part two Bodie parked on Portland Place and made a call from a phone box there. He walked the short distance to Regents Park, stopping to buy two teas in polystyrene cups from a van at the gate. He took them to a bench by the lake and waited for his contact.
A woman joined him after twenty minutes. She was tall, slim and dressed sensibly for a day at the office. She had short dark hair and her brown eyes sparked with irritation.
“You’re a nuisance, Bodie,” she said, sitting next to him on the bench.
“Betty.” Bodie handed her the second cup of tea.
Betty had spent three years as George Cowley’s right hand woman. Inevitably eclipsed by her boss and labelled with the careless job title of ‘secretary’, it took a while for her unusual skill at research and her Intelligence expertise to be noticed. By then, she had been head-hunted by MI6 and shocked everyone by accepting the job.
She, Bodie and Doyle would help each other when conventional information exchange channels failed or were simply too slow. It was risky. The undisguised animosity between Alpha One and Firebird made the two organisations effectively enemies.
“I can’t just drop everything and run when you call,” she said. “We’re quite busy at the moment.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“What is it you want?” She took the lid from her tea and sipped.
“Where have MI6 got Marikka Schuman? Can you find out?”
“I know where she is,” Betty said.
“Go on.”
“Look, Bodie. I shouldn’t have this information. I have nothing to do with safe houses and prisoners, it’s not my department. My suspicion is, I know the address because someone thought I might tell you.”
“That works for me.”
“I’m glad, because that’s what I live for.”
“Come on Bet, I wouldn’t ask if I had a choice.” She hesitated before giving him the address; a house in the suburbs north of the city. “Are you sure it’s the place?”
“As I can be, but please be careful. They’ll be waiting for you.”
“They always are.”
“What’s wrong, Bodie?” She asked, finally. “You’re not your usual annoying self. Where’s your better half? He’s a hero among the troops in my office for shooting Green.”
Bodie shrugged.
“Oh god, he was shot too, wasn’t he? Is he –?“
“He’s all right.”
She tipped the remains of her tea on to the grass. “Try not to create any corpses today; we are on the same side, after all.”
“Are you sure about that? Is your mob out looking for me? What about Ray?”
“I don’t know. My job’s Intelligence not playground games.”
He gave Betty time to leave the park before returning to his car and heading back north. The place MI6 were holding Marikka was an unremarkable Victorian property in a residential street. Anonymous and defendable, it was the sort of place CI5 would have chosen.
He had no doubt Betty was right; MI6 would be expecting him. But he didn’t care, he had been passive for too long, letting others control the narrative of the story. One way or another he was going to get in on the action.
He used his CI5 ID to gain entry to a house two doors down. From there, he climbed into the safe house’s garden. He crouched in a corner by the fence. As he would have expected, all the windows were closed and the curtains drawn. The garden itself was neatly kept to offer scant cover for an intruder.
This was going to be tricky. There was no ground floor window, no lean-to, nothing useful in fact. The only way in was by the kitchen door. He could force it, but once in, he would not know where to start looking, and the longer he searched the more likely he was to be discovered.
He had decided to risk it anyway when Marikka appeared at the window of one of the second floor rooms. She pushed back the curtains to look out at the garden. He stood up, letting her see him and she opened her window.
“Are you alone?” He hissed up at her.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I’m coming up.”
“It is the first room on the right at the top of the stairs.”
The kitchen door was half-glazed, and he could see the room was empty, as was the hallway beyond. He tried the handle and found the door unlocked. He knew that couldn’t be right, but there was no turning back.
His way was clear as he left the kitchen and ran up the stairs. He found the door to the room Marikka had directed him to and kicked it open. Marikka was standing beside the window, still and calm.
He suddenly remembered her as he had first known her; a singer in a West German nightclub sending snippets of overheard conversations home in return for freedom to travel. She was not alone in the room.
Willis sat in an armchair. One of his men, the rat-faced blond Bodie knew as Ronson, lounged on the bed. Another agent holding a handgun took his gun from him.
Marikka would not meet his gaze, and he knew immediately she too had betrayed him. Not to the East Germans but to MI6.
“Did they promise you asylum, sweetheart? Don’t hold your breath.”
Bodie was handcuffed and taken out of the room. A van was waiting on the driveway and he was pushed into the back of it.
