Spook_me 2021 - Paying the price (Part one)

[m_findlow]

Title: Paying the price
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Gwen, Jack, Ianto, Rhiannon, Johnny, Rhys, Andy
Author: m_findlow
Word Count: 23,181 words
Rating: M (language)
Notes: Written for spook_me 2021 Challenge - Cyborg
Summary: Something strange is occurring at Cardiff's largest discount furniture retailer.

Maude Jenkins sighed as she pushed open the back door out into the loading bay. It was the sort of grey gloomy winter day that made her wish she'd stayed in bed with the cat curled up next to her, where they could both be watching a repeat of Strictly from last night and bemoaning the fact that she was never going to look as glamorous as Tess Daly. Working in a chain department store was about as far removed from the glamour of television as one could get. Eight pounds fifty an hour and time and a half on Saturdays.

The large lorry began its slow reverse into the loading space. It was in no hurry and it made Maude wish she hadn't quit smoking. At least it would give her something to do whilst she waited for them. She hated being on consignments. It was mindless work, checking dockets to actual deliveries. She was only doing it because Steve was on shift with her and even though he'd only been there three months more than she had, he bossed her around and always stole her sales before she could get the customer to the register. Steve was a scumbag. There he was, inside nice and warm, waiting to poach a potential sale off someone else and then crow about how good his sales metrics were. And here was Maude, freezing in her thin company polo and black slacks, without so much as a jacket, waiting for a bunch of beer drinking, bacon butty-eating lorry drivers to unload stock. They wouldn't even move it into the warehouse. They'd just dump it on the concrete loading dock and leave her to cart them in on her trolley one by one. And worse, she was expecting mostly large furniture, plus a handful of whitegoods. Not blenders and sandwich presses, but fridges. No wonder Steve had made sure she was on consignment.

She flipped through the papers on her clipboard in a tired fashion, using a well chewed ballpoint to mark off the items from the purchase order to the delivery docket. She wasn't signing off on it and handing the duplicate back to the lorry company until she was sure they'd unloaded everything they were meant to.

'Scuse me,' she said, as she heard the heavy set men bolting shut the lorry back door. She tried to sound more important than she was. 'This docket says twelve fridges, the purchase order says twelve and I'm only counting eight.'

One of the two drivers rolled his eyes at her. 'That's what we've got, love.'

Maude clenched her jaw. It was worth more than her job to accept a shortage of stock, especially when not all of it was on consignment. She wouldn't be held responsible for the company having paid for stock it never received. She gripped her clipboard hard, making it clear that they weren't getting their docket, which meant they wouldn't be able to leave.

One of the men scowled at her. 'Check the truck if you like but you've got five minutes before we've got to be back on the road for the next delivery.' He reluctantly unbolted the lorry door and pressed the button to lower the step.

I wasn't ideal but she climbed ungracefully, despite the step which was too tall for her, onto the bed of the truck, weaving her way through the dangerous mess of boxes. She automatically disregarded anything small, moving further into the back of the dark truck. There was something hidden in the far left corner behind a tall pallet. She got closer and saw that  there was a pile of shredded boxes and a few bits of discarded plastic that looked a bit like shelf inserts. Enough that might have belonged to four missing fridges.

'Excuse me,' she said again, this time genuinely annoyed, 'but what do you call this? What do you do to them, dismantle them for parts?'

The driver was suddenly right behind her. 'Yes,' he said. 'We needed them more than you,' he replied in a voice that was suddenly flat and devoid of that thick Valley's accent from before.

Maude's face scrunched up in confusion. 'You what?'

'The parts were necessary to survive.' He gave her a strange look. 'You have parts that are necessary, too.'

Maude was about to protest when a huge meaty fist swung at her head, sending her crumbling unconscious against the side of the lorry.

 

 

 

Maude returned to work the next day, citing an emergency with her cat that meant she'd had to leave suddenly without telling anyone. Because Maude was perennially sad and single no one made a fuss about it. Except Steve. Because Steve was a scumbag. He also threw her a backhanded berating about some fridges that were missing. Maude assured him everything was in the warehouse and that he just hadn't looked hard enough.

'I'm going for my lunch break,' Steve told her. But before I do, you're going to show me where you put the stupid things. 'How am I supposed to sell stock we don't have? You don't see me nipping off in the middle of a shift, job half done, do you?'

Maude smiled placidly as she always did, and led him out the back. She didn't find all the missing fridges but she did find one that wasn't missing, and forcefully shoved Steve inside its unshelved confines.

