Free Torchwood: The Men Who Sold The World by Guy Adams

the mirror but I’m happy to pay. You want the money now?’ He patted his right buttock as if checking for a wallet. ‘Oh, right… wrong pair of pants.’
    ‘Later!’ the manager said. ‘Go and cover yourself! Never have I seen such a thing.’ She stormed off.
    ‘Nose like that, I can well believe it,’ Rex muttered and stepped back inside.
    He went through to the bathroom and crouched next to Famosa’s dead body.
    ‘So who were you, then?’ Rex asked, rifling through the man’s pockets. He pulled out a battered old wallet, stuffed with a good deal of cash. ‘Paid you well,’ said Rex as he ran his thumb along the notes. There was a driver’s licence and ID Card giving the man’s name as Eduardo Enrique Famosa.
    Rex threw the wallet to one side and checked the rest of the man’s pockets. In his shirt there was a piece of paper with an address and somevague directions on it. ‘Where you met your employer, maybe?’ said Rex, taking the piece of paper through to the bedroom and slipping it into the pocket of his jeans.
    He went back into the bathroom, pulled Famosa’s body out by his feet and dragged him over to the far window that overlooked the trash. He opened the window and took a quick look: there was nobody around. He hoisted the dead body up, lifting him by his armpits. Famosa’s head lolled from side to side on its broken neck. Rex poked the head through the window and then lifted, straining against the dead weight. Slowly he fed the body through the window until, eventually, there was enough weight dangling outside to pull the rest after it. There was a soft crunch as the body bounced off one of the brimming dumpsters and fell behind it.
    ‘Perfect,’ said Rex. He closed the window and gathered up the pieces of broken vase from the floor. He took them into the bathroom and dumped them in the sink, adding the pieces of broken mirror. He looked at the door. Not a whole lot he could do about that except claim he’d broken it when he fell. Hell, give the woman enough money and she’d believe whatever he wanted her to.
    He got back into the shower and quickly soaped himself off. He was bleeding from a number of places but nothing too major. Once clean, he towelled himself dry and got dressed.
    Pulling the piece of paper from his jeans he looked at the address.
    Dinner could wait, first he’d see if he had betterluck here than at the address Rodriguez had given him.
    Mr Wynter was sitting in the central courtyard again when Rex came out of his room and down the stairs.
    The old man had listened to the fight with some amusement. For a moment or two, he had wondered whether Famosa might get the better of Mr Matheson; he had hoped not, naturally, but the noises had gone on long enough for him to be far from sure.
    He watched the man walk through to reception where the manager, clearly still incensed with the disturbance, went from red-faced and loud to demure and obsequious as soon as Rex handed over a large roll of banknotes. Probably the money I paid to Famosa, Mr Wynter thought with a smile. So long as it went to a good cause.
    He lifted his face into the late-afternoon sun and closed his eyes for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth, letting Mr Matheson have a brief head start. After all, Mr Wynter knew exactly where the man was going.

Seven
    All we have to do is learn how to control it , he had said, and wasn’t that proving to be a greater battle than he had hoped?
    Gleason closed his eyes, felt the tingle of the weed fronds in his hands and tried to find that sense of understanding he had achieved before. He and Mulroney had gathered a selection of test objects from around the house and, one by one, Gleason had made them disappear.
    But that had been the limit of their tests. Who knew where the objects had gone? There was no way of knowing whether they had been sent back in time or simply shifted in space. Gleason knew which he had been aiming for, focusing his mind on the desired goal and