After a few minutes, two of the MI6 men brought Marikka and the three of them got in.
“I’m sorry, Bodie,” she said when they were on their way.
“I’m sure you are.”
“My brother, Karl is in prison in East Berlin. He has been charged with treason. I have been promised his release.”
Bodie nodded. He knew, and maybe she did too, that it was unlikely any promise made would be kept. Still she’d had to try.
The journey was a short one and, when the van stopped, they were let out into the car park of a shabby, three storey office block. Judging by the darkened windows and the small number of cars dotted around, the building was all but deserted.
Two agents escorted Marikka into a waiting car. Bodie watched as it turned out of the car park and disappeared from sight.
He was taken inside to a room on the ground floor. One agent stayed with him as he sat, still cuffed, at a table. When Willis arrived he sent the guard to wait outside.
“What are you doing with Marikka?” Bodie asked.
“Sending her home.”
“Serves the bitch right.”
East Germany was a death sentence for Marikka. If her husband didn’t kill her himself, she had undoubtedly lost his protection, and someone else would. Bodie was careful not to betray his anger. If Willis thought he could continue to use Marikka as leverage against him, she would be in more immediate danger.
Willis took the chair opposite Bodie. The table between them was stained with fingerprints. Bloody ones, by the look of them. Willis was silent at first, letting him absorb the implications. It took more than a dirty desk to rattle Bodie, but for the first time in a couple of hours, he wondered where Doyle was.
“What’s your decision?” Willis asked.
“Am I under arrest? I want to make a phone call.”
“You’ve nothing to lose by signing a confession, Bodie. It won’t come to trial, I guarantee it.”
“And I want a solicitor.”
“You’re finished as far as CI5 is concerned. George Cowley suspects you of spying, he told me as much. He had you followed by your own partner. Do you really think you’ve any future as an operative?”
Bodie knew Willis would say anything to get the answer he wanted, but only a couple of hours ago, with Doyle’s steady presence beside him, he had come to the same conclusion.
“What are you offering?”
“What do you want?” Willis asked. “Money, a new identity?”
It would suit his purpose and it was a tempting prospect. To shed his skin, to start afresh with a little spook money in his pocket and a brand new name. What harm would it do? Bierman was already dead, Marikka as good as. He played with the idea, tested himself with it.
“Come on then, Reg. Make an offer.”
“A new passport, and five thousand in cash.”
“Five grand! You’re having a laugh, aren’t you? You’re not telling me that’s the going rate for securing the position of a major Stasi asset.”
Bodie saw surprise flash across Willis’ impassive features and he suddenly knew why.
Bodie knew the secret behind Bierman’s assassination and he wasn’t supposed to. It was a secret Willis’ band of henchmen, who were executing the plan, probably hadn’t even been told.
It seemed a lifetime ago now, but he had heard it from Cowley. A man who only ever disclosed what he absolutely had to, who wouldn’t give you the time on the clock if he didn’t think there was a good reason for you to know it. Why would he if he was planning Bodie’s exile?
Cowley had given him proof of trust without him even realising it. Perhaps to keep him loyal at a moment like this.
“Why me, Willis?” He asked, as Doyle had. “Why pick a CI5 agent to frame? You might as well poke a tiger with a stick. Surely you could find some non-denominational thug to stitch up.”
“Stitch up, Bodie? You were caught red-handed.”
Bodie met his intense gaze, saw the spark of obsession and even madness in his eyes and, belatedly, got it.
“Cowley is what this is all about. You have to establish Schuman, sure, but shutting down CI5 is what that stone cold heart of yours really wants, isn’t it?
“So let’s see,” he went on. “How does this work? I say Cowley ordered me to assassinate the Head of the East German secret service, and that’s the end of CI5. With Cowley out of the picture there’s nobody to stand in the way of your nasty little schemes. You can take a bite out of UK security and with a bit of luck, and a tame Home Secretary, you can maybe get your hands on MI5 as well. And then what? Tomorrow the world?”
“What do you care, Bodie?” Willis snarled. “There was a time when you wouldn’t put your boots on, let alone fire a weapon, without payment in advance and you didn’t care who was paying or where the money came from. Are you really so different now?”
“Yeah, I am and you know what, I’m not handing you CI5 on a plate. I don’t care if Cowley thinks I’m the Fifth Man.”
