Lawful Entry
by Never Walk
Chapter One
"Look, sir, I do think this is a job for an experienced cat-man," Bodie argued. He knew that breaking into the houses of a foreign diplomat and a munitions tycoon all by himself didn't bode well for his success on this assignment. And considering that the last man who had broken into those two houses, Sammy Blaydon, had been assassinated, this assignment didn't bode well for his life expectancy either, sentinel or not. Besides, what was a sentinel without a guide? He could barely control his hyperactive senses. Often, he wouldn't use his senses in order to reduce the possibility of a zone-out since, with his job, zones also threatened to drastically shorten his lifespan.
"Yes, but unfortunately," Cowley groused, "I don't have many cat-men on my squad, Bodie. We have to get into those two houses. I have to know what it was that Sammy saw. You have to get in quickly, quietly, and find it."
From the door to the late Inspector Truitt's office, Sergeant Garbett offered, "I may know someone who could help..."
His arms crossed over his chest, Bodie reclined in the passenger seat of the sergeant's motor. "And who are we waiting for?"
The sergeant glanced in the side mirror again before answering, "An old mate of Sammy's. Used to be in the same business, but he retired a few years ago. Became an artist." Garbett gestured up to the worn-down building to their left. "His studio is in there."
"Then why don't we go in?" Bodie asked.
"He won't be there yet."
Bodie's left eyebrow quirked up.
"Before you ask," Garbett smiled, "he's clean. Now. But I like to keep an eye on him."
"Likely to get back in the business?"
"Nah. I don't know how he got in the business to start." Instantly, his grin widened, "This is him." Climbing out of the car, Garbett turned towards the curly-haired man swaggering closer.
"Sergeant Garbett. Been a while," the man spoke easily.
Bodie exited the car and moved around to join the other two men, studying the newcomer. The wind blew the curls out of his face and made the green eyes squint; however, that didn't hide the cautious way he watched both the officer and the CI5 agent, especially the latter.
For some reason, Bodie felt a twinge of recognition with the former thief, but he was quite sure he had never met this man before. No chance he could have forgotten those curls, those eyes, and that broken right cheekbone.
"Ray," Garbett nodded. "This is Bodie, CI5. Bodie, Ray Doyle."
Doyle slightly nodded, but didn't let his guard down. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" A telling look passed between Doyle and Garbett, but Bodie couldn't read it, despite the overpowering desire to do so.
Garbett actually looked apologetic in response to the look from Doyle. "Sammy Blaydon snuffed it."
There was a tiny flicker in Doyle's eyes. "I heard. I also heard you got the one who did him."
Bodie finally spoke up, "Only the one who pulled the trigger."
Doyle seemed to consider that. "What does that have to do with me? Hadn't seen Sammy in years."
"We think that he saw something on a job that was important enough to send a hitman after him," the agent answered.
Bodie could see the instant that Doyle realized why they had approached him. "Retired, didn't I?"
"I thought Sammy was your mate." Bodie replied in a cold tone. Two flaming green eyes burned into him. He could swear he heard the artist's heartbeat thunder along, but that was impossible. He couldn't listen to a heartbeat without concentrating, and he certainly wasn't focusing on it at the moment. Offhanded, Bodie wondered if Doyle was a guide, but with the other man downwind, Bodie couldn't get a scent on him.
"I'm not a cat-man anymore. Out of practice."
"Ray," Garbett laid a hand on Doyle's shoulder, and Bodie had to restrain the irrational urge to growl at the sergeant. "They need your help."
Doyle considered him a moment. "You know the jobs?"
"Yeah, Marge set them up."
Grimacing, Ray loudly exhaled.
"Oh, I'd forgotten. It's been three years since you've been to see Marge, hasn't it?" Garbett's mock disappointment did nothing to hide his amusement. "She misses you, you know."
