive me if I seem a little put out, chaps, but news reached me-"

LIZBETH & NORTON TOGETHER: "over dinner at Chequers,"

LIZBETH: "And composing this means I'm missing out on the lord chancellor's recitation of Gilbert and Sullivan,"

NORTON: (groan)

LIZBETH: God, does Rigsby even hear himself?

NORTON: Clearly not.

LIZBETH: "So, you will understand if I forcefully express my displeasure once again finding myself surrounded by underlings who are incompetent fools!" And etcetera.

NORTON: Someone learned his management style from Emperor Ming.

LIZBETH: He goes on.

NORTON: Of course he does. God, his poor fag at Eton must've been begging for the cane every time he burnt the toast. Give that here.

NORTON: Oh! Got it on the fire in one. Do I say goal?

LIZBETH: You do not.

NORTON: So, what's it to be? Lecture or ruler across the knuckles?

LIZBETH: (sigh) When you work for Room 13, you stay in Room 13, you coordinate operations remotely. You do not go out into the field, you do not go hunting black marketeers with gangsters, you do not incinerate suspected aliens. What have we got after your excursion? No package, no suspect, no witnesses, a trawler full of dead fisherman.

NORTON: They're dead? How dead?

LIZBETH: Very.

NORTON: I meant how did they die?

LIZBETH: Shot.

NORTON: And no sign of Konstantin the greek?

LIZBETH: None.

NORTON: Because for a middle man, he was an awfully good shot.

LIZBETH: Are you suggesting the suspected extraterrestrial you eliminated was working with him?

NORTON: Maybe you're not the only one interested in these packages.

LIZBETH: Go on.

NORTON: And doesn't a lot of dead bodies suggest you're on the right lines?

LIZBETH: Do go on.

NORTON: Twist the broom up Rigsby's ass to get more resources to investigate by pinning the blame for the snafu entirely on the person whose promotion he stole.

LIZBETH: (chuckle) You're devious, Folgate.

NORTON: Practical.

LIZBETH: Get on to the clerks, find the source of these packages. Because I think a lot more people are going to die.

GIDEON: Oh, you came!

NORTON: Do you just sit here waiting for me to turn up and order for you?

GIDEON: (snort) Tell yourself that.

NORTON: How long have you been sat here?

GIDEON: 10 minutes.

NORTON: Call it 15. I notice you have no tea in front of you, so... Waitress! Two teas and two ham sandwiches! No bogie in the pickle. There.

GIDEON: Everyone should have someone of a different skin following them around fetching and carrying.

NORTON: Ooh, politics, is that the kind of journalism you do?

GIDEON: No.

NORTON: Lost dogs?

GIDEON: Lost causes.

NORTON: Ah, find any?

GIDEON: One or two.

NORTON: Thank you, looks delicious. Check for bogies anyway.

GIDEON: How's the library?

NORTON: How's changing the subject?

GIDEON: I'm interested!

NORTON: Well, well, since you ask. I was recently overlooked for a promotion, the new boss of the... "library" well, he's a published idiot. Ex-head boy you know the type.

GIDEON: I know, my island was run by one.

NORTON: Of course it was.

GIDEON: Wore a three piece suit in a heatwave. His guards propped him up when he fainted.

NORTON: Kind of them.

GIDEON: He was halfway through his speech, though, so there was one long awkward pause.

NORTON: Then you all politely applauded?

GIDEON: Like you were there.

NORTON: You're not the only person to find the colonies deeply embarrassing.

GIDEON: Probably for different reasons.

NORTON: Fair, fair. So, my work, well there's an exciting project which I- Ha. Ah, no.

GIDEON: Ah, no, what?

NORTON: Gee, it's good to be able to have as much sugs in tea as you want again, makes me realise how little I like it.

GIDEON: Which is why you're having three lumps.

NORTON: Just showing you're not the only person who changes the subject as a weapon.

GIDEON: Ah, ho.

NORTON: Yes, you're trying to draw me out.

GIDEON: What's the harm in that? You sound like a lost cause, and as I said, I'm interested.

NORTON: Are you now? Well, I'm very boring. As I said, just a sad little librarian, overlooked for a promotion, nothing to see here.

GIDEON: And yet I'm looking at you.

NORTON: Aren't you. Dull old me.

GIDEON: Who is that? What is that?

BELLE: Norton? Norton!

NORTON: Oh, lox.

GIDEON: Friend of yours?

NORTON: Customer of mine.

GIDEON: In the library?

NORTON: Yep! Got to go, got plans tomorrow night?

GIDEON: What?

NORTON: Quickly!

GIDEON: 14 Lancaster Gardens, room 3.

NORTON: I'm sorry?

GIDEON: It's where I live, 8 o' clock.

NORTON: Right! Excuse me.

BELLE: I was not brought up to be lectured by slatterns!

WAITRESS: Who are you calling a-

NORTON: Ladies! Ladies! A moment's hush, please.

BELLE: One wasn't brought up to be treated like this!

NORTON: You were brought up, Belle? That's new to me.

WAITRESS: I'm not having this sort in here! You start letting in one teddy boy-

BELLE: I'm a lady!

NORTON: Hmm...

WAITRESS: They all starts coming in! Then you gets a reputation as a gang cafe! Out!

NORTON: Well! That's my social life ruined, and I'm probably banned from that teahouse before I die from botulism. Amazing the number of things just breeding in food just waiting for the right environment to thrive and that place really was the right environment!

BELLE: What are you gibbering about?

NORTON: Ugh! You've made my life more complicated. (sigh) Why did you come and find me?

BELLE: I found out something I thought you'd like to know, about Konstantin. No one's seen him, he's done a runner.

NORTON: If he's got the package it could be anywhere.

GIDEON: Konstantin?

NORTON: Oh, hello! Overdue book fine. Nothing to worry about. Thank you, Belle. And, as for you, ha, mustache.

GIDEON: Tomorrow?

NORTON: I've not forgotten! Sorry, urgent library business!

NORTON: Lizbeth! I've got it.

LIZBETH: Looks like it.

NORTON: Stop pecking out the lord's prayer and listen to me, Joan Littlewood!

LIZBETH: There are rumors of another package on the way.

NORTON: Forget about that! I've got a lead on the old one.

LIZBETH: You got a lead in your lunch hour? You weren't meeting a source, were you? Trouble...

NORTON: Of course not! One came looking for me.

LIZBETH: Who?

NORTON: Belle, from the Stagnant Pond.

LIZBETH: Ugh, that gang of outdated no-hopers, striding around the west end in edwardian clobber. It'll never catch on. What'd she tell you about? The invention of the wireless?

NORTON: No, the Stagnant Pond are more important than you think. They want in on these packages, which proves you're onto something.

LIZBETH: Well why didn't you tell me?

NORTON: Because you were too busy being in a pet with your Norton!

LIZBETH: Spiteful wretch! Wait, was she with you on your jaunt to Margate?

NORTON: Might've been.

LIZBETH: And you kept that out of your reports?

NORTON: I'm not sure Rigsby would believe me if I said one of London's leading criminal enterprises was led by someone several hundred years old, and a woman.

LIZBETH: Ha! True. What'd Belle tell you?

NORTON: That no trace has been found of Konstantin.

LIZBETH: Check with Miss Clarke in the clerk's office.

NORTON: Is that Clarke? (pause) Wh- No then get her, pronto! Did Rigsby employ her as a clerk because she was called Clarke?

LIZBETH: Probably.

NORTON: Hm. Ah, finally! I need a 1420 urgently, name of Konstantin K, O, N- No, honestly I don't care if it's a 1420 or a 1421, I just need the information sending up on Konstantin Gregor. Lives are at stake and good day to you!

LIZBETH: Try being nicer to the wretched woman.

NORTON: Attention to detail is not the same as getting stuff done.

LIZBETH: No, so on with the Konstantin.

NORTON: Belle reckons he's still at large, with the package.

LIZBETH: So all of London will be looking for him.

NORTON: And if I- Uh- If Torchwood can find him first then I'll get out of this miserable dump.

LIZBETH: No one gets out of Room 13.

NORTON: I will. Honestly, I've tried with other stuff. I've single handedly hunted down Project Hermod, I've tried telling them that there's something wrong on the streets of London, but no dice!

LIZBETH: None, no bites. Too racy for them.

NORTON: So now I'm just stealing your ideas.

LIZBETH: Course you are!

NORTON: Sorry Lizbeth, but no womans ever had an idea a man hasn't improved by repeating it louder. If I can just find Konstantin then I'm leapfrogging to the end of the board!

NORTON: That's it! A delivery. If Clarke's managed to coax a location out of the Metatraxis then I'll kiss her bunions.

LIZBETH: You'll be lucky.

NORTON: Come in, Konstantin, every second counts. Come on, come on! Oh.

LIZBETH: That's a bad "oh."

NORTON: Instead of issuing a 1421 Clarke has just sent us the forms to fill in again, as, and I quote, "We seem confused."

LIZBETH: She what?

NORTON: She attached a note, and she says she's going home for the night, and that perhaps if we spent some time- some time? Filling this in properly she'd be able to action it tomorrow.

LIZBETH: He and Gods!

NORTON: She's let him get away!

LIZBETH: I did tell you to be nicer.

NORTON: Shut up, shut up. (groan) Konstantin's out there, with the package! All of London are looking for him!

LIZBETH: Well we've got to find him before all hell breaks loose!

NORTON: And, worse, I'll never get out of Room 13.

GIDEON: Well, what do you mean, you can't find my case?

FOREMAN: Ah, see, I don't know, it's probably in there. It's just that we unload you lot last.

GIDEON: "You lot"?

FOREMAN: Yea, gov. Natives!

GIDEON: (sigh) I get the point, thank you. Listen, I need my luggage now.

FOREMAN: Word of advice, sonny, that's the kind of attitude that guarantees your bag ends up in the Thames.

GIDEON: (groan) I need a clean shirt! I’m starting a job today.

FOREMAN: Not my problem. You should’ve thought of that.

GIDEON: Well, bad news. I’ll be working as a journalist for a crusading paper! And you can guarantee I’ll be back!

GIDEON: But- I’m sorry I don’t understand.

EDITOR: No job. N-O J-O-B. You do speak English, don’t you?

GIDEON: But when I wrote for this job you wrote back! I enclosed clipping from the Tobago Times-

EDITOR: Whooh-hoo! Hardly the Morning Star, is it lad?

GIDEON: But you wrote back! You said you liked them!

EDITOR: Well, now then.

GIDEON: You offered me the job!

EDITOR: Which, lad, I’m now un-offering.

GIDEON: Because of the color of my skin?

EDITOR: You said it, not me. And had you thought to say it in your application letter you’d have saved yourself a lot of trouble! I don’t care for deceit.

GIDEON: Deceit?

EDITOR: Yeah. That’s what I call it.

GIDEON: But- Your newspaper- I applied to it because of your articles on equal rights! On breaking down the color barriers on the streets!

EDITOR: All very well in the streets, not in my newsroom. And you could’ve worn a clean shirt.

GIDEON: Well- But- Please!

EDITOR: Oh, now you’re begging, lad? Don’t look back on this and remember how you begged.

GIDEON: (sigh)

GIDEON: But I wrote from Tobago to see if the room was available- it’s- it’s okay. I won’t embarrass you in asking why it’s no longer available.

LANDLADY: Hm.

GIDEON: Oh, uh, a case might be turning up with my luggage in it. It’ll probably be wet, just warning you.

GIDEON: They’ll say it couldn’t see me in the fog. Ah, well. What’s the point?

GIDEON: Hey! Come back! Come back! You can’t just save my life and then run away and- hey you dropped your briefcase!

GIDEON: Oh!

EDITOR: What are you expecting, that I’m feeling bad about earlier?

GIDEON: No. Nor have I changed my shirt.

EDITOR: Well at least you’re not begging.

GIDEON: Let’s pretend that our conversation earlier wasn’t an example of you being racist.

EDITOR: Uh, I am not a racialist. I just-

GIDEON: It’s the just that gives it away, for next time. But no, we’re going to pretend that it was a confrontational test, to draw me out, to make a man of me, and I failed. But, you’re now going to give me another chance.

EDITOR: Oh, I bloody am not.

GIDEON: You bloody are. You’re going to open this briefcase, you’re going to look inside, and you’re going to shake my hand.

EDITOR: Hm, this had better not be your lunch, can’t stand curry.

GIDEON: You know, that’s Indian food.

EDITOR: What the hell? What the hell have you got here?

GIDEON: I had no idea the empire was still so full of surprises.

EDITOR: Have you made all of this up?

GIDEON: I think, if it’s okay with you, that’s what you and I are going to find out.

EDITOR: Bloody Nora. You’ve made your point. Shake my hand, lad, let’s put it behind us. Welcome to the team. Now then, find out what the hell is Torchwood.

GIDEON: Plundering alien artifacts from across the empire. Huh, that figures.

GIDEON: Gideon Lyme speaking.

LANDLADY: Mr Lyme? This is Mrs Fortescue.

GIDEON: Oh! Right, from Lancaster Gardens. Has my luggage turned up? I’ll come and collect it.

LANDLADY: Just to say, I changed my mind about the room.

GIDEON: You’ve changed your mind about the room?

LANDLADY: I will be requiring four weeks rent in advance.

GIDEON: I’ll be right over!

GIDEON: Ah, well, you seem to have survived the voyage. No ones tampered with you, or dumped you in the Thames. So… Oh? That’s odd.

GIDEON: “Be at the Lavendish Tea Rooms- 12 O’ Clock”?

GIDEON: Excuse me? Am I here to meet you?

ANDY: No. Go away.

GIDEON: Sorry…

WAITRESS: Begging, are you?

GIDEON: No, I, uh- I’d like a cup of tea.

WAITRESS: (sigh) Sit down over there and I’ll come take your order.

GIDEON: Can’t I just order a pot of tea now?

WAITRESS: Sit down over there and I’ll come take your order.

ANDY: (clears throat)

GIDEON: Psst, do you- (dropping into a whisper) Do you know about Torchwood?

ANDY: Stay there, and wait.

GIDEON: Come back! Can I get a cup of… tea…

GIDEON: Excuse me, miss! Miss! (sigh) Could I see the menu?

NORTON: The only thing you're going to get shown here is your place. Mind if I sit?

EDITOR: Boy! Bo-oy!

GIDEON: I’m fairly sure that’s offensive.

EDITOR: Oh, it’s about your youthful disposition and relentless enthusiasm.

GIDEON: I doubt it.

EDITOR: The material you’ve got is good, and you’re certainly worth all your costing me.

GIDEON: That’s a crack, isn’t it?

EDITOR: Might be.

GIDEON: What do you mean?

EDITOR: It means, you’re not costing me a bean. Turns out there’s a fund for those employing… colonials. Letter in me intray, the “George Ezra Fund”

GIDEON: Who’s George Ezra?

EDITOR: Well, makes the same amount of sense as Torchwood if you ask me. Anyway, so long as you keep on not costing me a bean, I’ll keep my complaints down to one bar. But, it’s about time you come up with something.

GIDEON: I will do.

EDITOR: In my experience, boy, results come from combing through what you’ve been sent. Good hard graft, you shouldn’t be afraid of it.

GIDEON: I’m not. I’m going to lunch.

GIDEON: (laughing) It’s a funny name, that’s all.

NORTON: Thanks, Gideon.

GIDEON: It’s from the bible. Most of my mothers best ideas were.

GIDEON: Weird, feeding ducks in this fog.

NORTON: Ducks you can’t see are the best kind.

GIDEON: Finally, I know something about you. You’re afraid of ducks.

NORTON: Who isn’t? They can break your arm!

GIDEON: That’s swans.

NORTON: Oh.

GIDEON: And you’re doing my trick of changing the subject.

