Bay of the Dead - By Mark Morris Page 0,10

inconvenient.'

A younger, thicker-set man turned round. His accent identified him as a local. 'They reckon there's been a murder.'

'That's what the police have said, is it?' Sophie asked.

'Well. . . not as such,' the man admitted. 'Not to me, anyway. But that's what everyone reckons.'

Sophie touched her friend on the arm. 'Aw, c'mon, Kirst, let's go. Whatever's happening, we'll read about it in the paper tomorrow.'

Kirsty had the expression of a little kid being dragged away from a funfair. 'Just a couple more minutes,' she pleaded.

'What's the point? We won't find out anything. It's not like they're going to make an announce—'

The end of her sentence was cut off by the roar of a powerful engine and the screech of brakes from behind them. She turned to see a shiny black SUV with smoked windows, lines of flickering blue lights edging the windscreen. The front doors opened and two men jumped out. One was a handsome, chisel-jawed man who looked to be somewhere in his late thirties. With his army greatcoat, navy blue shirt, braces, chinos and boots, he reminded Sophie of an old-fashioned hero from a boy's adventure comic. His companion was younger, grim-faced but kind of sweet-looking. He wore an immaculate charcoal-grey suit, a white shirt and a pink-and-purple striped silk tie, and was fiddling with his cufflinks as he emerged from the SUV. Sophie noticed that both men had fancy little Bluetooth devices attached to their ears, and wondered if they were 'spooks', like off the telly.

'Make way, ladies and gentlemen. No photographs please,' the older man called in an American accent, cutting through the crowd. There was a wide and rather charming smile on his face and, whilst his voice was jocular, Sophie sensed that there was steel beneath his words.

Beside her, Kirsty was staring at the new arrivals. 'Lush,' she breathed.

They watched the two guys reach the police cordon and have a quick conversation with the officer on duty. They were quickly allowed through and hurried towards the yacht, the coat of the older man flowing behind him like a superhero's cape.

'I wonder who they are,' said Sophie.

'Dunno,' Kirsty replied dreamily, 'but they can enter my restricted zone any day.'

'OK, boys and girls,' Jack said heartily, 'what have you got for us?'

Ianto saw Detective Sergeant Swanson raise her eyebrows. She was a tall, slim, beautiful black woman in an immaculately tailored grey suit. The beads in her braided hair clicked gently together whenever she moved her head. She and Torchwood – and she and Jack in particular – had a love/hate relationship, which Jack seemed to revel in. In fact, Jack had once remarked that you could cook eggs on the heat of the sexual tension between him and the statuesque policewoman. Ianto hadn't been sure whether Jack was joking, and therefore couldn't now work out whether he ought to be jealous or not.

'Well, well, look what the cat's dragged in,' Swanson said.

She was standing with a colleague, a shorter, pudgy man in a wrinkled blue suit, who sniggered.

'Which must make you the cat,' Jack said, and raised his eyebrows. 'You got the costume to go with that?'

Swanson looked outraged. 'You don't honestly think I called you, do you, Jack? Why the hell would I want Torchwood stomping all over my investigation?'

'Maybe you just can't resist my baby blue eyes,' Jack said.

'Oh, please,' Swanson replied.

'It was a Detective Inspector Myers who called us,' Ianto said a little stiffly.

Swanson pulled a face. 'That figures.'

'He said there were some unusual aspects to the case. In fact, his actual words were, "This one's weirder than a three-headed monkey."'

Jack looked unimpressed. 'I dated a three-headed monkey once. What a summer that was!'

'Is this just one big joke to you, Jack?' Swanson said. 'Because it isn't to me. Five boys have died here tonight.'

The smile slipped from Jack's face. All at once he was sombre, business-like. 'What happened?'

'Why don't you see for yourselves?' Swanson said. There was a challenge in her voice as she added, 'I hope you've got strong stomachs.'

Jack flashed her a look, and he and Ianto hurried along the jetty towards the illuminated yacht. A team of forensics examiners, ghostly in their white all-in-ones, were moving around the deck, photographing evidence and making notes. Even from some distance away, Ianto saw that the gleaming fibreglass structure of the central cabin area was splashed liberally with blood. As he and Jack approached the boat, one of the officers spotted them and hurried over.

'Can I help you?'

'Captain Jack Harkness