We open in the most popular room in the Hub. You know, the one where all the cool kids hang out — the Morgue. Martha is about to begin Owen’s autopsy, because even though all five of them saw him getting shot in the chest they still need to ascertain the cause of death.

Either that or they’re planning to divvy up his organs so each of them can pocket some spare cash on the black market. Ianto: “I call eyeballs!” Gwen: “Dibs on his heart. I’d leave it for you, Tosh, except you never really had it to begin with. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll lay off his testes.”

Martha picks up a hacksaw to begin, and Ianto closes his eyes and turns away. That’s right, Ianto, the guy who, other than providing the occasional refreshment, derives most of his job satisfaction from his efficient disposal of bodies. I’d think he’d be right down there next to Martha happily offering tips: “No, no, always saw the head off in a counter clockwise motion, otherwise the neck gristle catches on the teeth of the saw. There, that’s better.”

There’s a pause, and it really would have been the perfect time for Martha to say something like, “If anyone can show just cause why this autopsy should not take place, let him speak now or forever hold Owen in pieces.” Because at that very moment, Jack rushes in screaming, “Stoooppppp!!!! Nobody touches him until I get back!” And then he dashes out dashingly.

For artsy reasons, I’m guessing, the director chooses to shoot the next sequence in the style of the old Batman TV show, with each shot tilted at a crazy angle. POW! Jack peels off in the Torchmobile. BAM! He pulls up in front of an ornate mansion that looks like it’s in Cardiff’s touristy French Quarter. ZOWIE! He runs through a busy hallway with such hideously overdone décor that my entire sense of style develops an allergic rash.

A bouncer holds Jack back, but then a little girl from the Culkin-Fanning School of Precocious Child Actors says Jack is okay to enter. She’s also apparently a Torchwood fan, because she’s holding what appears to be a Captain Jack trading card in her hand. Zac Efron is soooo 2007; now all the tweeners are into guys old enough to be their grandfathers.

She starts reading Tarot cards, and Jack asks her if she can see where “it” is. She tells him he’s going to owe her a favor. Like he’s totally going to have to buy her tickets for that new Hillary Duff movie that’s rated PG-13. And a fifth of vodka. She shows him a card with a picture of a church, saying that when the people found “it” and saw what “it” could do, they built an entire church on top of “it.” Because nothing creepy ever happens inside churches. Just ask that priest from The Omen.

Tarot Girl: If I told you not to use it, would you listen?
Jack: Shouldn’t you know the answer to that?
Tarot Girl: I do. That’s the problem.