The Professionals Circuit Archive - Holding On       Holding On

 

by Rhianne 

 
 *Hold on,
 Hold on to yourself,
 For this is gonna hurt like hell.
 Hold on,
 Hold on to yourself,
 You know that only time will tell.*
   Hold On - Sarah McLachlan.


 *Prologue*

 *Thursday 17th October 1981
 8.23am*

 Pain.

 At times a merciful dull ache, at others burning agony, but always
present – taunting him, weakening him.

 Every laboured breath sent a knife through his chest, and as he shivered
from the cold and damp he wondered idly if pneumonia would set in.

 They had left him alone for a while, and he was at least thankful for
that. He tried to use the silence to gather what was left of his strength,
preparing himself for when they would return – but it was getting harder.

 Long since abandoning all hope of escaping on his own, he had been forced
just to wait and endure.

 At first he’d been confident that they would find him, that his partner
would not rest until he was safe. But now his resolve was weakening, each
bout of dizziness feeding the little voice inside of him who wanted it to
be over, whatever the cost. Not even his partner was a miracle worker, and
there was no guarantee that CI5 would be able to work out the weak clue
he’d managed to provide.

 The pain increased again as another coughing fit racked his body, and as
the man shut his eyes, something his boss had once said drifted out of his
memory.

 *Sometimes the only way to fight is to survive.*

 ‘I’m trying, Bodie,’ he thought desperately…

 ******

*Hey, your glass is empty,
 It's a hell of a long way home.
 Why don't you let me take you,
 It's no good to go alone.
 I never would have opened up,
 But you seem so real to me.
 After all the bullshit I've heard
 It's refreshing not to see,
 I don't have to pretend
 He doesn't expect it from me.*
   -Good Enough - Sarah McLachlan.

 
*Tuesday 15th October 1981
 10.53pm*

 Doyle sank back into his chair and took a sip of coffee, only to spit it
back out and promptly dump the rest in the sink across the room.

 "Jesus, Bodie! Did you never learn to make proper coffee?"

 "Now why would I when I’ve got you to do it for me?" Bodie reached over
and picked up the newspaper he’d discarded earlier, idly thinking about
trying the crossword again.

 ‘Seven down, ten letters - ‘To be licentious’. Re-reading the clue that
had stumped him the first time, he changed his mind in disgust and threw
the paper back on the table. Bodie refused to give Doyle the satisfaction
of asking him, pretty certain that his partner would provide the correct
answer with a grin and a put-down.

 Doyle grinned as he sat down. "Say that again when I’m properly awake."
He leaned forward, rubbing his eyes in an effort to wake up.

 "You do look as if you’ve been lacking beauty sleep, sunshine."

 "Hey, you try living my life the last few months and still look as good
as this." Doyle glanced into the cracked mirror above the sink. Running
one hand through his hair he smirked at the man who smirked back at him.
Green eyes set off by a slight tan gave him a healthy glow, and the once
broken cheekbone enhanced rather than marred the attractive features.
Still, just lately his eyes had a tired edge to them. Nothing that a few
days rest wouldn’t fix, he decided.

 Bodie grinned, acceding the point.

 Pulling his attention back to the window he was supposed to be watching,
Bodie saw exactly what he had been seeing constantly since the stakeout
began – nothing. They had been there for hours, cataloguing who came and
went at the house opposite, which had taken all of five minutes, and now
boredom had completely set in.

 The last couple of months had been unusually hectic, more so for Doyle
than for Bodie, and he was tired enough. At least half of CI5 had been
working on uncovering an arms dealing ring that had been operating in and
around London for the past six months. A rash of crimes involving special
types of guns had initially attracted George Cowley’s attention and where
Cowley led, his squad were paid to follow. After careful work, they had
tracked the guns back to a night-club that the group was using to cover
their tracks.

 It had been Doyle’s job to go undercover, infiltrating the night club in
order to get the proof that they needed. He had started off working behind
the bar, settling well into the role, and quickly building up the respect
of the club’s owners. Although he had never become part of the gang
itself, his favoured position with David and Jason Cane, the brother’s in
charge, had given him the freedom to snoop around. After a month
undercover Doyle had gathered the proof that he needed.

 During that month Bodie, Lewis and Murphy had been working surveillance
and backing up Doyle whilst conducting their own investigation. Although
Doyle’s cover had never been blown, the knowledge that every night he
spent in the club had grated at Bodie. He had missed his partner’s company
during the investigation, and had been more concerned for Doyle's welfare
than he would have liked to admit, especially after they had found the
body of Thomas Mason, beaten to death because he had dared to speak out
against Cane’s illegal activities.

 Bodie would never reveal just how uneasy he always became when he was
unable to personally watch his partner’s back. A slight man in comparison,
Doyle was fiercely defensive because his size belied his strength and
people often underestimated him, taunting him about his abilities. Bodie
knew from personal experience how angry Doyle would get at any hint that
his own partner thought he could not take care of himself.

 Despite his reservations, the operation had ended safely. Only when it
came time for CI5 to officially move in did the Cane’s find out who Ray
Doyle really was – and by then it was too late. There was, however, a
cloud with the silver lining – in the ensuing firefight younger brother
Jason Cane and a few others escaped much to Cowley’s disgust, though the
capture of older brother David placated him slightly.

 Both Bodie and Doyle had seen how angry Cowley was at losing Jason, and
had expected his anger to be directed at them as usual. But Cowley had
simply asked for their reports and given them the rest of the day off as
reward for their previous hard work. Then he had assigned them this
surveillance job, his way of allowing them a few days rest, though
personally Bodie would have preferred actual days off to this forced
inactivity. Bodie hated surveillance operations, and at first had tried to
work out what he might have done to annoy Cowley, but after seeing the
relief flicker across Doyle’s face at the assignment, realised just how
tired Ray was, and didn’t mention his aversion.

 Of course, he had decided that Doyle owed him for that, and even more
when he had discovered that not only did he have to keep watch over a
house where nothing was happening, but that they were also expected to
baby-sit one of the newest agents, Michael Johnson. After a new agent had
gone through training Cowley assigned him or her to the quiet assignments
at first, shadowing the more experienced teams while they were finding
their feet within the Squad. Thankfully, Bodie and Doyle rarely pulled
those quiet assignments and so had little to do with the newer agents –
until now. Johnson had an impressive build, and an air of menace that
could prove useful to CI5, though probably if on show to the general
public. Taller and bulkier than Bodie himself, the comparison between
Johnson and Doyle was almost absurd, but Bodie would lay odds that Doyle
could beat the man in a straight fight.

 Still tired despite the previous afternoon off, there was little of the
easy conversation between them that was usually present, and although it
didn’t really bother Bodie, he decided that he should probably make an
effort for Johnson’s sake. It was when turning to begin a conversation
that he saw Doyle, his head lolling to one side as he dozed off in his
chair. Grinning, he leaned forward, nudged his leg and Doyle shot upright
with a start, curly hair flying as he looked for any danger. Bodie
laughed.

 "Relax, sunshine."

 Doyle slumped down in his chair and yawned. "Sorry, Bodie. Oh, I’m
shattered. If the Cow thinks this is supposed to be restful…"

 Bodie thought about making some kind of comment about Doyle’s stamina,
but at the miserable look on his face took pity on him. "Look Ray, we’re
stuck here all night anyway, why don’t you get your head down for a couple
of hours?"

 "Maybe later, when they're asleep and nothing else is likely to happen."

 "Doyle, you’re out on your feet. What good are you going to be if this
all blows up tonight? I’d quite like the man who’s guarding my back to be
awake while he does it."

 Doyle grinned back at him. "Yeah, we wouldn’t want that. Heaven knows you
need someone guarding you’re back the amount of trouble you get into." He
laughed and carried on before Bodie could retaliate. "Alright, Bodie.
Look, I’ll go get us some food, then I’ll come back and get some sleep."

 Doyle turned to the blond man sitting quietly in the corner. "Mike, you
want anything particular?"

 "No, whatever you get is fine."

 As Doyle stood and turned to leave Bodie spoke up again. "Don’t I get a
say in what I eat?"

 Ray grinned and prodded his partner in the stomach. "Not likely. It’s
about time I introduced you to healthy food."

 Deciding that his coat wouldn't be warm enough, Doyle stole Bodie's black
leather jacket off the chair and headed for the door.

 "Doyle, what…?"

 At the questioning tone in his partner's voice Doyle grinned again and
turned back.

 "Take it as a compliment, Bodie. After five years together I've finally
got you in clothes I'd be happy to be seen in. This is a vast improvement
on the suits that I remember."

 Grinning, Bodie pushed Doyle through the doorway, and as his partner
started on the stairs, Bodie opened a window and breathed in the fresh
night air. He shivered suddenly, not just from the cold. He was well aware
that Cowley’s supposedly quiet operations had a nasty habit of blowing up
in everyone’s faces, and his instincts were telling him that this would be
no different. Bodie wondered just what would go wrong this time.

 For the first time that day, Michael moved off of the sofa, putting his
hands in his pockets and joining Bodie at the window.

 "So how much of CI5 work is like this?"

 "What, dull and boring?" Bodie shook off his black mood and turned his
attention back to the blonde man standing next to him, determined to make
some kind of an effort.

 ******

He waited, confident. Three men were more than enough to take care of one
person, even if one of them was staying in the car. He smiled, a cold,
heartless grin that didn't reach his eyes. The signal, a quiet beeping
noise from a coat pocket alerted him that his quarry was about to make an
appearance. Signalling the others, he melted back into the shadows and
took up his position. Soon. Very soon.

 ******

*Hey little girl would you like some candy,
 You're mamma said it's okay.
 The door is open come on outside
 No, I can't come out today.
 It's not the wind that cracked your shoulder
 And threw you to the ground.
 Who's there that makes you so afraid
 You're shaken to the bone.
 I don't understand
 You deserve so much more than this.*
   -Good Enough - Sarah McLachlan

 
*Tuesday 15th October.
 11.06pm*

 Ray Doyle shivered, and pulled Bodie's jacket tight around his body. It
was a little big, but with winter setting in and the cold getting more
pronounced every day, the extra warmth was welcome. Standard procedure on
a stakeout meant that Doyle had to go to the parade of shops safely away
from the suspect’s house to get food rather than the ones close by.
Knowing that one man would attract less attention than a car, and had
already resigned himself to walking through the cold.

 For all his taunts of buying healthy food for Bodie, it was late, and
only fast food shops would still be open, and even those would soon close.
Besides, Doyle was too tired to cook anything, and since the flat they
were staying in barely met the requirements of a kitchen, he had decided
on a Chinese. Doyle had also decided that after the stakeout was over he
would request some of his overdue leave, just two days, and planned to
sleep through both of them.

 The hairs on the back of his neck rose suddenly, and for the first time
since stepping out of the house Doyle felt uneasy. Glancing around, he
began to notice his surroundings, and the man who was just stepping out of
the shadows around the corner of the house he had come from. Instincts
finely honed by years in the MET and CI5 warned him that the man wasn’t
just out for a stroll, and neither was the other man who stood over the
road from him. With no actual proof he restrained the instinct to draw his
gun and, hoping he was wrong, changed direction and walked away from the
both of them. The car that was slowly driving down the road towards him
was far enough away for Doyle to cross before it got too close, and he
stepped into the road as he reached for his R/T to call Bodie.

 Even as he took the R/T out of his pocket the car suddenly speeded up,
and as the headlights bore down on him Doyle knew there was no way he
could get out of the way before he was hit. He threw himself to one side
anyway, and that was all that stopped him from going under the wheels.
Crashing onto the bonnet of the car, the R/T flew out of his hand as his
head slammed against the windscreen and the glass shattered. Stunned by
the impact, Doyle barely felt himself get thrown over the top of the car
as it swerved to a stop.

 Falling in a heap at the side of the road, Doyle heard car doors slamming
and tried to move, to get away. The barest movement sent white-hot pain
through his head and arm, ending all hope of escape. The darkness that had
been playing around the side of his vision descended completely, and with
a muffled groan he surrendered to the dark.

 ******

Static from his R/T attracted Bodie’s attention away from his
conversation, and even as he reached for the radio, the static ended and
he could hear the sound of screaming brakes through the open window.
Pulling out the R/T, Bodie felt a tingling down his spine.

 "3.7 to 4.5"

 Nothing.

 "Doyle?"

 Still nothing.

 Looking out of the window, Bodie saw a car stopped in the middle of the
road, but most of the streetlights were broken, and it was too dark to see
anything more. Though Bodie had seen nothing obviously wrong, one thing
came to mind. Ojuka. That day Bodie had known that his partner was in
danger, and not just because he had seen Parker drag him inside the house.
It was just a feeling, the same growing sense of dread that was crawling
up his spine now.

 Snapping at Johnson to keep up the surveillance, Bodie took one last look
at the window and ran down the stairs, slowing as he reached the front
door. Easing it open, Bodie let his eyes adjust to the darkness before he
left the house, and directed his attention to the car he had seen from the
window.

 Taking two silent steps out onto the pavement, he saw three men standing
together in the street. Even as a fair haired one carrying a gun caught
sight of him, the man shifted position enough for Bodie to see the
crumpled body of his partner lying in a heap at their feet. Raising his
gun, Bodie snapped off a shot at the man who had already seen him and was
even then raising his gun, and the man went down with a cry.

 Watching the man fall long enough to know that he was no longer a
problem, Bodie snapped his attention back to the other men who were
scrambling behind the car. A line of parked cars on his side of the street
helped obscure him from their aim, but even as he raised his gun again, a
voice rang out.

 "Bodie!"

 Bodie didn’t know the voice, or how the voice knew his name.

 "One more shot, Bodie, and I’ll kill him now!"

 The glint from a gun barrel peering round the edge of the yellow car and
aimed at curly hair assured Bodie that the man would be as good as his
word, and he hesitated.

 Trying to judge whether he could shoot the gun out of the man’s hand,
Bodie was completely unprepared for the blow that spread fire through the
back of his head. As he fell, he realised that he didn’t even know if Ray
was still alive.

 ******

*Companion to our demons
 They will dance and we will play
 With chairs, candles and cloth
 Making darkness in the day.*
   -Fear - Sarah McLachlan


 *Tuesday 15th October
 11.40pm*

 Doyle came to slowly at first, aware of nothing but the fact that he was
awake, floating in a kind of limbo, not quite asleep, but not quite awake
yet either. Then reality descended like a hammer, and he moaned quietly as
pain shot through a dozen different places on his body. At first he
thought that the humming sound was coming from inside his own head, and
the gentle rocking he could feel just part of the dizziness, but as his
head cleared he realised that he was in a car. The instinctive fear that
was always present in a situation like this sharpened his senses and he
began to try and work out what was happening.