NORTON: What subject? We were talking about ducks.

GIDEON: I don’t know anything about you. I’d love to see your library, I bet it’s fascinating.

NORTON: It really isn’t.

GIDEON: You’re being modest.

NORTON: I’m really not. Anyway, it’s a private library, you need to join.

GIDEON: I could join. I like books.

NORTON: I’m sure you do, there are other libraries you might find more suitable.

GIDEON: More suitable? Oh my God.

NORTON: Excuse me?

GIDEON: You’re saying people like me wouldn’t be welcome there.

NORTON: No! Of course not! Tha- (sigh) That was a deliberate trap.

GIDEON: No.

NORTON: Wasn’t it?

GIDEON: No.

NORTON: That kind of thing might work on everyone else, but it doesn’t work on me.

GIDEON: What does work on you?

NORTON: Feed the ducks, would you?

GIDEON: I just don’t know anything about you, and I never go anywhere with you, apart from that teahouse.

NORTON: We’ve gone somewhere now.

GIDEON: Standing in a park in a pea-souper? Not sure it counts.

NORTON: Well, we could, make it count…

GIDEON: Excuse me?

NORTON: No one would see us…

GIDEON: What?

NORTON: Those bushes over there seem disappointingly free of guardsmen. We could go sneak behind them.

GIDEON: Uhhh

NORTON: Oh.

GIDEON: It’s not- It’s not that I don’t-

NORTON: I didn’t think you didn’t. Ha, see I do negatives too.

GIDEON: No you don’t

NORTON: So.

GIDEON: So.

NORTON: You’re ruling out a quick knee-trembler up against a tree?

GIDEON: Yes.

NORTON: Pity, it’s a nice tree.

GIDEON: I’m sure it is. Your library must have stockrooms, neglected ones, with thick walls.

NORTON: Oh, it has. Clever, but no. And anyway, it’s not your style, is it? You prefer a bit of romance.

GIDEON: Might do.

NORTON: More than a walk in a park with some ducks.

GIDEON: Invisible ducks.

NORTON: Pigeons do a good impression, they’re crafty.

GIDEON: Romance.

NORTON: I could come over to your room one evening, bring some pale ale, a pork pie, and a candle.

GIDEON: Uh, no guests, no alcohol.

NORTON: And probably no candles. (gasp) We could break all the rules.

GIDEON: I can’t, I…

NORTON: I see.

GIDEON: You’re not inviting me back to yours?

NORTON: No.

GIDEON: Would your wife object?

NORTON: (laughs)

GIDEON: Okay, okay, no wife.

NORTON: Uh, no. But I’ve got someone staying over.

GIDEON: So?

NORTON: I’ve got to get back to the library.

GIDEON: I’ll see you for lunch? At the tea place?

NORTON: I’ll be busy for a few days, sorry!

GIDEON: Damn.

EDITOR: You look glum, boy.

GIDEON: Don't... Never mind. Pile on.

EDITOR: What's the matter?

GIDEON: My source has petered out.

EDITOR: So? Get another one.

GIDEON: But I was so close with this one and then I... I was quite as far as I could go.

EDITOR: I shouldn't need to tell you how to do this. Torchwood's been around for nearly a hundred years. They're a bureaucracy. They're going to employ far more people than they need. Find another low-hanging fruit.

GIDEON: What did you just say?

EDITOR: You heard. Or go back, have another go.

NORTON: Well, I'm very boring. As I said, just a sad little librarian, overlooked for promotion. Nothing to see here.

GIDEON: And yet I'm looking at you.

NORTON: Aren't you? Dull old me.

GIDEON: Who is that? What is that?

BELLE: Norton? Norton!

NORTON: Oh, lox.

GIDEON: Friend of yours?

NORTON: Customer of mine.

GIDEON: In the library?

NORTON: Yep! Got to go, got plans tomorrow night?

GIDEON: What?

NORTON: Quickly!

GIDEON: 14 Lancaster Gardens, room 3.

NORTON: I'm sorry?

GIDEON: It's where I live, 8 o' clock.

NORTON: Right! Excuse me.

BELLE: I was not brought up to be lectured by slatterns!

BELLE: I found out something I thought you'd like to know, about Konstantin. No one's seen him, he's done a runner.

NORTON: If he's got the package it could be anywhere.

GIDEON: Konstantin?

NORTON: Oh, hello! Overdue book fine. Nothing to worry about. Thank you, Belle. And, as for you, ha, mustache.

GIDEON: Tomorrow?

NORTON: I've not forgotten! Sorry, urgent library business!

GIDEON: Well, okay.

BELLE: What are you looking at, Squire? Never clapped eyes on a teddy girl before?

GIDEON: Not really, no. Your speech is very strange.

BELLE: Not half as strange as your face. Aha ha ha ha! Oh, in my day, bless you, you'd never have dared speak to someone like me for fear of losing your teeth.

GIDEON: In your day?

BELLE: I'm older than I look, sweetheart.

GIDEON: And Norton?

BELLE: He's no longer as young as he'd like. It weighs on him.

GIDEON: What does?

BELLE: I preferred it when you lot didn't talk.

GIDEON: Because we ask awkward questions.

BELLE: And there you go again.

GIDEON: Where does Norton really work? And who's Constantine?

BELLE: Oh, you don't leave off, bless you. Have you considered going to a bar and sinking a quart of gin? The Stagnant Pond. Call in. I think it'd make you more agreeable.

GIDEON: I don't.

BELLE: Come away.

GIDEON: It's just a taxi.

BELLE: I can't stand the things. Miss the hackneys. No getting used to the new ones, especially not now. Can't stand the way they prowl.

GIDEON: What do you mean?

BELLE: Weather's a proper pea-souper, but they're still moving about. Most just accept it because it's normal, but it ain't right, is it? And have you seen passengers in one? Get back.

GIDEON: What?

BELLE: There's something wrong about them.

GIDEON: What?

BELLE: The driver.

GIDEON: What about him?

BELLE: The driver.

GIDEON: What about him?

BELLE: Look at him.

GIDEON: I can’t see, he’s just a shape.

BELLE: Exactly. There's something wrong with him there's, there’s something really wrong with London. But trust me, one way or another Norton is gonna have to put it right.

LIZBETH: That package is docked at Le Havre.

NORTON: Huh?

LIZBETH: Oh, mope all you like, but if you burn another crumpet on the fire, I'll swing for you.

NORTON: Oh, sorry.

NORTON: Margarine?

LIZBETH: I'd kill for butter. Swear I can't even remember what it tastes like.

NORTON: What package?

LIZBETH: (with her mouth full) Oh, you wait till my mouth's full?

NORTON: Sorry.

LIZBETH: Were you brought up in a barn? The package.

NORTON: No trace of Konstantin or his package. Of course, hardly surprising that the trace haven't gone so cold. Damn!

LIZBETH: No, not that one. There's another package in the system. I've been following dockets and shipping crates across Eurasia while you've been moping into the embers.

NORTON: I don't mope. It's dignified meditating.

LIZBETH: Meditating with all the dignity of a chorus boy with the clap.

NORTON: It's still out there. I can't stop thinking about Konstantin's package.

LIZBETH: (snorts)

NORTON: I'm serious. We don't know the damage it could do.

LIZBETH: Oh, you beauty. One of our operatives has telefaxed this over. They couldn't get to the container but they used a long-distance lens, see?

NORTON: That's the package. I can't make out who it's going to.

LIZBETH: Should be on some of these documents. We'll have to do a bit of work to dig it out.

NORTON: Let's get started.

LIZBETH: Are you actually getting excited by this?

NORTON: My interest is definitely piqued.

NORTON: Look at this!

LIZBETH: Oh blimey. Oh, blimey, I'm onto something.

NORTON: You’re?

LIZBETH: This is big. My ticket out of here.

NORTON: Your ticket?

LIZBETH: Oh yes, the original idea was yours-

NORTON: More than that.

LIZBETH: But I've seen what this thing is, the potential. You had your chance to do something with it and you muffed it, so wiser hands are taking the reins.

NORTON: That's not fair.

LIZBETH: Now don't be like that or I'll call Nanny. Listen, this could be good for both of us. If I get out of here, maybe I'll take you with me. We're going far.

LIZBETH: I need to see Rigsby. Now.

RIGSBY: Enter.

LIZBETH: Do you have to be quite so headmasterly?

RIGSBY: Oh, Hayhoe. Charming. Forgive me, I was about to have tea. Like a cup? Afraid I can't offer you a biscuit, our rations up.

LIZBETH: I'm fine.

RIGSBY: Then you won't mind if I-

NANCY: Tea, Mr. Rigsby. Popped you a custard cream on the side.

RIGSBY: Thank you, Nancy. Close the door on your way out.

NANCY: Of course.

LIZBETH: There appears to be a biscuit after all.

RIGSBY: Yes. Shall I be mother? So, what's all this about, Lizbeth? Nancy's squeezed you three minutes in before I have to dash to the cabinet secretary.

LIZBETH: It's about these packages that Room 13 has been looking into.

RIGSBY: Most probably just some jazz cigarettes. On the rise now we've got the wrong sort slipping in. Drugs, nothing legal. Not really our pigeon.

LIZBETH: Look at this photo telefaxed over from Le Havre.

RIGSBY: What budget is that coming from? That's an expensive process.

LIZBETH: Look at it.

RIGSBY: I'm not sure quite what I'm seeing.

LIZBETH: Brandmark, top left of the crate.

RIGSBY: What about it? Some bogus tea company or other.

LIZBETH: Cover off the two triangles on either side. Here, use these two strips of paper. Now, what do you see?

RIGSBY: Good Lord. Is that the Project Hermod insignia?

LIZBETH: Absolutely. Norton found it.

RIGSBY: Bright enough, fellow. Project Hermod, eh? So these packages are coming from the Nazi version of Torchwood. Wasn't Folgate claiming to have shut them down the other week?

LIZBETH: Well...

RIGSBY: Ah, so his reports of the demise of Project Hermod were a little premature. Always racing on that boy, being held back would do him no harm. Glad I didn't give them a wider airing. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, but I don't think further disciplinary action against him is necessary.

LIZBETH: That's not my point. These packages are being smuggled into this country from Project Hermod onto the black market. You and I know the kind of thing that Project Hermod were doing. Do we want the gangs getting hold of it?

RIGSBY: Dear God, no!

LIZBETH: I've been warning you about this, Reggie, for years. But instead of listening to me, you've been taking my resources away.

RIGSBY: We all must do more with less.

LIZBETH: Norton nearly found one of the smugglers. Your people botched it. This is now your mess, and you're going to clear it up.

RIGSBY: Steady on now, I hardly think that's fair.

LIZBETH: You've told the clerks to quibble everything.

RIGSBY: Proper procedure.

LIZBETH: You've allowed London to be flooded with dangerous alien technology.

RIGSBY: Forgive me, Project Hermod comes under the aegis of your department.

LIZBETH: Oh, stop covering your arse, Reginald.

RIGSBY: Ha, ha!

LIZBETH: Wouldn't you like to know what's in that crate? Because we've got about 12 hours before that package reaches London.

NORTON: We could impound the boat at customs. If I drive down to Dover-

LIZBETH: You? drive?

NORTON: I can drive.

LIZBETH: You're not leaving this room.

NORTON: Not fair.

LIZBETH: Fair.

NORTON: You're stealing the credit from me, it's petty.

LIZBETH: Actually, I'm making sure that if this screws up, no more blame gets pinned on you.

NORTON: That’s sweet.

LIZBETH: Pragmatic. Rigsby still has the knives out for you, but he's also given us some resources. Let them screw this up.

NORTON: And we can save them and look even better. Oh, Lizbeth Hayhoe, you're a master plotter.

LIZBETH: You could learn a lot from me. For instance, the boat isn't docking at Dover, but Portsmouth.

NORTON: Oh.

LIZBETH: Be a love and put us on some coffee, would you? No chicory.

NORTON: Wouldn't dare.

LIZBETH: Middle of the night, and I'm still getting used to how light the city is these days.

NORTON: All that sulphur twinkling through the smog. Romantic. I've made you some cocoa.

LIZBETH: Are you trying to knock me out?

NORTON: The boat doesn't dock for a few hours.

LIZBETH: Are you suggesting I sleep on the sofa?

NORTON: No, I'm bagsy-ing that. I can make you up some blankets by the fire.

LIZBETH: Charming. I've had a thought.

NORTON: (gasp) You need a lie down.

LIZBETH: That parcel. Presumably the supply chain is watched over. Checked.

NORTON: Why else would Konstantin have killed the fishermen?

LIZBETH: To stop them reporting back. But that, in itself, will have broken links in the chain. Created suspicion.

NORTON: So…

LIZBETH: Oh, stop trying to make it sound like you're leading me into a conclusion you've reached already. You don’t know more than me.

NORTON: Sorry!

LIZBETH: We need to subvert the supply chain, make it seem like a completely normal delivery. No seizures at gunpoint, no subterfuge, nothing.

NORTON: We allow the parcel to be delivered and then swoop.

LIZBETH: God, no! If it's some kind of pulse bomb, imagine if they triggered it.

NORTON: I wouldn't have to imagine it. My last thought would be about my bubbling eyeballs.

LIZBETH: The package cannot be delivered. The package must be delivered. Conundrum!

NORTON: Hang on.

NORTON: Ah, got it! All the info we've got on the package.

LIZBETH: Absolutely splendid work. But when I said it was light out here, I didn't mean it was that light. Shed a little, would you?

NORTON: Torch. Sorry, you old trout.

LIZBETH: That's better, child. Look at this. The delivery address.

NORTON: No, it can't be that easy.

LIZBETH: Fetch me a map, quickly. Quickly!

NORTON: On the balcony?

LIZBETH: No, you idiot. Sweep everything off your table. Oh, and put the kettle on.

NORTON: I can only be in one place at a time.

LIZBETH: A failing!

RIGSBY: Crack of dawn, eh Liz? Just like my SOE days. Oh, I see you brought erm...

NORTON: Norton Folgate. I still work here.

RIGSBY: Yeah, of course. You chaps been burning the midnight?

LIZBETH: Chaps.

RIGSBY: Mrs R sent me in with an egg. Nancy, do something with this egg, would you? Maybe rustle up some soldiers to keep it company?

NANCY: Of course, sir.

RIGSBY: Splendid! Women, eh? Help us keep the world spinning. Not that- uh- Folgate you’d really- uh-

NORTON: (sigh)

RIGSBY: Anyway, sit, sit. Make yourselves at home in my humble abode. Bring me up to speed. Let's see this tea. Oh, well, I'm sure Nancy will bring me some fresh. So, don't keep me waiting.

LIZBETH: The package is right now clearing customs before being entrusted to the Royal Mail to whistle up on the train from Portsmouth.

RIGSBY: This is the night mail, diddly-dum.

LIZBETH: As far as any watches are concerned, it's proceeding completely normally. The package has not been tampered with in any way.

NORTON: The label, however, that's a different matter.

RIGSBY: You've lost me. Surely-

NORTON: It's going to 53 Landsmeer Terrace. I've pulled up pictures of it from the Ordnance Survey. It's a bombed street, hasn't yet been renumbered or rebuilt. By and large, the even numbers are untouched. The odd ones, not so chipper. 53 Landsmeer Terrace is the shell of an old house. Solid enough front, propped up and boxed in. Sturdy enough to still receive post. Ideal dead drop for the parcel.

RIGSBY: But if we storm that, they'll be on to us. You need to do better, Folgate.

LIZBETH: And we have. This photo, 58 Landsmeer Terrace, is an old tobacconists. Owner got smithereened while walking as Greyhound in ‘43. Greyhound was called Lucky.

RIGSBY: Oh.

LIZBETH: Shop hasn't been touched since. There's a daughter in Ontario who makes periodic visits.

