Risk Assessment Read Online Free PDF

brave, Ianto. She’ll give you a slippering for that. And I doubt she’ll go easy on you like Jack.’
    Ianto flushed, briefly, and coughed. ‘I just wondered – I expected her to be in the computer, but not, you know. . . accessible.’
    ‘And?’ Gwen was burning with curiosity.
    ‘She’s not. There is no one called Agnes Havisham in the Archives. She doesn’t exist.’
    The alien leaned over, its salted breath too close for comfort. ‘It is the female of the species. Look at the weak thorax.’ The voice hissed sulphurously, a tiny tongue darting across the dry, thin lips.
    Its immaculately suited companion grinned. ‘My dear Slyrr, it is just a woman. They pose no threat to man nor beast.’
    The alien placed its stubby hands on its armoured hips and surveyed her curiously. ‘Your women do not fight? Given their inferior construction, this does not surprise me.’
    The man rested a hand on his cane. ‘Fighting is not fit work for women. Every now and then one hears of distant savage tribes where women battle alongside their menfolk. But not here.’
    ‘Indeed?’ the alien hissed. ‘And what employment do you find for them in your society? Are they breeding stock?’
    The man laughed gently and looked at her. ‘I am sorry, my dear. My companion Slyrr is somewhat lacking in the delicacies.’ He turned back to his alien friend. ‘There is an element of that, especially among the lower orders, but mostly they are occupied in genteel accomplishments, such as weaving and music.’ His cane indicated her hands. ‘See, such a lovely alabaster complexion.’
    ‘Noted,’ hissed the alien, its boredom clear. ‘My question is whether or not we should terminate this specimen?’
    The man shrugged, and looked at the woman regretfully. ‘Well, in this case, I guess there’s no harm in it. Sorry, my dear.’
    The alien reached for the stubby weapon concealed in its belt. And then whipped round, alarmed. ‘Henderson!’ it barked. ‘Where is my gun?’
    ‘Here,’ she said, simply, and shot them both.
    Jack and Agnes were taking tea. Agnes slid her formica tray despondently along the counter, glaring balefully at its contents.
    ‘You know, Harkness, this place once used to do the only proper tea in Cardiff. Crusts sliced neatly off of sandwiches, bone china, and table service from only mildly slatternly waitresses. How times have changed.’ She glanced back at the counter, and then pointed at something sealed in plastic. ‘Good afternoon. What is that, please?’ she asked the smiling woman behind the counter.
    ‘Why, it’s a chocolate flake cluster, dear.’
    ‘I see.’ Agnes’s hand jabbed at a boxed sandwich. ‘And is that really a fresh egg sandwich?’
    ‘That’s right,’ the woman replied, patiently. ‘It’s made in Merthyr.’
    ‘That is hardly a recommendation,’ muttered Agnes tartly.
    Jack paid, and they found a table, away from the young mothers and old couples. Agnes stared in horrified fascination at her cup, yanking the teabag out by its string and letting it twist in the air unhappily before letting it sink back in. ‘I can hardly bear to taste the tea of the future,’ she sighed.
    For an instant, that forlorn look returned, and then her face brightened.
    ‘So, Harkness, I believe you should explain to me the truth?’
    Jack sipped his tea and let his eyes wander tiredly to the forlorn selection of cakes. He was exhausted, and Agnes was the last straw. Perhaps, if he told her the truth, things might miraculously get better.
    ‘Where do you want to start?’ he asked wearily.
    Agnes razored open her sandwich box with a sharp thumbnail, and groaned quietly as she lifted out the contents. ‘Just tell me everything, Jack,’ she murmured, lifting back the edge of the sandwich despondently and glaring at the egg mayonnaise. ‘You can start by telling me why your outrageously lax operation hasn’t already been closed down by Torchwood One. I suspect the answer will either be