 He didn't try to move yet, partly because he wasn't altogether sure that
he could, but mainly so that his captors wouldn't know he was awake. There
was always the chance that he could learn something important, and maybe
surprise them enough to escape. He was laying face down, but from what he
could tell he didn't think that he was bound in any way. The pain that
shot through his left arm when he tried to move it suggested a broken
bone, and he winced, biting his lip to stop from crying out.

 Voices reached him through the rushing in his ears, and he tried to hear
what was being said, wondering who had grabbed him, and why.

 "What the hell did you have to run him down for, you idiot?"

 "Oh, give it a rest Marty."

 "You could have killed him!"

 "So?"

 "You know what Cane said. Bring him in alive. He won't be any use to us
dead."

 "He was reaching for his gun. Did you want him to shoot you? We already
lost Jon to that other guy."

 Other guy? Only one person came to mind. Bodie. Doyle's hopes for getting
out of this in one piece rose slightly, but then a thought struck him. He
knew damn well that if Bodie had seen what was happening he wouldn’t have
let them take him, and part of Doyle started to worry about his partner,
and what might have happened after he was run down.

 The other part of his mind focused solely on escape, and he realised that
however dire his chances seemed right now, the fact that they didn't seem
to want him dead might give him a chance. The foot firmly planted at his
back, keeping him down in the footwell of the car meant there was nothing
he could do until the car stopped, and he laid still, gathering his
strength and listening as the two men talked about inconsequential things,
and the car sped on through the night.

 He had no way of telling how long they'd been travelling when the foot on
his back was removed, and he thought they might be coming to their
journey's end. Though alert for any chance of escape, Doyle was unprepared
for the needle that pierced the skin at the back of his neck, and the
world slipped away once again.

 ******

*Wednesday 16th October
 12.20am*

 Cowley paced in the hospital corridor as the doctors worked on agent 3.7,
fuming at the fiasco his seemingly quiet evening at headquarters had
turned into. A garbled message from Johnson calling for an ambulance had
sent him out of his office and speeding across London. He had arrived at
the stakeout house in time to find paramedics loading an unconscious Bodie
onto a stretcher, Doyle's R/T smashed in pieces on the ground, and no sign
of Doyle.

 Johnson's report had been brief, and told him little he couldn't have
pieced together from the scene itself. Johnson had abandoned the stakeout
at the first gunshot, but by the time he had left the house had only found
Bodie lying in the street, and the distant sound of a car that was almost
out of sight.

 There was nothing Cowley could do but put an alert out for Doyle himself,
although the chances that he would be spotted were slim. So now, he had to
wait for Bodie himself to wake up, and hope that he could remember what
happened. In the meanwhile, Cowley had sent the best of his squad out in
the search for Doyle, knocking on doors and trying to trace the car,
leaving Cowley to kick his heels in the hospital waiting room.

 Cowley spent far too long in hospitals with one agent or another, and it
was an aspect of the job that he accepted with an ill-grace, wishing that
it could be different, but knowing that injury was just part of the world
of CI5. Regardless of his outward manner, and the fact that he seemed to
argue with Bodie and Doyle more than anyone else in his organisation, he
respected them the most. Not only because they were his two top agents,
but because he saw just how close they were, how their differing
personalities meshed together to make them an ideal team.

 He pushed them hard on purpose, refusing to let them get cocky over their
abilities, knowing that if they did, it would only get them both killed.
He didn’t want to think of what would happen to the surviving partner if
one died before the other - which brought him back to Doyle and his reason
for the hospital wait.

 Doyle was a strange mixture, capable of extreme bouts of violence and
aggression, but within him was such a capacity to care and feel for
others, a moral backbone rare in most men suitable for CI5 work. Fiercely
loyal, he knew from experience just how far Doyle would go to protect
those around him, particularly Bodie, but Cowley would not discount
himself from that fortunate group.

 For all their clashes, George Cowley knew that Doyle would always come
through for him if necessary, it had been proven by the single-mindedness
with which both his agents had gone after Barry Martin, and Cowley would
never forget the anger he had seen in Doyle's eyes when he himself had
been in hospital after being pushed down the stairs. Bodie and Doyle had
tracked the man down with an intensity which went far beyond a normal job,
and, despite the fact that Cowley risked his agent’s lives every day, he
was determined to do everything he could to get the man back in one piece.

 The door to Bodie's room slid open, and Cowley stopped pacing as a doctor
appeared.

 "Mr. Cowley?"

 Cowley nodded. "That’s right."

 "I’m Dr. Richardson." The two men shook hands before Richardson
continued.

 "Mr. Bodie's going to be fine. The head injury wasn't serious enough to
cause a concussion, but he's only just coming around, and we want to keep
him in until the morning for observation, just to be on the safe side."

 Cowley nodded, frowning. "Getting him to stay could be a problem. Bodie
isn't a fan of hospitals." Cowley didn't bother adding that Bodie would
prefer to try and find his partner rather than lie around in hospital
doing nothing.

 "Oh, I doubt it. He's been put on some powerful pain killers, so I doubt
he'll feel up to doing much of anything until the morning. We'll review
the situation then."

 "Can I see him?"

 "Of course, but not for too long, and don't expect much of a
conversation."

 Shaking hands, Cowley left the doctor to his work and walked into Bodie's
hospital room. CI5 agents always had private rooms for security reasons,
and someone was already on their way to the hospital to stand guard in
case whoever was responsible tried again. Not quite convinced by the
doctor's statement, Cowley was already deciding that whoever was sent
would not only have to keep people out of the room, but would also have
the unenviable task of keeping Bodie in.

 At the sound of his footsteps echoing closer in the room, Bodie turned
his head towards his boss and opened his eyes.

 "Sir?"

 The slightly confused, almost vulnerable tone in Bodie's voice bothered
Cowley - usually Bodie exuded an almost obsessive independence that few
people ever got beneath, and yet he wondered if this version of Bodie was
caused solely by his injury. Deciding not to push that thought, Cowley
returned to his expected role as efficient head of CI5.

 "What happened, 3.7?"

 For a second Bodie just stared at him, and then he seemed to start and
tried to sit up quickly, only to stop short and sink back into the pillow,
one hand to the side of his head.

 "Ray." A whisper, Cowley almost didn't hear it.

 "Bodie?"

 "Doyle, sir. Is he here?"

 "No, lad. He's not."

 The naïve hope in Bodie's voice made Cowley's heart sink. He was well
aware of how close Bodie and Doyle were, at times they seemed almost
symbiotic, as good partnerships in CI5 so often were. He hated having to
pass on bad news to any agent in his squad, but it seemed worse with these
two. Normally so confident about the suitability of the men he teamed,
everybody including Cowley himself had had doubts - they were both such
strong, opposite personalities that the success of the friendship they had
eventually formed seemed almost fated.

 Bodie struggled again to sit up, his voice a little stronger, more wary.
"Where is he?"

 Cowley sat down on a plastic chair by the head of the bed. "We don't
know. I've got half the Squad out looking for him, but no-one knows
exactly what happened. We've been waiting for you to wake up."

 "Didn't Johnson tell you?"

 "There wasn't much to tell. He said that you left the stakeout in a rush,
he heard a gunshot, came outside and saw a car disappear round the corner.
Then he found you lying on the pavement. He didn't see what happened."

 The ache in his head and his concern for Doyle overwhelmed him for a
second, and Bodie reacted as he always did - he shut his emotions out;
ignored them, and returned to the cold, uncaring, consummate professional
mask that he tended to convey to those who didn't know him.

 Cowley knew him too well, and seeing his defences shutting down, wasn’t
surprised at the clinical detachment with which Bodie gave his report,
almost as if he were talking about strangers. Unfortunately Bodie knew
very little, and when he had finished Cowley stayed silent, thinking.

 Bodie let the silence stretch for a few minutes before interrupting
Cowley’s thoughts.

 "What happens now?"

 "Well, we’ve interviewed the neighbours, but as usual, anyone who did see
anything has conveniently forgotten it."

 Bodie shook his head in disgust. "Bloody typical. If they were the ones
who needed us…"

 "Aye."

 "Go on, sir."

 "We’ve got CI5 and the police out looking for the car, but without a make
or registration number, finding it is going to take a miracle. And unless
Doyle gets away himself, the car is the only clue we have."

 The door swung open slowly, heralding the arrival of the nurse. A young,
pretty redhead, Cowley allowed himself a small smile at the thought of
what kind of mischief Bodie could cause there if he had a chance.

 "Sir? I’m afraid you’re going to have to leave now. Mr. Bodie needs his
rest."

 Nodding, Cowley stood to leave. The expected argument as Bodie claimed
good health, wanting to join in the search for his partner was quickly
overruled. The painkillers he had been given left him too tired to do any
more than voice a weak protest. Then Cowley left the hospital, reassured
at least for the moment of Bodie’s welfare, and ready to give the search
for Doyle his undivided attention.

 He made a mental note, however, to make sure the guard outside Bodie’s
room arrived quickly. Even medicated, Cowley didn’t trust Bodie not to
wait until he had left and try to sneak out.

 Quickly making his way to his car, Cowley drove out of the car park and
into the flowing London evening traffic. Heading back to the CI5
headquarters, Cowley picked up the handset and patched himself into the
radio frequency.

 "This is Cowley. Put me through to 6.2, please."

 "Hold the line, sir."

 A few seconds silence, and then Murphy’s voice came clearly over the
line.

 "6.2 here, sir."

 "Report, Murphy."

 Murphy hesitated, and from that Cowley knew what the report would be even
before Murphy spoke.

 "Nothing yet, sir. We’re trying to trace the route the car may have
taken, but it’s proving almost impossible."

 "I’ve spoken to Bodie…"

 "How is he?"

 "They’re keeping him in overnight, but he’s fine. He said that the car
had a shattered windscreen and broken bumper."

 "That’ll help. I’ll get Anson and Connors to start checking mechanics,
see if it’s been taken in for work. There won’t be many open this time of
night, and I know of a few that aren’t strictly by appointment, if you
know what I mean."

 "If you’re talking about a chop shop, Murphy, then say so." Cowley
snapped. "I don’t have the time or the inclination to play guessing
games."

 Murphy’s voice was all business. "Sorry, sir." Then he sounded hesitant.
"Mr. Cowley…should we, um, put out a hospital alert in case…in case Doyle
turns up there?"

 "Are you teaching your grandmother, Murphy? It’s already been done.
Cowley out."

 Replacing the handset, Cowley frowned and put his foot down, reaching his
destination quickly in a display of driving that would have impressed even
Bodie.

 Marching through the CI5 building, Cowley was satisfied to pass very few
agents on the way to his office. He always said that any man standing
around at CI5 wasn't doing they're job, and nothing motivated the squad
like fear for one of their own. Despite the hour Cowley had called in
everyone not on sick leave, and by now every agent would know what had
happened.

 Pouring himself a cup of coffee, Cowley took a seat at his desk and began
his own task in the hunt for Ray Doyle, starting by buzzing through to the
records room. Ruth Pettifer answered.

 "Miss Pettifer, get me a copy of 4.5’s arrest records, will you?"

 "How far back sir?"

 "Anyone Doyle sent down who have been released within the last six
months."

 "It’ll take a while, sir. Maybe an hour to collate the information."

 "As quick as you can."

 "Yes, sir."

 "Oh, and Ruth?"

 "Sir?"

 Cowley took off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he
spoke. "Any word from the hospital on the man Bodie shot?"

 "We’re still trying to identify him, sir."

 "What’s his condition?"

 "Serious, but not life-threatening. It seems that 3.7’s aim was a little
off for once. The bullet went into his chest, and he’s in surgery at the
moment, but the doctor’s are confident that he’s going to make it."

 "Good."

 A note of surprise entered Ruth’s voice. Cowley wasn’t known for showing
compassion to those injured by CI5, especially in such circumstances as
these. "Sir?"

 "If all else fails, I’m sure he’ll be happy to tell us where Doyle is. I
think Bodie would appreciate being given the task of persuading him."

 "Yes, sir." Cowley smiled at the amused tone in Ruth’s voice.

 "Let me know when we identify him, and send me the arrest information as
soon as you have it."

 Leaning back in his chair, Cowley closed his eyes, thinking. The fact
that Doyle had been abducted rather than simply shot and left in the
street gave Cowley the hope that he would be held for some kind of ransom.

 Of course, that wasn’t certain, and whoever had taken 4.5 could just as
easily have dumped him into a river by now, but in this instance Cowley
preferred to be optimistic. If all they wanted was to kill him, a drive-by
shooting would have been much simpler.

 Shaking himself out of his muse, Cowley started work with his own
enquiries, filling time until the information he had requested arrived. As
befit a former MET officer with as good a record as Doyle had, it was sure
to be a long list.

 ******

*Peace in the struggle to find peace.
 comfort on the way to comfort.*
   -Fear - Sarah McLachlan

 
*Wednesday 16th October
 10.57am*

 The night had passed, with little success in finding the missing agent.
The list was slowly being narrowed down, far too slowly for Cowley’s
liking. The problem was, that most people arrested for anything more than
shoplifting vowed revenge on the man who had arrested them. Telling the
difference between those just sounding off and those who actually meant to
carry out their threats was almost impossible. Still, it gave him
something to do as he waited, as the ransom demand that Cowley both hoped
for and dreaded had not come.

 Dawn had broken across the city, and Cowley had taken a few hours rest
away from his office once fatigue had set in, and his vision had blurred
too much for him to be able to read the files in front of him. Regular
reports revealed nothing new, and Cowley was well aware that unless the
kidnappers themselves made contact, their chances of finding Doyle before
they were searching for a corpse were slim at best.

 Raising himself out of the chair he had settled in, Cowley checked the
time, shocked to see that he had slept for longer than he thought. Wearily
he made his way back to his office. It was times like these that the huge
responsibility he carried on his shoulders weighed heaviest, and as such,
the bullet still lodged in his leg ached accordingly, just as it always
did when he was troubled.