Willis’ had learnt his lessons in ruthlessness in his years running spies for the East Berlin network, and working his way up the MI6 ladder. Bodie’s life had taught him equally harsh lessons but he liked to think his humanity had survived in tact. Perhaps Willis had no one to save him.
“Let’s not pretend there’s a choice in this,” Willis said. “You do what I ask and I won’t kill you.”
“You’ll have to do better than that, sunbeam.”
Willis looked up sharply. “What about your partner? Are you so careless of his life?”
“Who? Ray Doyle? What about him?”
“He shot one of my men and he’s suspected of tampering with evidence, so we’ve taken him in.”
It could have been a bluff. Only he felt that tug; the burn of the second ID card, next to his in his pocket.
“Arrested him, have you? Handed him over to the Met? He’s been charged, got a brief, receiving medical attention? You’ve not just kidnapped a serving CI5 agent off the street.”
Willis seemed unperturbed by Bodie’s suggestion he had gone too far.
“Bodie, I’m not playing here. Believe me. We have him. It’s up to you what happens to him.” Willis glanced down at the blood on the table. “But you probably need to be quick.”
“Do you really think you can blackmail me with Doyle’s life? Sorry, he accepts the risks the same as I do.”
“Of course, but you’ve always known your fate. You’ve always lived too recklessly, too amorally to expect to see out your thirties. He’s different, isn’t he? All he’s ever done is his duty. I don’t believe your indifference for a moment, because you know he’s a better man than you”
Was Willis psychic now?
“You’re right about one thing. I am a bastard, an even bigger one than you, and you can stick him out with the rubbish for all I care.”
Willis got to his feet, concluding the interview.
“There’s no future for you with CI5, but if you cooperate with me you’ll get out alive and you can name your price. Don’t and you’re finished. You and your friend. He deserves better, even if you don’t. I’ll leave you to think about it.”
~~~
Willis left, and Bodie was taken downstairs to the building’s basement. Removing the handcuffs, the two men escorting him locked him into what looked like a large store room but with a heavy steel door. The room was empty except for the other prisoner.
“Bloody hell, Ray.”
Willis hadn’t been bluffing. Doyle was here. He was sitting on the floor, slumped against the wall and, judging by the state of him, he hadn’t come quietly.
“Oh, great,” Doyle said. “Perfect.”
Bodie went to him and gently straightened him out. He looked as though he had taken a kicking and even the slightest movement seemed to cause him pain. Bodie wondered if he’d cracked a rib or two, but worse than that, the bullet wound was still slowly bleeding. His shirt had turned from blue to wine coloured in the last few hours. His fever had worsened as well, which meant the infection had taken hold.
“I don’t appreciate being ditched,” said Doyle, his voice reduced to a rasp as he recovered from a fit of coughing.
“You were supposed to disappear.”
“I tried, mate. They were waiting for me outside Jax’s flat. Did you find Marikka?”
“Yeah. She’s on her way back to East Germany, courtesy Willis.”
“The bastard. They’ll kill her.”
“Did Willis say anything to you?” Bodie asked.
“He was on about the evidence.”
“I thought he was supposed to have given up on that.”
“No chance. And you can forget about that ‘no trial’ business.”
“He’s a persistent bugger. But it’s CI5 he wants.”
Doyle stared at him. “That’s why it had to be you. That’s why you have to sign saying you were following Cowley’s orders. We should have spotted that one under our noses.”
“I’ve got a good mind to sign it too. Where the hell is the old bastard? Leaving us hanging out to dry, like this.”
As he spoke he took off his own jacket and shirt. He wore a T-shirt underneath and he peeled that off too. Tearing it into strips, he eased off Doyle’s jacket and then opened his shirt. The bandage was soaked with blood but he didn’t dare touch it. He compressed the wound as best he could with the makeshift dressing over the old hospital one. It wasn’t enough.
He rebuttoned Doyle’s shirt and got him back into his jacket. He lay down on the cold floor and Bodie slipped his own jacket under his head as a pillow.
He shrugged his shirt back on and then went to the door. He banged repeatedly on it, shouting for a doctor. Eventually Doyle told him to give it a rest, but no one else took any notice; there was a good chance no one heard in this big, empty building.
He covered the room, looking for a way out, implements to use as weapons or to aid an escape, and any means of communication. He couldn’t find anything, so he went back to Doyle and sat down on the floor with him, putting his hand in his fever damp hair. He felt the answering press of Doyle’s forehead against his palm.
