Risk Assessment - By James Goss Page 0,3

open a fresh page and made a careful little note with a fountain pen, all the time staring straight at Jack.

‘There were two more,’ said Jack sadly. ‘But they died.’

‘How unfortunate,’ said Agnes flatly. ‘I always wondered what would become of this place if you were in charge of it. Not much, clearly. Next you’ll be saying you’ve lost the submarine.’

Jack winced.

Agnes sighed witheringly.

‘Sorry!’ said Gwen, brightly.

Agnes glanced at her. ‘Yes?’

Gwen tried out her best smile. ‘Hello. Yes. Excuse me, but who are you?’

Agnes chuckled, a short, deprecating little laugh. ‘You can’t mean, my dear Miss Cooper, that Captain Harkness hasn’t told you about me? Goodness me, what an oversight!’ She clucked with amusement. ‘Out of sight, out of mind, dear Harkness,’ she said, and turned back to Gwen.

‘I am Torchwood’s Assessor, my dear,’ she said, her voice rising to ring around the room with authority. ‘I was charged by Queen Victoria to watch over the future of Torchwood. Whenever there is a crisis at any of the Torchwood stations, I awake; I take charge, I monitor and, if necessary, I intervene. My authority is absolute, my decision is final, and my judgement is impeccable.’ She smiled. ‘The machinery is most discriminating – it knows I am to be aroused only at a moment of great chaos.’ She caught Jack smirking at aroused and stilled him with a glare. ‘Now, don’t be scared. I’ve only awoken four times in the last hundred years – and each time we were able to sort out the situation with the very minimum of fuss. I’m sure we should be able to muddle through admirably. Now, what seems to be the trouble?’

She folded her hands and glanced around expectantly. No one said a word.

‘Captain Harkness?’ said Agnes, her voice already sounding a little tired.

‘Oh,’ said Jack. ‘Well, that was why we were so . . . taken aback at your visit. Not that it isn’t always a pleasure . . . it’s just . . .’ He paused.

Oh my God, thought Gwen, he’s actually frightened of her. She appraised Agnes. A few years older than her, tall, with strong, regular features and a stern expression. Normally the kind of ice queen Jack went for like a terrier for roast beef. But no . . . he seemed really worried. And sheepish. Wow.

Agnes seemed to notice her appraisal. She tilted her head slightly at Gwen and almost seemed to wink. Then she turned back to Jack. ‘Yes, Captain Harkness?’

Jack scratched at the dirt under a nail. ‘Well, there’s so little on really. Just a couple of Weevils on the loose.’

‘Really?’ Agnes wrote something in her book. Gwen hoped it wasn’t ‘bollocks’. ‘And the alarms went off purely because of that? How extraordinary.’

‘The systems are very old,’ put in Ianto. He looked about 12, thought Gwen.

‘Why yes, they are, to be sure,’ agreed Agnes. ‘But I’m sure you keep them excellently maintained. All that brass and levers – must keep you on your knees quite a bit. I know how Captain Harkness admires a well-polished knob.’

Gwen spat out her coffee.

‘Something to say, Miss Cooper?’ asked Agnes.

Gwen shook her head. Jack was trying not to catch her eye, and she felt like she was back at school watching Willy Griffith getting sent to the naughty step for looking up girls’ skirts. The more trouble he got in, the bigger his grin would get. Of course, once he’d got out of short trousers it had been less fun, but there was something of the perpetually grinning naughty 8-year-old about Jack.

Agnes shut her book. ‘Well, well, well, what a mystery we have here! I’ve always loved mysteries. Still, while we’re here, perhaps we should go and hunt some Weevils. Captain Harkness, I presume you have some guest quarters to put at my disposal?’

‘Gwen will show you the way,’ said Jack, dully.

Agnes stood, smoothing down her skirt. ‘Very well, then. I shall retire to my chambers, freshen up, and then perhaps we could strike out for town?’

Gwen opened the door of the cell. ‘Our very best guest suite!’ she said brightly.

Agnes strode in after her, and sniffed disapprovingly. It reminded Gwen of whenever her mum came to visit. She and Rhys could spend about a week tidying the flat, and it didn’t matter – her mum would zero in on a stray spot of dust or a tiny coffee stain. Only, in this case, Gwen could kind of see her point. The cell was bare, and clearly hadn’t seen the