 Tired but still observant, the first thing Cowley noticed when he walked
back to his desk was the envelope sat on top of the files he had been
searching through the previous night. An envelope that certainly hadn’t
been there the last time he had checked. Having reassured himself that it
wasn’t likely to blow up when opened, Cowley sliced it with his letter
opener, being careful of fingerprints. His face set into stone as the
contents fell out onto the desk. On top of a small black leather card
holder that he instantly recognised as part of a CI5 ID card, was a
Polaroid photograph. Dark, badly taken and grainy, nevertheless Cowley
recognised the still form of Ray Doyle, lying on the floor of wherever the
photograph had been taken. Reaching for the ID inside the case, even
though he knew it would be Doyle’s before checking, he sighed as his fears
were confirmed. Cowley picked up his phone and connected through to the
R/T network.

 "Alpha one to 9.4."

 Seconds later Michael Johnson’s tired voice came over the speaker. "9.4."

 "Is Bodie awake yet?" Johnson was the agent assigned to keep Bodie in the
hospital and everyone else out, and had been sent there only a few hours
before to replace the previous guard, whom Cowley had decided would be put
to better use out searching for Doyle.

 "Yes, sir. He-"

 "Fine." Cowley cut in over his agent’s voice. "Unless the doctor’s have
strong objections, get him checked out and bring him to HQ. Now." He cut
the connection before Johnson had a chance to respond.

 ******

*12.25pm*

 It was a little over an hour later when Bodie walked in to Cowley’s
office, looking pale but otherwise none the worse for wear from the events
of the previous night. After escorting Bodie to the door, Johnson
hesitated for a second and then left, discreetly closing the door behind
him. Without a word Cowley poured two glasses of scotch and handed one to
Bodie, who took it with a nod and sat down heavily.

 "Any news, sir?"

 Cowley scowled and tossed the photograph and Doyle’s ID across the desk.
In the time it had taken for Bodie to get released from the hospital both
objects had been checked for fingerprints to no avail. Although C11 were
working on a copy of the photograph, analysing Doyle's immediate
surroundings, that was hardly likely to provide them with an address. So
for now it was back to square one.

 "They didn’t send anything else?" Bodie queried, puzzled. "No demands,
nothing?" He took a sip from the scotch.

 "No, not yet. But this makes me think we’ll hear from them again."

 Bodie downed the rest of his drink and absently tossed the empty glass in
his hands. "I suppose that’s something, I just wish they’d hurry up. The
sooner we find out who they are…"

 "Aye. We’re going to have to wait for them to make the next move. I doubt
they’ll want to wait long."

 As if by magic the phone rang and Cowley reached for the receiver,
expecting to hear a report from one of his agents.

 "Cowley."

 "Good morning, Mr Cowley! I trust you slept well last night?"

 At the gleeful tone in the unknown voice and its strange words, Cowley
realised that the phone call Bodie had been waiting for may have arrived,
and switched the phone over to the speaker so that 3.7 could hear.

 Seeing the tense, suddenly alert expression cross Cowley’s face as he
answered the phone, Bodie straightened up in his chair and leant forward,
listening intently as the voice came over the speaker and filled the room.

 "Who is this?"

 But the voice continued as if Cowley hadn’t spoken. "Tell me, did you
receive my package this morning? I did so want it to arrive first class."

 Quickly crossing the room, Bodie opened the door and signalled quietly to
Betty to get the call traced. Even as he returned to his chair anger rose
in his throat. Tempted to supply a few choice words to the voice on the
end of the line, Bodie reluctantly forced himself to stay quiet,
recognising that Cowley’s calm manner had a better chance of gathering
clues than any outburst he could make.

 "Yes, I got it."

 "Oh, good. After all, we can only have a productive, civilised
conversation if both sides are fully aware of the stakes."

 At that Bodie slammed his glass down on the desk, unable to contain his
rage any longer. "You bastard! If you hurt him…"

 "Mr Bodie! I wondered if you were there." The man sounded delighted to
hear him, as if the two men were long lost friends reunited at a vicarage
tea party or something. "I’m afraid it’s a little too late for that, Mr
Bodie, but what happens from here on in is completely up to you."

 "Let me speak to him."

 "What?!" the man laughed. "I hardly think you’re in any position to
expect anything."

 At this Cowley broke in. "Until we hear that he’s alive, this
conversation goes no further. I won’t negotiate for a corpse."

 "A logical point, Mr Cowley. Very well, perhaps this will show my good
faith. You’ll have to be patient, we’ll see if we can wake him up."

 A click as the receiver on the other end was set down, then came a few
sounds that Bodie couldn’t decipher, muffled voices, a moment’s silence,
then a hoarse, slurred voice could be heard.

 "Sir?"

 "Doyle."

 "Is Bodie all right?"

 "I’m here, sunshine."

 A sigh of relief, then Doyle lowered his voice and spoke quickly, his
voice a little steadier. "It’s Cane. Be careful, there’s a…"

 A shout drowned out whatever Doyle was trying to say, and though they
heard the words, neither Bodie nor Cowley could make them out.

 The voices stopped suddenly and Doyle broke off with a cry, then Bodie
heard a thud and a dull moan coming faintly over the line.

 The voice Bodie now recognised as Jason Cane returned.

 "I want my brother released and all the charges against us formally
dropped in Court and on record. Once I see David I’ll release Doyle. Don’t
keep me waiting."

 The phone went dead.

 "Damn!" Bodie slammed his hand down on the desk, making the glasses
rattle and glaring at the receiver as if sheer force of will could make
Doyle appear before him. He took a deep breath and forced himself to calm
down, to think.

 "I understand him wanting his brother released, but why add the bit about
dropping the charges in Court?"

 Cowley sighed, suddenly sounding tired. "Och, use your head, Bodie. Once
the charges have been dismissed we can’t re-arrest them for the same
crimes. We’d have to gather all the evidence again, and since they’re not
likely to let another undercover agent get close enough to gather the
proof that Doyle did..."

 "They’ll get away scot-free." Both men were silent for a moment before
Bodie continued. "Alright, how long would it take for you to get Cane
released like he said?"

 "In reality, a few hours, but I think we could stretch it out for a day
or so before he gets suspicious."

 "It doesn’t give us long to find Doyle. Even if we do release his brother
Cane would probably kill him. Anyway. He’s not going to just let Ray go."

 "Release the man who won his confidence and then betrayed him? I doubt
it, especially considering what they did to that Mason man."

 A knock on the door and the technician, Phillips entered.

 "Did you get the trace?"

 "Only a rough area, sir." Phillips walked over to a large-scale map of
Britain pinned to the side wall of Cowley’s office. A single red pin
represented the approximate location of the CI5 offices, and as Bodie and
Cowley joined him at the map, Phillips swept a pencil up from Cowley’s
desk and began drawing.

 "We couldn’t pinpoint the exact location," Phillips repeated, "but thanks
to that phone call, we can certainly narrow the search area down."
Indicating the rough circle he had drawn, Phillips tapped the map with the
pencil again for emphasis. "The call came from somewhere out in the Home
Counties; Surrey, or Kent perhaps, maybe a little further out. It’s a
help, but it still leaves a good hundred square miles of land to search."

 Cowley nodded thoughtfully. "Aye, that makes sense. It’d be far enough
out of the city to give them some cover, but it’s not so far that they
would still have been travelling when we put out a search for the car."

 Bodie fidgeted impatiently, anxious to be out searching for his partner
rather than standing in Cowley’s office discussing theories. Noting his
agent’s movement, Cowley snapped back into 'ruthless old bastard' mode as
Doyle himself had once called it. He knew from experience that was the
best way to hurry his agents up and get results, although he had a feeling
that in this instance there would be no fear of Bodie being slack in his
work.

 "You still here, 3.7?" he nodded his head towards the office door. "Go
on, get out there and find 4.5, do what you’re paid for. But watch who you
talk to. If word gets back to Cane that you’re close he might panic."

 Bodie nodded grimly at the unspoken implication in that statement and
left without a word with the focused, intent look in his eyes that Cowley
had not often seen, but knew well-enough to understand. Bodie would stop
at nothing to find his partner, even more determined because it was Ray
Doyle he was searching for and not just an unknown face in a CI5 file.
Cowley knew that if anyone could find 4.5, it was Bodie. And God help
Jason Cane when he did.

 ******

*All the fear has left me now
 I'm not frightened any more
 It's my heart that pounds beneath my flesh
 It's my mouth that pushes out this breath
 And if I shed a tear I won't cage it
 I won't fear love
 And if I feel a rage I won't deny it
 I won't fear love.*
   -Sarah McLachlan - Fear

 
*Wednesday 16th October
 12.32pm*

 "…don't keep me waiting."

 Ray Doyle barely heard the bell chime over the rushing of his ears as
Cane slammed the phone down. The pistol that slammed across his temple had
stunned him for a few seconds, knocking him to the ground and cutting off
his message to Bodie. Even as his vision cleared he could feel blood
flowing from the wound. Doyle was pretty sure that the gun had been his,
and anger at being hit with his own weapon gave him the strength to roll
over and push himself upright, leaning against the wall for support.

 Blood began to trickle into his eye, and as Cane turned angrily towards
him he reached up and wiped it off, his hand coming away stained red.

 Kneeling down next to him, Cane wound a hand through brown curls and
slammed Doyle's head back against the wall.

 "What did you say to them?" he demanded. "You gave them a name. Who's? A
grass?"

 Doyle said nothing.

 "Well?"

 Doyle looked up at Jason Cane, took in the sandy fair hair and anger in
the sharp features and shook his head.

 "Get lost."

 Cane slapped him across the face, and his head connected with the wall
for a second time.

 "Don't mess me around, Duncan." Cane snarled, referring to the name Doyle
had used while undercover. Realising that, he laughed bitterly. "Ray
Duncan…" he muttered, staring vacantly into the distance. "…even lied
about that."

 As Cane seemed to drift off into his thoughts, Doyle looked around him
carefully, trying to work out whether or not escape was possible. While
Cane was content to daydream, the two men standing by the only doorway
watched him constantly, and Doyle quickly realised that while they were
waiting there was little he could do.

 The room spun slightly and he rested his head back against the wall,
still unsteady because of the drugs in his system. Swallowing, he took a
few deep breaths and his vision steadied again. His movement brought Cane
out of his muse, and the man stood up and backed away a little. The
instinctive reaction brought a small smile to Doyle's face. It seemed that
despite the situation Cane was wary of him, and that was something he just
might be able to twist to his advantage. He'd spent long enough undercover
at the club to get some idea of what made Cane tick, and Doyle was too
well aware that that knowledge might be the only thing to get him out of
this in one piece.

 Cane continued to stare at him for a few minutes, then smiled suddenly,
and held out his hands in a gesture of regret. "Well, I can't stand here
natterin' all day. Got things to arrange."

 "Like what?" Doyle couldn't quite hide the sneer of contempt in his
voice, despite knowing that angering this man wasn't really a good idea.

 Eyes narrowed slightly, but the bright and cheery tone continued. "Places
to go, people to see. Skipping the country takes a lot of organising, and
I wouldn't want to forget to say goodbye to anyone." Dismissive, Cane
started walking from the room.

 "You must be crazy." Doyle threw after him. Cane stopped and walked back
to face him, one eyebrow raised in question. "Do you really think Cowley's
going to give up an eight month operation and let you all leave the
country just to save me?"

 "Yeah, I do. You forget, Doyle. I've had time to find out all about you
and your partner. You expect me to believe that Cowley would let one of
his best Alpha Squad agents die for the sake of a conviction? And even if
he would, if Cowley loses you he'll lose Bodie as well."

 Cane knelt down and held Doyle's jaw firmly in one hand, staring deep
into green eyes, his voice quiet and threatening. "I've done my homework,
Doyle. Replacements are very expensive."

 Doyle refused to be cowed in spite of the unease the man's words had
created, and while his smile matched Cane's in size, Doyle beat him out of
sight for lack of feeling.

 "Shall I tell you what's going to happen, Cane?"

 Cane rested back on his heels and raised his eyebrows, waiting.

 "It really doesn't matter what happens to me. CI5'll never make deals
with someone like you. But I can promise you this. Bodie will find you. If
you're really unlucky he'll find you by himself, and if I'm dead they'll
never find enough of you to bury. Catch him on a good day, and you'll get
off lightly. Even so, you're still going to end up rotting in jail, just
like you're miserable brother."

 Doyle was well aware how close Jason and David had been. In a strange way
they were as close as he himself was to Bodie, even if his friendship
meant more than some overdeveloped family loyalty. His words had been
meant to anger Cane, to goad him into making a move that Doyle could use
to get away.

 It worked. Enraged at the insult to his brother, however slight, Cane
swung at Doyle, but this time he was ready. Blocking the swing with his
good arm, Doyle kicked out, catching Cane squarely in the chest and
sending him a good few feet across the room. Pulling himself to his feet,
stubbornly ignoring the pain in his ribs, Doyle turned to face the first
of Cane's 'muscle', whose names he still hadn't figured out.

 The first was large, and solidly built, but Doyle knew from experience
that most men that size relied solely on brute strength rather than the
skill six years in CI5 had given him, and he easily blocked the rather
clumsily thrown punch. As it connected with his shoulder he acknowledged
the strength behind it, well aware of the damage it could have caused had
it landed elsewhere.

 Returning it with one of his own, the man staggered back into his friend,
and both crashed to the floor. For a second Doyle considered going for his
gun, but not altogether sure where it was, he made for the door. Finding
himself in a sitting room, its middle-class furnishing and polished
ornaments seemed absurd considering what the house was being used for. All
this he took in at a dead run - already he could hear angry voices behind
him as his captors gave chase.

 Almost to the door at the opposite end of the room, the floor seemed to
tilt beneath him and he stumbled, suddenly dizzy. Going down hard on his
hands and knees, he knocked over a coffee table as he fell. A cup
shattered as it hit the ground, and lukewarm coffee splashed out over the
cream carpet. Doyle gritted his teeth against the pain that shot through
his arm and forced himself up.

 As it turned out, even that few seconds delay was too long, and before he
could properly regain his footing the two men descended on him. A kick to
already painful ribs knocked him over and onto his back, and he was hauled
back to his feet before he could retaliate.

 Each man held a firm grip on one arm, and Doyle was pushed roughly back
into the bedroom he had just left. Shoving him against the wall, neither
man eased up the grip on his arms, the world around him still not quite
stable. Cane faced him, anger plainly written over the hard face, while
one hand rested on his chest where Doyle had kicked him.

 "Bastard." Cane spat out. "Did you really think you could talk your way
in here, spy on us, and we'd do nothing? My brother is in prison because
of you. Because I trusted you."