“Willis thinks he can use you to get me to sign the confession,” Bodie said.
“I know. But we’re both here to do a job, so that’s not going to work, is it?”
“If we’ve still got a job.”
“Well I’m going to assume I’m bleeding to death on the clock, so don’t even think about it.”
“Yeah.”
“What’s yeah for?”
“If we don’t cooperate, I don’t think they’re going to let either of us out to tell the tale.”
“You’re a ray of sodding sunshine, aren’t you?”
Time passed and the light from the narrow skylights began to fade, leaving the room in darkness. Bodie’s hand rested on the burning skin of Doyle’s neck, and the only sound was his partner’s fractured breathing.
“Willis thinks you’re too good for me,” he said at last.
“I’ve been telling you that for years.” And then after some minutes passed. “Willis is a lunatic, you know that, don’t you?”
It was almost dawn when they heard the sound of the door unlocking. Doyle pulled himself up into a sitting position and Bodie got to his feet. The room flooded with light as Willis came in. Ronson and two of the other agents were with him, along with Green, who had his arm in a sling.
“Are you ready to cooperate?” Willis asked.
“Let Doyle go,” Bodie said.
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Send him back to CI5 and I’ll talk to you.”
“Are we really going to do this dance? You’re in no position to negotiate.”
“Did you just ask me to dance?”
Willis nodded to the agent standing nearest to Doyle. He took out his gun and pointed it down at Ray’s head. It was a foolhardy move. Doyle’s good arm whipped out and grabbed his wrist. A second later, the man was lying on the floor trying to work out the chain of events.
Bodie couldn’t enjoy the moment because, as he watched, Doyle slumped back, his eyes closing. Bodie started to react but two men grabbed his arms and held him back.
“So you don’t want me to put him out with the rubbish?” Willis said. “I didn’t think so.”
“Get an ambulance, you stupid bastards,” Bodie yelled.
“Work with me,” Willis replied. “And I’ll bring a medic here.”
Bodie couldn’t tell if Doyle was still alive and he stopped thinking. “I’ll do it.”
“What did you say?”
“I’ll sign whatever you want. Get him some help.”
Willis’ interrogator’s eye examined, assessed and dismissed him. “You’re a liar, Bodie,” he said.
“I’m not, I swear.” He struggled against the arms holding him.
“Cowley’s best men.” Willis mused. “And there’s something else, isn’t there? Something more than a team. Maybe you haven’t worked it out yourself yet, maybe you have. But I’m willing to wager, it’s more than a colleague you’d lose if I killed him right now.”
He approached Doyle, crouching down in front of him. Doyle was startled awake by Green and Ronson grabbing his arms to restrain him. Bodie’s relief at seeing him still alive disappeared as Willis put his gun to his head. After a moment Willis moved the gun down and pushed the barrel into Doyle’s mouth.
“Does he like that, Bodie? I think he does.”
“If you believe all that, how’s it going to help if you kill him? How’s that going to make me cooperate?”
“If I let him go, what have I got to bargain with?”
“If you don’t, you can fuck off with your statement.”
The safety on the gun clicked.
“Oh Jesus. Work it out Willis. Think about it. You’ve lost. CI5’s not going anywhere.”
“His last chance...”
“You can kill me. No one’s interested, I’m nothing but a traitor. But Cowley’s not going to let you get away with murdering Doyle.
“You went wrong when you took him. That’s when your plan failed. But you’ll come up with a better one, clever little Firebird like you. Forget this before it goes too far.”
Willis was not even listening and it was Green, not Bodie, who stopped him.
“Not here, boss. Don’t do it here.”
Something snapped back into place in Willis’ brain, Bodie could almost hear it. He slid the gun from Doyle's mouth and stepped away from him.
“You’ve made a big mistake,” Willis said.
“Just let Ray go.”
“Be realistic. How can I do that?” He gave a silent command to Green.
Doyle was dragged to his feet. His arms were pulled back for handcuffing and his gasp of pain made everyone wince. Bodie didn’t think Ray would be able to handle much more of this kind of treatment.
Though that didn’t look like it was going to be an issue for much longer.