RIGSBY: The tobacconist- I'm lost, forgive me.

NORTON: One of your operatives on the train has altered the 53 to a 58. So the package will be delivered to the tobacconists.

RIGSBY: You still lost me? Hayhoe, can you elucidate?

LIZBETH: There's a garage out the back of the tobacconists. We sent some boys in that way, cleaned out the front, made sure the letterbox was working. Nothing too neat that anyone will smell a rat.

NORTON: Though they probably found plenty.

RIGSBY: And so...oh, I see it! The package gets delivered!

NORTON: Mmm, knock at the door. (in a Canadian accent) “Ooh, what's this about?” Says someone in a housecoat who could be the tobacconist's daughter from Ontario. “Well, I wasn't expecting this, eh, but I'll take it in. Good day, eh?” Door closes, shop shuts up and it's like it never happened.

LIZBETH: Package and operatives scramble back into their van, out the back and drive straight here.

NORTON: Should be on your desk by tea time.

RIGSBY: Clever stuff, Liz. Oh, talking of tea time. Nancy!

LIZBETH: Stop pacing, sit down, have a cigar.

NORTON: I can't stand the waiting.

LIZBETH: It's like labour.

NORTON: You were in labour?

LIZBETH: My land girls were billeted close for comfort to some GIs. Spent the odd fretful night at the cottage hospital. We always got there in the end and bless them, they'd still be digging turnips into their eighth month.

NORTON: You miss the war.

LIZBETH: Christ, no. Pretending to run a farm while looking after a cache of alien weapons in Wookey Hole. Got even less sleep than tonight.

NORTON: It's the middle of the afternoon.

LIZBETH: Confirms my point. I'm old and I can't do this anymore.

NORTON: Yes you can. I feel full of beans.

LIZBETH: You've had an hour on the sofa, you weasel. Stop checking your watch. It's not like you've got theatre tickets later.

NORTON: Actually-

LIZBETH: Don't care.

NORTON: Was made to care.

LIZBETH: This is so exciting. We're going to find out whatever Project Hermod has been selling off and it'll be delivered right here.

NORTON: To Torchwood. Imagine Hermod's faces. If they weren't all dead. Where's Rigsby?

LIZBETH: Ah, the shock of an early start sent him to his club for a nap.

NORTON: Poor lamb. He's a mediocrity with my job.

LIZBETH: And you're not bitter.

NORTON: haven't given it a second thought.

LIZBETH: But this is finally our way out of Room 13.

NORTON: Your way, provided he doesn't snaffle the credit when it lands on his desk.

LIZBETH: Actually, it's sloppy seconds for Rigsby. I'm having the package brought here first. This is my victory.

NORTON: Here?

DELIVERY MAN: Sign for the delivery.

LIZBETH: With absolute pleasure.

LIZBETH: Thank you! 58 Lansmere Terrace. All the way from Project Hermod to Room 13.

NORTON: Hadn't you better take precautions?

LIZBETH: I'm wearing gloves.

NORTON: Driving gloves. I don't think you should open that.

LIZBETH: Oh, pshaw. Do you want to bet what this is? Some kind of gun? Hermod like guns.

NORTON: We should be careful, Lizbeth.

LIZBETH: Shredded newspaper. Worth examining later. We can pick someone we don't like to stick it all back together. Ah, and ha!

LIZBETH: Leather briefcase? Missile plans?

NORTON: Maybe an IOU. Leave it.

LIZBETH: Ah, locked.

NORTON: Let me call someone.

LIZBETH: Paper knife.

NORTON: (sigh)

LIZBETH: There. Norton, they've sent us an egg.

NORTON: Close the briefcase, Lizbeth.

LIZBETH: This would make a pretty big omelette.

NORTON: What do eggs do, Lizbeth? They hatch. Put it back.

LIZBETH: What is this? It's, it's, it's, ooh, spongy like a-

NORTON: You've had your triumph. Put it back. Get the specialists in.

LIZBETH: All this cleverness for an egg?

NORTON: Lizbeth, we've been too clever.

LIZBETH: No such thing.

NORTON: Listen, if you wanted to send an object to Torchwood, you'd think it would be impossible. But not if you did this. This has all been a trap, to get that package into Torchwood, into this room. Lizbeth, put it back before it hatches.

LIZBETH: It's not an egg, it's more like a mushro-

LIZBETH: Oh god. (coughing)

NORTON: Lizbeth? No, oh my God! No!

ANDY: Norton, take my hand!

NORTON: Andy?

ANDY: Now or you're dead!

NORTON: Andy!

ANDY: Norton.

NORTON: You saved me!

ANDY: Yup!

NORTON: We have to get out of these clothes!

ANDY: Pardon?

NORTON: Don't misunderstand me, I'm grateful but perils. Take your clothes off!

ANDY: But, but-

NORTON: Spores! We're covered in them! If they're on our clothes, if you’ve breathed them in, you're dead!

ANDY: Oh, of course.

NORTON: Careful! That's it. How and why did you find me?

ANDY: Ah, it uh- It got flagged up in the Torchwood computer, so I borrowed a vortex manipulator and here I am.

NORTON: Oh, sweet. Where is here?

ANDY: I don't know. Why are the socks always the hardest thing?

NORTON: It's why strippers don't bother with them.

ANDY: As I was saying, hunting you down manually went a bit wrong, so I turned on the psychic settings.

NORTON: Oh, I wonder where we are. Oh!

GIDEON: What the hell are you doing in my room?

GIDEON: I'm waiting. Why are you naked in my room?

NORTON: Er, we had a date, remember?

GIDEON: Do you normally bring along a naked stranger?

ANDY: I'm Andy. Hello!

NORTON: See? He's no stranger, he's Andy.

ANDY: I'm only naked because my clothes are covered in spores. I would shake your hand, but er...

NORTON: Not now.

GIDEON: How the hell did you get in here? What the hell is this?

NORTON: You're repeating yourself.

ANDY: Probably going into shock. Let me help you sit down on the bed. Come on. Come on,

GIDEON: Get off me!

ANDY: Oh, sorry. I forgot. Got no clothes on.

GIDEON: Let go of me!

ANDY: Seriously though, a sit down will do you good. Please, come on. There you go.

GIDEON: What are you doing?

ANDY: Sorry.

GIDEON: Get off me!

ANDY: Sorry, I lost my balance. I'm a bit dizzy actually.

NORTON: Vortex manipulator.

ANDY: Thank you.

GIDEON: Get off my bed!

ANDY: Hold on, I'm not feeling too clever.

GIDEON: Oh, he is on my lap!

NORTON: Come on, Andy, let's get you off poor Lyme. Sorry. Give him a push, Lyme. Come on, up, up, up. There we go, Andy.

NORTON: Come on. Come on now.

LANDLADY: Mr Lyme, I'm... (scream)

NORTON: Who is that?

GIDEON: My landlady.

GIDEON: Wait, okay, what about my-

GIDEON: Suitcase. Thank you. Hell.

ANDY: Friend of yours?

NORTON: Yes.

ANDY: Figures.

NORTON: What's that supposed to mean?

ANDY: Thanks for letting us, uh, grab some clothes.

GIDEON: Wait, do I- It's fine. What the hell just happened to my life?

ANDY: Norton happened.

GIDEON: How did you get into my room? Why were you naked?

NORTON: Don't tell him Andy.

ANDY: I beamed us. Do you see this? It's my portable matter transmitter. And, like Star Trek you see, it's a-

GIDEON: Star Trek?

ANDY: Oh, right. Uhh, it's a magic wand and I did a spell and I whisked us from Norton's office to your room.

NORTON: It's the 1950s, not the middle ages.

ANDY: You're making this very complicated. Anyway, that's why we ended up in your room. Because Norton was in danger, and I've come to rescue him. For which, no one has said thank you.

NORTON: Thank you.

ANDY: See?

GIDEON: You've a Narnia watch? Show me.

ANDY: Ah, it's recharging. It's done a lot of work. Sorry, you're just going to have to trust me. Unlike Norton, you can trust me.

GIDEON: Norton's not a librarian, is he?

ANDY: Ha, no.

GIDEON: Huh.

NORTON: Andrew, it's dolly to see you, but this is all bad. So bad. What happened back there- it's an elaborate trap. One that's just taken out my only friend and all of Torchwood.

GIDEON: Torchwood being?

NORTON: It doesn't matter anymore. They're all dead.

GIDEON: Sorry.

NORTON: Stuff was being smuggled into gangland. We didn't know what, but I thought I'd been clever and intercepted one. Only it was a trap. And I've killed them all. I didn't mean that to happen.

ANDY: Ah, right.

NORTON: We thought it was a drug or weapon, but it's much worse. We were trying to stop it hitting the streets, but it already has. I knew it! I knew it was all connected. I've been warning them, I said there was something in the smog and I was right. All those deaths. Well, now we know. Fungi.

GIDEON: Excuse me? What's going on? I'm homeless, you're some kind of magic spy, and you're talking about mushrooms.

NORTON: Clothes don't matter. Rooms don't matter. Very soon, London won't matter. Something horrible has been unleashed on this city, and we've got to stop it.

ANDY: Hmm. But I'm freezing.

NORTON: Actually, yes. Good point. We need to get off the streets. Back to mine.

GIDEON: What is Torchwood? It's clearly not a library.

ANDY: They screw things up.

NORTON: Uh, not fair. Half fair. Little bit fair. Torchwood was founded by Queen Victoria to save the British Empire from alien threats.

ANDY: And they screw it up.

NORTON: We're still here, aren't we? Torchwood got us through two world wars with both sides scrabbling to use alien weapons on each other. And we've seen off countless extraterrestrial visitors eyeing up this planet as a holiday home.

GIDEON: So wait, the British Empire is against colonisation now?

NORTON: Ooh, satire. All in all, I think we do a pretty decent job. One that you won't write about.

GIDEON: You try and stop me.

NORTON: I'm not going to. If I'm right, the next few hours will take care of it.

GIDEON: Is that a threat?

NORTON: Yes, but an indirect one. Listen.

GIDEON: What's that?

NORTON: London has been covered in smog for weeks. People have been feeling their way around. Some have gone missing, but that's kind of expected. But I think there's something hunting in the mist.

GIDEON: Right. Wouldn't people have noticed?

NORTON: I've noticed. I tried warning Torchwood about it, they didn't listen.

ANDY: Do we, er… Fight it?

NORTON: No. If I'm right, we'll still have minor traces of those spores on us.

ANDY: Hang on, whatever's out there can smell us?

NORTON: Yes, like fresh liver to a dog. We need to hurry.

GIDEON: Is that another one?

NORTON: Oh, yes.

ANDY: This would be easier if we could see where we're going.

NORTON: Wouldn't it.

GIDEON: Do you by any chance live nearby?

NORTON: Not close enough. Come on, run!

ANDY: I can't see!

GIDEON: It's so dark!

NORTON: Take my hand! Trust me!

GIDEON: I can't see! I can’t see!

NORTON: Trust me!

ANDY: What was that?

NORTON: They found someone else. Come on, that's bought us some time.

GIDEON: What is this place?

ANDY: You cannot live here.

GIDEON: That smell, is that damp?

ANDY: It's like something's died.

GIDEON: Probably the wallpaper, of shame.

NORTON: These are just temporary lodgings, really.

GIDEON: Is that the living room?

NORTON: Nope, the damp is worse in there.

ANDY: It's like there's something dead under your floorboards.

NORTON: Come on up, my room's quite snug. I was expecting a promotion recently, which sadly I didn't get. I had to find somewhere more… Modest to live.

ANDY: Looks like a bomb hit it.

NORTON: That's why it's cheap, they're knocking it down soon. Apparently its appearance is letting down Russell Square. Which well, I dunno, if those bushes could talk they'd scream. In here!

NORTON: Oh, honestly, once the fire goes on it takes the sting out of the air.

GIDEON: The smell, though...

ANDY: It's freezing! You do have central heating in the 1950s?

GIDEON: The 1950s?

NORTON: Yes we have, but not here.

NORTON: Ah, there we go. I always keep some sixpences on the mantle to feed the gas fire. Keep an eye on it, would you? It has a habit of going out. Soon have a snug.

GIDEON: Really? One wall's just tarpaulin. Even in Tobago we'd call this rough. I can see why you didn't want to invite me round. Even candlelight and Mantovani couldn't make this romantic.

ANDY: Oh wait! You two, you were planning on having a date! Oh!

NORTON: Bless Andy, he likes to spell things out.

GIDEON: It was an option, before you turned up naked in my room and got me thrown out.

NORTON: You're not going to believe that we materialised out of thin air, covered in spores and just had to take our clothes off?

GIDEON: Not yet.

NORTON: Or that the psychic settings on the vortex manipulator honed in on you?

GIDEON: That doesn't make sense.

ANDY: It doesn't, to be fair.

NORTON: Shut up Andy.

ANDY: “Thank you Andy, thanks for jumping through time and rescuing me.”

NORTON: (groan)

GIDEON: What?

NORTON: There's a bottle of wine and some tooth mugs on the draining board. Be a darling.

ANDY: Ah- Are you dismissing me?

NORTON: Noo! Yes.

ANDY: Right. Uh, cupboard, cupboard, cupboard, cupboard. Oh, cupboard and...

NORTON: Sit down Lyme.

GIDEON: Can't you call me Gideon?

NORTON: Lyme’s nicer. Now, ignore Andy, listen to me. I didn't tell you about my job, or what's happening to London, because it's a secret. And you're a journalist. And I like you. And if Torchwood people talk to journalists, they tend to wake up with no memory. If they wake up at all.

GIDEON: OK, wait. The people who work for Torchwood or the journalists?

NORTON: Doesn't matter, all that's changed now. Torchwood has been destroyed, it's just the three of us. And we've got to save London.

GIDEON: Whoa. Save London.

NORTON: Absolutely. I can't think of three better people.

ANDY: Have you got a corkscrew?

NORTON: More wine?

GIDEON: No, I mean no thank you. What kind of wine was that?

NORTON: Bad wine.

GIDEON: I can't believe you live like this.

ANDY: Be fair, it has warmed up a bit.

GIDEON: It's making the smell worse.

ANDY: Mm, that mould on the wall is impressive. How did you find this place?

NORTON: Believe it or not, investigating. This used to be a gangland hideout.

GIDEON: You don't say.

NORTON: I traced one of the packages to here, but there was no sign of the package or anyone living here, so I er… requisitioned it.

ANDY: You moved into an abandoned gangster squat?

NORTON: There's no need to spell it out. It's quite cosy, so long as you don't dwell on the details.

ANDY: The details being that it's horrifying.

NORTON: I'm going downstairs to see if there's more wine in the cupboard under the stairs. At least, I assume it's wine.

GIDEON: So... you two are friends?

ANDY: Er... y-yes?

GIDEON: And… okay. So he's really not a librarian, but he works hunting down Martians?

ANDY: Yep.

GIDEON: And you can appear and disappear at will because you're what? A ghost?

ANDY: I'm from the 21st century.

GIDEON: Okay. By which time everyone can time travel?

ANDY: Some can. I've time travelled quite a bit actually.

GIDEON: And if you've solved that. What else? Racism?

ANDY: Erm...

GIDEON: And the UK, presumably it's no longer dirt poor and at war with itself.

ANDY: But, time travel.

GIDEON: I see. And you've come back to save Norton because, why?

ANDY: No reason.

GIDEON: You pop back for tea often?

ANDY: No.

GIDEON: So there's a reason.

ANDY: Listen, the thing is, I sort of work for Torchwood in the future. Sort of. And a flag came up in our records about Norton and now his timeline's collapsing.

GIDEON: What does that mean, is he dying?

ANDY: I don't know, but whatever happens, it's not supposed to happen.