Doyle turned a glare on the officer, and Bodie couldn't help but agree with the sentiment. Marge was the only woman he could recall that hadn't fallen victim to the classic Bodie charm. She had barely acknowledged him when Garbett introduced them, and she simply refused to give Bodie any information. If Garbett hadn't been there to ask the questions, Bodie would most likely still be trying to get her to even look at him!
"When?"
"Tonight."
"Am I going in alone?"
Bodie shook his head. "No. It'll be the two of us."
Doyle's eyes widened before he could hide his reaction. "I work alone."
Usually, Bodie did too, but he found himself actually looking forward to working with Doyle on this assignment. "Not this time, goldilocks."
Another silence ensued until Ray finally broke it. "Marge's at half past eight...if I decide to do it." After a quick nod to Garbett, Doyle disappeared into the building without a glance back.
For some reason, Bodie could feel that leaving Doyle was wrong in a fundamental way. An inner voice was ordering him to follow the artist inside and guard him, but Bodie ignored it. Instead, he climbed back into the passenger seat, waiting for the sergeant to retake his place in the motor.
It wasn't until they were turning onto another street that a delicious scent permeated the air around Bodie, catching his complete attention. Following the scent to Garbett's hand, the same hand he'd touched Doyle with, Bodie couldn't stop the growl that sounded.
"Stop the car."
What the bloody hell was Garbett thinking when he brought a sentinel--an unbonded sentinel--to Ray's door? Garbett knew that Doyle was an unbonded guide, and, more importantly, Garbett knew that Ray wanted to stay that way!
Shaking his head, Doyle slumped on the couch he kept in the corner of his studio. He needed a moment to clear the insistent buzzing in his head that cried out for him to offer a bond to Bodie, no matter what he personally wanted.
Bloody guide mentality.
Ray closed his eyes and concentrated on pushing away the buzzing in his head, but it only grew stronger. Now, there's a thing.
It didn't take long for the reason to present itself, though. Mere seconds later, the door to his studio flew open and a feral-looking Bodie loomed, his eyes instantly focused on Ray.
Cursing under his breath, Doyle didn't need to ask what the agent wanted; it was clearly written on the determined face. But, as further evidence, Bodie blatantly sniffed the air with a pleased smirk dancing over his lips.
"Guide."
If there was any doubt, that certainly settled it. Ray slowly inched towards the open window that led to the fire escape, knowing full well that he wouldn't be allowed to reach it, but having to try. "Sentinel."
Bodie stepped into the studio, slamming the door shut behind him and setting the lock--something Ray really should have done himself earlier.
Doyle tried to think of something that could distract a sentinel intent on bonding, but nothing came to mind. Well, nothing that wouldn't end up with said intent sentinel pinning him to the floor sooner rather than later.
Giving a mental shrug, Ray spun and raced towards the window, intending to throw himself onto the fire escape, but his feet never left the floor. From one second to the next, Ray found himself face down with a compatible sentinel possessively snuffling his curls. Any thoughts of resistance faded to the background before they could fully form, but Doyle still managed a single desperate surge to try and throw the heavier man off before his guide instincts took over. He'd known that it wouldn't work, but Ray was still disappointed with the lack of success.
"Guide," the sentinel whispered before licking the soft skin beneath the lobe of Ray's ear.
The guide automatically trembled and tilted his head to offer more of his flesh for his soon-to-be-sentinel to taste. Inside his head, Ray struggled with the inevitable, but his body simply wouldn't cooperate; it was all too pleased to passively wait to be claimed and bonded by the blue-eyed sentinel.
Teeth lightly nibbled the curve of the guide's neck, drawing a shudder from both men. Instantly, the sentinel growled, "Bond."
Obediently, the guide opened his mind, welcoming his sentinel to claim every inch. Ray continued to resist, but soon surrendered as the thoughts of his sentinel warmly wrapped around him, promising that all would be perfect between them. With his sentinel fully accepted into his mind, the guide could feel the bond take form and knew that neither of them would ever be alone again.
That last, comforting thought went with Ray into oblivion, as he closed his eyes and let his sentinel watch over him.
