The Queen's Magicians: The Concealed Ones (1/4)

[merucha]

Title: The Queen's Magicians: The Concealed Ones (1/4)

Author: Emma

Characters: Jack Harkness, Ianto Jones, the Doctor, others

Rating: Starts PG, but hey, it’s got Jack and Ianto in it

Disclaimer: Oh, please. If I owned them, would I let some of those idiots write the scripts? And if I were making any money off them, would I be where they could find me?

Summary: An apocalyptic cult is trying to hasten the end of the world but when Torchwood steps in, it finds much more than it expected. (Added later because I forgot) This takes the place of Dead Man Walking.

Note: There is in fact an old synagogue, rather beautiful, at 13a Cathedral Road in Cardiff. It's now an office building. The Jewish population of (real) Cardiff is small and in the early 2000s built a newer place consolidating several congregations. I really like the one on Cathedral Road, so I appropriated it. Sue me.

Note: Rabbi, rav, and rebbe all are variations of the same word but have different usages. In this case, Jack (and others) call the Rabbi rav as a sign of respect.

Note: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tzadikim_Nistarim. There are better sources. Google is your friend.

Jack closed the report he was trying to read; two hours and he hadn't gotten past the second page. If it were up to him he would require all new government hires to take a creative writing course, or at least one on how not to use twenty Latinate words when five well-chosen English ones would do. Most days he would just laugh at it and read some of the worst to Ianto in what Ianto called Jack's BBC news reader's voice. Today, he had no patience for any of it.

Owen was still in a coma, although both Martha and the Bishop's medical sensitive overseeing the case had said he seemed to be improving. There's no way to predict when he will wake up, the sensitive told him, and Jack didn't miss the bewilderment in her voice. He seems to be... well, the best way I can describe it is climbing his way out of a chasm. On her advice they had rearranged the work area and moved Owen's bed to one of the spaces near Tosh's desk. The more normal his surroundings the better he'll do, she had told them. Everyone spent at least part of the day talking to him. Ianto even moistened his lips with coffee, and they were elated the day he actually started to drink some of it. But he still didn't wake up, and in his most melancholy moments Jack wondered if Owen would become like the princess in the fairy tale, asleep for a hundred years. He wondered if Tosh would be able to move on and whether she could forgive herself for leaving him behind.

“Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof, Jack,” Ianto rested his hands on Jack's shoulders and kneaded lightly. “We'll manage. We always do.”

Jack let his head fall back against Ianto's chest. “Thank you, cariad.”

Ianto came around the chair to sit in his favorite spot at the edge of Jack's desk. “I came up to ask what you wanted for lunch.”

“Using the back stairs?”

“Well, I was perhaps possibly thinking that we could...”

Jack's desk phone rang. Ianto sighed. That phone number was known to a very small number of people, none of whom would dial it unless things were going pear shaped in some major way. There went his afternoon plans.

“Jack Harkness.... yes, of course I remember you.... yes.... all right... yes. I'll bring him. We'll see you in thirty minutes.”

Jack put down the phone. “That was Rachel Levine at the Rabbinical Court. The Chief Rabbi wants to see us. He asked for you by name, by the way.”

“That's unusual.”

“Try unprecedented. They like to handle things themselves . If they can't, they tend to consult Kathy, not us. I haven't exchanged anything but polite conversation with the Rabbi in decades.Whatever it is must be ...”

“A fucking mess,” Ianto finished the sentence. “You said thirty? That gives me a chance to brew fresh coffee for everyone and get Gwen and Andy going on background. I know the Jewish community is fairly reclusive but if it's as bad as you think it is, there has to be something leaking out somewhere.”

He went directly to the large alcove that served as his kitchen and pantry. Starting the coffee, he looked through the cupboards to make sure they were well stocked with everyone's favorite snacks. These things usually turned into long slogs; only the Ecosystem knew when he would get another chance at shopping.

While he waited for the coffee he looked across the main floor of the Hub towards Tosh's workstation. She was turned around, looking at Owen but listening to Martha. Those two had bonded over caring for him. Jack had opened up some of the rooms in the corridor that led to the lake, and they had turned them into bedrooms. Martha and Tosh had moved in semi-permanently, and they were never too far away from Owen or from each other.

He studied the still form in the bed. To his Dark Sense, Owen was a furnace of energy. The first time he had seen him after the – what could he call it? Incident? Disaster? Bloody catastrophe? – the color had been a dark, sluggish red shot through with gold and an angry black. Now the red was the color of apples and the black had disappeared, leaving behind the gold and a pure green that hurt the eyes. He could see changes happening every day. Martha had told him the medical monitors were picking up the same thing, but they were no nearer to knowing when he would wake up.

The soft whistle of the coffee machine attracted his attention. He prepared a tray with coffee, sugar, cream, mugs, and a large plate of biscuits, and took it to the sitting area. He also prepared a thermos bottle for Jack. A large thermos bottle.

“Andy, Gwen.” He waved them over. “Jack just got a call from the Rabbinical Court. They want to consult him.”