GIDEON: He's going to die, isn't he?

NORTON: Who's going to die? I found Scotch.

ANDY: Oh, that's it. I am drunk, I am. I didn't think it was possible on that stuff, but I did it.

GIDEON: My taste buds are burnt, but I can still smell the damp.

NORTON: Oh, stop complaining. That's all you ever do, Andy. Complain, yap, yap, yap. Thanks for saving me from the Martians. Thanks for saving me from the vats. No, just pooey. Norton's room's stinky.

ANDY: Uh, fire.

NORTON: What?

ANDY: Fire, the-the gas, fire, gone out.

NORTON: Ah. Well spotted.

NORTON: Ooh, ooh, probably poisoning us.

GIDEON: Someone invented that smell, you know.

ANDY: Huh?

GIDEON: The smell of gas, someone invented it. Imagine that for a job.

ANDY: I wonder what number of try this one was.

NORTON: Imagine his wife. “Colin, stop bringing your work home,”

ANDY: Norton, how long have you been living here?

NORTON: Few days, about a week.

ANDY: And… you don't know what happened to the previous tenants.

NORTON: Long gone, I imagine.

GIDEON: Over the hills and far away.

ANDY: It's just, well, when I was a kid-

GIDEON: Here we go.

ANDY: No, no, no, just a thing. Did you check the bed- under the bed for monsters?

GIDEON: No

NORTON: Not really. Why?

ANDY: Because there's- and you're gonna look at me, but-There's something moving under your bed.

GIDEON: I thought that was the tarpaulin.

NORTON: So did I. Oh my God, I can see it. Under the bed.

GIDEON: Ah! It's moving! I'm too drunk for this.

ANDY: Ahh, what do we do?

GIDEON: We're running away, aren't we?

NORTON: Are we?

ANDY: I think we should look at it.

NORTON: But if it's the old tenant, why is it moving?

GIDEON: I know.

ANDY: He could still be alive.

GIDEON: Rats! Rats have found him!

ANDY: Huh? Oh.

NORTON: We need to find out.

ANDY: Oh, God, oh, God, oh. Right. Wrapped in the same material as the tarpaulin. Must have had some lying around.

NORTON: Always comes in handy. You unwrap it.

ANDY: No.

GIDEON: I'll do it, it's just rats

ANDY: No, no, not just.

GIDEON: It's fine. They used to live under the house and they were all over the ship I came over on. There was a nun in steerage who said she woke up to find one asleep on the pillow next to her.

NORTON: Not helping.

GIDEON: Can you pass me that bread knife? I need to cut the ropes. Thanks.

ANDY: (shudders) So, we're presuming that the previous tenant was, well, killed and then they wrapped up his body.

NORTON: Mmm, it does explain the smell.

GIDEON: Okay, so when I fold the sheets back they're going to explode.

ANDY: No, thank you!

GIDEON: Sorry, rush out. But just remember, they're as frightened of you as you are of them.

NORTON: I do not believe you.

GIDEON: Just be calm, okay? On three.

ANDY: Norton.

NORTON: Yes, Andrew?

ANDY: Have you seen any rats while you lived here?

NORTON: No.

GIDEON: Three!

GIDEON: No rats.

NORTON: Oh.

ANDY: What the hell is that?

GIDEON: Not that- It’s not right, it’s not right. What is that?

ANDY: Norton's department. Can you kill it?

NORTON: Hang on a tick!

ANDY: Shoot it.

NORTON: I've seen one of these before.

ANDY: Oh, good!

NORTON: Bullets didn't work.

ANDY: Oh, God!

GIDEON: That's been under your bed all this time?

NORTON: Yes, finally. Intelligent question. Okay, Lyme, say something else.

GIDEON: I'm still drunk.

NORTON: Not good enough.

GIDEON: Why did it wake up now?

NORTON: Excellent. Andy?

ANDY: What?

NORTON: Norton needs clever thoughts or we die. You've got this.

ANDY: No I haven't. It's between us and the door. And- Wait for it- Oh my God, spores!

NORTON: Yes, excellent! We've been exposed to the spores, it can sense them on us. So how can we use that to kill it?

ANDY: One of us could throw themselves at it, Norton, and we could run past it.

NORTON: Harsh!

GIDEON: It was making a noise when we came in. Then it stopped, then it started again.

NORTON: Oh, okay, go with that. Go with that a long way.

ANDY: Okay, okay, when the gas fire went out?

NORTON: Gas fire went out! There we go. Fire's out. Just gas.

GIDEON: It can't breathe gas.

ANDY: OK. Neither can we?

NORTON: In a moment, let's have a look at it. Thoughts?

ANDY: Oh, it's disgusting.

GIDEON: Oh, giant jellyfish or seaweed or mushroom.

NORTON: File those all away later. We need it dormant enough to sneak past it.

ANDY: And we need that to happen before we pass out.

GIDEON: There's something about it.

NORTON: Don't point it out because I've noticed it and I don't like it.

GIDEON: It has human eyes.

ANDY: Oh, God, it does. It does. Did that used to be... Oh, Jesus.

NORTON: It's collapsing. We can get out any moment.

ANDY: The fire's gone out.

NORTON: Has anyone got a sixpence?

ANDY: No.

GIDEON: Er, no. Well, there might be one in my coat.

NORTON: And?

GIDEON: My coat's on the chair by the door.

NORTON: Then get past the creature and grab it. Quickly, quickly!

GIDEON: Okay, okay, okay. Got it!

ANDY: Look out!

ANDY: Oh no, he's out cold.

NORTON: Grab his coat now, now!

NORTON: Uh,thruppenny bit. Bob!

ANDY: Do you have any normal coins?

NORTON: Sixpence!

ANDY: Norton!

NORTON: Bingo!

ANDY: Look out, he's coming right for you!

NORTON: You're a clever little thing, aren't you? And you've realised that I'm turning up the tap!

ANDY: Norton!

NORTON: (yell) Why won’t you pass out? Help!

ANDY: Hang on!

NORTON: What are you doing?!

ANDY: Pulling the pipe free! Come on!

NORTON: Ah, Splendid! (yell) Get it off me!

ANDY: One thing at a time! I'm... I'm feeling a bit… I’m feeling a bit…

NORTON: Andy!

ANDY: Ugh… Norton?

NORTON: Don't thank me, I got you out the building.

ANDY: And the creature?

NORTON: Sleeping it off.

ANDY: Lyme!

GIDEON: I'm fine!

NORTON: He got a bit more gas than you.

GIDEON: OK, feeling better now.

NORTON: Adrenaline and terror, sobering.

GIDEON: You're right. Those creatures are real. That up there is proof, you've got one captured. That's evidence. We could go to... The authorities. Oh my god, this is amazing!

NORTON: Bless, you've forgotten something about concentrated volumes of gas.

GIDEON: We have to get back in there. We have to rescue it!

NORTON: Sorry about that.

GIDEON: I thought- doesn't it take a little bit longer than-

NORTON: Tidying up. Can't leave proof like that lying around. Nor do we need the authorities, we've got each other. Let's talk about what we've learned on the way.

ANDY: To?

NORTON: Little Compton Street, come on.

NORTON: Taxi!

GIDEON: Unbelievable.

ANDY: This is what he does.

NORTON: It normally means he's up to something.

NORTON: Soho Square please, driver. Bit of a luxury, but in this gloom it's the only way to get around.

ANDY: I couldn't drive in this.

GIDEON: It's the knowledge.

ANDY: Even in the pitch black?

NORTON: (sigh) What a night. Oh, it's good to see you again, Andy. Just like old times.

ANDY: Hmm, how many times have I nearly died tonight?

NORTON: Not enough.

GIDEON: Is this always what it's like with you two?

NORTON: Erm, yes.

GIDEON: Wow.

ANDY: I sort of wish it wasn't.

GIDEON: Shouldn't we have gone left here?

NORTON: Are you taking on the knowledge in this murk?

GIDEON: No, sorry. Only just arrived. Tourist.

NORTON: You'll have to give him a big tip now, Andy.

ANDY: Me?

GIDEON: All the same. Aren't we going north now?

ANDY: I'm sure we're fine.

GIDEON: Only Belle told me-

NORTON: Sorry, you've been speaking to Belle?

ANDY: Who's Belle?

NORTON: Time travellers. You're supposed to know everything that's going on. But Belle?

GIDEON: She told me to be weary of the cabs. She's afraid of them.

NORTON: Of course she is, she's several centuries old.

GIDEON: She's what?

ANDY: This is so you.

GIDEON: Anyway, she said the cabs were hunting.

NORTON: (laugh) Nonsense! Actually, we are going north. Driver, sorry to make a fuss, but Soho Square is back that way. Driver? Driver, could you lower the glass? Driver?

ANDY: (yell) It’s one of them!

GIDEON: Oh my God!

NORTON: Out! Get out!

ANDY: I am not jumping out of a moving-

NORTON: Jump!

NORTON: Soho Square. Stop limping, Lyme. You've got all the sympathy you're going to get.

GIDEON: Huh? My leg still hurts.

NORTON: Fine, stay here on guard. Any more of those things, shout. Come on, Andy.

ANDY: The fog makes it kind of magical. Are you sure we're safe here? Why did you leave Lyme behind?

NORTON: I don't know if I can trust him.

ANDY: Can he trust you?

NORTON: Remains to be seen.

ANDY: Where is Little Compton Street?

NORTON: Underground, it's our way back into Torchwood. Charming little street, got covered over last century. It's now used as a passage between Torchwood and the bunker.

ANDY: We're going back into Torchwood?

NORTON: Oh yes.

ANDY: And what bunker?

NORTON: The one beneath our feet, dum-dum.

ANDY: There's a bunker underneath Soho Square?

NORTON: Of course there is.

ANDY: And where's the- Of course that's the entrance.

NORTON: Gardener's Hut, rumour has it that it's the entrance to an electrical substation. Rumour has it wrong. All Torchwood operatives have a key. In case the bomb goes off or there's another alien invasion, we're to head here.

ANDY: Another?

NORTON: You've got questions, haven't you?

ANDY: An unending supply of them.

NORTON: Well, I think it's sweet that you came back to rescue me.

ANDY: You were eavesdropping.

NORTON: The very idea. Every word. And as I said, sweet.

ANDY: It was Jack's idea.

NORTON: I didn't know he cared.

ANDY: I think he worries more about the timeline instability and because you and he…

NORTON: Hate each other?

ANDY: And you like me.

NORTON: I do like you, Andy. I adore you. Hold this wire. Also, you're expendable.

ANDY: Ow!

NORTON: See? And we're in. Lyme! Lyme! Here, boy!

GIDEON: Those things are hunting us!

NORTON: Of course they are, we're tainted with spores and as irresistible as sausages to a greyhound. But we're going to be okay, I've got us into a bunker.

GIDEON: There’s a?

NORTON: I've covered that with Andy.

ANDY: He has.

NORTON: If you'd care to step inside... That's right, that's right. And if you just step over that rake... Welcome to Torchwood.

GIDEON: Just how rich is Torchwood? I mean, should I even be asking?

NORTON: I'm certainly not telling you.

GIDEON: But you have a bunker.

NORTON: Honey, you weren't anyone in the 1940s if you didn't have a bunker. Even the Savoy had one. Very unreliable generator, we'd all be plunged into darkness at a moment's notice. Happy times.

ANDY: I found the door. What's the combination?

NORTON: Two, one, five, zero.

ANDY: Thank you.

NORTON: Bless.

GIDEON: Did he really travel in time to save you?

NORTON: Oh, yes.

GIDEON: You- I mean, sorry, but you could be a bit more grateful.

NORTON: This is me being grateful.

GIDEON: Rest of us, our lives go wrong, we know we're on our own. You, you take it for granted that someone will turn up and rescue you.

NORTON: I guess I do, I'm lucky.

GIDEON: What about other people around you? I'm tired, I've no home and I'm being chased across London because of you. But you, you don't seem to have a care in the world.

NORTON: Not really.

GIDEON: And the lies. You told me you were a librarian.

NORTON: And?

GIDEON: Did you even... like me?

NORTON: Like you? Well… Ha! Andrew, you'll love this, Lyme and I were talking about our feelings for each other.

ANDY: Rightio, I've got the door open.

NORTON: Splendid work. Come on inside.

NORTON: Oh, excuse me. Okay, once we've been swept and declared all clear, we should be inside the bunker.

ANDY: What about the spores on us?

NORTON: Well, they passed all the security screens to get inside Torchwood, so I doubt they'll stop us. Besides...

NORTON: Anti-bacterial purge! Quick bath of thallo rays should wipe them out. Will also make you know where all your fillings are for days. Ah! Now, if we're unlucky the bunker will be full of disgruntled Torchwood employees who fled from head office probably running out of crosswords. But don't worry, just leave the talking to me. I need to get past them and back inside Torchwood.

ANDY: I've not stopped to ask, why are you doing this?

NORTON: Because I've made a mistake and I'm putting it right.

GIDEON: And if you don't trust me, why are you bringing me along?

NORTON: Well because if anything goes wrong I'm relying on you to escape and go public. But, with any luck, the bunker will be as empty as a bus depot, and we can just nip in, grab some hazard suits, and I'll give you the tour.

ANDY: The lights are off?

GIDEON: I've already given you a shilling for the meter.

NORTON: Do either of you have a torch on you? No? Then shut up.

GIDEON: I've got some matches somewhere.

ANDY: Niffs a bit. Wait.

NORTON: Stale air. Let's edge forward. Stay in the light from the doorway.

NORTON: No, no, no, no, no! Damn! There’ll be a release around here! Somewhere! Matches! Matches! Now please! Lyme!

GIDEON: Okay!

ANDY: Have you just sealed us in an underground bunker?

NORTON: Shut up!

ANDY: And is the bunker airtight?

NORTON: Shut up some more!

ANDY: Because I am betting it's also soundproof!

NORTON: Andrew!

GIDEON: Got it!

GIDEON: Oh, hold on.

GIDEON: Yep, got it.

NORTON: Good, look around. Lightswitch, candles, quickly, quickly, anything-

NORTON: Oh God.

ANDY: Those creatures.

GIDEON: They're in here!

NORTON: Get back, get back!

NORTON: A hero would go back for them.

NORTON: On the other hand, this could be very neat.

ANDY: Norton!

GIDEON: Where are you?

NORTON: Agh. Grab my hand! That's right, grab Andy’s! Okay! And heave!

NORTON: That should keep them out.

ANDY: Were you leaving us to die?

NORTON: I was getting the door ready so they didn't have time to climb in after you and kill us all.

GIDEON: Okay.

ANDY: You were thinking about it.

NORTON: Gratitude.

GIDEON: Okay.

ANDY: It wouldn't be the first time you've only just done the right thing.

NORTON: Uh, I will happily-

GIDEON: Okay, shut up! You two, please, please! We nearly just died. Again. Never been hunted before in my life, never met an alien before, never been gassed, had a house blow up or been thrown out on the street because the man I invited over brought a naked time traveller. Actually, I've never invited anyone over to my room before, especially not a man. So actually, that in itself was quite a big first for me. And ordinarily, that would have been a thing to think about. But, I haven't even had a chance to catch my breath. And you two just keep on squabbling, and I just want a moment. But no, I don't get a moment. Instead, I'm stuck in an underground bunker, about to be killed by a giant mushroom.

NORTON: Oh my God, they are mushrooms!

ANDY: No, Norton, say sorry!

NORTON: Lyme, I'm sorry, forgive Andy, he can't help being Andy. And we really need to talk more about mushrooms, because that's a connection I should have made but hadn't, and it's so obvious it feels like it just turned up in a clown car. But, can you tie a knot in your hanky and we'll come back to it in a minute, promise? Because it may have slipped your attention but those things are trying the keypad!