 

 

 

Steve didn't come back from his lunch break, but no one was particularly upset about it. After all, Steve was a scumbag. Maude was, if anything, pleased. When the store shut its doors for the day she offered to lock up. No one ever got paid for that extra fifteen minutes anyway. She took the keys for the courtesy delivery van - mostly a gimmick, since they avoided personally delivery service as much as possible to keep costs down - loaded the fridge in the back where Steve - poor scumbag Steve - had suffocated hours ago, and drove it out to an industrial estate where it, and Steve, would be unloaded. Everything had its uses: Maude, Steve, and fridges. It just depended on need.

 

 

 

'Oh, Rhys! Rhys!' Ruth called out across the room even though it was utterly unnecessary. He could hear her perfectly well even at normal volume and the only other person who was in the room to hear their exchanges was Ruth's partner in crime - and joint tenant for their shared brain cell - Large Mandy. Mandy would have heard them even if they were whispering or writing messages in invisible ink. She lived for gossip of any kind and made it her life's mission to have her nose in everybody's business, invited or not. If she had her ear to the ground on work matters as much as she did everyone's personal lives, she'd be a veritable fountain of knowledge. A real company asset. As luck would have it for Rhys however, she was just the company rumour mill. Deadly and efficient.

'What?' Rhys tried to keep the exasperation out of his voice. He really needed another cuppa and a custard cream before Ruth presented him with any more crises for the day.

'I've got someone from Altons on the line. Altons!' she repeated. 'They're only one of the biggest department stores in Cardiff!'

'I know who Altons are,' Rhys replied, keeping his tone level and reminding her that he wasn't the complete dunce she and large Mandy seemed to think he was. 'What do they want?' A few extra shipments over the silly season no doubt. Still, he wouldn't look down his nose at that. One man's haulage workforce shortage was another man's Christmas bonus.

'They're looking to transfer their account!' Ruth hissed, holding her hand over the mouthpiece of the receiver, even though she had them on hold and they couldn't hear her.

Eh, well things were looking up. 'Tell them I'm just about to step out of a meeting and that you'll transfer them through in a minute.' Let them think he was a busy man with many important customers. Just not too busy. Never be too eager, that's what he always said. Well, only to Gwen, and even then she was hardly ever listening. It was always alien this and spaceship that…

'I'll take it in my office,' he said, striding over to the small ten by ten foot space with its flimsy door and cork pinboard sitting crookedly on the opposite wall. He settled into the worn vinyl chair and picked up the phone. 'Harwoods Haulage, Rhys Williams speaking.' He listened to the voice on the other end of the line. 'Yes, I'm the manager here. Shipments going missing, you say? Ah, of course. Always the electrical stuff. Easy to flog, easy to strip for parts and make a few quid on the side. Yes, well there are some cowboys out there. Not us, though. Never had a single item go missing. Know all my drivers personally. Can't speak highly enough of them.' He paused as he listened to the current issue they were facing. 'Fridges? Aye. No problem handling bulky goods. Got six eighteen wheelers in the fleet that can handle that. Drive all over the UK, whatever you need.' Rhys' pen paused over the blank page, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing. 'Er, sure, we can start next week. Dim problem. What's that? Oh, sorry. Dim problem is no problem. In Welsh,' he clarified. Rhys forced a chuckle. 'Multilingual here we are as well. Speak Polish and Hungarian too. Well, not me personally, mind, but-' Rhys cut himself off realising he was now blathering on. 'I'll, er, get the paperwork sorted and wait for your email. No, thank you. You won't be sorry with a Harwoods lorry.'

Rhys put down the phone and leaned back in his chair, making it squeak. He puffed out a long breath and let the news sink in. 'Blimey,' he muttered as the reality of it all sunk in. 'Harwoods regional manager of the year award, here we come.'

Rhys pulled the door open and found two pairs of eyes burning a hole straight through him. He was half surprised they hadn't been at the door with their ears pressed to it trying to eavesdrop. Nosy cows. Not like they didn't have work to do.

Ruth leaned so far forward on her desk Rhys worried it might tip over. 'So? Did you give them a quote? I hope you didn't forget to discount it a bit. You know, so as not to scare them off?'

'I did more than that.' He puffed out his chest a bit, which really only resulted in making his ageing thirty something belly stick out more than it should. 'You are looking at the new distribution partner for Altons UK, Wales District. They're sending across the contract this afternoon and we start next week.'

Ruth clapped excitedly. 'Oh! Never expected that this morning when we came to work, did we?' she asked, as if she had played some critical role in securing the deal.

