The Professionals Circuit Archive - Sequel to Two Plain Brown Envelopes 
     Sequel to Two Plain Brown Envelopes

 

by Rob 

  
 *(Sequel to Two Plain Brown Envelopes)*


 At the end of the path, sitting in her car by the front door was Mrs.
Fields. 

"Good evening boys, have you had a nice day -- pity about the rain," she
said brightly. 

Bodie limped up the path in silence, he really didn't trust himself to
speak. Still smiling, Mrs. Fields began to drop her bombshell. Such nice
lads -- they were bound to understand that in the country these things
happened. 

"I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you." 

The two men stopped in their tracks. *More* bad news, surely everything
that could go wrong already had. 

The total non-expression which suddenly appeared on the duo's faces
unsettled her a little, but only for a moment. 

"Everyone on this side of the village gets their electricity from the same
generator and -- it's broken down. It won't be repaired until tomorrow --
or the day after if we're really unlucky." 

No electricity, that meant no light, warmth, hot food; no hot bath, not
even a cup of tea. 

"Shit!" With Mrs. Fields still twittering around the door Bodie tried to
control his language, but even that mild expletition caused her to jump
back a few steps. 

"The cottage is all electric isn't it?" asked Doyle, trying to assess how
bad the situation was. 

"I'm afraid so. There's no gas in the village at all. I have a friend, in
the next village, who takes in guests during the summer and I took the
liberty of asking her if she could put you and your friend up for the
night, so if you want a hot meal and a bath after your day out you could
go over there." 

"Bodie?" Doyle turned to his partner. 

"A hot meal and a bath... yeah why not, it's a bit late to go to
Manchester now," he said in a biting voice. 

"Thank you Mrs. Fields, where's the house then?" 

"If you want to pack some fresh clothes to take I'll drive you over there.
Where is your car anyway?" she said, noticing for the first time that they
had walked up to the house. 

Bodie opened his mouth to tell her but was beaten to it by his partner. 

"It was stolen while we were walking, that's why we're back so late." 

"Stolen, oh, my. Nothing is safe these days. I don't know what the world
is coming to. Well you boys go and pack some things for tonight, you can
come back to pack properly tomorrow when it's light. Here, you better take
this so you can see what you're doing." Mrs. Fields passed over a large
torch. 

"I'll chuck some stuff in a bag Bodie, you may as well wait here." Giving
Bodie a meaningful glance, which was interpreted as `watch your mouth and
manners' Doyle disappeared into the dark house. 

Mrs. Fields opened the door, tipped the front seat forward and indicated
for Bodie to climb in. 

"You might as well wait in comfort." 

Bodie took a deep breath -- and held it. Comfort! He was freezing cold,
the rain had finally seeped down the back of his neck; he was hungry --
he'd had nothing except a couple of cheese sandwiches and a cup of coffee
a million years ago on the top of a mountain; his feet were aching and
sore. All he wanted was to get his boots off, have a decent meal, collapse
into bed and forget the whole day. 

Keeping the lid firmly clamped down on his temper took considerable
effort, but he managed to mumble some polite words of thanks to the old
bat, as he squeezed his bulky frame onto the back seat of the dilapidated
mini. He couldn't sit straight as the front seats were too far back so he
sprawled sideways across the car. 

It wasn't long before Doyle re-appeared in the car headlights, carrying a
small holdall. He climbed in and Mrs. Fields keyed the ignition. Nothing
happened. She tried again and the engine whirred, whined and died. 

Sitting in the front Doyle could feel the rising temper behind him, but
wisely chose to ignore it. He really didn't like to consider what would
happen if they had to get out and push. 

At the fourth attempt the little engine finally spluttered into life.
Doyle successfully suppressed a sudden urge to cheer wildly. 

After a few minutes of driving through pitch black lanes they came across
some lamp posts which were working, and through the hedges lights could be
seen. They turned up a driveway; after all the gloom the house looked like
something from Blackpool illuminations. 

"I was lucky to get you in here, not many people take in guests out of
season and a party of students have taken up most of the available beds in
the village, but you'll be comfortable here. I'll see you tomorrow at the
cottage, when you pick the rest of your belongings up. I do apologise for
the inconvenience." 

Doyle struggled out of the car and bade Mrs. Fields a good night. Leaving
Bodie to prise himself from the back seat he walked up to the front door.
His knock was answered immediately by a neat looking middle-aged lady. 