ANDY: They can't get in, can they?

NORTON: They can because you've not worked out why they were in the bunker in the first place. Trust me, any second now they're going to get the combination.

GIDEON: Is it not working?

NORTON: Because they've partially unlocked their side, the airlock thinks there isn't a seal. So it's not going to let us out until that lock resets and that's not going to happen because... Oh, golly, they're learning fast.

GIDEON: Smart mushrooms.

ANDY: What can we do? And, um, die is not an answer.

GIDEON: That panel over there, does it get us into the lock?

NORTON: No, sweet cheeks, don't try and backseat drive, not now. That's just for servicing. Ooh, ooh, ooh!

NORTON: Okay, you two, get back against the far wall, as far away from those things, and this cable as you-

ANDY: Don't need telling, thank you.

NORTON: Wait for it. Wait for it. Oh, Lyme, did I notice you had a gold tooth?

GIDEON: Present from my uncle. Why?

NORTON: Because it suits you and I'm really sorry.

ANDY: Here they come!

NORTON: Take that, you brutes!

NORTON: Sorry, I’ve turned the anti-bacterial purge up. I'm afraid it doesn't think of you as life, but as parasite!

NORTON: Well, they won't want to try getting out that way again.

GIDEON: My jaw!

ANDY: I feel like I've been punched!

NORTON: Sorry. I think you two deserve a drink.

NORTON: Oh, mind your back Ducky, coming through. Now, you'll be quite safe here. Enjoy your drinks.

GIDEON: Thanks. What are they?

NORTON: Gin?

ANDY: Is there any chance of a pint?

NORTON: No.

ANDY: Crisps?

NORTON: Now you two stay here. I'm off to answer a call of nature. Back before you know it!

GIDEON: I don't really fancy this.

ANDY: Me neither.

GIDEON: Oh, this is rough.

ANDY: I'm guessing...

GIDEON: Oh, no tonic, no slice of lemon, no ice, just gin.

ANDY: Is this a pub for alcoholic grandmothers?

GIDEON: Why do you think Norton brought us here?

ANDY: Because it's open?

GIDEON: What time is it?

ANDY: Maybe two in the morning?

GIDEON: It's still open.

ANDY: Well, that's soho.

GIDEON: No, it isn't. Look at the clock on the wall.

ANDY: Quarter to eleven.

GIDEON: Something about this place isn't right.

ANDY: Everyone's staring at us. Do you think that's a bit odd?

GIDEON: Not in my experience of English pubs.

ANDY: Oh, right, yeah, sorry. But still, the regulars, they're all in fancy dress. Oh no, wait, Teddy Boy Gangs, that's the 1950s, isn't it?

GIDEON: 1950s. Those clothes are old, some of them are very old.

ANDY: Maybe they're actors?

GIDEON: This place, it's called the Stagnant Pond.

ANDY: Yeah.

GIDEON: And Norton referred to a stagnant pond gang.

ANDY: I was hoping you hadn't noticed.

GIDEON: I had no chance. Something's not right here, is it?

ANDY: No.

GIDEON: We can ask Norton when he gets back.

ANDY: Yeah.

GIDEON: He's not coming back, is he?

ANDY: No, no he's not.

NORTON: Well, so long as they're not hunting me. Ah, officer! Just the person I need to see. My name is Norton Folgate. I work for Torchwood. We fight aliens and we may have accidentally released an alien fungus onto the streets of London. I need your help to stop it.

NORTON: Hello? Ah, do excuse me, I can't see a thing. You know, fog, middle of the night. Can I just have a borrow of your torch? Thank you.

NORTON: Oh, yes. I appear to be a bit late to help you. Sorry. No, no, stay back! Stay back!

GIDEON: He can't have abandoned us here.

ANDY: Oh, but he can.

GIDEON: He treats people like...

ANDY: Pets. Yeah.

GIDEON: Well, I won't be.

BELLE: Good evening, gentlemen. How are you enjoying your drinks? Mind if I join you?

GIDEON: Andy, this is Belle.

ANDY: Sergeant Andy Davidson. Ah, uhm, I mean-

BELLE: A copper?

ANDY: Actually, we were just leaving.

BELLE: No, you weren't, dear. That's not how the stagnant pond works.

GIDEON: We just came in here for a drink.

BELLE: And you're under my protection. I'm the manageress. My name's above the door.

ANDY: “Licensed premises, Miss B. Epoch.” Belle Epoch.

BELLE: Guilty.

ANDY: And this pub is a hangout for a Teddy Boy gang?

BELLE: Not exactly, those kids over there are the original Teddy Boys. Our Bonnie Bairns. Only been here since the turn of the century. Me? I've been managing this place since the Great Fire.

GIDEON: But-

BELLE: Something happened to the Stagnant Pond, long time ago. It became stuck in time. All my regulars and I, we're trapped here.

GIDEON: I've had enough of this. I'm sorry, but I have.

ANDY: Maybe we should- Lyme- To sit down, I’ll get you a drink.

GIDEON: I’m going.

BELLE: No you ain’t.

GIDEON: You try stopping me.

GIDEON: What the?

BELLE: Stay in my pub, sonny Jim, that's right. Hold on to my hand, come on. That darkness out there is nothing. I can let go of you. You're welcome to walk out into it. But when you do, there's no way back.

ANDY: But-

BELLE: Welcome to the stagnant pond. You're here for the foreseeable.

NORTON: Inspector Gondry, always nice to know you can rely on a police box. Officers do respond to urgent calls.

GONDRY: You can count yourself lucky I was on duty. Normally when we get a 2am pansy screaming hysterically down the phone, the only official response is a clip round the ear.

NORTON: Putting the word pansy daintily to one side, I'm pleased to see you.

GONDRY: No you're not, you want something.

NORTON: Moi?

GONDRY: Last time it was a dozen of our best coppers manning a cordon while your lot cleared up a… What was it?

NORTON: Martian war machine in Leicester Square.

GONDRY: Yeah, of course it was. So, what is it our friends from Mars have done this time?

NORTON: Oh, this time Mars is innocent. It's a delightfully long story, but let's cut it short. Nazis have unleashed a plague of killer fungi on London.

GONDRY: Nazis? And killer what now?

NORTON: Mushrooms.

GONDRY: Killer Nazi mushrooms?

NORTON: Rethink that face, it ages you.

GONDRY: Well, it's bollocks.

NORTON: Gangsters have been smuggling packages onto the streets. I don't know if they thought it was guns or drugs, but each packet contained spores. Konstantin the Greek>

GONDRY: Yeah, you lot have us searching for him.

NORTON: Well, don't bother, he's dead. I think he got curious, stole his package, opened it. I saw the results. And right now, Inspector, you'll be thinking of all the people who've gone missing in the smog.

GONDRY: Crime just goes up when the weather's like this.

NORTON: But you've not found any bodies because the victims are still out there, roaming the streets, hunting.

GONDRY: Oh, come on. Why have Torchwood cooked up this load of nonsense? Why not just say you need 50 of my finest to stand around while you play super secret silly buggers? Well, I'll tell you, you can't have them. My squad are calling in sick, dropping like nine pins.

NORTON: Send some people round to their houses, they've been infected!

GONDRY: Huh?

NORTON: The infections parasitic and some hosts fight it for longer than others, but the end result is the same.

GONDRY: No it isn't!

NORTON: Wondering where the beat constable is?

GONDRY: Doing his rounds?

NORTON: No. Great thing about these police boxes, they've a phone, they've a lamp and in emergencies you can store sandwiches and people inside them.

NORTON: Bark, Fido, bark!

GONDRY: Oh my God.

ANDY: So- Sorry, but if this pub's wandering in time, how did we get here?

BELLE: Well, when this first happened, we were lost forever. But over the years, we've started to pop back occasional like. Torchwood reckons we've another 512 years before we're back in sync.

ANDY: That 12 at the end? Very Torchwood.

BELLE: And we can even leave, but we've got to get back before the shift ends. Otherwise, time catches up with us.

GIDEON: So why's Norton put us here? Are we here forever?

BELLE: No. But it wasn't long before Soho cottoned onto the stagnant pond, criminals come here to hide away for a price. Helps us build up our fluent. Your friend put you here because you're safe. That's what we can guarantee.

GIDEON: I don't want to be safe, I want to be out there.

BELLE: And you will be once this is all over. But that won't be for a while. Now, have a look at the bar. We've pork scratchings and we've pickled eggs and bar billiards. Help yourselves.

ANDY: Nice.

BELLE: We've added it all to Norton's tab.

ANDY: Good.

BELLE: He’ll owe us big time for this. Now then, enjoy your evening, it'll be a long one.

GIDEON: Unbelievable, he’s stuck us here.

ANDY: Actually, this is Norton being kind.

GIDEON: You really think so?

ANDY: Relax. He's putting us out of harm's way. It's kind of like... Oh my god, he's put us in a cattery!

NORTON: My word, this is impressive!

GONDRY: There's only a dozen, but they're sweeping the streets clean. I've had a chat with the army.

NORTON: I thought you would.

GONDRY: That's them! Bringing in flamethrowers.

NORTON: Hooray for the cavalry! It won't work, the first creature I met was walking through fire.

GONDRY: What are these things?

NORTON: Fungal spores wander through space, they can survive radiation, vacuum, and drifting through the upper atmosphere onto this planet. There's every chance the mushrooms you get with your fry-up are alien life.

GONDRY: Bugger off!

NORTON: Seriously, I think the ones we're dealing with were specially cultivated so that humanity would become the ideal host.

GONDRY: And what? We're walking compost.

NORTON: Mycelial life is efficient. They'll absorb our nutrients and intelligence. A cuckoo species. Little bit human, lot of shroom.

GONDRY: Have they any weaknesses?

NORTON: Well, it takes them time to adapt to atmospheres, so they're vulnerable to natural gas, but that'll be a short-term thing.

GONDRY: I can't really flood the streets with natural gas, can I?

NORTON: The first person to light up a woodbine loses London.

GONDRY: Anything else?

NORTON: They've a hive mind.

GONDRY: Huh?

NORTON: Fungi use their environment to communicate with each other.

GONDRY: You're kidding. How is that a weakness?

NORTON: Well, while your soldiers are running around and dying, I'll be able to sneak past them.

GONDRY: I'm sorry. Agh-

NORTON: I borrowed the constable's truncheon. Sorry, but actually, I want you to live. I may need you in the future. So you sleep that off inside this police box while the soldiers get on with distracting them.

ANDY: You can't stop looking out that window.

GIDEON: At nothing. This is so bizarre, just endless murk.

ANDY: Bizarre murk. Norton's world.

GIDEON: Are you trying to warn me off him?

ANDY: No, just, you know, be careful.

GIDEON: I think it's all incredible. I hate sitting on the sidelines, but man, the biggest Teddy Boy gang in London are actual real Edwardians!

ANDY: Yeah, led by a several hundred year old woman.

GIDEON: Oh, it's quite a story. And they're also really successful.

ANDY: How do you raid a base that doesn't exist?

GIDEON: What's going on out there, do you think?

ANDY: Well, Norton finds a way to stop those creatures and we all breathe a sigh of relief as life goes back to normal.

GIDEON: But- I'm a reporter. Shouldn't I be out there?

ANDY: The safest thing you can do is stay here and wait. Norton will come back for you, happy ending.

GIDEON: Stay here and wait. (sigh) You know the future, don't you?

ANDY: Well...

GIDEON: From your point of view, my happy ever after is long gone. I'm dead.

ANDY: But you're not yet.

GIDEON: See, we all have different endings. Do you ever get the feeling that what you thought was the beginning of a story is actually the middle?

ANDY: No, why?

GIDEON: Because I do. In fact, I know it. Because I've just realised it's happened to my life.

ANDY: I'll just go to the bar and get some lemonade.

GIDEON: Hmm, you do that.

NORTON: Right. Flamethrowers means asbestos overalls.

NORTON: I'm sorry about this. Really I am, but I don't want them thinking I'm coming. On the plus side, you soldiers get to be all heroic, they get to think they're winning. So everyone has some fun until they don't. (through a mask) Right then, back to plan A.

BELLE: Double twenty.

GIDEON: Excuse me, excuse me?

BELLE: Yes? Do you play darts?

GIDEON: No. Does it pass the time?

BELLE: No, have a go. Frankie, you're benched. Pass the pretty boy the darts.

FRANKIE: There you go.

GIDEON: Five?

BELLE: Near enough.

BELLE: Double nine.

GIDEON: How well do you know Norton?

BELLE: Well enough. I mean, I wouldn't call him a friend.

GIDEON: Ha, I see. No one does, do they?

GIDEON: Is that treble 14?

BELLE: No. He's a laugh.

BELLE: 20.

GIDEON: Am I the first, the first person he's asked you to stalk?

BELLE: I'm not going to be drawn on that. Your throw.

GIDEON: So I'm not the first.

GIDEON: 12.

BELLE: You're getting better.

BELLE: Treble nine. And yes, you're the first. It costs a lot to hide someone here. Call it a ransom.

GIDEON: And the ransom is?

BELLE: Board and lodging.

GIDEON: How much?

BELLE: Some of it's money, but in Norton's case, we're slapping on some value-added fees, influence power and a blind eye. Throw a dart, Sonny.

GIDEON: So it's costing Norton a lot to put us here.

BELLE: Your go.

GIDEON: Triple 17?

BELLE: For a man who's never played before, you've learned sharpish.

GIDEON: What about Andy? Have you seen him before?

BELLE: No, why?

BELLE: 19.

GIDEON: Because he's familiar, and he shouldn't be. That's the thing I've been realising. Not sure my life makes sense anymore, and I can't trust anyone.

BELLE: Depends on where you stand, your throw.

GIDEON: Exactly. Heroes and villains, the closer to the board you stand. The easier it is to be a hero and a cheat.

GIDEON: Triple 20.

BELLE: I thought after that little speech you were going for bullseye.

GIDEON: Obvious target, but triple 20 scores higher.

NORTON: (still speaking through a mask) I am helping you. I'm Norton Folgate. And I'm going to save the world. I'm going back where I belong.

GIDEON: We're trapped here.

BELLE: Consider it extreme hospitality.

GIDEON: Where's Andy?

BELLE: Your friend? He's around. Don't worry, he's not gone out and left you behind.

GIDEON: You sure of that?

BELLE: Sure enough. Maybe he's having a cry in the gents. Looks the type, soft boy.

GIDEON: You think so?

BELLE: Why? What you on about?

GIDEON: You can't trust Andy, he's been lying to us all.

NORTON: So I'm hoping for a good seal on this outfit. It's holding up against you so far. There we go, a few more steps. And then a few more. This was supposed to be your escape bunker. It's not gone so well for you, has it? I don't know if you can remember me, I hope you can't, but I just want all of you to know, all of you. I can't recognize you, but I used to work with you. And even though it's too late for all of you, I just wanted to say... I'm sorry!

NORTON: Little Compton Street. Here we go, back at Torchwood. I know who I've come to see.

NORTON: Hello Lizbeth. How are you?

RIGSBY: Forgive me, Lizbeth. I'm feeling a little under the weather. I can't go there today.

LIZBETH: But it's the reason Churchill sent us to Berlin.

RIGSBY: I was thinking you could go.

LIZBETH: Me?

RIGSBY: We are equals, Professor Hayhoe.

DRIVER: This is as far as I can take you. Miss?

LIZBETH: Miss? Oh, sorry. I always drop off in cars. Did- I uh- Did I miss anything?

DRIVER: Gunfire, a Russian tank division knocking hell out of the Bundestag. What looked like a lynching.

LIZBETH: Jesus, I really can sleep through anything. Is this it?

DRIVER: I'm- I’m not allowed to come inside with you.

LIZBETH: That's, uh, that's fine.