Large Mandy gave a tired smile. 'Well, you were bound to get lucky with a good customer sometime,' she said, completely downplaying Rhys' marketing and negotiating skills.

'This calls for chocolate digestives!' Ruth squealed. 'I'll go pop the kettle on right away! Oh! And we'll need to fix all the rosters, eh?'

'You sort the kettle out, I'll deal with the rosters,' Rhys told her in no uncertain terms. He walked back to his office and smoothed the piles of delivery dockets from its surface, suddenly feeling like things were about to start going right.

 

 

 

There was an all staff meeting to announce that the store had changed its logistics provider. Stock loss issues, so their store manager told them. Maude nodded dutifully along with the rest of them. Terrible business. As if they wouldn't be noticed, all those fridges and washing machines and tumble dryers, missing from dispatch dockets. The logistic company denied it of course but it hadn't altered the outcome. Insurance had covered the rest.

'You'll be noticing all our deliveries now coming from Harwoods. You know those blokes with the bright yellow vans? What with the lead up to December this will be a good time to ensure we are fully stocked and ready to sell.' He clapped his hands together, as if a new delivery company would solve all their retail woes.

Maude had some problems of her own to sort. You could blame one delivery company for a few whitegoods going missing here and there, but two different companies? That could look suspicious. If Steve were still here they might point the finger at him. Dodgy bugger like that was bound to be doing a shifty on the side and selling stuff from out back for double the price and pocketing the cash. But Steve wasn't here anymore. Not once in the last few weeks had anyone made mention of him. He certainly wasn't being missed. Neither was the cleaner who came at the end of the day, easily replaced. Or the junkie she'd found half asleep next to their dumpster one morning before work. It wasn't enough though. She needed more parts yet. There had to be a way to keep removing stock without being noticed.

Inspiration struck just before lunch as a broad-shouldered man heckled her for a better discount on a dishwasher. 'The Mrs has a budget and this fits the bill all except for the price. I know you're overcharging on the price tag. You lot always do. It's only savvy blokes like me that try and bargain you down to what it's actually worth.'

Maude cleared her throat and gave him a placating smile. 'Of course. You're absolutely right, sir. It's the transport costs you see?' She leaned in closer. 'Listen, I can knock two hundred quid off if you're happy to pick it up from the manufacturer's warehouse direct.'

'Two hundred quid? Now you're talking. I'd bloody walk it from Newport.'

Maude nodded in agreement. 'Excellent choice. Now, if I can just ring this sale up for you, then I'll give you the address where you can pick it up.'

'When's that?'

'Tonight if you like.'

'Smashing.'

Maude smiled. 'All part of the service.'

 

 

 

'You told me we were going shopping,' Gwen complained, wishing she'd thought more carefully about her choice of retail companions. Shopping was meant to be fun and right now she was having anything but fun.

'We are shopping,' Ianto argued, pulling open a fridge door and inspecting the inside shelves like he was checking their dimensions for storing something far more specific than leftover curry. 'We're in a shop. We're looking to buy something. Ergo, shopping.'

Gwen sipped her iced coffee, chewing the straw to release some of her tension. 'Whitegoods is not shopping.' In Gwen's experience, whitegoods were a quick way to a divorce. She and Rhys could never agree on anything that would be considered a joint purchase, which was why their sofa, which was badly in need of replacing, was going to fall apart on them before they got around to buying a new one. She simply couldn't be bothered with the aggravation.

Gwen toyed with the tag hanging off a microwave oven. 'Five hundred quid? It's a microwave!'

Ianto batted her hand away, checking over his shoulder, presumably to make sure she hadn't embarrassed them in front of someone. 'It's bespoke.'

'It's bloody outrageous is what it is.' For that price she wanted Paddy McGuinness to come with it and cook for her.

Ianto tutted. 'Jack always says we can't have nice things. Basically because they end up getting broken. It's a wonder the house is still standing.'

'Well, you did blow one up once.'

'Intentionally,' he reminded her. 'And it wasn't really ours. More of a temporary thing. Much like our relationship at the time. I always assumed undercover work would require a whole lot less honesty. To be fair, blowing up the house was probably the single most in character thing we did the whole time we lived there.'

Gwen hummed something akin to agreement. 'Worked out alright in the end.'

'Exactly. Which is why we shouldn't try and ruin it by trying to go shopping together.'

Gwen was quietly pleased that it wasn't just her and Rhys that seemed to have that problem. 'You know you don't have to buy the most expensive one they have.'