"Evening, my name is Doyle -- Mrs. Fields said you were expecting us." 

As he spoke, Mrs. Fields coaxed her mini to life and rattled off down the
driveway, and Bodie slowly limped up to the door. 

"Oh dear," cried the lady. "Rebecca said she was sending over a couple who
were renting her cottage." She looked worriedly at the two weary
bedraggled men leaning against her door. 

"That's right, that's us." Doyle had a sinking feeling that god hadn't
quite finished punishing him yet. 

"A couple," she said. "I've only got the one room vacant, I thought you
were a couple," she vacillated. "I'm terribly sorry." 

"I don't see the problem -- You do have a room available?" questioned
Bodie. 

"Yes, but it's a double room, there's only one bed." 

Bodie sank down onto the seat on the porch. "All I want is a hot meal, a
bath and to go to sleep, I don't think I'd notice if I was sharing the bed
with an entire battalion of the Coldstream Guards." 

"If you gentlemen are sure you don't mind?" 

"We don't mind," Bodie said; his eyes, however, said something entirely
different. Doyle decided that if looks could kill he would be well and
truly dead. 

The woman, who introduced herself as Mrs. Denton, showed them to a neat,
nicely furnished room. 

"Would you like something to eat now or in a little while?" 

"I'd like something now, I'm starving," Bodie said with feeling. He was
also cold and tired but first things first. 

"If you come down to the dining room in ten minutes -- that's the first
door on the left at the bottom of the stairs, I'll have a hot meal ready
for you." 

Mrs. Denton left and closed the door behind her. Bodie collapsed into the
only armchair in the room. Doyle removed his jacket and placed it neatly
across the bed, then disappeared into the bathroom. When he emerged a few
minutes later Bodie went in. 

Doyle was lounging across the bed reading a magazine he had found when
Bodie emerged; neither man spoke and Bodie returned to the armchair and
began to study the entwined pastel flowers on the wallpaper. 

The silence continued until Doyle, after glancing at his watch, heaved
himself up off the bed. 

"Ten minutes are up; I'm going down for something to eat." 

Without waiting for his partner he opened the door and went down to the
dining room. 

The meal, which was excellent, was eaten in silence. The dining room was
empty except for them, Mrs. Denton explained that the other guests had
eaten over an hour ago. 

After the meal was finished Doyle left Bodie to sulk on his own over a
final cup of coffee and going back to their room he locked himself in the
bathroom. He was up to his neck in hot water when he heard Bodie come back
into their room. 

"Don't sit in there all night, I want a bath as well." 

Listening to the complaining voice through the door, Doyle decided that a
good meal hadn't eased his friend's temper. Friend, that was a laugh.
Nothing had gone right this holiday -- absolutely nothing, Bodie had
moaned about everything. The drive up here, the cottage, the weather; the
one night out at a local pub had been doomed from the outset. Was it his
fault it rained or that the car was stolen? Thoroughly dejected he threw
the flannel at the taps then pulled the plug out. As he reached for the
towel, the door rattled on its hinges as Bodie beat a tattoo on it. 

"Come on Doyle, move yourself, I'd like a bath *sometime* tonight." 

"I'm coming," Doyle snapped back. 

As he towelled himself dry he went back to his thoughts. Why, he asked
himself, had he asked Bodie to come along? Why the hell had Bodie
accepted? It wasn't the type of break he usually went in for. Doyle knew
why he liked this type of fresh air and green hills holiday. It was
peaceful, restful, calming. He had wanted to share that peace with someone
-- with Bodie. 

The door shook beneath Bodie's hand again. 

"Doyle!" 

Enjoying each other's company -- some joke. Doyle knotted the towel around
his waist and opened the door. 

"It's all yours." 

"About time too," Bodie practically growled at him as he pushed past into
the bathroom and slammed the door shut. 

Listening to the running taps, Doyle rummaged in the holdall for his
pyjama trousers, shrugged the towel off and slipped into them. He was
turning the covers back, ready to climb between the sheets and forget the
whole rotten day when Bodie burst through the bathroom door looking ready
to fight off an entire army single handed. 

"Did you enjoy your bath Doyle?" he bellowed. 

"*Now* what's the matter?" 

"Water nice and hot, was it?" 

Oh my god, thought Doyle, don't tell me I used all the hot water. 

"What's wrong now, Bodie?" 