 Doyle stared defiantly back at him, still trying to come up with a way
out. Even so, he registered the guilt Jason Cane was feeling that it had
been he who had given Doyle the job at the club, he who was so open with
the man who had landed his brother in prison. In no mood for sympathy,
Doyle recalled a similar situation he had faced in the past, albeit
without the guilt, and replied accordingly.

 "Was a pleasure."

 At that Cane snapped, and advanced upon him. Only then did Doyle realise
just how big a mistake he had made in mocking this man.

 A fist in the stomach and Doyle doubled over, gasping, but the man at
either side forced him up straight, just in time for Cane to hit him
across the face, then a second time, with surprising strength for such a
lean man. Coming in close, Cane kneed him viciously in the groin and white
pain flashed across his eyes. He hung weakly between the two men, and for
a long second thought he would pass out.

 Slowly the pain receded slightly and he moaned as he opened his eyes, his
vision blurry. They chose that moment to release him, and unable to stand
under his own power, Doyle collapsed to the floor yet again. 'At least
they can't knock me down again', he thought hazily.

 Unfortunately, his new position allowed for a good kicking. As they laid
into him he curled inwards, trying to give them as small a target as
possible. The beating continued long after he was unconscious.

 ******

*1.03pm*

 Leaving CI5 headquarters, Bodie felt a moment of uncertainty. For all he
had fumed in Cowley's office, wanting to be out and doing, now he was out
he really had little idea of just where to start.

 In spite of their enquiries, no-one seemed to know anything about the
yellow car that had been seen leaving the stakeout. He had privately
damned Johnson for not at least getting a license plate number, even
though he knew the feeling was unreasonable. He himself had been closer to
the car than Johnson, and had seen nothing.

 Almost every possible lead had been followed up and discarded even before
the ransom call, and the only new thing that had revealed was that Jason
Cane was behind it. A vague area that the phone call came from was a
start, but the range covered almost a hundred miles of part urban suburbs
and part green belt land. Visiting every single home in that area was out
of the question, and even if they did and somehow managed to find the
right house, unguarded questions would likely do Doyle more harm than
good.

 Sliding almost automatically behind the wheel of his car, Bodie drove out
to the club. The building had been cordoned off and deserted ever since
the raid, and searched through a dozen times since, but it was the closest
link he had to Jason Cane. Maybe, he thought, just maybe he'd find
something that would help. Even if he didn't know what he was looking for.

 A twenty minute drive through the city helped calm him slightly, although
several other driver's lost their faith in the famous British reserve,
which they had mistakenly thought extended to driving style.

 Pulling up outside Heroes, Bodie finally slowed down to greet the
solitary police guard stationed outside before driving into the car park.
The outside a dull grey, Bodie reflected not for the first time that the
building looked more like a storage warehouse than one of the most
successful clubs in London, but successful it had been. Only the bright
neon sign displaying three gaudy cartoon figures, Spiderman, Superman and
Asterix or something, Bodie wasn't sure, provided a hint of the layout
inside.

 A key provided by the guard gave him entry into the night-club, and Bodie
made quickly for the offices at the back of the building, paying little
attention to the star lights embedded in the ceiling or the lava lamps
dotted around the tables, out of date even for 1981.

 The offices were plain and conservative, in stark contrast to the
cheerful façade of the club itself. Making straight for the expensive
antique desks, Bodie settled into the seat and started searching through
the drawers.

 There was very little to search through, as most of the paperwork had
been removed for further investigation soon after the raid, but he looked
anyway, hoping for a name that they hadn't heard of or an address they
could check out, anything that would give him a lead on where Doyle might
be.

 Half an hour later the desks looked considerably worse for wear. Having
found nothing in the drawers, he'd proceeded in taking the panelling
apart, in case anything had been hidden elsewhere. Now each desk reminded
him strangely of the desk they had picked up for Cowley, which had at
first been in pristine condition. Ten minutes after they collected it of
course, the desk had been good for nothing but firewood. Still, all in a
good cause, he had decided as they had gone to face Cowley. This time the
damage barely crossed Bodie's mind. Nothing mattered if it might help him
find Ray.

 So now Bodie sat on the edge of the stage, surrounded by the few things
he had managed to find. A scrap of paper with a phone number, a photograph
of a younger looking Jason Cane standing with an older man, and half a
dozen of the night-club's business cards. All in all, nothing useful.

 Uselessly angry, Bodie crumpled the photograph up in his hand almost
without realising. There was nothing here. He'd known there'd be nothing
here even before he arrived, but some small part of him had hoped. This
whole thing was a problem, a puzzle he had to solve, but he was no good at
them, never had been. Ray was the thinker, always better at figuring out
who had done what to whom, but now it was Bodie's turn, and he was playing
for the most important prize of all.

 Never one to underestimate himself, he knew he wasn't stupid, and he
could solve the cases that came to CI5 as well as anybody else, but during
their partnership he had come to rely on Doyle's insight, on the knowledge
he had gained in the police force. Now he had to work on his own. There
were no leads, nothing to suggest where Cane was holed up, or where he was
holding Doyle.

 Sighing, Bodie shook himself out of his melancholy. Sitting around
feeling sorry for himself wasn't going to do Doyle any good - besides, it
wasn't Bodie's style, he left the black moods to his partner. Bodie
sneezed at the dust that had settled on the stage, stood up and walked out
of the building.

 ******

*Mary walks down to the water’s edge
 And there she hangs her head and finds herself faded
 A shadow of what she once was
 She said how long have I been sleeping?
 And why do I feel so old?
 Why do I feel so cold?
 My heart is saying one thing
 But my body won’t let go.*
   -Sarah McLachlan - Mary

 
*Wednesday 16th October
 1.47pm*

 Breathing was painful. He’d been semi-conscious for a while, and vaguely
remembered throwing up when he’d come to. So far he’d made no attempt to
move, at first because he wasn’t sure who was in the room with him, and
now because it hurt too much. Of course, it was only now that Doyle was
able to concentrate enough to think straight, and he’d lain in a
pain-induced haze ever since coming round from the beating.

 Being fully conscious had a down side, though. Now a dozen different
pains were all clamouring for his attention, and as he opened his eyes the
room span and he swallowed hard, fighting nausea again. Doyle wondered
whether he’d feel better if both eyes were open – not that it mattered –
the left eye was swollen shut, and resisted all attempts to be opened.

 At a sudden surge of pain he realised he was lying on his broken arm, and
his weight was making it worse. Only when he tried to shift to a slightly
more bearable position did he realise that his arms were tied behind his
back, and a painful manoeuvre told him his ankles were bound together as
well.

 Even that small effort exhausted him, and Doyle rested his head back
against the cream carpet he was lying on, trying to think. Painful
experience told him at least one rib was broken, maybe more, and his arm
was only going to get worse. Even without that he was a mass of bruises,
which were going to make moving almost impossible once they started to
develop. All of which meant, if he was going to get out of here, it would
have to be now.

 At the thought of escape Doyle righted himself with difficulty. The pain
that shot through his ribs made him gasp, and it was a full minute before
he could get his breathing back under any kind of control that didn’t
include excruciating pain.

 His own body was mocking his hopes of freedom, and regardless of how
strong-willed he was, Doyle was only too well aware that he might not be
physically able to do anything to help himself. He certainly wasn’t up to
another fight – not that he’d been any use in the previous one, he
conceded ruefully. He’d made a big mistake in goading Cane like that, and
had seriously underestimated the damage that had been done first by the
car, then by the shot they’d given him.

 If he was going to have any chance of getting himself out of this, Doyle
knew he would have to rely on cunning rather than strength – get out
before Cane knew he was gone.

 Doyle looked around him, taking an interest in his surroundings for the
first time since they’d brought him here. The style of the bedroom matched
what little he’d glimpsed of the lounge a few hours before. The room had
the outward appearance of the respectable middle classes - pink loo-paper
and roast on Sunday’s. The décor of the house was utterly out of place
with the use it was being put to, though Doyle wasn’t quite sure why that
was his immediate reaction. Just because the shows on TV were all
abandoned farms and disused warehouses; he’d learned differently through
his time at CI5, and real life wasn’t quite as clean cut as that.

 The Bieberman snatch had involved a suburban home, as had the flat that
bastard Pendle had dragged him to after the restaurant bombing, a case
which held uncomfortable similarities to this situation. No handily placed
telephones this time, though. Nor did he have a cigarette lighter in his
back pocket. The previous girlfriend he’d carried it around for had long
since become an ex, and the lighter had gone the same way.

 Nothing in the room shouted ‘escape here’ at him in neon letters, and
Doyle realised in alarm that part of him was already giving in, resigning
itself to the good chance that he would die in this room. Looking around
again, Doyle took in the bed, side-table with lamp and fruit bowl and
armchair without inspiration. He knew that Bodie would be searching for
him, a search that would likely be successful if he’d acted on the clue
Doyle had managed to give him. As a helpless hostage was not how he
intended his partner to find him. Of course, his pessimistic side quickly
pointed out that if Bodie hadn’t heard the hurried message, then the odds
of his partner coming to his rescue were a lot longer.

 The realisation that Bodie himself was in danger if he hadn’t worked out
the message followed swiftly, and he looked around him yet again,
desperate. There had to be something. Fruit bowl… lamp… chair… bed… The
lamp. That was it. Across the room on a mahogany table stood a small lamp.
It was a long shot, but just maybe he could unscrew the bulb and use the
glass to cut through the ropes.

 The distance between Doyle and the lamp wasn’t far, four or five feet at
the most, but his heart sank at the distance considering the state he was
in.

 Scowling at himself, Doyle forced away the doubts and tipped himself onto
his side, wincing as the pain increased and jagged white lights danced
behind his tightly shut eyes. Inch by agonising inch he started his
journey, cursing each time he moved and the lamp didn’t seem to get any
closer. Doyle forced himself to keep moving though, despite wanting more
than anything to rest his head and get some sleep.

 He’d been through this before with Arthur Pendle, fought with broken arms
and cracked ribs. He’d come back from being technically dead when no-one
had expected him to live, let alone be fit enough to get back on the Alpha
Squad again. He was damned if he’d let a third rate little shit like Jason
Cane be the one to finally take him down.

 He had to keep moving.

 He had to.

 ******

*Wednesday 16th October
 1.52 pm.*

 He’d left the club and checked in with base, only to be told that there
was still no news. Not that he’d expected any, otherwise he would have
already heard over the R/T. But he’d called in anyway.

 With no leads and nothing to go on, he’d spent the next hour driving
around London, hunting out all the snouts he could find. By the time the
clock hit three he’d spoken with every one they’d used during the
operation on the Cane’s, and a few they hadn’t. No-one knew anything
useful, and each one had had to completely convince Bodie of that before
he’d leave.

 It had been a long shot, but one that hadn’t paid off. The only reason
Jason Cane and his friends were still at large was because CI5 had been
unable to get a fix on where they were holed up. All the informants had
been questioned just after David Cane was arrested, and none of them had
known anything then, either. Considering they’d already grassed on him, it
was in all the informant’s interests to see Jason Cane off the streets, so
Bodie was fairly sure they were telling him everything they knew – which
was precisely nothing.

 It was while talking with the last informant he could think of that Bodie
got a call from Base requesting he return immediately and report to Major
Cowley. He left without a word, and was back on the road within seconds.

 Arriving back at HQ Bodie had headed straight for Cowley’s office,
walking straight in without bothering to knock. Someone was already in the
office with Cowley, one of the technicians, but rather than berating Bodie
for barging in, Cowley stayed silent for a moment before nodding to the
technician to leave.

 Bodie remained standing, ignoring Cowley’s gesture for him to take the
newly vacant seat.

 "Well?"

 "Sit down, man. You’ll not need to go running off right this second."

 A second’s hesitation and Bodie sat down with a barely audible sigh.

 "No-one’s heard anything?"

 Cowley shook his head.

 "Then what the hell was I called in for?"

 "Because I said so." Cowley snapped back. "I wasn’t under the impression
that I had to justify my decisions to you, Bodie?"

 "No, sir." He muttered.

 Cowley’s tone softened slightly. "We’ve had the lab reports back on the
phone call and ransom note."

 He smiled slightly in approval as Bodie visibly perked up, sitting up
straight and leaning forward in his chair. However distracted and worried
3.7 was, Cowley was certain he’d pull himself together when the time came.
In response to Bodie’s expectant gaze, he reached into a file on his desk
and brought out a blow-up of the photograph they’d received that morning.
Bodie’s face tightened as the picture was placed in front of him, but said
nothing.

 The larger version of the picture was fuzzier than the original, but even
so, contrasts in shape and colour were more obvious. Trying to ignore the
form of his partner, Bodie’s attention was drawn to a band of light than
spanned across the middle of the picture, highlighting Doyle’s face.

 "What’s that?"

 "Sunlight. According to the technician’s, the picture was taken just
after dawn rose. That light is coming in through an east-facing window.
The Polaroid was taken using a flash, and that has brought out the
sunshine enough for us to see. We’re lucky. Half an hour earlier and it
would still have been dark."

 Bodie frowned. "So how does that help?"

 "They think they can work out roughly what time the photograph was taken
because of the sunlight. Once they know that we can work out how long they
were travelling for. That should help narrow down the search area
slightly."

 "Good." Bodie nodded. Finally it seemed like they were getting somewhere.
Even if he couldn’t rush off to find Doyle just yet, it was starting to
seem more likely that he would find him before it was too late.

 "Anything else?"

 "Not much. The cream carpet and flowery wallpaper suggests a house rather
than a warehouse or office, but most of Surrey is made up of towns and
homes, so that’s no help for now, though it might prove useful after we’ve
narrowed it down more." Cowley looked up suddenly as a thought struck him.
"Any luck at the club?"

 "No." Bodie spat the word out in disgust. "All I found was a photo of
Jason and his father, and a phone number. Turns out it’s just an old
hotline number people rang to get tickets to ‘Heroes.’" He paused a moment
before continuing. "Oh, and I spoke to Tony Jordan and some of the other
grasses. No-one knows anything."

 "What about Cane’s phone call?"

 Cowley sighed, and pulled out a thick folder of stapled paper. "Fifteen
pages to analyse less than two minutes as usual."

 The thoroughness of the Phonetics Department was a standing joke in CI5,
and something Cowley commented on every time he was given one of their
reports. Such comments had become such an accepted part of day-to-day life
in the squad that they no longer required a response, and as such Bodie
stayed silent.