'I know. But what else are we supposed to spend all that danger pay on? Believe it or not, there's only so many suits, shirts and ties one can own. Even as often as we destroy them.'

'No!' Gwen feigned shock at the admission.

'So, therefore, nice, fancy things for the house. Ooh, look, the brochure for this one says it comes in eight different colours! And it's got a five star energy rating. Those Germans…'

Gwen frowned at the price, even with the amount they were paid. 'Are you sure you don't want to think about it before committing?'

Ianto shook his head firmly. 'Nope. You just watch. I'll go off for work for a week or two and Jack will suddenly get all domestic and want to deck out the house with five hundred appliances. I'd rather the one thing we really need not be one of Jack's frivolous purchases. He'd want the one with the automatic ice maker.' He gave her one of his annoyed little frowns as if Jack were physically here for him to demonstrate his abject disappointment. 'We live in Cardiff. When are we ever going to need ice? Plus, it'll help me sleep at night knowing he's not out buying rubbish.'

'Are you sure you don't need any company on your trip?' Gwen asked, hopeful that Ianto might have a change of heart and say yes. Suddenly the only thing worse than being stuck in Cardiff alone with Jack was the idea of being stuck with a Jack who was sulky and pining.

'Nice try. But I think it's the responsibility of the leader of Torchwood to sort out this mess.' He sighed. 'A dozen or more Torchwood bases worldwide that have been doing their own thing without any oversight from Torchwood One for the last decade. It's almost like Jack saw this coming. No wonder he was quick to pass over the top job.'

Gwen sympathised. As Torchwood went, that was definitely the proverbial hot potato. Then again, if it hadn't been for some hidden protocol in their mainframe suddenly deciding to release the information that had been locked away since Alex Hopkins had killed himself, they'd have kept on not knowing. 'You always complain you never get out enough,' she said. 'Now, should we find someone to haggle another hundred quid off this fridge you're so committed to buying?'

'Nope. If I have to do most of the cooking, Jack gets to pay extra for the top of the range fridge.

Gwen smirked. Compromise. The secret to a long happy marriage.

 

 

 

Maude Jenkins - or at least the thing that had once been Maude Jenkins - backed away from the couple. There was no way she was going to convince them that a cheaper model would be a good idea. The man in the suit looked like he meant business and wanted simply to pay the piece on that tag and go. That was okay. The store had a sale this week and it was leading up to something these strange flesh entities called Christmas, which Darren from electrical had assured her meant sales would be booming, and everyone would be desperate for a bargain.

Another lorry was due this afternoon. She checked her watch and went out to meet it. The name on the trucks had changed a few days ago. Different haulage company and these guys were fastidious about what went in and out with their paperwork. No chance she could siphon off a few extra bits and pieces without being noticed. She had to sign for everything.

A kid rolled up as the two men were unloading the stock and chained his bike to the railing.

'Oi, out the way!' one of them called out to the kid. 'This ain't free parking here.'

'Piss off,' he replied. 'I'll do what I want.'

Maude watched the grubby teenager. His hoodie was four sizes too big for him and looked in need of a good wash. Conversely, the white baseball cap and sneakers were absolutely pristine. He shoved his hands into the large front pocket of the hoodie and pulled out a cigarette, lighting up and leaning back against the railing as he took a lazy first drag on it, virtually taunting the delivery men.

Maude signed the PDA from the delivery company, having counted up the boxes and matched them to the docket as she did every day. They sat in a sad pile just by the large roller door and her much smaller trolley. As she was checking off the docket again and hearing the lorry engine start back up, preparing to be on its way, she cast a look at the kid lolling about smoking and had an idea. 'Oi,' she called out.

He gave her the tired eye roll of teenage youth. 'What? You got a problem with me having a fag here, too?'

'No. Just thought you might help me load these inside.'

The kid snorted. 'Pig's arse.'

Maude didn't know what that meant but the derision was clear. 'There's twenty quid in it for you.'

That got his attention. He stood a little straighter and almost forgot the cigarette still smouldering between his fingers. 'Up front?'

'Sure.' She pulled a rumpled twenty from her pocket, petty cash which had been meant to buy a round of coffee for the staff. The kid took it and it disappeared into his hoodie pocket where everything else important in his life lived. He bent down and grabbed a microwave. 'Piece of piss, this,' he said, giving her a cheeky grin, which showed off the fact that he was sorely in need of a good dentist. She pulled up the roller door to let him inside. 'Where d'you want it?' he asked.

