J&L: The Curse, The Cult & The Captain (5)

Dilapidated Building, London's East End.

CJH: "Ah, so two decided to join me after all. Now it's a party!"

HGJ: "We couldn't bally well let you rush in half cocked, and get yourself killed."

CJH: "Two things to know about me Whiskers: It takes a bit more than this to kill me, and I've never been half cocked, belive me!"

GL: "Right. If you two are quite finished, I think I can see movement through the windows. It's hard to make out, but I can see at least five figures, wearing hooded robes of some kind. Henry was correct, they're carrying lit torches. I doubt this house even has a working gas line anymore."

HGJ: "Does anyone else hear that? Some kind of chanting, or singing? Dashed if I can tell what language it's in though."

CJH: "I'm beginning to get a bit of a Heaven's Gate vibe from this place. Shall we knock?"

GL: "Unless you want to enter via the window again?"

CJH: "Never gonna let that one slide, are you?"

As Jack rapped on the door, demanding access on behalf of Torchwood, a voice cried out in pain from within the building.

CJH: "So much for the softly softly approach..."

The Captain began to ram the door with his shoulder. The weak and rotting timber gave way with minimal effort.

CJH: "Nobody move, hands in the air, now!"

HGJ: "There's nobody here to follow you commands, Captain. The blighters have scarpered."

GL:"It's black as sin in here. Does anyone have a matchbox?"

CJH "Looks like one of them dropped their torch in their retreat. Give me a second, and I'll relight it."

HGJ: "Where could the coves have gone? Secret passage, back door, or a more nefarious technology?"

CJH: "Good question. Here, you take the light. I'll scan the perimeter for any sign of them. You two look for clues here."

GL: "Agreed Captain. Jago, some light over here please. There's something in the corner here."

HGJ: "Right you are, Litefoot. Corks! Is that a man?"

GL: "This room isn't quite as empty as we thought. I doubt he's any danger through. For one, he's strapped into that chair. Secondly, he's dead."

HGJ: "Some sort of sinister sacrifice, I'll wager. Those robes he's dressed in... Black flowing fabric with scarlet trim. There's something very unsettling about this whole affair, George."

GL: "Agreed. The sooner I can get this poor soul back to the morgue for an autopsy, the sooner we can piece together what happened."

CJH: "No sign of anyone outside. Any clues here? Oh. I see."

GL: "I think it's time we contacted the Inspector."

Police Mortuary.

GL: "Thank you for arranging this at such short notice, Inspector. I apologise for the lateness of the hour."

IQ: "No to worry, Professor. The missus won't be best pleased, but crime never sleeps. So, this is the poor unfortunate, then?"

GL: "Indeed. No luck in identifying the body yet. He's dressed only in these ornate robes, and isn't carrying a wallet or any personal effects."

IQ: "Have you managed to figure out the cause of death?"

GL: "Initial investigations show that it was most likely a result of a slitting of the throat. It's a very precise, smooth injury, the kind produced by a devilishly sharp blade."

IQ: "Crikey!"

GL: "It is fiendishly macabre, I grant you. This bears the hallmark of a ritualistic sacrifice, or some kind of satanic offering."

IQ: "Oh my word! Do you think he was a victim, or did he choose this willingly?"

GL: "I don't think the two are mutually exclusive, Quick. The blind fanaticism of these people is all to easy for sinister men to take advantage of. It's all to easy for a poor soul, distressed or destitute, to find supposed sanctuary in the arms of madmen and their mad beliefs."

IQ: "Damned shame. Do you think this is just a madman, Professor? Or something with your typical supernatural element?"

GL: "Too early to say. We don't have much to go on..  Good heavens!"

IQ: "What do you see?"

GL: "His arms! Look at his arms! I didn't see it underneath the robes. He's got symbols carved into his flesh!"

IQ: "Have you ever seen anything like it? I can't make head nor tail of it."

GL: "Nor I. Wait! We did see one other symbols, the eye, on the gatepost outside the house. A symbol of their worshiped deity perhaps?"

Urchin: "Message for Professor Litefoot. Message for Professor Litefoot!"

GL: "What the devil? At this hour? Who's it from."

Urchin: "From a Mister Jago, sir. You can read it once I've gotten me sixpence."

GL: "Oh, of course. Here you are lad. Inspector, we have a lead! Henry says he has recalled where he saw the eye pictogram from. It's an Egyptian hieroglyphic, the 'Eye of Horus'."

IQ: "How on earth did he figure that out?"

GL: "He's got an Egyptian themed act headlining his theatre at present. He says he and Captain Harkness will ask the performers first thing in the morning."

IQ: "You there, boy. Want to earn another sixpence? We should send a message back to Mister Jago."

GL: "With representations of these scar marks, in case Henry's contact can translate them! Good show, Quick."