 "Not that they tell us very much anyway. They identified four distinct
voices on the tape, including Cane and Doyle, which tallies with your
account of the abduction, Bodie."

 Bodie shifted in his seat and ran a hand through his hair. "What do you
mean, sir?"

 "Well, you said you saw three men standing over Doyle, and that the car
was empty. You shot one of them, which leaves two that got away. Those
two, plus Cane and Doyle makes four voices on the tape. Unfortunately,
there are no other clues about their location. No trains, no background
noise, not even a radio station. All that tells us is that it’s a quiet
neighbourhood, possibly a suburb."

 "Could they work out what Doyle was trying to say?"

 "No. Apparently all four voices started talking at once, and they’ve just
drowned him out."

 "Damn. Is there nothing else?"

 Cowley hesitated before continuing, painfully aware how much his next
words would only increase the concern Bodie was already feeling.
Nevertheless, Cowley flicked through the paper until he found the sheet he
was looking for - Bodie needed to know.

 "From Doyle’s voice they’ve been able to guess at his physical state at
the time of the phone call. Nothing definite, Bodie, but from the way he
was slurring his words, they think he was either drugged, or in physical
pain. And the sound at the end of the phone call when Doyle broke off they
think was a body hitting the floor."

 Bodie sighed and rubbed his hands across his eyes. He didn’t reply to
Cowley’s announcement. It was nothing he hadn’t already imagined, but
having his fears confirmed as fact was not what he’d hoped would happen
when he’d raced back to HQ.

 At the tired look on 3.7’s face, Cowley spoke again.

 "Why don’t you go home and get some rest, Bodie? There’s nothing you can
do here until we get some more information."

 But Bodie shook his head. He wouldn’t be able to sleep properly until Ray
was safe, he knew that, so going home would achieve nothing, no matter how
tired he was, or how much his head still ached from the assault last
night.

 Standing, Bodie walked to the door of Cowley’s office before turning to
face him again. "I’ll go through the files we’ve got on Cane and his
group. Maybe I can work out who the other two voices were. It might help."

 Cowley sighed as Bodie shut the door behind him. There was no point
arguing with the man, not now.

 ******

*4.32pm*

 Bodie checked the clock on the wall every few minutes as the afternoon
wore on, but time passed slowly all the same. He’d been trawling through
the records of the previous investigation into the Cane’s ever since
leaving Cowley’s office, but had still found nothing that might prove
useful.

 Working in Records was not something Bodie enjoyed at the best of times.
In fact, he actively avoided Records Duty as often as swapping favours and
sweet-talking Cowley would allow. On the rare occasions that injury forced
it upon him he complained constantly, and the whole of CI5 could be heard
to heave a sigh of relief when he was finally declared fit for active duty
again.

 Nevertheless he’d worked tirelessly all afternoon. The only concession to
his worsening headache and the restlessness of the small Records Booth was
his relocation to the relative comfort of the Rest Room, but it hadn’t
helped much. CI5 paperwork was astoundingly thorough, and almost three
hours after he’d begun, a tired and frustrated Bodie was barely halfway
through. At one stage he had considered getting help from some of the
Records staff, but this was too important, and fear that they might miss
something vital kept his search a one man quest.

 Engrossed in one particular file concerning David Cane’s dealings with a
brokerage firm, Bodie never heard the rest room door creak open. Cowley’s
hand tapped on his shoulder and Bodie jumped, dropping the file and
scattering papers across the floor.

 Swearing, he turned to face his boss. About to comment on the need for
Cowley to carry a bell with him, he took in the man’s appearance and
immediately altered his words.

 Bodie was not the only person to be visibly affected by Doyle’s
abduction. In the past hours Cowley had seemed to almost age, looking and
acting tired and despondent. That appearance had changed again, and Cowley
was now standing straighter, with an alertness in his eyes that hadn’t
been there that morning.

 "You know something." Bodie demanded. "What is it?"

 Cowley smiled. "Kevin Harvey." At Bodie’s puzzled frown he continued.
"The man you shot last night, Bodie. He’s conscious and out of danger. The
Doctor’s say we can talk to him."

 Bodie was out of his chair and walking past Cowley down the corridor
almost before Cowley had finished speaking, the files long since
forgotten.

 The drive to the Hospital was silent, but a feeling of cautious
expectancy had settled over the two men, now that they finally seemed to
be getting somewhere.

 As always, a nurse was waiting at the Hospital entrance to greet Major
Cowley, and they were quickly shown up to the Ward. There they were met by
Doctor Ellis, a grey haired man both men knew from previous visits to the
Hospital.

 "You must understand, Major Cowley; Kevin Harvey has just undergone a
serious operation, and though stable, his condition is still serious. I
wouldn’t let you see him at all if your Miss Pettifer hadn’t made it
absolutely clear how vital it was."

 "I’m grateful for the indulgence Doctor Ellis, but I’m afraid we don’t
have a lot of time. If you could just tell us which room he’s in?"

 "Room Six," Ellis hesitated. "But I’m not sure you should see him without
a member of staff present."

 Cowley frowned. While he had no reason to suspect anyone in the Hospital
of involvement with the Cane’s, he couldn’t take any risk that Cane might
discover they were looking for him, and the fewer people who knew why they
wanted to speak to Harvey, the better. Thinking quickly, he began speaking
and turned away from the direction of room six, walking slowly down the
corridor towards a small waiting room. In turning to face him, Ellis put
his back to Bodie, who silently walked away in search of Kevin Harvey’s
room.

 "Tell me, what kind of condition is Harvey in…?"

 Cowley kept the small talk flowing for ten minutes before Bodie quietly
returned, looking triumphant. Making their excuses the two men left the
Hospital, and Cowley never asked how Bodie convinced Harvey to talk to
them. It wasn’t until they reached the car that Bodie spoke, slamming the
car into gear and pulling away as he did so.

 "Caterham. 26, Boundary Road. They’re all holed up there."

 Cowley picked up his R/T. "Alpha One to Base."

 "Go ahead, Alpha One."

 "Assemble a team. Murphy, Lucas, McCabe and Anson. I want them on
standby, ready to move in ten minutes."

 "Acknowledged."

 Hanging up, Cowley turned his attention back to 3.7. "Did he say how many
people are there?"

 "Four, like we thought. Cane, Doyle and two more."

 As requested, Murphy and the others were all gathered in the briefing
room when Bodie and Cowley returned to CI5 Headquarters. When the call had
gone out they had guessed it was something to do with Doyle, and were
waiting impatiently for news. Johnson was with them, having been talking
to Anson when the call came in.

 They listened as Bodie outlined what they had learned, and Cowley briefed
them on the coming operation, then they all headed out to their respective
cars.

 On the way down through the building Johnson caught up with Cowley.

 "Could I come along, sir?" he asked. "I know I’m new, but I was there
when this first happened, and I’d like to help."

 After a second Cowley nodded.

 "Thank you sir. I’ve just got to grab my jacket, I’ll be one minute."
With that, Johnson ran off down the corridor.

 As it turned out Johnson was more like five, and despite apologising when
he finally did arrive at the cars waving his jacket, Bodie’s anger was
plain to see.

 The drive from the centre of London to Caterham in Surrey was almost an
hour and a half, possibly more in rush hour traffic.

 Bodie made it in an hour.

 ******

*The ice is thin, come on, dive in
 Underneath my lucid skin the cold is lost, forgotten.
 Hours pass, days pass, time stood still
 Light gets dark and darkness fills my secret heart forbidden.
 I think you worried for me then
 The subtle ways that I gave in but I know you liked the show
 Tied down to this bed of shame
 Try to move around the pain
 But your soul is anchored.*
   -Sarah McLachlan - Ice

 
*Wednesday 16th October
 6.15pm*

 Boundary Road was a small cul-de-sac in a suburb of Caterham, and had
Bodie been there for another reason, he knew he would have enjoyed hiking
through the surrounding hills.

 The sun was setting, and Cowley had decided to wait for fifteen minutes
in the hope that the coming twilight would help to mask their approach.
While Bodie could see the logic in that decision, he hated the delay, and
sat with his hands wrapped around the steering wheel, knuckles white with
tension.

 Cowley and the others spent the time going over plans for the assault on
the house, well aware that since they had no clues as to the layout of the
building, everything would depend on split-second decisions made once
inside.

 Still some distance away and well out of sight of the target house, Bodie
paid little attention to Cowley's impromptu briefing. He knew exactly what
would happen once inside the house, and exactly what he had to do.

 A profound sense of relief had settled over him since they'd discovered
Cane's location. No longer restless, Bodie sat ramrod straight and utterly
still. All his energy was focused on the coming operation, and he had
nothing to spare on idle chatter or nervous fidgeting. But mixed in with
the relief was fear. Fear of what he was going to find once he was finally
re-united with his partner - and that he might already be too late.

 Finally the sun set, and Cowley decided that the time was right. Lucas
had already walked past the house and back up a path at the end of the
road, and it seemed that luck was on their side. The house was detached,
set slightly back from the road and surrounded on all sides by a six foot
privet hedge. They'd be able to get right up close to the house before
they risked being spotted - something that cheered Lucas immensely. Bodie
was not the only member of CI5 worried for Doyle's safety once they had
been seen.

 They kept to the shadows as they advanced; even after sunset it paid to
be cautious. Most of the squad had done this hundreds of times before but
the tension was still running high, even more so because it was one of
their own.

 The sun had set at the front of the house, so Bodie headed for the back,
where the photograph must have been taken at dawn. Murphy moved with him,
taking Doyle's place as his partner until Doyle had returned, and was fit
to watch Bodie's back himself. The patio doors leading in from the garden
were an ideal point of entry, and once everyone was safely in position
Cowley gave the signal.

 Murphy and Bodie advanced together, both kicking out at the glass which
shattered with a satisfying crash. As they entered the house, gun drawn,
Bodie heard the front door burst open under Johnson's weight. For a second
they faced each other across the narrow hallway, both guns drawn. Johnson
flashed Bodie a brief smile before moving upstairs.

 It wasn't long before the squad realised that something was wrong. For a
start, the usual sound of panic and alarm associated with a CI5 raid were
missing, and the house was silent.

 At his shout, everyone joined Bodie in a room at the back of the empty
house. He was kneeling on the carpet, a black jacket in one hand as he
holstered his gun with the other.

 "It's Doyle's jacket." He sighed. "Well…mine. I leant it to him
yesterday."

 Cowley nodded. "His holster is in one of the other rooms. The gun's gone,
though."

 Bodie leant back against the wall, still holding on tight to the jacket.
Only then did he notice the bloodstains and broken glass on the carpet,
and closed his eyes in despair, resting his chin in his hands.

 Around him he could hear movement as Cowley barked orders to the others.
Then the room went quiet and the other agents left; Murphy to call Malone
and the forensics team, and Johnson to find out from BT what calls had
been made from the house. The others left just to be diplomatic.

 A few moments to collect himself and his thoughts, then Bodie joined
Cowley in the kitchen.

 "We'll get Forensics over every inch of the house. Hopefully that will
tell us something."

 Bodie nodded. "How long ago did they leave?"

 "We don't know. You can get to the garage from a door in the lounge, so
it's not as if the neighbours would have seen them force Doyle into a car.
We're checking anyway, but for all we know they left straight after the
ransom call this morning."

 Frustrated, Bodie sat down and started drumming his finger's against the
tabletop. "We're right back to square one then."

 Cowley said nothing.

 "Dammit, Doyle." Bodie muttered. "Where the hell are you?"

 ******

The car took the sharp turn too fast, and the rocking motion sent him to
his side, wincing as he moved. Doyle had spent the afternoon working on
the ropes around his wrists, which had turned out to be harder than he'd
thought.

 He'd managed to force the bulb out of the lamp and get back to his
previous position without being discovered, but the ropes were strong and
new, and the fragile glass kept splintering.

 As a result, while he had made some headway on the ropes, slivers of
glass had embedded themselves in his hands. The broken arm had hindered
his movement, and Doyle thought he'd probably slashed at his wrists more
often than the ropes. The thought had occurred to him that it might look
like some kind of bizarre suicide attempt rather than an escape, but he'd
ignored the blood dripping from his wrists and kept trying anyway.

 The house had been quiet most of the afternoon, only an occasional laugh
reaching his ears; and he'd been mostly ignored.

 He'd been surprised then by the sudden frantic movement he'd heard, and
when Cane's two friends had burst into the room soon after. Neither had
said a word to him, just hauled him up off the floor, and Doyle had choked
off a groan of pain with difficulty.

 Of course, as soon as they'd seen the blood pooling under him they'd
noticed the state of the ropes. After knocking him about a bit for good
measure, they'd added more rope, removed the glass and carried him out of
the room. Disoriented by the sudden movement, Doyle could make out little
more than a few cracked ceilings.

 In dumping him in the boot of the car he'd caught his head on the edge,
and it had been a while before his head cleared. When he could finally
think straight, his first thoughts had been escape. Rolling painfully onto
his back, he kicked both feet against the lid, trying to see if there was
any way he could open the boot of the car.

 Searing pain knifed through his ribs as he moved, and he bit his lip as
he tried again, fighting nausea at the pain, and the metallic taste in his
mouth as his lip split.

 He could only think of one reason for Cane's sudden flight, and felt an
absurd sense of pride at the panic he'd heard. Bodie must be on his way.
For someone as cool under pressure as Cane had proved himself to be in the
three months Doyle had spent undercover, only the approach of CI5 could
cause him to lose the icy cool Cane was famous for.

 As the day had passed, Doyle had become increasingly unsure as to what
was happening, and, quite frankly, amazed that he was still alive. Well
aware that Cowley would not negotiate, Doyle knew that Cane would not wait
indefinitely before abandoning his plans, and as soon as that happened,
his own life could be counted in as long as it took Cane to pull the
trigger.

 If he was right, and CI5's approach had been what caused their flight,
Cane just might decide that he'd waited long enough. Turning his attention
back to the car boot, Doyle couldn't help wondering how Bodie would react
to the death of his partner.

 Weak from the ordeal of the past 24 hours, he knew that the chances of
being able to spring the lock were slim, but he kept trying anyway.
Unsurprisingly, by the time the car came to a stop he'd had no luck, and
he stilled as he heard the car doors slam, unwilling to anger Cane any
further. Feet crunching on gravel approached, but night had firmly set in
by the time they lifted him out of the car, and he could see little of his
surroundings.

