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.

The Savage interrupted him. ‘But isn’t it natural to feel there’s a God?’

'You might as well ask if it’s natural to do up one’s trousers with zippers,’ said the Controller sarcastically. 'You remind me of another of those old fellows called Bradley. He defined philosophy as the finding of bad reason for what one believes by instinct. As if one believed anything by instinct! One believes things because one has been conditioned to believe them. Finding bad reasons for what one believes for other bad reasons–that’s philosophy. People believe in God because they’ve been conditioned to.’

Jack swung the SUV into the sharp turn without even slowing.

The tyres made a screeching hiss on the wet tarmac.

‘Whoa there, Mr Testosterone,’ Ianto said dryly. 'There’s no need to impress me with your crazy stunt driving.’

'Never walk when you can run, Ianto,’ Jack said heartily.

'Never die when you can live,’ Ianto muttered, and then added, 'Oh, I was forgetting – you don’t.’

The fire door opened and the constable who had been keeping an eye on the journalists at the main entrance to the station peered round the door.

‘Sorry to disturb you, sir.’ He looked warily over at Gwen before continuing. 'There’s a bloke at the front desk. Says he wants to see you.’

Cutler snorted. 'Tell him to join the queue.’

'I did tell him you were in a meeting, but he’s refusing to leave. I think he’s a bit hysterical. Says he’s that poof’s boyfriend. Says you spoke to him this morning.’

'That poof’s name was Ben Pritchard,’ Cutler growled, making the young constable visibly flinch and pull back slightly behind the safety of the heavy door. 'And as we’re as yet unable to tell his boyfriend who was responsible for ripping his loved one apart in a park, I suggest you start showing a little more respect.’

The constable’s face was beetroot. 'Sorry, sir. Didn’t mean anything by it.’

'And that,’ Cutler dropped the half-smoked cigarette and left it to die on the damp ground before letting his eyes slash through the man as they passed him, 'makes it worse.’