"That's bloody typical of you. Never think of anyone but yourself. You
knew I wanted a bath so what did you do, you crept out of the dining room
before I'd finished and locked yourself in there and hogged all the hot
water." 

"You're making it sound like I did it on purpose," Doyle protested. 

"You're going to stand there and tell me you *didn't*." 

"Of course I didn't, for Godsake, Bodie, use some common sense for once.
Calm down, and stop shouting or everyone in the house will hear you." 

For a split second Doyle thought his partner was going to cross the room
and hit him and he prepared to defend himself but Bodie turned on his
heels and locked himself in the bathroom again. Letting out the breath
he'd been holding Doyle sat down heavily on the bed. The last four days
had to be the worst days of his life. Why, he asked himself again, had he
asked Bodie to join him? Because, he answered himself, he'd had this
stupid notion that it would have been nice to spend some time relaxing
with him away from the pressures of CI5. Next time he got an idea like
that he'd remember not to act on it. Getting between the sheets he reached
for the discarded magazine. 

It was about ten minutes before Bodie emerged from the bathroom for the
second time, wearing his towel around his hips. The aura of menace was
tangible and Doyle decided that it would be safer to ignore his partner's
presence for as long as possible. 

"That's right Doyle," he said with false generosity. "You make yourself
comfortable next to the radiator, I don't mind sleeping in the draught
from the window." Bodie turned his back to the bed, pulled his pyjama
trousers from the bag and put them on. When he turned around Doyle was
still sitting up reading -- but on the other side of the bed. After a few
more minutes fussing around Bodie slipped into bed and settled himself
down to sleep. 

"I hope you're not going to read all night," Bodie muttered testily. 

"It's only ten thirty." 

"I don't care what the fuckin' time is, I'm tired, I've had one hell of a
day and I want to go to sleep." 

Bodie rolled on his side, hugging the blankets to him. 

Doyle decided to give in quietly, maybe -- just maybe, Bodie would be more
cheerful in the morning. He dropped the magazine onto the floor beside the
bed and switched off the light. 

They lay, back to back, sleep a million miles away, in stony silence, each
for different reasons wishing they were a million miles away too. 

Over-conscious of the rigid body on the other side of the bed, Doyle tried
not to fidget, but the harder he tried the more he wanted to move. The
pillow was lumpy and uncomfortable and Bodie had been right about the
draught from the window -- it felt like a gale whistling around his ears.
He wriggled down the bed a little and tugged the blanket up to cover his
ears. 

"Don't hog all the soddin' blankets, I want to keep warm as well." 

That was it. The final straw. Doyle snapped the light on and threw the
covers back, leaving Bodie stunned and blinking in the sudden bright
light. 

"I have just about had enough of your and your moans. You keep the
blankets -- I hope they suffocate you." 

Reaching into the holdall he pulled out his fresh clothes. "Why you
bothered to come at all beats me, you've not stopped complaining since we
left London four days ago." Doyle threw his discarded pyjamas into the bag
and pulled on his pants and jeans. "How was I supposed to know that half
the M1 was being rebuilt, and it wasn't my fault that bloody lorry shed
its load across the road." He buttoned his shirt. "There was nothing wrong
with the cottage. If I'd wanted a luxury apartment with mod cons I
wouldn't have come here, would I? Thought you might enjoy the change of
pace, the scenery. For christsake, it's November, Bodie, this is England
-- did you really expect a heatwave?" He sat down on the bed and pulled on
his socks. "And I suppose I planned all along to have your precious car
nicked just so I could enjoy a long walk in the pissing rain with the
pleasure of your company to keep me going." He slipped on his trainers and
bent down to do up the laces. "Tell me something, Bodie. Just why did you
come?" 

"You asked me." Bodie answered numbly, listening to Doyle's tirade brought
home, for the second time that day, how much he'd been complaining. 

"It wasn't an order, Bodie. You could have said no." 

"I could have, but I didn't want to. Where are you going?" 

"Do you really care?" Doyle reached for his jacket and moved towards the
door. Without realising he was moving, Bodie was out of the bed and across
the room in a flash, grabbing hold of Doyle's wrist as he reached for the
door. 

"Where *are* you going? It's gone eleven o'clock, you heard Mrs. Fields,
there's not an empty bed in the village." 

"I'll find a hotel somewhere, let go of me." Doyle pulled ineffectively
away from Bodie. 