Maude pointed over towards a chest freezer, sitting in their storeroom, unboxed and gleaming white. She'd sold it earlier today and it was going to the warehouse tonight to be picked up. Decent capacity, good energy rating, and plenty of space for a body.

 

 

 

'Jack? Have you looked at that report on the missing teenager in Radyr, yet?' Gwen called out, shuffling a mountain of her own case files simultaneously.

'Which one?' he yelled back, not even attempting to shuffle the files on his desk in an attempt to look busy. If he waited long enough someone would find it for him. Or better yet take it off his desk altogether and deal with it. He gave up the pretense and stood to leave his office, coming to lean in the doorway where he could see Gwen properly,  rather than continuing to engage in their tennis match of yelling. 'Remind me why we care about one runaway teenager?'

'He's not a runaway,' Gwen replied. 'He left his bike behind.'

Jack threw his hands up in surrender. 'Oh, well call the police then. It must be serious.' He turned more serious, returning his hands to his trouser pockets and lensing casually against the door frame. 'Unless you tell me he was somewhere we recorded a negative rift spike, and even then I don't know what you want me to do about it.'

'He's one of Bernie Harris' mates.'

'Oh, even better. Good riddance to bad rubbish.'

Gwen's body language told him she wasn't ready to let him off the hook yet. 'I just figure, if he knows Bernie's there's every chance his disappearance could be connected to something alien. Last seen hanging around behind a department store off Cathedral Road.'

Jack sighed. When was Bernie ever going to learn? There was a reason why natural selection worked so well. 'Can't I kick this to somebody else?' He looked hopefully across the room towards Ianto's desk but it was empty. It was easy to forget that Ianto now outranked him and was no longer the person he delegated all his uninteresting case files to. Their medic, Jez Holton, kept his head very firmly down inside the file he was walking towards his own desk, still wearing his lab coat as he shuffled from case file to autopsy table and back. Jack had other lackies now but there wasn't a one of them to be found anywhere within his line of sight. Oh, he remembered. He'd already sent them out to investigate something else that had felt unworthy of his time and energy. And with Ianto off 0n consular duties overseas, Jack was temporarily doing both their jobs. Damn.

He wandered back into his office and sat down. 'I'll get right on it,' he yelled back at Gwen, now annoyed enough that yelling was somewhat cathartic, and making a show of moving a file to the top of his pile and opening it. A shame it wasn't the right file. He knew he'd only be made to rue not actioning it if it turned out Bernie had landed his mates in even more trouble.

He sighed. The prospect of wandering around a cheap neighbourhood and interviewing Bernie and his mates filled him with unglamorous dread. A Torchwood agent's job was never done.

 

 

 

Maude rang up the sale on her computer, pleased with the outcome. Newlyweds looking to fill their home with all the latest and greatest appliances. Starting from the bottom up, they said. Needed one of everything. A salesperson's dream customer.

'You'll be saving three hundred pounds by collecting it from our warehouse,' she said. 'What they charge for delivery is just outrageous.'

The husband smiled and his new wife gripped his arm. 'We can still get a return on it if something isn't right, though? We're not doing ourselves out of a refund or anything, are we?' she said, a worried look crossing her face at the prospect of it falling into the "too good to be true" category.

'Oh, no,' Maude replied reassuringly. 'No problem at all returning something. Not that you'll need to, that much I'm sure.' She handed over a slip of paper with the address on it. 'Just slip round the back and give them this docket number and they'll have your items ready to load. Do you have a van big enough to pick it all up?'

'Oh aye,' replied the husband. 'Got a mate who works for one of those rental places. Loaning it to us on the sly.' He looked pleased with himself.

Maude looked pleased too. 'Excellent. The van will come in handy. Two sets of hands are better than one.' She could use the spare parts. They were much harder to come by.

The new system was working well. No stock was going missing because it was being sold. Maude simply offered to close up each night, loaded the sold goods into the store's own van, and shipped them out to the warehouse. Her brethren were waiting to take them and break them down into their constituent parts. It was the people she never saw again that were of most value. The married couple would be double the reward. More couples going to pick up their goods would have been ideal. The humans were harder to steal. She would probably need to do more. One kid chaining up his bike and a handful of customers wasn't enough.'

'We're really glad we came here,' the woman gushed. 'Could have bought everything online. So many people do these days, but it's always nicer to see the stuff beforehand, you know what I mean?'

Online. Yes. Maude nodded. That was the answer she'd been looking for.

Part two...