 Silence ruled as the small group went inside, but as soon as Cane's men
had dumped him onto a stone floor, a low conversation began, and though
Doyle could not see them, he could just about make out what they were
saying.

 "…should cut our losses and get out of here."

 "I'm not going anywhere without David."

 "Come on, Jason. You know damn well CI5 aren't going to hand him over. If
they'd wanted to they could have had him out of prison within an hour of
your phone call this morning. They're just stalling for time while they
try to find us."

 Cane was silent.

 "Marty's right." the other man, whose name Doyle had never heard, began.
"We were bloody lucky to get away from them in time, just now. But they're
going to keep looking, and if we're just going to sit here and wait we may
as well just give ourselves up now."

 "No. We'll give them a bit longer to decide to play things our way.
They're not going to find us up here, we've got the perfect little bolt
hole. There's nothing to connect this place to us."

 A sigh, and then: "Alright. But what about him? He was trying to get away
when we went in, if he gets free it's all over anyway."

 Tense, Doyle waited, wondering what was coming next…

 ******

*9:20pm*

 The hours had passed slowly, but by the time they left Caterham and
headed back to the centre of London, they knew little more than they had
straight after the raid.

 Conscious that Bodie would need to feel as if he was doing something,
Cowley had made sure they'd stayed while Malone worked on the house, even
though he'd normally have left the forensics team to it. Malone found
fingerprints all over the ground floor, some of which would help discover
who else had been in the house, but after expecting to find Doyle himself,
Bodie was understandably despondent.

 The signs of strain were increasingly evident, and Cowley had taken the
wheel in the hope that Bodie might be able to get some sleep during the
drive. With Murphy in the passenger seat, Bodie sat in semi-darkness
behind Cowley, staring unseeing through the back of the driver's seat.
Both men knew Bodie too well to try and engage him in idle conversation,
and an uneasy silence settled in the car as they drove.

 The silence lasted the entire drive, and even when back at CI5 Bodie said
nothing. Cowley called a meeting of the Alpha Squad to discuss their next
move, and Bodie followed the others into the empty office with an
uncharacteristic docility.

 Everyone was quiet and downcast, the disappointment of not finding Doyle
enough to ensure that, but there was more to it than that. One thing that
Bodie and Doyle both shared was their temper, and though Bodie's was
quieter, and more contained than his partner's, all the CI5 agents learned
early on how to judge the man's mood.

 An angry Bodie tended to be quiet, retreating into himself almost in an
effort not to lose his temper, but the tell-tale signs could always be
found if you looked hard enough. A slight trembling in fingers, almost as
if keeping his temper in check was a physical effort, and Bodie tended to
become restless, eyes moving constantly to take in everything around him.

 This was what they had come to expect, and every agent knew exactly how
to deal with 3.7 in that mood, had learned it the hard way, most of them.
But this was different, and uncertainty at how to act with Bodie was
causing the unease in the room. Sat to Cowley's right Bodie was perfectly
still, looking down at the table with a neutral expression on his face.
Except for the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed, Bodie could have
passed for a statue, and the unusual behaviour confused the others.

 "Right." Cowley's voice was gruff, business-like, obviously his way of
dealing with an unreadable 3.7, who could be described as volatile even at
the best of times. "As soon as we get the fingerprints identified from
Malone we can start checking into Cane's employees. If they left in a
hurry they might have gone to ground at one of their own homes. Until
then, we'll have to check out all the premises that we know Cane has ties
to."

 Lucas spoke up. "We did that earlier, sir."

 "I'm well aware of that. But surveillance wasn't kept up on every
building we checked over, so they could have gone back to one of them
after leaving the house in Caterham."

 "What about Harvey?" Murphy asked. "Could he know where they might have
gone?"

 "Aye, perhaps. I'll leave that to you, Murphy."

 "Sir."

 Checking over the various buildings again was going to take several hours
and most of the available Squad, so Cowley didn't plan to keep the meeting
going very long. After everything had been searched and cleared they'd
think again, but if Doyle was in one of the buildings then there was no
point in wasting time.

 "Any other ideas?"

 "Release Cane."

 The voice so quiet, Cowley wasn't sure he'd heard Bodie properly. "What?"

 "Give Cane what he asked for. Let his brother go."

 "Don't be ridiculous, Bodie."

 Cowley turned away from Bodie and back to the face the other agents.

 "I'm not."

 Cowley sighed, torn between anger that Bodie was suggesting something so
daft, and compassion that he was so obviously concerned for Doyle that he
was grasping at straws. "We've been through this, Bodie. You agreed with
me, once we release David Cane they have no reason to keep Doyle alive."

 "Things change."

 "Bodie…"

 "Well what do you want us to do? Sit around here until Cane decides he's
waited long enough? He's not stupid, he must know that if we've not agreed
by now we're not going to! How long do you think it's going to be before
he kills Doyle anyway?"

 "Use that tone of voice with me again, Bodie…"

 Instead of answering Bodie stood abruptly, overturning his chair as he
did so, and stalked out of the room. Murphy made as if to go after him,
but a restraining arm from Cowley stopped him.

 "Leave him, Murphy. I'll see to him."

 The meeting finished then, the men delaying only long enough to decide
which pairs were checking which buildings, then they headed out, glad to
be doing something again, and equally glad they weren't going to be
anywhere nearby when Cowley caught up with Bodie for Round Two.

 They would have been surprised, then, had they heard the conversation
that actually took place.

 It took Cowley a full ten minutes to track Bodie down, and though he had
expected him to be in the rest room, he finally found him in an empty
office, listening to the recording of the ransom call again.

 Bodie didn't see him at first, and Cowley waited in the doorway until he
did, then entered the room and sat down without a word.

 Bodie sighed and ran a hand over his eyes, looking as exhausted as Cowley
had ever seen, a stark contrast from the controlled composure just ten
minutes before.

 "Sorry, sir…" he began, but Cowley waved his apology away. Contrary to
popular belief George Cowley wasn't quite an unfeeling tyrant, despite the
front he presented to the world. The last thing Bodie needed was for
Cowley to come across the heavy handed boss, and so Cowley just sat
waiting as Bodie listened to the tape again.

 And again.

 Cowley had hoped that Bodie would begin to speak of his own accord, and
was quite prepared to wait for him to do so. Bodie needed to get some of
this off of his chest. But he could see Bodie wince ever so slightly each
time Doyle's voice was cut off, and reached over to shut off the machine
before it could begin a third time.

 "Find anything?"

 Bodie shook his head, then sighed before turning to face him.

 "I can't work out what he's saying. It must be important, but I can't
hear him."

 "We'll get him back, Bodie."

 It was a platitude, and both Bodie and Cowley knew it might not be true,
but Bodie was grateful for the reassurance nevertheless.

 "It's taking too long. Why haven't they called back?"

 "I don't know, lad."

 "What if they knew we were coming when they left that house? If Cane
really believes we aren't going to co-operate with them, he's got no
reason to keep Ray alive."

 Cowley said nothing. You didn't argue with a fact.

 "We're no further ahead than we were when this all started. What if we
never find him?"

 "Bodie, it's late, and you're exhausted. Why don't you go home and get
some sleep? We'll call if anything new turns up."

 But Bodie shook his head. "There's something I'm missing, I can feel it."

 Ever since he'd woken up at the hospital he'd had that feeling, as if
something vitally important had just happened that he hadn't seen, hadn't
noticed. The feeling had grown steadily, making him restless, but however
hard he thought, he just couldn't see what it was.

 "Bodie, I want you to go home."

 "No."

 Cowley frowned. "There's nothing you can do here. We're checking into
every lead, you know that." Bodie made as if to interrupt, and Cowley
raised his voice, drowning him out as he continued. "When we do find Doyle
he's going to need your help. But you'll be no use to him if you're too
tired to see straight. I've told you before, Bodie. You're no use to me if
you can't hold a gun, and that applies if you're too tired to see what
you're shooting at."

 "I can't go home."

 "Then sleep here, in the restroom. You've done it before. You never know,
a good night's sleep and you might be thinking clearer, might remember
what it is you've been missing."

 Bodie smiled, a small, rueful grin with little humour.

 "Yes, sir."

 Cowley walked with Bodie to the restroom, where he sank down on to one of
the sofas with a small sigh.

 Approaching midnight, those agents who weren't at home were on duty for a
reason, and had no time to sit around, so the room was empty, and would
likely remain so until the early morning.

 Bodie honestly thought he would not be able to sleep, and hoped that the
quiet would help him work out whatever it was he couldn't remember. But
his head still ached from the assault the night before, and he hadn't
allowed himself to stop since leaving the hospital that morning, searching
in vain for his missing friend.

 Sleep descended quickly, and though his night was not peaceful, and he
woke frequently from dreams he did not remember, when he was awakened
early the next morning, he did feel somewhat rested.

 It was Betty who roused him.

 "Bodie."

 He came awake instantly, having slept with half an ear open as usual, a
habit from his days as a merc which still came in handy.

 "They've called again. Major Cowley's office."

 When Bodie reached Cowley's office they were still on the phone.

 "…give you that one. Even I didn't expect you not to look for him, but
you may as well stop. We're in the last place you'll ever think to look
for me, since I can't very well go home. Oh, and don't bother trying to
trace this, I'm in a payphone."

 "I want to talk to Doyle."

 Cane laughed. "No way, Bodie. You've long since used up the goodwill I
was willing to show. Now, do we have a deal?"

 "Yes."

 Bodie glanced up to face Cowley in surprise, but said nothing.

 "It will take some time to have your brother released. Where do we make
the exchange?"

 "I'll call again at two. That should give you time. When I call I'll
expect to hear David on the other end. But don't mess me around, Cowley.
Two-thirty and you'll be picking up a corpse."

 The line went dead, and Bodie spoke up.

 "I thought we weren't going to negotiate with him."

 "We're not. But you were right about one thing, Bodie. Doyle is more
likely to stay alive if Cane thinks we are. If we have to we will release
Cane and set up a meeting, do the same as we did with Christina Hertzog,
but I'd rather it didn't get that far."

 Bodie refrained from commenting that since he'd nearly been blown up that
day, it didn't fill him with confidence. He thought back over the phone
call, trying to think if there was anything Cane had said that might be
important, only half listening as Cowley continued.

 "All the buildings were checked out during the night, but we didn't
find…"

 "Jill!"

 Startled by Bodie's sudden outburst, Cowley frowned. "What?"

 "Cane was talking about how he couldn't go home. While Doyle was
undercover at the club he got quite friendly with Jill Marriott, Cane's ex
live-in girlfriend." Seeing Cowley's look, Bodie grinned. "Not that
friendly. Cane used to knock her about. I guess Doyle got tired of seeing
her look like a punching bag, and decided to do his one man confidante
act. He convinced her to leave him. But she wasn't directly involved with
the case, I don't think she even knew what Cane was really involved in.
Has anyone spoken to her?"

 "I've never heard of the woman, so I doubt it. Get on to it, Bodie. If
she used to live with the man she might have overheard something that'll
help."

 Bodie jumped up to leave, displaying more energy in that one move than he
had in the whole of the previous twenty-four hours.

 "It looks like that night's sleep was worth it, 3.7."

 Cowley was rewarded with a parting grin as 3.7 left the room.

 ******

*Thursday 17th October
 4:15 am*

 Doyle was content to drift, not quite awake, but no longer asleep either.
Having obviously decided that he was too much trouble to have to keep a
constant watch over Cane had injected him with more of whatever they had
used straight after the crash, and he had slept, though not through
choice.

 Only now were the drugs starting to wear off, and while being sedated
wasn't a past-time of choice, he was starting to decide that being
unconscious was preferable. It was too dark to see much of anything around
him, but the floor beneath him was cold, hard stone, and damp with it. Had
Bodie been there Doyle would have laid odds that it was cold enough to see
his breath. Bodie, of course, would have disagreed just because, but since
Bodie wasn't with him he didn't bother to try and see.

 Instead, he relied on the intense cold that had seeped its way through
his body as proof, and was only now aware that he was shivering, and
probably had been for some time. They'd taken his jacket when they removed
his gun and holster, so now all Doyle had as protection against the cold
was a thin shirt and jeans. In the frosted cold of the British October
nights, it wasn't nearly enough.

 In spite of the sleep he'd had Doyle didn't feel rested, and settled in
with the cold was an almost pathological weariness that made even lifting
his head much too much effort. The logical, detached part of Doyle's mind
was aware that he was probably sliding into shock now his adrenaline
reserves had gone completely, but that part was strangely quiet, and he
was too tired, cold and hungry to care.

 The bout of harsh coughing that had first roused him from sleep returned,
and he curled in on himself as each cough sent slivers of pain through his
ribs. Eyes watering from the pain the coughing subsided slowly, but a full
five minutes later he was still gasping as he tried to catch a breath.

 Finally managing to breathe properly, the rush of oxygen went straight to
his head and his head spun, making him absurdly grateful he was already on
the floor. At least he couldn't fall anywhere.

 It was all up to Bodie, now. He'd tried to escape, and failed, and the
small part of his mind not consumed by the pain was well aware that he was
in no condition to do anything more to help himself. His muscles were
stiff, his breathing shallow at best, and by the pain in his arm he knew
he'd be lucky to keep it even if he were to get out of here alive.

 He had faith in his partner, knew Bodie would do everything to try and
find him. Even if Bodie failed, it would not be for lack of trying. Either
way, his own fate was in someone else's hands now, and Doyle himself would
just have to wait.

 ******

*Trapped inside a twisting world
 I can't decide what is even real anymore
 As though I ever knew
 Tangled in these silhouettes
 Floating face down in a river of regrets
 And thoughts of you.*
   -Holy Tears - Tara McLean

 
*Thursday 17th October 1981
 8.26am*

 Driving back through London, Bodie thought back over what little he knew
of Jill Marriott, trying to decide the best approach to use. He'd only
actually seen the woman once, one evening when it had been his turn to go
into the club to pass information to Doyle. It had been a slow night at
the club, and Doyle had been standing behind the bar cleaning glasses
whilst chatting to a blonde woman Bodie recognised as Jill only from the
files.

 In the dim lighting at the club Bodie had instantly decided that the
woman, though pretty enough, was wearing much too much make-up. It was
only later that Doyle had revealed the reason for it, an attempt to cover
up the latest in a long succession of black eyes and bruises. Doyle had
been angry at that, and Bodie had listened to another Doyle-tirade about
men who could only keep a girlfriend through intimidation and threats. And
Bodie agreed with everything Doyle had said, even if at the time he had
teased him about playing the knight in shining armour to yet another
woman. Doyle had wanted to confront Cane about it, but the operation made
that impossible, and he had had to settle for convincing Jill to leave
him.

