Ianto noticed the family all staring with astonishment at Jack, whose entire body seemed to be pulsing with light beneath his greatcoat.

Straight-faced, he said, ‘Just ignore him. He likes to show off. He’s not even a real American.’

Jack unholstered his Webley. ‘Only one way to find out,’ he said.

Ianto blanched. 'You’re not going out there?’

As ever, Jack seemed to relish the prospect of extreme danger. 'It’s either that or sit here till doomsday.’

'But you’ll be killed,’ Ianto said.

Jack shrugged. 'So what’s new?’

'This is different, Jack, and you know it. They’ll tear you apart. They’ll eat you.’

Jack was unmoved. 'Well, you know what they say about life – the best way to enjoy it is to fill it with new experiences.’ He held out his hand. 'Give me the pod, Ianto.’

'This is madness, Jack,’ Ianto protested.

Jack’s face was set, determined. 'Give me the pod,’ he repeated.

Ianto sighed, momentarily undecided, and then unhappily he handed the box over to Jack. Jack lifted out the pulsing pod and slipped it into an inside pocket of his greatcoat. He tossed the box onto the back seat, then leaned forward, pulled Ianto towards him and kissed him on the forehead.

'You wait for me here. If I don’t manage to find Oscar and stop all this… well, just do what you can. Drive. Get back to the Hub.’

But Ianto shook his head, suddenly decisive. 'No. If you’re going, I’m coming with you.’

'No way,’ Jack said. 'My own stupidity I can live with. I’m not having you risking your life.’

Now it was Ianto’s turn to look determined. Drawing his gun, he said, 'It’s my decision, Jack. I chose to do this job. I know what the risks are.’

Jack looked as though he wanted to argue, but couldn’t find a firm basis from which to do so. In the end he simply flapped a hand at Ianto and said, 'OK. If that’s what you want, let’s both go out in a blaze of glory. You ready?’

'Ready,’ Ianto said grimly.

Jack turned, following his gaze. A man was standing on the walkway of the level above them, looking down, swaying slightly from side to side. It was Trys Thomas, and he looked ghastly. His face was fish-belly white, his eyes flecks of grey flint in sunken hollows. He wore a slack expression, as if he was drugged or sleepwalking.

‘Hey there!’ Jack said, raising a hand. 'How you doin’?’

Trys did not reply. Instead his head swung drunkenly from side to side, as if he was looking for an access point to the floor below. Sure enough, he shuffled to the metal steps like an old man and began to clang down them. Jack moved forward to greet him, but Ianto said, 'Careful, Jack.’

'I’m always careful,’ Jack said out of the corner of his mouth. 'Just be ready with the handcuffs.’

'If I had a penny for every time you’ve used that line,’ Ianto deadpanned.