The sentinel could feel his guide fall asleep, but couldn't bring himself to climb off just yet. The scent of his guide was still far too tempting to resist, especially when he knew he needn't; that irresistible scent--and the equally irresistible man--belonged to Bodie now. Completely.
Grinning, Bodie finally stood up. He reached down to pull his guide up, then carried the sleeping form over to the couch in the corner. It was drenched in his guide's scent, implying that Doyle spent a great deal of time lounging on it.
Once his guide was situated among the cushions and had a full pillow beneath his head, Bodie went in search of food. Bonding obviously brought out his appetite. Inconspicuously positioned beside the couch, a mini-fridge called to him, but all it held within was a few lagers and the last of a loaf of bread. And judging by the scent, he didn't want to risk taking a bite.
Despite the distinct lack of food for his stomach, Bodie couldn't remove the smile from his face. He was bonded and his guide was sleeping peacefully just a foot away. Speaking of...Bodie lay down on top of Doyle with great joy, covering his guide's body with his own. He shifted slightly, nuzzling along Ray's jaw until his head finally came to rest on the pillow beside the mass of curls.
Doyle couldn't understand why he was so warm and heavy; his entire body felt cocooned.
Had he fallen asleep beneath a thick blanket?
No. No blanket was thick enough to hold him so completely immobile, despite his best efforts to shift over.
Sniffling, he forcibly ignored the irritating voice in his head that kept telling him that everything was just as it should be, and pried his eyes open, only to have his vision blocked by a head of short, dark hair.
"Shit."
The instant he felt his guide awaken, Bodie waited impatiently to see how Doyle would respond to the situation. He kept himself stock-still, his body covering Ray's and his face buried in the hollow of his guide's neck.
Beneath him, Ray shifted a moment before whispering a single expletive, and Bodie couldn't stop his smile.
"I certainly hope you're pleased with yourself," Doyle grumbled, shoving the CI5 agent away.
Refusing to move off his guide, Bodie did retreat enough to lean on his elbows. "Inordinately." Bodie's grin was met by the most endearing scowl he'd ever seen, though, he couldn't help but wonder if the newly-formed bond was responsible for such a fanciful thought or something else. "Would be more pleased if you had some food around here."
"What do you think this is? A transport caf?"
"Hmm. Imagine, sunshine, half-a-pound of broiled minced beef, sesame bun, sliced onion, assorted relishes."
Doyle's empty stomach answered for him. "You're buying."
Chapter Two: The Dealer
Ray sat at Bodie's table and immediately started on his takeaway burger, his eyes occasionally darting across the table to look at his sentinel. He still couldn't believe it--his sentinel. How it had happened, Doyle still wasn't sure, but there was no going back. No removing the bond that connected Bodie to him so completely that he'd actually felt the need to reassure Bodie that he wouldn't run off when they stopped for takeaway.
Honestly, it had been entertaining to watch Bodie's internal war: providing food for his guide versus protecting his guide. Whether to go inside and get the takeaway, leaving Doyle alone since the guide couldn't be allowed around so many strangers who might mean him harm, or to remain with Doyle, forgoing the meal.
Finally, after eliciting a promise from Doyle that he would lock the doors and use the spare gun that Bodie had taped under the seat if anyone approached, Bodie went inside to get the food. And Doyle decided to be understanding of the CI5 agent continually looking out the restaurant window to check on him, as well as the fact that the total amount of time that Bodie was out of the motor implied that he'd pulled his gun on the waitress to speed things along. In fact, Ray had only made a handful of cracks about it on the ride to Bodie's flat. Honest.
But now they needed to get to business. "What are the jobs?" Ray abruptly asked.
"Eh?"
"The jobs. Tonight. What are they?"
Surprise registered on Bodie's face for an instant before his expression became unreadable. "I thought you'd want to talk about us."
"Saving that for later. First, I want to know about tonight."
Easily slipping into the agent persona, Bodie answered, "Two houses. A munitions dealer and a foreign diplomat."