Andy gave a low whistle. “Well, that's one for the books.”

“Certainly is. While we're gone, could you two rile the waters and see what floats up to the surface?”

“They've never asked before?” Gwen asked, snatching up two chocolate chip shortbread biscuits. “That's odd, isn't it?”

“Not really,” Andy said. “They have their own very efficient methods of dealing with nasty stuff. Their investigators are first class. If they're asking for outside help, they have a right mess on their hands.”

“That's what Jack thinks,” Ianto said. “So we're heading out and we don't know when we'll be back. I'll keep in touch.”

At that moment, Jack barrelled out of the office at his usual speed. “Ianto!”

“Right here, cariad.”

Jack made an “after you, Alphonse” gesture that had Ianto rolling his eyes as he headed towardsthe cog door. Jack grabbed the thermos, and, as he passed Gwen, he snatched one of the cookies out of her hand, snickering at her oi! He munched happily as he followed Ianto to the garage. Without prompting, he slid into the front passenger seat. Ianto stared at him.

“Who are you and what have you done with Jack Harkness?”

Jack grinned at him. “Short drive. Coffee.”

The Rabbinical Court was housed in a simple red brick building behind the Old Cardiff Synagogue on Cathedral Road. Ianto pulled into one of the parking spaces next to it. A tall, blonde woman in a severe business suit in peacock-blue with matching heels was waiting at the door.

“Captain Harkness, Mr. Jones, I'm Rachel Levine.” They shook hands and she waved them inside. “Thank you for coming.”

They followed her up the stairs and into a large corner office with big windows looking down into the back gardens of the surrounding houses. This area was known for its old trees; Ianto smiled to see an elegant horse chesnut covered in white and pink candles. The room itself was furnished a great deal like their library at home, with leather armchairs and overflowing bookcases. A gigantic desk had been positioned under one of the windows. Behind it, Rabbi Jacob Bloom was coming to his feet.

“Jack.”

“Rav.” Jack nodded. “You know Ianto?”

“Of course.” The Rabbi motioned them to the armchairs facing the desk. “Rachel, would you see if Calev is back yet?”

“Just came in, rav. He said to tell you he'll be here in a minute or two.” She smiled at Jack and Ianto. “Tea?”

“That would be lovely.” Ianto said.

She left the office, closing the door behind her. Rabbi Bloom sat down and they followed suit. An awkward silence filled the room until finally the Rabbi sighed.

“We have a problem we cannot resolve ourselves,” he started abruptly. “We consulted Ms. Swanson and she suggested we call you in.”

He fell silent again. Ianto had started to wonder if they were going to have to resort to charades when the door opened and someone came in carrying the tea tray. Ianto studied him. Tall, slender but broad shouldered, with red-gold hair worn tied back with a leather thong. He looked at Jack, and instead of the flare of sexual interest he expected to see – Jack may have been committed to their relationship, but he wasn't blind, and Ianto didn't expect him to be – he saw a quickly concealed widening of the eyes. Curious, he dropped his wards a just a little.

The blast of power nearly blinded him.

“This is Calev Neumann, our investigator. He will explain.” The Rabbi sat back, clearly relieved by the man's arrival. “Calev, Jack Harkness and Ianto Jones from Torchwood.”

The man put down the tray on the desk and offered his hand. “Pleased to meet you.” The deep resonant voice made Ianto think of Welsh choirs and Eisteddfod competitions. “Has the rav explained?”

“No,” Rabbi Bloom said. “I was waiting for you.”

Calev passed tea around, then pulled another armchair to the desk and sat down. “We've had three deaths in the past three weeks. Each one a middle-age or elderly man, respected members of the community. Righteous men. In each case their throats were cut and their bodies were arranged in proper burial fashion. In the wall above their heads, whoever killed them left this.”

He passed them a piece of paper in a clear plastic envelope. It was a plain sheet of paper of the sort sold in any stationary or office supplies store. In it someone had drawn a crude circle with a dot at its center. A sword cut the circle in half. Under the symbol there was a number 36 in elegant gothic style.

“That was the first,” Neumann said. “The second one was identical, except the number was thirty five. The third one...”

“Was thirty-four,” Jack said. “Someone is trying to kill the lamedvavniks.” The Rabbi and Neumann both seemed surprised. Jack grinned at them. “I studied in Salamanca. Isaac ben Abraham was my rebbe.”

“Impressive,” said Neumann. “He didn't take just anyone as a student.”

Jack dipped his head in acknowledgment. “I was fascinated by the story of the Tzadikim Nistarim.”

“The what?” Ianto asked.

Calev smiled. “According to a story that has come down to us from the oldest times, there are thirty-six righteous men in the world whose role in life is to justify the purpose of humankind in the eyes of God . They are hidden, maybe even from themselves. It is also said that one of these 36 could potentially be the Messiah, when the time comes and the world is ready for Him. They usually live and die quietly as ordinary men.”

“But if even one of them is murdered,” Jack picked up the thread. “It will trigger the end of the world.”