stories about Kate first started to filter through. But in every memory he had, Giles was a young man, younger than Tomas.
"What happened ?" The question felt too small for the size of all the things he wanted to know.
Giles spread his hands. "I hardly know where to begin. The Berlin Wall fell. The Cold War ended and the Hermetic Division was disbanded before you could be resurrected. I got married, then she left me for a Welsh schoolteacher. The Spice Girls broke up, then reformed, then broke up again."
"What?" Tomas said again. "In three days ?"
Giles flipped over the newspaper in his lap so Tomas could read it. The headlines meant nothing to him, but after a moment Giles tapped a finger on the top of the page, and he saw the date: 16 June, 2009.
Tomas looked down at himself, and saw for the first time the way his clothes hung in rags from his chest. He touched himself there but felt nothing, not the faintest stirring of a heartbeat. "What happened to me?"
Giles smiled. "You died, Tomas, twenty years ago. Welcome back."
CHAPTER TWO
They'd kept Morgan's flat for him while he was away, a small bedsit in a tower block near the Elephant and Castle. They hadn't bothered to dust it, though, and he woke up with his sinuses clogged and a gritty, unclean feeling in the back of his throat.
The phone had been disconnected about two years ago, so he'd plugged in his mobile to charge last night. When he'd rolled out of bed and showered he picked it up and scrolled through the stored names. He had until five o'clock, Giles had told him.
But there just wasn't anyone he wanted to talk to. He thought about cleaning the flat, then decided he didn't want to do that either.
Daytime television was as mind-numbing as ever. He sat through two hours of it before he reached for the phone again to call headquarters and get a number for John's family. John hadn't been married, but he'd talked about his parents.
Morgan's thumb hovered over the dial button, then flipped the phone shut again. They wouldn't want to hear his apology. The only reason he'd be calling was to make himself feel better, not them. He knew it was true because that's what Perry's sister had said when he called her five months ago, and then she'd screamed down the phone at him for ten solid minutes and he'd felt obliged to keep listening. Maybe it actually had made her feel better, but Morgan couldn't face the same bitter accusations from John's family.
He flung the phone away from him in a jagged spike of rage. "Fuck!"
There was no food in the flat, so at lunchtime he went to the nearest greasy spoon, in the shadow of the squat red shopping centre, and ordered the full English. The traffic dawdled by outside, the people too, and it felt very strange to be home. He found himself looking at the country through foreign eyes. Too cool, too grey, too restrained.
When four-thirty crawled round, he was glad to start the walk down Kennington Park Road towards Oval. It felt good to stretch his legs, even though the air was heavy with traffic fumes and incipient rain. He hadn't thought it would be possible to miss the clean, furiously hot desert air.
This time he was left waiting thirty seconds at the door of the Victorian semi, but it was the same smooth-faced man who let him inside.
There was no Phillips today. Giles had someone else with him. The man was dressed neutrally, in jeans and a green t-shirt, but he looked uncomfortable in his clothes. His face was very serious, a little too bony under thick blond hair. He inclined his head, but didn't offer to shake hands. Warned him to be careful, had they? Morgan immediately bristled.
"My new partner?" he asked Giles.
The little man nodded. "Tomas Len, this is Morgan Hewitt. Tomas has been out of circulation for a little while, Morgan. You may need to bring him up to speed on a few things."
Tomas nodded a curt confirmation. His eyes were a very startling bright green, and Morgan found that he didn't want to spend too