Bodie was cuffed as well and they were hustled from the cell. There did not seem to be anyone else about now. Just one car was left outside, parked with the van that had brought him. The four men remaining must be Willis’ most trusted. He wouldn’t want too many witnesses to this part.
They were put into the back of the van, Doyle slumped against the side, conscious but trying to catch his breath. When the door slammed shut and they started moving, they exchanged a surprised glance at having been left unguarded.
“Bodie,” Doyle hissed at him.
Bodie shook his head. He might be able to kick out the door at the next light and get himself out, which was what Doyle was telling him to do. If he was lucky, he would be able to get far enough away to avoid an MI6 bullet. But handcuffed he wouldn’t be able to help Doyle, and Doyle would not make it on his own. He already knew he wouldn’t be able to leave him.
“Don’t be an idiot,” Doyle said. “You know where we’re going, don’t you – “
“Leave it, Ray.”
The journey lasted for about half an hour and, when they were taken out of the van, they found themselves by the river in an area of disused warehouses and docks.
The moon still moved behind darkening clouds, bathing the sprawl of cracked concrete and rusting scrap iron in an eerie light. Bodie knew an execution site when he saw one.
“Now look,” he said, his breath visible in the sharp morning air. “You’ve made your point. Just let us go. Give us a head start and we’ll be out of the country in twenty four hours.”
No one paid any attention, and they were pushed forward to stand by the waterside. Ronson and two of the other agents took out their guns. Green and Willis, who had driven up in Willis’ car, looked on.
Doyle was struggling to keep upright and Bodie edged closer to him. “Last one in the water’s a rotten egg,” he whispered.
“That’s very funny,” Doyle replied, steadying himself against Bodie’s arm.
“Sorry, mate,”
“What for?”
“For getting you in to this.”
“Do you still think it’s your fault? I knew you were slow.”
Their fingers behind their backs curled together as the three men approached.
“Ey up,” Doyle said. “I don’t think we’re getting a last request.”
“I know. Bunch of amateurs.”
They were turned round and pushed down onto their knees. Bodie felt the barrel of a gun on the back of his neck. He steeled himself against his rising fear, readied himself for the inevitable bullet.
Suddenly, the air filled with the sound of car engines and police sirens. Brakes and tyres screeched and the MI6 men started running. Bodie shoved Doyle with his shoulder, bringing them both to the ground before the shooting started.
When the shooting stopped, Doyle wasn’t moving.
Cowley.
Cowley loomed over them like the angel of death. He was shouting for keys and ambulances but otherwise defying explanation. Doyle was freed from his handcuffs first and as soon as Bodie was out of his, he joined a small crowd that had gathered around the unconscious or dead man. All CI5 agents, he took a moment to note. Vic was there, kneeling over Doyle, checking for a pulse.
“Alive,” he said. Doyle’s eyes eventually opened, finding Bodie in the crowd. “All right,” Vic said to the others. “Piss off out of it, give him some air. Want to get up, Ray?”
Vic helped Doyle up and found somewhere for him to sit. One of the others brought a blanket to drape over his shoulders while they waited for the ambulance.
Bodie waited with him, taking in the scene. CI5 were running the show with the help of a bunch of woodentops. Willis and two other MI6 men were put into police cars. Green had been wounded again and Ronson was dead.
When Cowley stopped shouting orders, he came over. He looked ready for an argument.
“How did you find us?” Bodie asked.
“We’ve someone inside MI6.”
Betty.
Cowley put his hand on Doyle’s head, as if he were comforting a child. “All right laddie, we’ll soon have you sorted out.” Doyle looked alarmed.
“Look at the state of him,” Bodie spat. “I understand you cutting me out, but why him?”
“Events took their course,” Cowley said. “Unfortunately Doyle, you weren’t my first priority.”
“No,” Doyle said. “I’m just glad I was someone’s.”
“What events?” Bodie asked.
“Events which led to the accrual of sufficient evidence to remove Willis’ poison from MI6. A long-term objective successfully accomplished.”
Bodie reeled at this news. So this was nothing to do with him being a spy or an assassin. This was one of Cowley’s elephant traps, one of his long plans.
“You fucking, devious bastard.”
“I’ll ignore the profanity on this occasion, Bodie. The minister has authorised Willis’ arrest. We now have direct evidence of his tactics in respect of yourself, Doyle and Mrs Schuman. Who, by the way, we have under our protection.”
“You told Willis where we were hiding out.”