 Even that had had to be done carefully. Cane was a very jealous man, and
any suspicion that Ray 'Duncan' had been talking to Jill for any reason
other than to be pleasant to the boss' girlfriend would have endangered
the operation, and Doyle with it.

 Doyle had done what he'd set out to do, though, and Jill had left Cane
one night a few weeks earlier. Though she hadn't been aware of it, Jill
had chosen the perfect night to run. Two days later, just as Cane was
setting out to find Jill and bring her home 'where she belonged' CI5 had
raided the club, and Jason had had far more important things to worry
about ever since.

 Arriving at the block where Jill lived, Bodie silently praised Doyle for
making sure he knew Jill's new address just in case Cane had tried to find
her. The lift was out of order of course, and Bodie went through the five
floors at a run, coming to a stop at a blue door which, though the paint
was cracked, was in marginally better condition than the others on her
floor.

 There was no bell, so Bodie knocked, hard, as at this time in the morning
there was a good chance she'd be asleep. He already held his ID in his
hand, aware that he'd probably get much further with the woman if she was
convinced from the start that Cane hadn't sent him.

 For almost a full minute there was no movement from inside the flat, and
Bodie was about to knock again when the net curtains moved slightly, and
he thought he saw a face peering out from behind the glass.

 Stepping over, he held his ID card up so that she could see it.

 "Miss Marriott?" he raised his voice so that she could hear through the
window, and the woman's face quickly disappeared. Seconds later the door
opened slightly, the chain locked into place, and although part of Bodie
fumed at the delay, he was still impressed by the woman's careful
security.

 "Bodie. CI5. Can I come in?"

 She sighed. "I didn't think you people would leave me alone for long.
What's Jason done now?"

 As she spoke she unhooked the chain and stepped backwards to allow Bodie
through the door. Unsure just how much she knew about the CI5
investigation, Bodie hesitated, and she sighed again, walking away into
the lounge/kitchen of the small flat.

 Obviously only just awake, nevertheless Jill looked better than the last
time Bodie had seen her. Long blonde hair scraped back in a dismissive
ponytail, only the faintest bruise could be seen on her cheek, and only
then because Bodie knew where it had been. The dark circles beneath her
eyes were the only testament to the jumpy, slightly scared young woman
Doyle had described to him, and again Bodie silently praised Doyle for
convincing her to leave Cane before he could do any permanent damage.

 Gesturing him to a seat, Jill walked into the kitchen without a word, and
started opening cupboards and filling kettles.

 "I can't think straight before my morning coffee." She muttered in way of
explanation. "D'you want anything?"

 "Coffee's good, thanks." It dawned on Bodie that he was hungry, and a
full English breakfast would be quite nice, but right now he'd settle for
a coffee to wake him up.

 "This is about Jason, yes?"

 Bodie nodded. "We're trying to find him. No-one seems to know where he
is."

 Two steaming cups of coffee in her hands, Jill crossed the room and
handed him one of them before curling up on the sofa opposite Bodie. "He
doesn't exactly keep me informed of his social schedule anymore, Mr.
Bodie. I've spent the last few weeks waiting for him to turn up on my
doorstep. To be honest I don't really want to give him any more reason to
come after me."

 Thinking quickly, Bodie decided that he'd have to tell Jill exactly what
was going on. While she might not be too keen on getting involved just
because of what Cane had done to her, the chance to help Ray might be
enough to sway her. Assuming she knew anything at all, that is.

 "D'you remember Ray Duncan?"

 Jill smiled and blew gently on her coffee to cool it down. "Yeah. One of
yours, wasn't he?"

 "How did you know that?"

 "I may have got involved with Jason, Mr. Bodie, but I'm not stupid. I
read about the CI5 raid in the papers and put two and two together. Didn't
think about it at the time, but Ray was too nice to be involved in any of
Jason's schemes, and his appearance was too convenient." Jill glanced up
at Bodie, and her smile was unconsciously sincere. "Not that I'm
complaining, mind you."

 Jill saw that Bodie wasn't smiling back, and frowned. "What about him?"

 "Jason grabbed him, yesterday. He's holding Ray to ransom for his
brother."

 "Oh, shit." Barely more than a whisper, Jill reached over to the table,
abandoning the coffee in favour of a cigarette lit with shaky hands.

 Almost as if sensing the distress, a white Persian kitten got up from its
warm position by the radiator and jumped up on Jill's lap, rubbing against
her as if in comfort. Absently she stroked the kitten who, satisfied that
it had been of help, curled up in a ball and went back to sleep.

 "Can't you just let David go?"

 "Do you think Jason will let Ray go if we do?"

 Jill laughed bitterly. "No. He's a sadistic bastard." Then, as if
suddenly thinking what effect her words might have on the man opposite,
added: "Sorry."

 "We're trying to trace anywhere Cane might go to hide out, or anyone he
might contact. None of his contacts that we know about have seen him. Is
there anyone you can think of, people we might not know about?"

 Jill sat silent for a moment, thinking, then took a long drag from her
cigarette, brushing ash from her white dressing gown. Then she reeled off
a few names, all of which CI5 had already checked out.

 "I don't know if I can be much help to you, Mr. Bodie." Jill sighed.
"Jason believed in keeping his business and his personal life very
separate. The only friends of his I ever knew were people I happened to
meet at the club. They very rarely came to the house."

 "And there's no-one else who phoned, names you overheard in
conversations?"

 She shook her head. "Please believe me, I'd help you if I could. I liked
Ray, he was nice to me." She spoke as if that was a surprise, and Bodie
wondered fleetingly if Jason was the only man she'd known to treat her
like a possession. "He was the only guy at the club who made me feel like
he spoke to me because he wanted to, because he was actually interested in
what I had to say."

 Bodie nodded, disappointed that yet another lead seemed to have fizzled
away to nothing. He rose to leave, then fished around in his pocket for a
piece of paper, and scribbled down a number.

 "If you think of anything else…"

 She nodded. "I'll call."

 Picking the cat up in her arms, Jill stood as well, and Bodie walked
towards the door. Before he could reach it, however, Jill's voice stopped
him.

 "Hold on, there is something…"

 Bodie turned and walked back into the lounge.

 "Ages ago, maybe a year, Jason used to talk a lot about this guy. I never
met him, and Jason never called him by name, but I often overheard people
talking about him, about things they were going to get him to do. They
seemed quite close."

 "And you don't know his name?"

 "No. He called the house a couple of times, but Jason just referred to
him as Tank. He never said why, I just assumed it was something to do with
his build. Or maybe he'd been in the army, or something."

 "Any idea where he is now?"

 Jill shook her head. "About eight months ago he just dropped out of
sight. Stopped calling the house, Jason stopped talking about him…at least
in my hearing, anyway. But I never got the impression they'd had an
argument. If Jason was in trouble, he might go to him."

 Bodie thanked her and turned to leave again. It was a slim lead, but he'd
worked with less, and was anxious to start. Jill followed him to the door,
and stopped him with a hand on his arm.

 "Will you…um…let me know if you find him?"

 Bodie nodded, and left. He glanced round as he walked down the corridor,
and the last he saw of Jill she was cradling the kitten in her arms,
watching him as he disappeared round the corner.

 ******

*6.21 am*

 The coughing woke him up, though he hadn't quite been asleep, merely
dozing. He couldn't get comfortable enough to actually sleep. He turned
slowly onto his side as he coughed, head spinning.

 Doyle couldn't quite remember where he was, or what he was doing there,
and forced himself to think back over the past few days to try and figure
out what was going on. He could only remember the odd thing, vague images
that could be memories, or maybe just his imagination. He tried to think
of the earliest thing he could remember, then follow the train of thought
through to the present, though when that present was, he couldn't quite
remember.

 There was something…something about a car. That's right. A car that
swerved out of a warehouse, leaving Bodie on the floor where he'd fallen.

 Bodie'd been hit…he'd shouted…raced over. A joke…

 No...That couldn't be right. If Bodie had been hit, why was he in so much
pain?

 Doyle groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, as if shutting out his
surroundings might help him focus… concentrate.

 Slowly it all came back. Being hit by the car…flying through the air…the
beating - everything. Being able to remember reassured Doyle that he
wasn't going out of his mind, but did little to improve his mood or
morale.

 Where the hell was Bodie, anyway?

 That wasn't fair, he berated himself. Bodie would be doing all he could,
unless… Unless something had happened to him.

 No. If something had happened to Bodie then it might be Cowley and Murphy
searching for him, but they would still try. Besides, if Bodie had been
hurt, then Cane would think it amusing to tell him, to let him know just
to cause him distress. And Cane would know as soon as anything important
happened.

 There'd been a frost, he could feel it. The room he was in was little
more than an outhouse, attached to the main building, but empty apart from
a few bits of wood and dirt, and him, and the stone walls were almost
running with water. He was still too cold, still shivering, but prolonged
exposure to the cold had made him drowsy and sluggish, and he couldn't
really feel it anymore. Couldn't actually feel much of anything. Which,
after the pain of the last few days (had it really been days?) was almost
pleasant.

 No.

 He couldn't let this happen. Couldn't just lie there while his body
slowly became useless. He started to move, to try and keep his circulation
going, keep himself warm. It was going to hurt. Once he got feeling back
in his limbs -first pins and needles, then the pain would return, but he
had to keep moving.

 If…when, dammit…when Bodie arrived he had to be ready, be able to help,
if the situation presented itself.

 ******

*'Here angels speak with jilted tongues
 The serpent's tale has come undone.'*

 
*10.28 am*

 Bodie sat in the restroom, thinking. On returning from Jill Marriott's
home he'd got Records to start looking at any ex-army men who might have
some kind of connection with either of the Cane brothers. During the
investigation lists had been made of anyone seen entering the club during
off-hours, as well as those who had gone into the back offices while the
club was open. The list was almost endless, but Bodie had settled himself
to searching through it for anyone whose name was on the army list, or who
might have the right kind of build for a nickname like that.

 Two hours had narrowed down a few possibilities, but Bodie wasn't
convinced, and he'd kept looking. At 10:20, Susan had brought him a
sandwich and tried to convince him to take a break, and since the Records
team were looking as well, he'd agreed.

 So now he'd sat on the sofa, ignoring other agents when they'd come in
and out, and made no attempt to join Murphy, Lewis and Johnson, who had
settled themselves at the table at the other end of the room. Instead
Bodie had bitten back the impulse to tell them to stop lounging around and
do something to help find Doyle. There was nothing they could do, right
now, and it was right that they should rest while they could, so that
they'd be ready when something did turn up.

 Besides, as much as he hated it, CI5 hadn't dropped everything to find
Doyle, and both Murphy and Lewis were working on other cases while they
waited for news on Cane's location. Johnson had been moved to shadowing
Murphy, to allow Bodie to search for Doyle without hindrance from a new,
unsure recruit.

 Anson poked his head round the restroom door, and though Bodie registered
his presence, still he didn't react.

 "Hey, Smurph! The old man wants to see you. Ten minutes, once he's
finished with the minister."

 Even as Murphy glanced up and nodded, a bemused look crossed Johnson's
face.

 "Smurph?!"

 Murphy laughed. "My nickname. Doyle gave it to me, and it kind of stuck."

 At the mention of Doyle's name Bodie glanced up and caught Murphy's eye.
Feeling that he ought to make an effort he smiled, and started listening
properly to the idle conversation.

 "…nickname I ever had was Tank. They used to say I was as big as one and
twice as heavy. Stupid, I guess, but nicknames always are."

 Murphy laughed.

 Bodie's blood froze.

 As his smile faded Bodie could hear Jill's words echoing in his head.
"Jason just referred to him as Tank. He never said why, I just assumed it
was something to do with his build."

 Standing, Bodie walked out of the room in a daze. Though silent, his mind
was whirling.

 Surely it wasn't possible.

 Johnson…?

 Thinking furiously, Bodie walked randomly around the corridors. CI5
agents were supposed to be incorruptible, above reproach, and up until two
years ago Bodie would have thought it ridiculous.

 But then Barry Martin had turned Rogue, had even tried to kill Cowley,
and now Bodie wasn't so sure.

 But he had to be sure, had to be absolutely certain before he acted on
his suspicions. He was well aware that he'd been acting strangely the past
few days, and to make a mistake on something like this would waste
valuable time in the search for Doyle.

 If he was wrong.

 Heading back to Phonetics, Bodie dug out the tape of Cane's first phone
call. With his new suspicions, could he now work out what Doyle was trying
to tell him?

 Taking a tape recorder to a soundproof room, Bodie turned the volume up
to maximum, and listened. First his own voice, 'I'm here sunshine', then a
pause, then 'be careful, there's a…' then too much noise. No, he couldn't
hope to decipher what even the experts couldn't hear, but he was sure now.

 Whatever Doyle had tried to say, it had to be important, and what was
more important than warning about a traitor in CI5? Hindsight was a bitter
teacher, and now Bodie saw all the clues he'd missed, everything that
hadn't quite made sense.

 How Cane had known that they were on their way to Caterham, how he'd
known where they were on stakeout in the first place. How he'd known just
when to appear, so that Doyle was outside but they hadn't been hanging
around long enough to draw attention to themselves. And now the nickname?
It was too much of a coincidence, it had to be him.

 Suddenly it dawned on Bodie, just what it was he'd missed right at the
start, what had been at the back of his mind all the way through his
frantic search that he hadn't quite been able to remember.

 The night of the stakeout, when he'd heard the car and gone downstairs,
he'd shot one of them, but had barely moved from the doorway of the
stakeout building. A stupid move even then, standing in the light like
that made him a perfect target for any of the men standing over Doyle, but
the blow had come from behind. There was no way that anyone could have
come round the side of the building without being seen in his peripheral
vision, but from the stairs? Johnson had come down behind him, was still
in the stairwell, and since Bodie hadn't expected danger from where he'd
just walked, Johnson could easily have taken him by surprise. And he did.

 Utterly convinced now, and storming through the corridors in CI5, Bodie
cursed himself for being a hundred different types of fool. He should have
seen it then, should have known as soon as he'd woken up what had
happened, but he'd been too busy worrying about Doyle, and Johnson's
self-effacing new guy routine had been absolutely perfect.