"Any idea what we're looking for?"
"Something worth killing over."
Doyle bit a chip, taking the time to think. "And Marge has the rundown on each?"
"Yeah. Hope she likes you more than me, or we'll get nothing from her."
"That won't be the problem," Ray answered.
"You didn't seem too happy to hear Garbett mention Marge's name earlier. Why?"
"You'll see."
"Ray, love!" Marge drew Doyle into her arms.
Proud of himself for not physically separating the woman from his guide, Bodie nudged Doyle to sit down on the end of the sofa, only to have his planned spot next to Ray usurped by the dealer. He caught a sly glance from the other man before being forced to sit on the far side of the sofa beside Marge.
"It's been too long, Marge," Ray grinned, laying it on too thick as far as Bodie was concerned.
"It has, lover. Where have you been? I've not seen you since Syd snuffed it."
The change in Doyle was instantaneous; his entire manner closed off, and Bodie wanted to know why. "Didn't seem much point after."
Now Bodie really wanted to know.
"I figured that for early retirement," Marge argued, "but you could still have come to see me, love."
Ready to beat the information out of the woman, Bodie opened his mouth to ask the question burning in his thoughts.
But Ray spoke first. "Yeah. Sorry, Marge."
"Well, at least you're here now."
Bodie took the opportunity to join the conversation. "And we've got a job to do. Marge, can we see the floor plans?"
"You know," Marge glared at him from the corner of her eye, "I haven't made up my mind about you yet, sonny boy. Pretty enough, yes, but you've got shifty eyes."
"Believe me, Marge, you can trust him," Doyle easily responded.
Fully turning her attention back to Ray, she smiled. "If you say so, dear. Only if you say so."
Not believing his ears, Bodie blinked at the two of them. What the bloody hell was going on here?
And, more importantly, how was Marge putty in Ray's hands while she was immune to the famous Bodie charm?!?
Chapter Three: Cat-Men at Work
Sir Lionel Laviton, the millionaire industrialist, was the first house Bodie and Doyle were going to break into, as Laviton and his wife were supposed to go out to a party. The diplomat, Kammahmi, was staying in for the night; not good news as far as Ray was concerned, but he'd worry about that after doing the industrialist's place. Ray stood perched at the windowsill of Laviton's house, Bodie sitting on a nearby ledge. Dressed in black shirts and pants, they were both part of the surrounding night.
"Remember what Marge said," Doyle whispered, "cupboards and drawers. No pictures, no safes. And look out for the pressure pads under the carpets."
"Yeah, I remember."
Pushing up the window, Ray crawled in, followed immediately by Bodie. Their torches at the ready, they moved through towards the Lavitons' bedroom to begin their search.
"I wish to hell I knew what I was looking for," Bodie whispered, before stopping dead in his tracks. "They didn't go to the party!"
Doyle followed Bodie's gaze to the elderly couple sleeping in their bed.
"Let's go!" Bodie softly ordered, already moving back towards the window they'd snuck in.
"Hang on." The light from Ray's torch traveled over the couple to their night table, where he noticed an opened medicine bottle. "Sleeping tablets. We might be alright."
A slight nod. "Right, let's go." Except this time Bodie led Doyle further into the house to continue searching for whatever Sammy saw.
"Go ahead."
Bodie glanced at his guide, casually walking down the sidewalk with him towards Kammahmi's house. They'd already checked in with Anson and the others on the observation team, letting them know that Laviton's place was clean. Whatever they were looking for had to be at Kammahmi's. "Eh?"
"I know you want to know, so just ask."
He didn't need to be told twice. "Who's Syd?"
"Syd Parker. He was my partner; a good cat-man and a good friend." Doyle hesitated for a moment, but Bodie didn't ask the obvious question, knowing that Ray would continue when he was ready. "He taught me everything I know. A right tearaway I was, cutting up another kid when I was just a kid myself. But I got away with it, every time. Then Syd found me and I decided to use my luck for something else. Something less dangerous. Late one night on a job, Syd and I split up. The owner of the house woke up and found Syd; shot him. After that, I got out of the business. Went straight."