“Necessary I’m afraid if the case were to be conclusive.”
“You left a wounded man out in the field. Doyle could have been killed.”
“I understand you did the same, when you thought it expedient.”
“You didn’t give me a choice. You shut down every place where he might have been safe.”
“CI5’s security had been breached and –“
“No. You made a decision to keep the new locations from me.”
“Again, necessary to persuade Willis you were no longer associated with CI5, that you had lost its support.”
“We had lost its support.”
“Aye, you had. But if you had turned up at Mrs Schuman’s safe house mob-handed with a dozen CI5 men we would never have been able to draw Willis out as we did.”
“And how did you know we would follow the script? What made you so sure we wouldn’t sell out CI5 and take the money?”
“That’s why it had to be you two, Bodie. That’s why it had to be you.”
“So the East Germans, Marikka –“
“The opportunity I had been waiting for. I was able to assist events taking their course by allowing Willis to discover the connection between yourself and Mrs Schuman. He was only too willing to take the bait. He’s been working against me for some time.”
“I can’t imagine why.”
“There you are Bodie,” Doyle said. “I said you could trust him.” He breathed out a painful laugh. “I expect you’ll be wanting Bodie to make a statement, sir.”
“Won’t be possible, I’m leaving the country,” Bodie said. “As far as I’m concerned I’m a civilian. I think you’ve made that clear.”
Cowley regarded him sympathetically. “Perhaps an explanation is in order. Be in my office first thing tomorrow.”
“Yeah well,” Bodie said, bitterly. “I don’t know where your office is, do I?”
Cowley began to walk away. “That shouldn’t present a challenge to an investigator of your calibre.”
~~~
Bodie was sitting by Doyle’s empty hospital bed, eating his way through a packet of digestives when Doyle came back into the room.
“Oh yes, and where the bloody hell have you been?” Doyle demanded. He was wearing a dressing gown and drying his newly washed hair with a hospital towel.
“Morning sunshine,” Bodie said, beaming.
“Don’t you sunshine me. Leaving me here to fend for meself. I could have been on death’s door, for all you cared.”
“I was keeping track of you.” Bodie protested, all wounded innocence. “I phoned, I sent messages.”
“Cheers mate, there’s nothing like the personal touch. Every buggers been here except my own partner. Vic came every day, life and soul that he is. Even Cowley. I had a fortnight of Chuckles, moaning about you disappearing off the face of the earth.”
“I’m here now, aren’t I?”
“Great, I’m being discharged today. I’m fine now, I don’t need you now.”
“That’s nice, isn’t it. I brought you clothes. I’m here to take you home.”
Doyle peered into the bags Bodie had left on the bed for him.
“Well don’t go to any trouble.” But he smiled, a warm wide smile. It was good to see him some colour other than grey. “Anyway, you needn’t have bothered, Jax is coming.”
“No he isn’t, he thinks you’re coming out tomorrow.”
“Why does he -? Oh I see, you’ve been busy.” Bodie looked pleased with himself. “So, go on then, where have you been?”
“Keeping out of the way.”
“Yeah, I’d worked that much out. Why?”
Bodie shrugged. “See how Cowley likes it. Give him a taste of his own medicine.”
“He doesn’t like it. He was very clear about that.”
“Good.”
“So, that’s it?”
“I had some things to figure out.”
“And have you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought you might have gone for good,” Doyle said evenly.
He’d come close, that first angry day. He’d gone to his flat before they’d even thought of watching it, grabbed his passport and packed a bag.
“Are you fit, then? Ready to go?”
Doyle looked at him critically and then nodded. “Yep. Just got to get my prescription.” He opened one of the bags. “New clothes? Why didn’t you go to my flat?”
“They’re watching it, and mine and Kennington.”
“Who are. Not Six?”
“No, our lot. They’re looking for me.”
“Blimey, we must be short on international terrorists.”
“There’s not much of a case against Willis without me.” Bodie nodded at the bags. “They’re all right, aren’t they? I know you normally get your clothes out of a skip but I thought these would work.”
Doyle tipped the jeans, shirt and underwear on to the bed. “Sure.” He took out a dark blue denim jacket from the second bag. Bodie was not going to admit how long it had taken him to choose it. Ever. “I like this. I’ll pay you back for this lot.”
“Steady son, you’ll do yourself another mischief.”