DRIVER: Cigarette?

LIZBETH: I don't smoke.

DRIVER: Take one. Apparently in there it helps to take away the smell.

GERTA: You will forgive, it is only me. All the men have left. Welcome to Project Hermod.

LIZBETH: Impressive.

GERTA: It was once. We had glass in the windows. You sent your driver away?

LIZBETH: I’ll walk. Is there a problem?

GERTA: No one walks across Berlin. No woman. Russians.

LIZBETH: Oh. Lizbeth Hayhoe.

GERTA: Is Professor Rigsby no longer coming?

LIZBETH: He's, um, he's indisposed.

GERTA: Ah, you are his secretary.

LIZBETH: I'm here to meet the director.

GERTA: He hung himself in his cell last night. You get me. Hado, administrative support. We are secretaries together.

LIZBETH: I'm a fellow at Somerville College, Oxford.

GERTA: My mistake. So, just us. When you ask the men, they think we should stay at home, raise children. But it is amazing what they suddenly decide we are qualified for, when they can no longer stomach it.

LIZBETH: Professor Rigsby is ill.

GERTA: And you are loyal.

LIZBETH: I'm here to conclude the inventory.

GERTA: He had very thorough paperwork, your work?

LIZBETH: We're simply establishing what assets the British Crown has claim to.

GERTA: Everyone is sickened by what we do. Everyone wants what we do. The Americans have seized most of our papers, the Russians most of our staff.

LIZBETH: That should not have happened.

GERTA: It has happened. You are welcome to what remains.

LIZBETH: Very well. Lead the way.

GERTA: I presume you wish to examine dead specimens?

LIZBETH: Of course.

GERTA: This way.

LIZBETH: Wait, you said dead specimens.

GERTA: I did.

LIZBETH: Does that mean you have live specimens?

GERTA: We do.

LIZBETH: Can I see them?

GERTA: No one has asked to see them before.

LIZBETH: Well, I am.

GERTA: Here they are.

LIZBETH: Oh my God. There's something alive in there.

GERTA: Yes. The tanks used to be self-cleaning, but well, then we lost power.

LIZBETH: So what's in there? It's dead, isn't it?

GERTA: That one is dead, I think. You will forgive. I have not opened the tank to check, but these three inside... dry? See? They are waking up.

LIZBETH: Christ. What are they?

GERTA: Pilz. Mushroom? Is that the word?

LIZBETH: I can see that, but what...what have they been grown on? What is it that's...moving?

GERTA: I shall check. There are notes.

LIZBETH: Were they dogs?

GERTA: As I say, allow me to check.

LIZBETH: You did that to dogs?

GERTA: Well…

LIZBETH: They're still alive. Where do these spores come from?

GERTA: It will say somewhere, I'm sure of it.

LIZBETH: Cordyceps fungi can grow inside insects, consuming them alive. Then rupturing when they spore. But that's ants and spiders. But dogs? I wonder what the process was?

GERTA: The details, they are here.

LIZBETH: It’s Horrible. Still, did Hermod find these fungi or adapt them? Either way, it's impressive.

GERTA: Do not get too close. Here.

LIZBETH: Thanks. Ah, my German is not all it could be. “Grafted into the fertilizer bed,” nice term, “via incisions. But once you stabilize the cultures, a simple scratch could cause infection, maturing to produce spores, which could infect via inhalation.”

GERTA: Your German is commendable.

LIZBETH: How far have they got?

GERTA: I'm just a secretary. Realizing I was alone, I wondered what to do. I couldn't see a way to feed them. I thought they would die. They did not.

LIZBETH: Sorry (cough) that's not what I asked. Have you a light?

GERTA: Of course.

LIZBETH: Cheers.

LIZBETH: I don't normally, but…

GERTA: The smell is unfortunate.

LIZBETH: How far have they got with the experiment?

GERTA: Professor Ange would know.

LIZBETH: Can I see him?

GERTA: He... Ah, Borneo, I believe.

LIZBETH: I see, I see. Taking all his notes with him.

GERTA: Indeed. As the Russians advanced, the men vowed to stay and fight. The bitter end. Ha, they all left so quickly.

LIZBETH: Mm.

LIZBETH: God, you poor doggy. I guess you took them off the streets.

GERTA: I would have to check my notes.

LIZBETH: I guess it was intended as a weapon sprayed from the air. Mind you, the resulting creatures would be pretty invincible. Mushroom soldiers. Everything we get up to fight and we never dreamed we'd be up against a mushroom reich. What kind of a dog is that?

GERTA: The notes.

LIZBETH: You know full well. It's not a dog. It's a fucking child!

RIGSBY: You've burnt it down? All of Project Hermod? The Americans are very upset.

LIZBETH: You sent me in there alone, Reginald.

RIGSBY: Why shouldn't I? We're both heads of department.

LIZBETH: Alone! That hellhole!

RIGSBY: I did go in first.

LIZBETH: You soared in looking for glory, took one look then sent me. While you what?

RIGSBY: Indisposed, a cold.

LIZBETH: Drunk. Christ alone knows your hangover. Still, the Yanks have got all the aspirin, so no doubt you'll be popping over to make a report.

RIGSBY: You didn't have to burn the place down.

LIZBETH: Those things were children. They were screaming.

RIGSBY: Information has been lost. Whitehall are very disappointed.

LIZBETH: Ugh, told them already, have you? Don't care. Project Hermod is scattered to the ends of the earth. Hunting down the remains can be some other poor sod's job.

RIGSBY: This will be a black mark against your name. Afraid I'll have to tell the Americans.

LIZBETH: Have to?

RIGSBY: Procedure? Oh, forgive me, but if you want to succeed, Lizbeth, you'll have to learn decorum.

LIZBETH: They were using children as compost bags.

RIGSBY: Ah, there you are Lizbeth. Punctuality really isn't a strong suit.

LIZBETH: What the hell's happened to my lab?

RIGSBY: Had you been here at nine, you'd know.

LIZBETH: What, I could have watched you steal my team.

RIGSBY: Ever since the end of the war.

LIZBETH: Oh, hello!

RIGSBY: We've worked together in parallel. You've led our research unit, and me alien acquisitions. Over the years, bar the odd bump, a satisfactory arrangement. However, our guards higher up the ladder feel that a breath of fresh air and a clean sweep is called for.

LIZBETH: You're lost in your conceit!

RIGSBY: Oh, forgive me, there's no need to get personal.

LIZBETH: Conceit is a literary term, Reginald. It's an extended metaphor. You had guards up a ladder sweeping fresh air.

RIGSBY: Apology accepted.

LIZBETH: Where are my staff?

RIGSBY: Reallocated. I felt it was important that we had some science brains at the White Hot Coalface.

LIZBETH: Here we go again.

RIGSBY: A better utilisation of their skills and appetites than in your, forgive me, ivory tower.

LIZBETH: Ivory tower? A draughty room in an old button factory overlooking a Chinese restaurant?

RIGSBY: Resources were felt to be being lavish.

LIZBETH: By you and lavish, we've got mice. We've had broken windows since the actual blitz.

RIGSBY: Needless to say, once I put my case to your team, they jumped at the opportunities laid before them.

LIZBETH: They heard you got a working radiator.

RIGSBY: I wish we could have made separate appeals to them, alas, you weren't here.

LIZBETH: I wasn't told!

RIGSBY: Forgive me, that's not my affair.

LIZBETH: So what? I build up the finest team of exoscientists in the empire and you whisk them away? Fine. But you've taken all my kit. We were so close to a breakthrough.

RIGSBY: Not regrettably in the view of those higher up.

LIZBETH: Oh, that's it, isn't it? You'd heard about Rogers and Clyde's breakthrough and you've stolen them and the credit.

RIGSBY: Paranoia, Elizabeth.

LIZBETH: It's fine. Take them. I don't care about the credit. I'll carry on, even if I have to go and buy a boy's science kit from a toy shop.

RIGSBY: As you will, there are no calls at present on the room. Oh, forgive me, Elizabeth. Must push on. If you need to discuss this further, just put a call through to my secretary.

LIZBETH: You there! Stop kicking the Skylon! What the hell do you think you're doing?

NORTON: Er, waiting for you, ma'am.

LIZBETH: Ma'am? Am I getting ma’amed now?

NORTON: Yes, ma'am. Er, I've the list of additional requirements you asked for, came through as priority.

LIZBETH: Thank you, and judging by the look on your face, you don't agree.

NORTON: Er, well, uh-

LIZBETH: You're one of Rigsby's bright boys, aren't you? Better things to do with your time than loiter around a Waterloo building site?

NORTON: Ma'am-

LIZBETH: How diplomatic. Time was Rigsby to have come down to argue with me himself. Now that pales with the pleasures of lobster at the Savoy. Instead he sends me some poor National Service tyke. Parsons kid?

NORTON: Er-

LIZBETH: It's in the posture, you all creep.

NORTON: Ma’am-

LIZBETH: That thing's the Skylon. You know much about modern art?

NORTON: Well-

LIZBETH: Me neither. And there's a reason the Skylon looks like a rocket ship. It's a UFO. And those wires are the only thing keeping it tethered. Torchwood's contribution to the Festival of Britain. Bugger all use to us without a compatible power source. All we can do is tie it down before the Festival opens to the public. Where's that cable?

NORTON: In the van, ma'am.

LIZBETH: And? Are you going to fetch it?

NORTON: Oh, I was wondering, perhaps-

LIZBETH: These builders are busy building. Fetch.

NORTON: Ma'am.

LIZBETH: Shoo.

LIZBETH: Can someone put together another cage?

LIZBETH: Poor sods, of course someone had to steal their faces before the coronation.

MAN: Ma'am.

LIZBETH: No, away! You want orders? Go to Westminster Abbey. That's where everyone above me is. Bother the vicar or Rigsby or even Folgate.

MAN: But ma'am, what should we do?

LIZBETH: This warehouse is full. I'm not taking on anymore. No, leave me to spend the day here with the other faceless nobodies. Find someone else. Someone who matters.

LIZBETH: What? Oh, it's another youngster with a crate. Put it over there and I'll get to it, whatever it is. If it's come to Room 13, it can't be important.

NORTON: Ahem, actually...

LIZBETH: What? Don't I know you?

NORTON: Folgate. Norton Folgate.

LIZBETH: Ha! So now the vicar's dead, you're at the top. And what, you've come to close me down? Finally. Give me a quarter of an hour to pack my bag.

NORTON: Ah, no.

LIZBETH: What, you're keeping me on? You’ve a reputation for ruthlessness, Folgate. I can't imagine you'd keep a dead end like Room 13 open now you're in charge.

NORTON: Actually, I've been sent to join you.

LIZBETH: Ha!

NORTON: Ugh.

LIZBETH: Crumpet?

NORTON: Are you going to smoke that disgusting pipe?

LIZBETH: Are you going to use that awful squeaky voice?

NORTON: There's nothing sq- Yes please, to the crumpet.

LIZBETH: There's fresh butter on the windowsill.

NORTON: After the pigeons stole the last lot.

LIZBETH: This place, it's

LIZBETH & NORTON TOGETHER: the Savoy.

LIZBETH: Sort the post out, would you?

NORTON: (groan) Ancient wreckage of one, two, three crashed spacecraft in Sri Lanka, Borneo, Bavaria. What is it with aliens? Can no one fly a spaceship?

LIZBETH: Dispatch an agent to Bavaria. We've a string in Sri Lanka. Use them.

NORTON: Borneo?

LIZBETH: Too expensive. File it.

NORTON: Filed. Imagine that, travelling millions of light years, possibly the last of your species, crashing on our world, lying undiscovered for centuries, and we can't even be bothered digging you up.

LIZBETH: The government can't afford cheese, UFOs seem a luxury.

NORTON: Imagine if it was full of bacon.

LIZBETH: Then you'd have a case.

NORTON: Is this all we do? Send other people to look at stuff, occasional cover-up?

LIZBETH: That's it. The excitement of Torchwood happens to other people.

NORTON: Norton's bored, Lizbeth, Norton is so bored.

LIZBETH: There's one thing, sort of allowed to be my brief, a joke of Rigsby's. When the war was ending-

NORTON: Oh, here we go.

LIZBETH: Rigsby and I worked on it together, closing down Project Hermod.

NORTON: Nazi Torchwood?

LIZBETH: It was a disaster, he was only interested in what he could plunder.

NORTON: Which was?

LIZBETH: Not much, by the time I'd set fire to the place.

NORTON: You scamp!

LIZBETH: Didn't matter. Most of Project Hermod was already scattered to the winds.

NORTON: The South American winds. And they're still out there?

LIZBETH: Never bothered doing anything about them. A bunch of filthy rich mass murderers, mad scientists and necromancers.

NORTON: Rich, you said?

LIZBETH: Of course you'd notice that. Each one's suitcase is bursting with bullion and alien technology.

NORTON: Which they're planning on using to start up again?

LIZBETH: By seizing control of a comet and a hank of the Führer's hair, they believe they can start the Fourth Reich.

NORTON: Good luck to them, crackpots. Like anyone will listen to Nazis ever again. Did they snaffle anything good?

LIZBETH: Horribly weird.

NORTON: Trust a Nazi to stockpile the mad stuff. But the money, Liz. The money. I bet they're soaked in it.

LIZBETH: Pots.

NORTON: So, if Norton had any luck, he could plough the loot back into Room 13?

LIZBETH: Ah, you could.

NORTON: I could, and it’d pass the time. In between sending people scouring mountains for alien scrap.

LIZBETH: Hunting Nazis. You must be bored.

NORTON: Totally. Besides, what's the harm?

NORTON: This has all been a trap, to get that package into Torchwood, into this room. Lizbeth, put it back before it hatches.

LIZBETH: It's not an egg, it's more like a mushro-

LIZBETH: Oh god. (coughing)

NORTON: Lizbeth? No, oh my God! No!

ANDY: Norton, take my hand!

NORTON: Andy?

ANDY: Now or you're dead!

LIZBETH: (gasping for air) Norton help me! Come back! Come back! Please!

RIGSBY, OVER SPEAKERS: Alert! Alert! Torchwood has been exposed to an exobiological threat. All operatives must proceed to Little Compton Street. All operatives.

LIZBETH: Help me! Help! Help me!

WOMAN: What's the matter, old gal? You've been in the wars? Come on, let's get you inside.

LIZBETH: Oh no, please! Help me

WOMAN: Stick by me.

LIZBETH: No!

LIZBETH: Please, I'm ill!

WOMAN: Want me to leave you out here, eh?

LIZBETH: No, no, get me- Get me help, please!

WOMAN: Fast, fast, fast, come along! Here we are! Now stop being a moaning minnie and come inside the bunker!

LIZBETH: Please…

WOMAN: Chop, chop! Looks like they're closing up!

LIZBETH: Please!

WOMAN: Splendid! Come on in!

WOMAN: There we are, snug as the proverbial ruggy bugs. Don't worry, it'll all be over in a tick. Probably some careless test tube waller. They'll be all over it with carbolic, and we'll be out in time for tiffin'.

LIZBETH: Oh, please. I'm ill. (cough)

WOMAN: (cough) Come to think of it, I'm not exactly top billing myself. Still, best not make a fuss. We're safe now. (cough) We're in the bunker.

LIZBETH: Rigsby?

RIGSBY: Forgive me, Lizbeth?

LIZBETH: We're all dying, Reginald.

RIGSBY: There are medics.

LIZBETH: They've gone.

RIGSBY: When will they be back- Oh.

LIZBETH: Yes, sorry.

RIGSBY: We need to summon help, leave the bunker.

LIZBETH: No. That would spread the infection further. This country's best chance is for us to stay in here.

RIGSBY: But- but- We'll die!

LIZBETH: Yes. Budge up. I'm not steady on my pins.

