We'd managed to solve the case we were working on, and keep ourselves in one piece. Though we broke every rule in the book to do it. But as my partner nearly put it to the Old Man--fortunately I stomped on his foot in the nick of time--"Since when do we have Rules???"

I say "fortunately" because we were, however provisionally, on the carpet at the time, for the aforesaid rule-ignoring, among other items.

"Did it ever occur to either of you to do what I tell you?" the Old Man had fixed us both with one of Those Glares. I'd always said that the MOD could have bottled those Glares for the National Defense. One of Himself's looks would frighten any self-respecting ICBM into a rest home for Terminally Bewildered Missiles.

So, aloud I said, properly respectful, "All the time, Sir." It was the truth--near enough.

"The situation changed very, ah, rapidly, Sir," my partner chimed in. Which it had, and we'd gone in accordingly. Even if it was a bit early according to Himself's orders.

"So it did." He still sounded disapproving, but--a good sign--had leaned back in his chair. My partner shot me a look that plainly said, "Has he mellowed?" and I risked nodding slightly.

"Yes, Sir," we chorused, respectfully.

For a moment he seemed about to sit up and let us have it; it wouldn't have been the first time. But then the ominous frown disappeared, replaced by that oh so charming grin. "You broke every rule in the book."

I could see my partner--Mr. Tact--was about to say something that was very likely disastrous, so I stomped on his foot and smiled sweetly. "In a good cause, Sir."

That earned me a highly raised eyebrow. "That's as may be, but if either of you disobey direct orders about reporting in again, you'll both be watching trawlers in the Outer Hebrides for the rest of your lives. Understood?"

"Understood, Sir."

He was still sort of half-smiling, though, and I figured we'd got off lightly.

"Well, what are you standing there for? Go turn your reports in." He shoved his glasses back up his nose and went back to signing papers. We zoomed for the doorway, almost reaching the sanctuary of the outer office when his voice reached our shell-like ears once more. "And don't show your faces around here until Tuesday. I trust you'll have no difficulty obeying that order."

Frankly, we'd hit the stairs before he'd quite gotten to 'order.' At CI5 we don't take any sort of leave time lightly, let alone four days worth. It's always wise to move fast after it's been given--no time for the Old Man to change his mind that way!

Outside it was one of those clear, sunny days we are sometimes gifted with, even in London. I stretched, happily savouring my freedom.

"Did you have to stomp on me quite that hard? I won't be able to walk for a week," my partner sighed and regarded his foot with one of his patented outraged expressions.

"You were going to say something that would have landed us with four days compiling manpower stats, prat. Isn't a bit of pain worth time off?" I didn't sound a bit sympathetic, probably because I wasn't. "Besides," --here I did one of my patented leers-- "the plans I have for us, dearie, you won't have to do any walking. At least, not with your feet."

He brightened considerably at that. "Well...in that case.... You know," he went on, with the air of one who's just discovered radium, "the old bastard's not so bad--one can almost say he's mellowed the last couple of years."

"No kidding?" I took his arm and dragged him off, "Let's go, before he realizes we're still hanging about."

So, off we went, as they say. I did have to--albeit silently--agree with my partner, though; despite being the chief of CI5, the old bastard Bodie wasn't all that terrible.

Not that I'd ever admit it out loud--Bodie'd scowl, then do one of Those Glares, and as for Colin--the silly fool'd spend the next eight centuries smirking. So don't you say anything. OK?

-- THE END --

(c) 1984, Tales of the Blue Elf Publishing, Ltd