(Written for the_safehouse livejournal community "title" challenge (title: "Good News Bad News" by David Wolstencroft))


Good news, bad news, all the news that's fit to print and a good deal more. And on page 37, a small advertisement concerning the recovery of 'valuable property' from an address in Wapping that gave Cowley, and therefore Bodie, sudden hope. Hope that the plans for a new Anglo-American V/STOL jet fighter were still in the country. And hope, ever so faint, that Doyle was alive.

So now Bodie was standing flat and silent against a warehouse wall, sweating slightly, while harsh voices barked from inside the building and the meaty sound of fist on flesh slapped his ears.

Hold on. Won't do him any good if you go in too early. Hold on, Ray.

A moment later Murphy chucked a smoke canister through the opposite window and Bodie charged, yelling for Doyle to get down, get away. Moving from one concrete pillar to the next, firing as he went at the men who had been caught flat footed, turning to face completely the wrong direction. Caught between the two agents, Doyle's captors either died in the storm of fire or were lucky enough to quickly throw themselves to the ground and cast their weapons away as a sign of surrender. It was over in less than a minute.

The smoke spread out as the sluggish wind caught hold of it, blanketing the area worse than fog. While Murphy covered the still living and called for back-up, Bodie looked about. Doyle lay half-hidden where he'd wriggled behind a stack of crates, his hands still bound behind his back. Heart thumping, an odd wrenching feeling in his gut, Bodie checked him for wounds and was glad to find only bruising.

"Good news mate, you'll live."

"Great. About time you got here. Untie me, willya?"

Bodie grinned elatedly. I must be crazy. "Oh no, angelfish, not quite yet."

Relief gave him a crazy courage. He bent down and in the shadow-light his lips took firm possession of his astonished partner's mouth.

THE END?

July 2005