RIGSBY: I can't be dying. I'm in charge of Torchwood.

LIZBETH: I think that's why you're dying.

RIGSBY: No, no, no, no. Everyone here knows how important I am. The boffins, the bright lads, they'll be working on a cure. They'll come up with something at the last moment.

LIZBETH: Maybe you're right.

RIGSBY: Where... where are they?

LIZBETH: Over in the corner, coma. They're changing.

RIGSBY: Into what?

LIZBETH: It's a parasitic fungal infection, Rigsby. Airborne. Insidious. Something I thought we'd stamped out years ago.

RIGSBY: Well, if we've stopped it before, we can stop it again.

LIZBETH: Yes.

RIGSBY: You'll come up with something, you always do.

LIZBETH: Hmm.

RIGSBY: Some idiot brought this in. When I'm back on my feet, I'll read them the riot act.

LIZBETH: I'm sure you will.

RIGSBY: I know we've not entirely seen eye to eye, but... Bygones, Elizabeth, bygones. You'll see I pull through so I can look the feller in the eye.

LIZBETH: It was me, Reginald.

RIGSBY: What?

LIZBETH: The package from Project Hermod. I opened it, it caused this.

RIGSBY: And you- you came in here?

LIZBETH: I was asking for help and I just got swept in.

RIGSBY: You stupid, selfish woman! You've killed us all! You've killed me!

LIZBETH: Yes, Reginald. Yes, I know.

RIGSBY: They're coming for us. Any minute.

LIZBETH: Yes.

RIGSBY: They'll have noticed. Number ten, Her Majesty. Wheels will have stopped turning. They'll know. And they'll be coming to rescue me.

LIZBETH: Yes, Reginald.

RIGSBY: They won't let me die.

LIZBETH: No.

RIGSBY: I'll say this. You're a tough old bird, Liz. You're barely changed.

LIZBETH: Oh. I think they wanted me to watch.

RIGSBY: Or you're just lucky. You always were.

LIZBETH: Lucky.

RIGSBY: Talented and clever.

LIZBETH: Thank you.

RIGSBY: Clever, forgive me. Clever's not the same as smart. That's your problem. You should have seen this coming.

LIZBETH: I didn't.

RIGSBY: There we are, see? Women. Always a full cupboard and fresh sheets, but no good at chess. And yet, oh, people admired you. Taking staff off you, always a battle. They never wanted to go.

LIZBETH: Didn't they?

RIGSBY: But they were wasting their time with you. Couldn't have that happen.

LIZBETH: Because you stopped every project I worked on.

RIGSBY: Yes.

LIZBETH: You never forgave me for Project Hermod, did you?

RIGSBY: It would have been a quick little operation. Everyone fills their boots with faster rockets and better weapons, but no...

LIZBETH: I had to be clever.

RIGSBY: After you burnt Hermod down, you put me in bad odour with the Russians and the Yanks. Here's Madge. You were a bad influence. I had to hold you back, for your own good. Imagine if you'd run this place. And you would have.

LIZBETH: Really?

RIGSBY: Maybe. If a woman can rule an empire, maybe one can run Torchwood. Not you. But someday one will. (cough) Where was I?

LIZBETH: Listing my faults.

RIGSBY: Oh, harsh. I always saw you as an incubator, like a greenhouse. You'd find the right sort, you'd bring them home, then I could propagate them.

LIZBETH: You stole everything from me, Reginald.

RIGSBY: I made the most of it, that's all.

LIZBETH: And now look at us. You even stole this infection from me.

RIGSBY: I guess I did. But they're coming for me. Any moment. I'll be right as rain, you'll see.

LIZBETH: Yes.

RIGSBY: But I won't forget. You tried to destroy Torchwood. (coughing) Forgive me. What will happen to me, if rescue doesn't come? Which it will.

LIZBETH: The fronds sprouting from your skin, they'll multiply. The fungus will consume you, major organs first, then the brain. Take over your automotive functions. Then it'll get ready to spawn.

RIGSBY: It's happening to the others, but not me.

LIZBETH: No.

RIGSBY: There's some hairs on my arms, maybe. A few more than usual. Nothing to worry about. Maybe I'm immune.

LIZBETH: Yes, Reginald. I can barely see them.

RIGSBY: Forgive me.

LIZBETH: If that's what you want.

RIGSBY: Wake me when rescue comes, will you?

LIZBETH: I will, Reginald.

RIGSBY: Thanks, daddy.

LIZBETH: They're all gone.

NORTON: Hello, Lizbeth. How are you?

LIZBETH: Still alive. They're all dead.

NORTON: I know.

LIZBETH: How are you?

NORTON: Frightened.

LIZBETH: Take the bloody helmet off.

NORTON: I won't, thank you.

LIZBETH: Fairly sure I'm safe.

NORTON: Fairly sure you're not.

LIZBETH: Put some coal on the fire, would you? I'm cold.

NORTON: I always did like a good fire.

LIZBETH: I'd offer you tea…

NORTON: But I'd be dying before I finished the cup.

LIZBETH: And you used to say my tea wasn't that bad. Sit down. Closer. My vision. The damn stuff is growing through my eyeballs. I'm getting used to it. Getting used to that. Imagine.

NORTON: I'd rather not.

LIZBETH: Well, look at us. We finally got what we wanted, Torchwood.

NORTON: Lizbeth, I'm sorry.

LIZBETH: Bit of a pyrrhic victory, but a victory. Gods I’m cold.

NORTON: The heat will come through from the fire.

LIZBETH: Soon start to feel the benefit. My shoes are pinchy. Normally I'd ease them off under the desk, but the stuff, it's grown through the shoe leather. For as long as I live, and I hope it won't be for much longer, I'll be wearing the same damn pair of shoes.

NORTON: Oh, Lizbeth.

LIZBETH: If I'd known, well, I'd like to say I'd have picked a better pair. But if I'd known I was going to die when I came to work yesterday...

NORTON: You wouldn't have come to work.

LIZBETH: Exactly. This has all been about gaining control of Torchwood, you know.

NORTON: Has it?

LIZBETH: Poor old Rigsby. As he slithered his way to the top. I never gave up on the idea that I'd escape Room 13 and snatch it from him. This game of ours, it was going to be my chance. But my pride got in the way and it killed me.

NORTON: It wasn't your pride.

LIZBETH: Oh, it was. I shouldn't have taken over, stolen the credit from you. Then you'd be the one dying in this chair. We were all being so clever because we were all being played.

NORTON: Were we?

LIZBETH: Project Hermod, a nest of dying hornets. The more you poke them with a stick, the more they plotted this revenge. Flooding London with those packages, getting our attention.

NORTON: Every time I bumped one of them off, another package entered the system.

LIZBETH: Revenge served at its coldest. Attracting our attention. Getting us to seize the package. Bring it inside Torchwood. All those gangsters, those things in the mist, just tracer fire. Like doodle bugs are doom-draining closer and closer and closer until the engine stopped and it fell on us.

NORTON: I should have realised, I should have warned you.

LIZBETH: Such a clever weapon. Those poor screaming kids in Berlin. The first victims survive the longest so that they can spread it the furthest. And so I could watch, watch everything I have wanted die.

NORTON: I'm sorry.

LIZBETH: Talking of which, my bloody dog.

NORTON: I've not forgotten. I'll feed him.

LIZBETH: You better, or I'll haunt you. I swear.

NORTON: Don't worry.

LIZBETH: I'm breathing easier. Like menthol vapours.

NORTON: Yes, I put a little something in the fire.

LIZBETH: Came prepared, I wondered if you did.

NORTON: Cyanide.

LIZBETH: Put me out of my misery. I remember the vet shooting my first horse, poor thing, Glynarthen, had taken a tumble during a steeplechase. Mother was off arguing with the judges that I should at least get a rosette for effort, and I was just cradling his neck. He was in such pain, but I wouldn't let him go, poor thing. Veterinarian just patted my hand, slid the shotgun up behind an ear and bang. I promised I'd look at Glynarthen when he went, say goodbye properly. But of course, when that gun went off it was so loud I screwed my eyes tight shut and when I opened them he’d gone. You'll stay with me till I'm gone, won't you?

NORTON: Yes. You're the only reason I came back. I told the others there was something I needed from Torchwood, but it was just you. I needed to say goodbye.

LIZBETH: You always were a liar. Are you lying now?

NORTON: Please.

LIZBETH: Still, you got people helping you. That's good.

NORTON: Friends.

LIZBETH: I wonder, do you ever have friends?

NORTON: That's unkind. I'm here with you now, aren't I?

LIZBETH: You are, and I'm glad. But I wonder if part of this is because you're hiding away from what you have to do.

NORTON: There's time, plenty of time.

LIZBETH: I won't keep you long.

NORTON: No, this isn't what I planned. I'm sorry, Lizbeth.

LIZBETH: Don't be. It's you I feel sorriest for. While you've been wasting your time in here, the world is still in danger. And you... Ah, you're going to have to deal with that on your own. Because you're all that's left. You're Torchwood now.

BELLE: Here you are!

ANDY: Yeah, I needed somewhere to think.

BELLE: No good staring out that window, you won't see anything. Come back downstairs.

ANDY: I'm not sure I could stomach any more cheap beer and pickled eggs. Norton's out there, trying to save the world.

BELLE: And you're nice and safe.

ANDY: When we can leave, there might be nothing left out there. He can't do this on his own. He's my... He's my friend.

BELLE: He's no one's friend.

ANDY: It's what he'd like to think, but that's not true.

BELLE: You should be worrying about your other friend.

ANDY: Oh, Lyme? Why?

GIDEON: Because I've worked out who you really are.

WATCHMAN: We're closed.

NORTON: So I'd expect, it's four o'clock in the morning.

WATCHMAN: Museum opens at nine.

NORTON: Not for me. Unlock this gate and let me in.

WATCHMAN: No can do.

NORTON: Listen, I've not slept for two nights, I'm feeling wretched and everyone I work with is dead.

WATCHMAN: That so?

NORTON: And you're in great danger. Listen. Can you hear that?

WATCHMAN: Uh, no.

NORTON: No, of course not. Much easier to ignore, snug as a bug behind your gates.

WATCHMAN: It's none of my business.

NORTON: Oh absolutely. How recent are the blood stains on these bars?

WATCHMAN: Uh-

NORTON: How many people have you turned a blind ear to? These last few nights, how many have you let die?

WATCHMAN: I can't go letting people in, it's more than my job's worth.

NORTON: My job's worth, yes, I've been learning how much a job's worth. So long as you're safe, that's all that matters, only...

WATCHMAN: What are you doing?

NORTON: Melting the lock. Now it'll take two minutes. In that time, yes, those creatures out there may well devour me in front of you but that's fine you've seen it all before.

WATCHMAN: Uhm-

NORTON: You're steeled to people begging for help as they're torn apart.

WATCHMAN: Oh, oh.

NORTON: Problem is with this lock gone these lovely iron gates won't save you and as you know these creatures are vicious.

WATCHMAN: Ah! What do you want me to do?

NORTON: Open the side gate quickly. I'm here to save this city. Sometimes not sure it's worth it.

ANDY: Would you like some crisps?

GIDEON: No.

ANDY: I'd like some crisps. We could go down and get some. You have to salt them yourself, it's amazing.

GIDEON: I don't want crisps, I want answers.

ANDY: You really just said that.

GIDEON: I did. Who are you, really?

ANDY: Andy Davidson. I've come from the 21st century because Norton is in trouble. You remember, we turned up naked in your bedroom.

GIDEON: But that's not the first time I met you.

ANDY: It isn't?

GIDEON: When I arrived here, everything fell apart. But someone pushed me out of the way of a cab, got me my job back, gave me a briefcase.

ANDY: Uh, I didn't give you a briefcase.

GIDEON: Aha! Got you.

ANDY: Uh...

GIDEON: And the George Ezra Fund. What's that? Who tipped me off about Norton? Who led me to that cafe? You! You were there!

ANDY: Okay, I was.

GIDEON: Norton thinks you appeared out of thin air and rescued him, but you've been here…

ANDY: Weeks, on and off, setting things up.

GIDEON: So when you said your time watch-

ANDY: Vortex manipulator.

GIDEON: Was broken, really?

ANDY: Battery's flat, I drained it. I could get us out of here if we had power.

GIDEON: But you wasted it, nipping around in my life, why?

ANDY: Because I haven't just come to help Norton. I've come to save him and he needs you for that.

WATCHMAN: I ain’t ought to let you in here.

NORTON: It is entirely better than leaving me out on the streets, like you did with the others.

WATCHMAN: Well, not my job, was it?

NORTON: And there's that Blitz spirit.

WATCHMAN: What would someone like you know about defending his country?

NORTON: Someone like me, I see. Left here.

WATCHMAN: What do you want with the Elgin Marbles at four o'clock in the bloody morning?

NORTON: It's what's behind them, Torchwood weapons cache. Stay here on guard.

WATCHMAN: On guard he says. On guard from what?

NORTON: May have broken your gates after all.

WATCHMAN: Ah, right.

ANDY: Ooh! Reeks of stale beer and mice.

GIDEON: Do you think the mice live forever?

ANDY: Oh, let's not think about that.

GIDEON: What are we looking for?

ANDY: A way out... a tunnel?

GIDEON: But why me?

ANDY: I asked the Torchwood computer how to save Norton and your name came up.

GIDEON: Mine? Do you do what computers tell you in the future?

ANDY: Oh yes. Look, you... Sorry. But you died. The other week, the cab.

GIDEON: Right. Oh. Right.

ANDY: The computer told me that if I saved you, you'd do what I wanted.

GIDEON: Which was?

ANDY: Bring Torchwood down. This version of it. It's wrong. Whoever gave you that briefcase knows it. Torchwood needs exposing and Norton needs saving from it. And you are gonna do that.

GIDEON: Okay. Then we need to get out of here.

NORTON: So, thinking aloud...

WATCHMAN: What?

NORTON: Oh, forgotten you were there! You'd make a terrible hero but a great sounding board. Now then-

WATCHMAN: Those things are inside the museum!

NORTON: And a deadline, perfect! So, what do we know about them? Well, for a start, they're mushrooms, they're all over London, and they thrive in a pea-souper. And we're going to stop them.

WATCHMAN: Why?

NORTON: Because it's heroic!

WATCHMAN: How?

NORTON: I know, bless, but sometimes life demands that we throw ourselves in front of fate's charabanc.

WATCHMAN: I’m no hero!

NORTON: Tonight you're going to be. What's in fog?

WATCHMAN: Ay?

NORTON: The fog, what's actually in it?

WATCHMAN: Well it’s coal and stuff innit?

NORTON: Oh, I can see your science degree got you this job. Those things adapt slowly to our atmosphere. The smog is full of sulphur dioxide, which they're thriving in.

WATCHMAN: They're getting close. Come on. I'm coming in with you.

NORTON: Certainly not. You're being the hero, remember? There's not enough room to swing a gerbil and I need to find something. Something that'll work.

WATCHMAN: You are getting a weapon, aren’t you?

NORTON: In the right hands, knowledge is a weapon.

WATCHMAN: Hurry up, they're here!

NORTON: Keep calm, I'll be with you in a tick. Think normal thoughts.

WATCHMAN: What?

NORTON: Think of your family. Er, wife? Kid?

WATCHMAN: No!

NORTON: Oh, then all's good. Ah, splendid! Nearly there. Live on your own then?

WATCHMAN: Er, well, er, railway guys, by Waterloo, er... Er, Endicott Terrace.

NORTON: Ah! Number?

WATCHMAN: Er, 14!

NORTON: Oh… Nice! Ah, universal catalyser. That'll do.

WATCHMAN: Have you got something?

NORTON: Yes!

WATCHMAN: Because we really need a weapon right now!

NORTON: Ah!