He watched Doyle dressing, wary of his bandaged arm but with something of his old whipcord energy returned.
“Here, catch.” He threw him his CI5 ID card. Doyle smiled when he realised what it was.
“I wondered what had happened to this. Have you still got yours?”
Bodie shrugged again.
Prescription filled, they walked out into the car park.
“New car?” Doyle asked.
“ish.”
“So, where are we going?”
“Your flat. Well I’ll boot you out within a reasonable distance and you can walk the rest of the way.”
“Nope.”
“No? Where do you want to go then? The zoo?”
“Yeah, if that’s where you’ve been staying and I wouldn’t be surprised.”
“I was going to show you where I’ve been staying,” Bodie said. “But I thought you’d want to rest for a couple of days first.”
“If you won’t go to my flat, I don’t want to go there either.”
That simple.
Bodie started the car and negotiated them out of the hospital gates. Doing a couple of circuits to check for tails, he headed south.
“I’ve got us a new safe house.”
“Where?”
“Elephant. Cowley doesn’t know about it. And he won’t.”
Doyle looked at him sharply. “Are you sure you want me to know where it is?”
“Fair question. Sometimes I go looking for reasons not to trust people.”
“Understandable when I was wearing a wire and following you around.”
“Forget about that, I already said.”
He turned off the main road into a maze of residential streets that had so far escaped the drive to concrete over the entire postcode. He stopped the car outside a Victorian double-fronted terraced house.
“Studio flat in the attic,” he said as he led Doyle up the lino-covered stairs. “Its even smaller than the other one, but it comes with it’s own garage, out the back.”
He watched Doyle taking it all in. A small room but filled with light from a large skylight. The kitchen units and appliances were built into one corner, the bed was against the opposite wall. There were a couple of armchairs around a gas heater and a small round table with two chairs.
“Is that new paint?” Doyle asked. “Is this what you’ve been doing instead of –?”
“- coming to see you, yes. No reason why it should be a hovel.”
The room had been lined with loudly colourful wallpaper stained with nicotine and, with nothing to do except avoid Cowley, he got pots of ivory coloured paint and obliterated the paper in a couple of coats. Spurred on, he had cleaned the windows, scrubbed the ill-used kitchen and bathroom with military thoroughness and got a couple of rugs to cover the dingy carpet. The furniture and furnishings were a reminder of its fading rental status but these could be put right in time.
“This is a step up for us,” Doyle said. “Mind if I stay then, for a couple of days.”
Bodie tossed the keys to him. “It’s yours as much as mine.”
Doyle looked at the keys in his hand and then turned to Bodie, giving him the same all encompassing inspection he had just given the room. “So what does this mean? I got the impression you were chucking in the job?”
His anger had not dampened down, he did not appreciate playing a key part in an operation nobody bothered to tell him about. Did not accept that it was okay to leave a wounded agent out in the field.
He had sat in his car in the airport car park for an hour on that first day, and then checked out the flights to Argentina. If it hadn’t been for -. Well, he hadn’t gone. Something kept him here. Someone.
There was only one cord keeping him attached to the surface of this strange moon. Only one cord but it was unbreakable
“I haven’t spent all these years keeping you alive to let you wander off on your own.”
Doyle grinned. “Right then.”
“If you’re staying I’ll get some food in.”
“Yeah, and?”
“And I’ll phone Cowley. Not that he deserves it.”
“Reverse the charges, that’ll be punishment enough.”
Cowley had been pleased to hear from him. He could tell by the extreme sarcasm. He had, in the end, been glad to talk to the old man too.
When he came back to the flat, he found Doyle had gone to bed. He was sleeping with his uninjured arm thrown carelessly back across the pillow, a tangle of hair framing his face. Preoccupied by a dream his brow furrowed, his lips turned downward. He was, as ever, ridiculously appealing.
Bodie quietly put away the shopping and sat watching him for a while from the edge of the bed. He had time now. Time to piece things together. He wondered if he and Ray had, with the unwanted help of Reg Willis, finally figured things out.
He undressed down to his underwear and got into the bed. Hesitating for a moment, he turned on to his side and reached an arm around Doyle.
Doyle woke slowly. Without opening his eyes, he gathered Bodie in. Bodie felt the brush of a kiss, and a sleepy laugh as warm breath through his hair.