 No matter. The man must know how to get hold of Cane, had called him and
warned of CI5's approach only the day before, and Bodie would make sure
that Johnson passed that information on. With pleasure.

 The restroom door was only slightly ajar, and in his fury Bodie's push
slammed it back hard against the wall, and it shook on its hinges as he
walked past. Both Murphy and Johnson had been standing up as he entered,
probably on their way to see Cowley, and turned in surprise as Bodie
advanced on Johnson.

 Lashing out, one perfectly placed fist sent Johnson to the floor, seconds
later staring up at Bodie in shock as blood trickled from the man's mouth.

 "You bastard." Bodie growled out, even as both Murphy and Lewis moved to
stop him, evidently thinking that 3.7 had gone crazy.

 "Bodie…what the hell are you doing?"

 But Bodie shook off their arms as they tried to restrain him, hauling
Johnson up by his collar before slamming him back into the wall and
pinning him there. One arm secured on the man's throat, the other pulled
Johnson's gun out of his holster, throwing it across the room out of the
way.

 "Where is he? Where has Cane taken him?"

 "What are you on about?" Johnson whined, obviously speaking with
difficulty.

 "I know who you really are. Now. Where. Is. Doyle?"

 Johnson fell silent, glancing about uncertainly as Murphy and Lewis
looked on in confusion.

 Seconds later Cowley himself burst into the room looking like the wrath
of God incarnate, having been drawn from his office by the commotion.

 "What the hell is going on?" he began. "3.7? Would you like to explain
why you're acting like you're back in the playground?"

 Cowley's voice was hard, and clipped, the tone usually enough to cower
any member of CI5 with ease. But Bodie barely noticed him.

 "I'm in no mood for twenty questions, Johnson. Well?"

 "Bodie!"

 Only now did Bodie notice his boss. "Johnson's about to tell me where
Doyle is, sir."

 Cowley frowned, and looked at Johnson for a second, before turning his
attention back to Bodie.

 "You'd better explain that, Bodie."

 "This is how Cane knew we were coming, how he's been one step ahead of us
since day one. Johnson on his bloody payroll."

 "Bodie…" Johnson tried to placate the man, convince him that he was
wrong, but Bodie cut him off before he could even start.

 "Lie to me, Johnson, and I will personally put you in the hospital next
to Harvey. There's only one thing I want to hear from you."

 Johnson's eyes narrowed. "You're crazy."

 "Wrong answer."

 Cowley interrupted. "Are you sure about this, 3.7?"

 Bodie forced himself to think clearly in spite of his rage. He couldn't
risk Cowley not believing him now Johnson knew he'd been discovered.
"Johnson's the one who hit me Tuesday night. He called them yesterday,
told them we were on our way. He's been keeping them informed right from
the start. Which means, he knows where Doyle is. Don't you."

 Johnson said nothing at first, glancing nervously at each of the four
other people in the room. Then he shrugged, and grinned: a nasty, amused
half-smile totally at odds with the slightly shy role he'd been playing
since joining CI5.

 He shook off Bodie's hold on him, but made no move to escape, merely
raising an eyebrow to Bodie. "What gave me away?"

 Bodie held his fists at his side, fighting a conscious desire to beat the
bastard to a pulp then and there. Right now he needed information, there
was time enough for revenge later.

 "I've heard your nickname somewhere before." Even in his anger Bodie was
careful to keep Jill's name out of the conversation for fear of reprisals
against her. "After that everything started to make sense."

 Johnson shook his head, half-amused. "It's always the little things. But
I'm disappointed in you, Bodie. It took the best in CI5 this long to
figure it all out? I thought you'd know I was involved as soon as I had to
hit you. You're getting sloppy, 3.7."

 Bodie lunged at him and Johnson flinched, but both Murphy and Lewis
pulled him back before he could do any damage.

 "Were you been working for Cane before you joined CI5?" It was Cowley's
turn, now.

 Johnson nodded. "Five years on the police force and no-one ever knew I
was passing information to Cane. When the offer to join this lot came up
Jason decided it was too good a chance to miss. An informant inside CI5
itself?! So I applied. Was too late to do anything about the raid, but
then I was assigned to shadow the man responsible for putting David
inside! Jason couldn't believe it when I told him. Thought it was fuckin'
Christmas."

 Bodie'd had enough by now, and cut him off before he could carry on. "Now
the important question. Where's Doyle?"

 But Johnson just laughed. "No way, Bodie. He's my insurance. Let me walk
out of here, and when I'm safe on a plane I'll tell you. Not before."

 "Not likely." This from Cowley. "Get him out of here."

 Murphy and Lewis marched Johnson out of the room, and Bodie and Cowley
were left on their own.

 "He warned them we were on our way. They can't have had long to find
somewhere else to hole up. He has to know where Doyle is."

 "I know. Murphy and I will deal with him. Check his personnel record out,
see if there's anything there."

 "What good will that be? If we missed he was working for Cane…"

 "Just get it, Bodie."

 Bodie took a deep breath. Getting into an argument with Cowley wouldn't
do Doyle any good. Heading down to Personnel, he hunted through the
cabinets and quickly came up with Johnson's file. Flicking through the
pages something caught Bodie's eye, and he went straight down to the
interrogation room they'd taken Johnson to, ignoring the man, and heading
instead straight for Cowley.

 "Anything?"

 "Look, there's a list of addresses here."

 Cowley joined him at the table and looked over the page. "That's right.
The first one is his assigned flat, second the address of his next of kin.
What's your point, Bodie?"

 "The third address in Kent, sir. When Cane phoned this morning he said he
was in the last place in the world we'd think to look."

 "Your point, Bodie?"

 "Even if we'd turned over half the country looking for Doyle, the last
place we'd even think of looking is somewhere owned by a CI5 agent! What
if when Johnson warned them yesterday he told them to go there? The place
is empty, it's a perfect little bolt-hole. "

 Cowley glanced over at Johnson. "Is Cane at your house in Kent? Is he?"

 Johnson said nothing, but the look on his face spoke for him.

 Convinced, Cowley left Lewis instructions on how to deal with Johnson,
and the other three quickly headed out of the room. Within minutes the
same squad that had travelled to Caterham had been assembled, minus
Johnson himself, of course, and they set out.

 ******

*11.56 am*

 Exhaustion had finally lulled him into a restless sleep, and he woke,
startled, by the sound of gunfire coming from the next room. Before he'd
had a chance to get his bearings, Doyle was hauled upright, and he cried
out in pain as his whole body vehemently protested the movement.

 One arm wrapped firmly around his neck, Cane dragged him a few feet
backwards away from the door, into a more defensible position. The door
burst open, and if Doyle had had the breath to spare, he would have
cheered as Bodie appeared in the doorway.

 But Doyle didn't have the breath to spare. Cane was a few inches taller
than him, and the choke hold forced Doyle onto his toes, only just
managing to keep contact with the floor. Already he was gasping as he
tried to breathe.

 With both hands wrapped around his gun, aimed firmly at Cane, Bodie
looked pissed, but was only too well aware that Doyle was too big a
shield, and he didn't dare risk the shot. The gun that Cane held to
Doyle's side only helped to reinforce that decision. Still, he kept the
aim, waiting for the smallest chance.

 "It's all over, Cane. Let him go."

 But Cane just laughed, and tightened his hold around Doyle's neck.
"That's not how this works, Bodie. I'll give up on my brother, but unless
you let me out of here, you're going to need a new partner." As if to back
up his words Cane pushed the gun harder against Doyle's ribs, and Doyle
groaned in pain. The tension in the room doubled.

 The sounds of the fight from the other room had abated, and Bodie knew
that Cane's two friends had been subdued. He could hear quiet murmuring
from the other room, but no-one else dared enter the small room, afraid of
exacerbating the situation.

 "How likely do you think you are to get out of here alive if you kill
him?"

 "I'll take my chances."

 Doyle hung weakly onto Cane's arm, his gasps echoing round the small
room. Already his vision was dimming, and he didn't know how much longer
he'd be able to last. But something in Cane's voice, so loud even over the
rushing in his ears made him take notice, and in a flash of clarity he
knew what Cane was going to do.

 His own body in the way, Doyle knew that Bodie would not shoot at Cane,
no matter how much he wanted Bodie to shoot anyway. His partner was an
excellent shot, and could probably make it, but wouldn't, placing Doyle's
own safety above everything.

 Of course, that didn't stop Cane from being able to shoot, and as the gun
moved from his side, Doyle knew that Cane was going to shoot Bodie. The
room was empty, there was no cover, and with Bodie dead Cane would still
have a hostage with which to bargain his way out with, and one less CI5
agent to worry about.

 Fear lent Doyle a burst of adrenaline, and gave him the energy to stay
conscious a moment longer. As Cane raised the gun and took aim at Bodie,
Doyle gathered the tattered reserves of his strength, and balanced as well
as he could. Cane began squeezing the trigger, and Doyle threw himself to
the left, falling onto Cane's arm and disrupting his aim even as he fired.

 Surprised, Cane's hold around Doyle's neck slipped, and Doyle collapsed
to the ground, gratefully gasping in air. Small gasps though, as his ribs
hurt too much for any more. Above him, three shots were fired in quick
succession, and the murmuring in the next room stopped, as everyone waited
to see what had happened.

 Cane's aim had been dead on target, but Doyle had reacted well, and the
bullet had missed Bodie completely…just. He too had seen what Cane was
going to do, but had been unable to do anything, and was well aware that
Doyle had just saved his life. As soon as Doyle had fallen Bodie had
fired, and at such close range both bullets had thrown Cane backwards
across the room, where he'd hit the wall before collapsing, dead before he
hit the ground, eyes open.

 Only after making sure that Cane was dead did Bodie allow himself to look
at the figure lying face down on the filthy floor.

 "Cowley! Get an ambulance!"

 A burst of activity in the next room, but Bodie ignored it, going to his
knees by his partner's side. Holstering his gun, Bodie pulled out a knife,
taking in the various cuts and bruises as he did so. Cutting through the
ropes produced a groan from Doyle, and he turned his partner over gently.
Doyle stared up at his partner through slightly dazed eyes, but Bodie
breathed a sigh of relief, nonetheless.

 "Thank God."

 Doyle's voice as hoarse, barely a whisper, and Bodie had to lean in
closer to hear him. "Thought you…didn't believe in…him…just in…"

 But the rest of his sentence dissolved as Doyle started coughing again,
and Bodie turned him onto his side just in case. Only then did he realise
that the body beneath his hands was shivering badly, and discovered just
how cold Doyle was. Cowley entered the room as Bodie pulled off his
jacket.

 "See if there's a rug or a blanket in one of the cars, sir." Bodie
requested. "He's freezing."

 Cowley nodded. "There's an ambulance on it's way."

 At that Doyle stirred again. "I'm…fine. Don’t need…" He tried to sit up,
yelping as he did so, but Bodie pushed him carefully back to the ground.

 "Don't be stupid, Doyle." There was no malice in his words, and as he
covered Doyle as best he could with his jacket, he was running his gaze
over his partner, cataloguing the injuries. He was breathing hard, and
shallowly, and Bodie could see cuts and bruises on almost every part of
exposed skin. His face was pale, or at least what could be seen around two
days growth of beard, and one arm was quite obviously broken, and
seriously swollen.

 Regardless, Doyle was alive, and didn't seem to be in any serious danger,
and as Bodie heard the ambulance in the distance, he grinned.

 As the coughing subsided Doyle turned weakly onto his back, and looked up
at his partner. "Is he dead?"

 Bodie glanced again at the body across the room, and nodded.

 "Thanks, Bodie."

 "Anytime, sunshine. Besides, had to get my jacket back, didn't I?"

 Doyle smiled, albeit shakily, and rested his head against Bodie's leg
where he was knelt, grateful for even that small bit of warmth.

 The paramedics arrived, and Bodie stepped back to give them room, talking
quietly to Cowley whilst keeping one eye on Doyle, just in case.

 ******

*3:07 pm*

 Doyle woke slowly. At first, he fought it, preferring to stay asleep,
where he didn't have to deal with the pain and the cold. But as he started
to become aware of his surroundings, he relaxed. He recognised the room he
was in before he'd even opened his eyes. It was definitely a hospital,
there was a feel to it he'd learnt to recognise over the years - slightly
too warm, stuffy, an antiseptic smell, noise muffled except for the
pushing of gurneys and beeping of machines. The pain was there, but in the
distance, easier to deal with, and it wasn't quite as hard to breathe
anymore.

 He was alone when he awoke fully, though he could see Bodie and Cowley
talking to a doctor just outside. He already knew what the doctor was
saying, having endured the lecture himself an hour before, after they'd
finished patching him up and finally let him rest. The broken ribs and
mild concussion he'd been prepared for, and though he'd protested the IV
drip, convinced that he wasn't dehydrated, he had to admit now to feeling
better for it.

 His arm was a pleasant surprise. Though broken and severely swollen, the
doctor's had assured him that the circulation was fine, and while it might
take a little longer to heal than usual, there would be no permanent
damage. Having been convinced that he was going to lose at least partial
mobility, Doyle had made no protest at the decision to put a cast on it,
something that had surprised Bodie, though he'd said nothing, and looked
pleased.

 Eyelids drooping again, Doyle thought briefly about trying to stay awake
until Bodie came in, to find out just how Bodie had found him. It had
taken too long for his rushed clue, 'be careful, there's another Barry
Martin' to have been the key, but Doyle figured that Bodie would probably
have uncovered Johnson anyway, and was happy to leave the questions until
later, when he could stay awake. Everything else that needed to be said
had been said already, without words, but through a dozen different
glances in the ambulance on the way to the hospital. Doyle yawned and
drifted back to sleep, only vaguely aware of Cowley walking away, and
Bodie coming into the room and sitting beside him.

 Bodie sat back down by the bed, watching the man asleep under the covers.
After making sure Doyle was truly asleep, he leant his head wearily on his
hands and sighed in relief. It was over. Cane was dead, Doyle was alive -
hurt, but safe. Everything else would fix itself given time.

 Since he'd convinced the Sister that Doyle required protection, the
visiting hours no longer applied to him, and Bodie had no plans on leaving
for a while. When Cowley found out he'd probably receive a lecture on
'abusing CI5 authority', and Doyle would complain about the nursemaiding,
but none of that mattered.

 Finally allowing himself to relax for the first time in almost 48 hours,
Bodie's head gradually drifted from his hands to the bed in front of him,
and he slept beside his partner.

 -- THE END --

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