WATCHMAN: What?

NORTON: There are no weapons in here. Have some sense of decorum, it's the British Museum.

WATCHMAN: But you said-

NORTON: Just a tick, hero. Busy.

WATCHMAN: What is this? [Unintelligible]

NORTON: Relax, this is your moment.

WATCHMAN: What? Are you coming out? Do something! For God’s sake, they’re gonna kill me!

NORTON: Yes.

WATCHMAN: Ah, there they are! Listen, it’s behind me! [Unintelligible]

NORTON: Ah, so sad. And I still need a massive power source. Oh, and a way out.

ANDY: Listen to me, you cannot do this!

GIDEON: Do you want to get out of here or not?

ANDY: Yeah bu-

BELLE: Ahem!

GIDEON: Oh.

ANDY: Oh.

BELLE: I wonder where you got to. I figured it might be the gents, but after I'd given it half an hour-

ANDY: Half an hour?

BELLE: Norton's friends.

ANDY: Yeah, fair point.

BELLE: And here you are in my cellar, which is off limits.

GIDEON: We were looking for a way out.

BELLE: I see.

ANDY: I thought there might be a- a- a secret tunnel.

BELLE: People come and go from the Stagnum Pond by the door.

GIDEON: But I found another way.

GIDEON: This.

BELLE: Leave that alone, it's the Parnaeum.

ANDY: It's what powers this place, isn't it?

BELLE: It anchors the Stagnant Pond.

GIDEON: Use it to put us back.

BELLE: It don't work like that. And keep away from it, you won't be able to touch it. See? Paradox shield. Woman who put it in knew her oat. No getting past it unless you don't exist. You're staying.

ANDY: As guests or hostages?

BELLE: Who's counting? Leave that thing alone, sonny.

GIDEON: Actually, I'm supposed to be dead, so...

ANDY: Oh.

GIDEON: There we go.

BELLE: You put the Parnaeum back this instant.

GIDEON: Let us go.

BELLE: Put it back. There's a good boy.

GIDEON: Norton's out there, and I think he's doing something stupid.

ANDY: So let us go and be stupid with him, please.

BELLE: No. If he wins, he'll owe me, and if he loses, well, his friendship costs.

ANDY: Ha, tell me about it.

BELLE: I shan't ask you again. You're just putting us in danger and you can do bugger all with the Parnaeum.

ANDY: Actually, Lyme, maybe she's got a-

GIDEON: Here, catch.

ANDY: Huh? Oh, ah.

ANDY: What’s happening to me? Lyme?

BELLE: What are you doing?

GIDEON: Recharging Andy's time watch.

ANDY: Vortex manipulator. And, ohh.

BELLE: Give me the Parnaeum back! You'll strand us in time!

GIDEON: Too late. We're going to save Norton. Andy!

ANDY: Wait! Wait, no!

ANDY: Oh, what... What did you do? All those people, Lyme!

GIDEON: We had to make a decision, we've got to save London. They didn't care.

ANDY: All the same!

GIDEON: Something had to be done, and we've done it.

ANDY: Okay, you have been spending too much time with Norton.

GIDEON: Yeah. Now where is he?

ANDY: Well, if my, er, time watch is still on psychic mode, it should have honed in on him. So he should be-

NORTON: Help! Help!

ANDY: Ah, there he is!

NORTON: Andrew! Lyme! I'm so very glad to see you!

GIDEON: We escaped!

ANDY: Came looking for you!

NORTON: Of course you did, naughty boys!

GIDEON: You brought a whole load of monsters with you!

NORTON: Yes! Is that the Parnaeum? Possibly the greatest power source in London? Very naughty boys! Poor Stagnant Pond! Anywho, long story short, got weapon, distraction didn't work, those creatures have my scent. Room for a little one?

ANDY: Oh! Are we... are we hugging?

NORTON: No, I'm driving. Click your heels, Dorothy! We're going to the Festival of Britain!

NORTON: With one bound, the musketeers were free.

GIDEON: Oh God! Excuse me.

NORTON: Ugh, and there's always someone to ruin the moment. That's twice tonight. Have you got a boiled sweet?

ANDY: Why have you brought us to a building site?

NORTON: Not just any building site, this is where the Festival of Britain was. Exactly where I need to be to save London, if not the world.

ANDY: Are you enjoying yourself?

NORTON: Might well be. I know you've had your doubts about me in the past, Andy, but this time, I'm the hero.

NORTON: You see, those creatures are getting ready to spore and that's toodle civilization. Now off you go.

ANDY: You're not gonna…

NORTON: Nobly sacrifice myself? We'll see. Meet you back at Soho Square. Light a flare when you're there and hurry.

ANDY: What?

NORTON: Because there are some asbestos suits in a truck and you'll need them in 30 minutes.

GIDEON: Why?

NORTON: Or you'll die. Shoo!

GIDEON: (groan)

ANDY: Feeling better?

GIDEON: No. What's going on?

ANDY: Norton has a plan. We need to get to Soho Square, now.

GIDEON: Okay.

ANDY: Not a problem. We activate the vortex manipulator and... Of course, he's stolen it.

NORTON: Sorry!

NORTON: Ugh, I’m feeling my age. Here's the spot, uhm, I think.

NORTON: Of course there's one of you roaming the South Bank. Do I have time for you? I do not. But do you know where the Skylon used to be? Big statue, bit like a rocket. No? Norton needs it. Gently, gently.

NORTON: Bullseye! Ah! So that's why you're drawn to me! Advanced technology! You can smell it on me! And from an evolutionary point of view, it's a threat to you! That's why you're here! You can sense the Skylon, can't you? And you don't like it one bit!

NORTON: You're not playing fair, you know! Who likes blood? Fido likes blood! Bad boy, Fido! It's not fair! I'm trying to be a hero! Where has it got me? I'm down, I’m wounded! I could use the Parnaeum to escape, but... If I did, then who'd save London? Not that I'm in any state to save London! Did you see the Skylon? Torchwood gave a UFO to the Festival of Britain. Fun fact, people assumed that the steel cables were holding it up. Actually, they were holding it down. It's true! Antigrav rocket! After the exhibition, there was talk of just letting it go as we couldn't find a power source for it. Instead, well, we buried it.

NORTON: Ah! You've not listened to a word I've said! Never mind.

GIDEON: I've got- got to get my breath.

ANDY: I know, it doesn't help when you can't see a bloody thing, and this bridge goes on for miles.

GIDEON: How long? How long do we have left? London's odd at this hour.

ANDY: When it's empty, yeah. Cardiff's the same. Wrecked, but awesome.

GIDEON: I can just see Big Ben. That's about it. Come to London.

ANDY: See the sights, yeah, yeah. My dad brought me here when I was a kid. I wanted Madame Tussauds or the dungeon, the tower. Instead, we watched a match on the big screen in a pub. Oh well.

GIDEON: What is that?

ANDY: Taxis<./p>

GIDEON: They're hunting us.

ANDY: They've got our scent again.

NORTON: We have liftoff!

NORTON: Oh, good, I see you managed to grab hold on something too, how dolly! Yes, we are now several hundred feet above London and getting higher all the time. Can I tell you something? Not been the best of years. This has all got out of hand. I've lost everyone I know and I may have sent the only two people I can count as friends to their death. And, let's not forget, I'm clinging to the side of a rocket and I'm really, really, really, really bad at heights. Oh my God! So could you please fall off? I would really appreciate one less thing to worry about now. Here's what I've got to do. I've got to open this panel here. Which involves... Oh my dear sweet Mary's boy child Jesus Christ. Letting go with one hand. Which is just... Oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God, oh God. Actually did it. Ah! Now I have to plug the universal catalyser in. And an alien power source. And learn how to steer the Skylon. Before I faint from terror or lack of oxygen. Could you please just sod off? There's a poppet! Professor Quatermass didn't have to put up with this! He just had to appeal to the monster's better nature and wait till it killed itself! Ah! The thing is, you and I both know, no one has a better nature!

ANDY: Oh God. We made it.

GIDEON: Got them! Flair and Hazmat Suit.

ANDY: We put them on?

GIDEON: That is the idea.

ANDY: They look like they're made out of old wellies, do we have to?

GIDEON: Norton said to.

ANDY: And he wouldn't unless... fine.

GIDEON: Won't be long until those creatures find us here.

ANDY: Yeah, maybe we can get inside that bunker. Oh no, that's also full of them.

GIDEON: Yeah.

ANDY: We're a bit screwed, aren't we?

GIDEON: Yeah.

ANDY: This tends to happen with Norton. Try and tell yourself he means well.

GIDEON: As I'm dying?

ANDY: Uh-huh. Oh God, there's masses of them. Help me get this thing... God!

GIDEON: The zip's stuck. Hang on. Got it.

ANDY: Great. What do we do now?

GIDEON: There's nowhere to run.

ANDY: No.

GIDEON: Maybe these suits will keep them out. Oh, they're almost on us.

ANDY: Look, come hold my hand.

GIDEON: Yeah.

ANDY: Good luck.

GIDEON: Good luck.

ANDY: Oh God, oh God please no, no no no.

NORTON: Gah, gah. Look at how dark it is down there. Cold, isn't it? I’m doing my best. I don't always get it right, but I try. And before I die, there's just one thing I want to know. Why is it so bloody dark down there?

ANDY: The flare, light the flare!

GIDEON: What?

ANDY: We forgot to light the flare!

GIDEON: I don’t think it matters now.

ANDY: Please, light it!

GIDEON: Okay, it's down on the ground. Let me just...

ANDY: Where are you? You ducked down!

GIDEON: I can't light the flare and hold on to you.

ANDY: Okay.

GIDEON: I've done it!

ANDY: Whoa! That is bright!

GIDEON: They’re backing off!

ANDY: (laugh) Good ol’ Norton!

GIDEON: But-

ANDY: Yea, shut up.

GIDEON: They really don’t like it.

ANDY: Oh, oh, but I don't think they don't like it enough.

GIDEON: They're coming back.

ANDY: I think they're going to try and put it out.

GIDEON: If he was trying to save us, it's not worked.

ANDY: Oh, that is so Norton!

GIDEON: Can you hear that? Can you hear that?

ANDY: Are you changing the subject? What the hell is that?

GIDEON: It’s coming towards us.

ANDY: Oh my God, is it- Is that a rocket or a missile?

GIDEON: I don't believe it, it's the bloody Skylon!

ANDY: What?

GIDEON: It's gonna hit the square!

ANDY: What? It's coming right for us!

GIDEON: Run!

ANDY: Can you hear Norton?

ANDY: Lyme? Lyme, are you alive?

GIDEON: What's happening to the fog?

ANDY: The creatures. Oh, they're dissolving.

GIDEON: They've gone. They've all gone.

ANDY: Yeah.

GIDEON: What about Norton?

ANDY: He was... I think he was on that rocket.

GIDEON: He's gone?

ANDY: Yes. I'm sorry. Norton did the right thing.

NORTON: Actually, he’s stood behind you.

GIDEON: Oh!

ANDY: Oh! What the hell?

GIDEON: Norton!

NORTON: You two do look a sight. Come into the shelter, take those things off.

ANDY: Are you a ghost?

GIDEON: Is he likely to be?

ANDY: Has been known.

GIDEON: I see.

NORTON: What am I? Chopped liver? Stood right here? Hug?

ANDY: So long as it's just a hug this time.

NORTON: Er, actually, I was referring to Lyme.

GIDEON: Oh, right. It's good to see you.

NORTON: You too.

ANDY: Er, hello?

NORTON: Oh, Sergeant Gooseberry’s still here. Expecting some answers?

ANDY: Yes, please.

NORTON: Well, the fungi could adapt to any environment, but slowly. They're also compelled to hunt down anything more advanced, i.e. a threat, i.e. the two of you, with you two herding them for me.

ANDY: Herding?

GIDEON: You used us as bait.

ANDY: Get used to it.

NORTON: I adapted the Skylon into a missile with a super catalyzer payload.

GIDEON: A what now?

NORTON: Turned the sulphur dioxide in the smog into sulphuric acid. The creatures couldn't adapt, so dissolved, along with, I'm guessing, London's pigeon problem.

ANDY: Oh, wow.

NORTON: And then I made it rain.

ANDY: Of course you did.

NORTON: And down came the rain and washed all the acid out. And the smog.

GIDEON: I... I... Wow.

NORTON: I know. Ain't I something? And yes, I was going to sacrifice myself, very noble and boohoo sad. But then there was just enough charge in your vortex manipulator.

ANDY: Handy!

NORTON: Very. Ah, one last thing.

ANDY: Woah.

GIDEON: Woah.

NORTON: When I left the bunker, I turned on the gas taps. There go any remaining creatures. That's it, London is safe!

ANDY: Crikey.

NORTON: So, Lyme?

GIDEON: Yes? Are we going to kiss?

NORTON: In a moment. And it's going to be amazing.

ANDY: Shall I give you two a second?

NORTON: Thanks.

NORTON: But first, you're a journalist, Lyme. You could write the story of Torchwood, or the story of how Lizbeth Hayhoe's brilliant ambition nearly wiped out the human race, or how London was terrorised by Nazi mushrooms. What happens next in the story is up to you.

GIDEON: Wow.

NORTON: But Torchwood is dead, and Torchwood never dies. Join me, we'll rebuild it.

GIDEON: You and me? (laugh) Restart Torchwood?

NORTON: Yes. Fun! Oh, and we have a dog now.

GIDEON: I don't even have a home. Nor do you.

NORTON: Actually, I've just inherited a new one. 14 Endicott Terrace. It's not much, but it's a start.

GIDEON: Um... Okay. Does it... have a bed?

NORTON: Well, let's go to Covent Garden Market, find a pub, get kaylied, then find out.

GIDEON: You're on.

NORTON: I just need a word with Andy.

NORTON: One vortex manipulator.

ANDY: Thank you. I've got a confession.

NORTON: You?

ANDY: Yeah, normally our adventures involve you manipulating me.

NORTON: No!

ANDY: This time it was me. I've been here for weeks. I rescued Lyme. I put him onto you.

NORTON: You set us up, you cupid you!

ANDY: I wanted him to expose Torchwood to save you.

NORTON: And he has. I'm all that's left of Torchwood, and he'll be exposing me later.

ANDY: Good to know. But, look, you've a chance. You're suited, he's a good man.

NORTON: Is he?

ANDY: I mean, OK, he did throw the Stagnant Pond into the Time Vortex. So maybe you two.. Look, rebuild Torchwood and make it good this time, yeah?.

NORTON: I absolutely will. Especially as this time you've outsmarted me. Well, I bow to you, you diabolical mastermind.

ANDY: Thank you. It is actually my first time at manipulating anyone, really. It's not gone badly.

NORTON: I'll say, you've helped me save London.

ANDY: Yep.

NORTON: Gangland's been wiped out, especially a group of time travellers who were threatening Torchwood and me.

ANDY: That's right.

NORTON: All thanks to their power source, which could only be removed by someone who was a paradox. Thank heavens you saved poor Lyme.

ANDY: Yes. Wait.

NORTON: I put the details in the computer.

ANDY: What?

NORTON: They brought you here, got you to save Lyme. I slipped him a briefcase full of gossip about Torchwood. Exposing them was my backup plan.

ANDY: Wait, your backup plan?

NORTON: Oh yes. I'll admit Plan A went a bit wonky, but we pulled it out of the fire.

ANDY: Hang on.

NORTON: Don't say a word to Lyme, will you? He thinks the world of me. Time for you to go home, Sergeant Andy. And thank you.

ANDY: What- No-

NORTON: Believe me, it took a lot of doing. But there was one mistake. One thing I regret. Lizbeth was never supposed to open that package, it was meant to go to Rigsby. Still, you can't have everything. Or can you? Shall we find out?