Bodie remained silent, unsure of what to say.
Ray huffed out a laugh, "Believe it or not, I actually considered joining the fuzz. Thought I needed some discipline, but figured the artistic lifestyle could account for a little loose living."
"Now we know that that one's the prize package, don't we?" Bodie gestured towards Kammahmi's house, hesitant to go inside now that he knew whatever got Sammy killed was in there.
Doyle nodded slightly, already moving towards the house, "Yeah, well let's get it over and done with, shall we?"
Together, they crept through the darkened rooms, checking every drawer and cupboard along the way. And as they moved from room to room, Bodie never let Doyle out of his sight.
In the library, Bodie was flipping through an adult magazine he'd found on the desk when he heard Ray whisper, "Oy!"
The CI5 agent turned to see his guide pulling open a hidden door behind a bookcase. Hurrying over to him, Bodie wondered how Ray, with his normal sight, had seen the door.
"Sorry to drag you away," Doyle grinned.
"It's fine; I've got it." Not that he needed all the pictures of girls anymore now that he had his Ray.
Doyle gestured to a piece of foil he'd taped over a magnetic sensor on the door--a security measure to alarm the owner of the house when the door was opened. His Ray must have been a very good little thief, Bodie thought with pride.
Moving into the hidden room, Ray found several packages of heroin, ready to be sold. They'd finally found what had gotten Sammy killed. Now to get out of there.
From the corner of his eye, Bodie noticed another sensor on the other side of the door that neither man had seen before. Bloody hell. Clearing his throat, Bodie drew Doyle's attention to the sensor.
Ray sighed. "Told you I was out of practice."
Instantly, the lights came on and they turned to see four men, two with guns, watching them. Bodie subtly moved forward to protect Doyle with his body, but his guide would have none of that; instead, Ray moved further up towards the man with the gun standing furthest away.
"Breaking and entering two nights in a row. Really," a gangly, well-dressed man smirked. "It's too bad. You know the increasing crime is rather worrying. Even diplomatic residences appear to be no longer immune from intruders."
"They're not when you have a dope factory in the pantry," Bodie replied.
The gangly one looked terribly smug as he ordered, "Finish them. Now"
The fourth man who'd been standing closest to the door rushed forward. "Are you crazy?"
"It's the logical place."
"Not in my house!" the fourth man shouted, pushing the gun aimed at Doyle down to the floor.
Bodie didn't hesitate as he rushed the closest gunman, throwing a strong right hook that left the man lying on the carpet. The sentinel spun around to help his guide when he saw Doyle deliver a punch to the kidneys of the gunman he'd pinned, face first, to the wall. Mildly surprised and overwhelmingly pleased that his guide could defend himself, Bodie glanced around the rest of the room to see the obvious diplomat sprawled on the floor, and the gangly man ducking out the door.
"Get a window!" Ray shouted, finishing off his gunman.
Squatting down, Bodie pulled the gun in his ankle-holster and shot out a window, essentially calling in the cavalry waiting outside. Anson and the others could clean up here. Now, for the one that got away. Without needing to confer with each other, Bodie and Doyle both took off after the gangly one.
They gave chase down the darkened street, Bodie keeping his sight on the villain, though before the two of them could catch the gangly man, Marge's two bodyguards had him in their grasp. It seemed strangely anticlimactic. Bodie reached over to pull Ray to a stop; he had no intention of allowing Marge near his guide again. She was much too familiar and affectionate with him for Bodie's peace of mind.
"What?" Doyle asked, slightly out of breath.
"Marge has him."
Ray simply nodded. "Now what?"
"Now you and I discuss how, from now on, you're going to stay behind me when guns are pointed at us."
A chipped tooth peeked at him when Doyle grinned. "Do you honestly think that's going to happen?"
"I'm an optimist."
-- THE END --
June 2007
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