"How? You haven't got a car, there's probably no taxi service and the next
bus isn't due till next week." 

"I'll walk," Doyle insisted stubbornly. 

"Why *did* you ask me along anyway?" 

"Because I was daft enough to think you might enjoy my company." 

"I do." 

"You've got a funny way of showing it, and will you let go of my arm."
Doyle snatched his arm back and Bodie let him go. They stood nose to nose,
staring each other out, gauging the other's mood and temper. 

"I'm sorry." 

"I'm sorry." They both spoke at once. Bodie smiled first, breaking the
tension. "Look, I really am sorry. I know I've been a pig to live with the
past few days, but I have enjoyed myself. Really." 

"Even today?" asked Doyle, disbelieving. 

"The walk was good, and it wasn't your fault the car was nicked; sorry I
took it out on you." Bodie dropped his gaze from the intense expression in
Doyle's eyes. "You've done your buttons up wrong," and he lifted his hands
to undo the buttons; Doyle grasped a wrist in each hand, causing him to
look back at the face inches from his own. 

"Why *did* you come?" 

They stood, frozen together so close they could feel the other's body
heat. 

Bodie relaxed his arms but Doyle held his wrists in a tight grip against
his chest, unclenching his fingers Bodie splayed them out, feeling the
material of the shirt and the body inside it. 

"I said why did you come?" Doyle repeated. 

"Because... because I wanted to, I thought it would be good, just you and
me." 

As Bodie stood there, held in position by the almost painful grip on his
wrists, he felt a peculiar sinking sensation -- He was acutely aware of
the strength hidden by the deceptively slender fingers and body and could
smell the soap and aftershave Doyle had used. For a moment he wondered if
he was going to pass out. 

The grip on his wrists slackened and Bodie saw his own confusion mirrored
in the face before him. 

"Bodie?" Doyle whispered. 

"Ray, I..." Bodie tried to pull away from the hands encircling his wrists,
but the grip was immediately tightened. 

"Ray, I... I'm sorry, don't go, please. I'll shut up moaning, I promise.
Stay here -- please." Even as he spoke, they both knew that he was asking
for more than the argument to be forgotten. 

Doyle finally let go of Bodie's wrists, and stepped away. Bodie remained
where he was, his back to the door, waiting for Doyle to make his
decision. 

Looking down at the clothes he had hurriedly thrown on, Doyle saw the
mis-matched buttons and his fingers moved to correct them. In silence he
undid all the buttons, trying at the same time to cope with the flood of
emotions rushing through him. He could feel the imprint of Bodie's hands
on his chest, the tingling electric sensation was only just fading away.
Stay. How could he stay now? His eyes slid past Bodie's pyjama-clad body
to the bed, then back to Bodie. 

Watching his partner's eyes swing from himself to the bed and back, Bodie
guessed at his thoughts. They could spend all night dithering, trying to
guess what the other wanted and he decided to make his own newly
discovered feelings known. As he advanced he decided that if he'd guessed
wrong Doyle would be justified in beating the hell out of him, or at least
trying to. 

As soon as Bodie moved Doyle knew what his intention was, but as the warm
lips covered his, he put his arms out to hold himself steady. It didn't
occur to him that he ought to push Bodie away. 

The kiss was, at first, tentative, almost impersonal, but as Doyle's arms
slid around his waist, Bodie put his heart and soul into convincing Doyle
of the rightness of it all. 

When they broke apart they were both giddy and breathless. 

Doyle ran his hands up Bodie's bare arms and shoulders, cupping the
serious face in his hands. "Bodie... this is mad, we're both mad," he
whispered. 

"So. We'll see a doctor and get certified in the morning." Bodie leant
forward to claim Doyle's mouth again -- but was pushed away. 

"No, Bodie no." 

Bodie felt Doyle try to pull away but he caught hold of his shoulders and
pulled him against his chest, trying to persuade him to relax and let
himself go. 

"Bodie!" 

Bodie recognised the note of near panic in Doyle's voice and reluctantly
let him go. Once free, Doyle retreated to the other side of the room. 

Watching Doyle, standing in the glow of the bedside light, his hair
dishevelled, face flushed, the open shirt revealing the silver chain that
was catching the light and sparkling as brightly as the eyes that regarded
him so warily, Bodie began to appreciate what it must be like for a blind
person to suddenly regain their sight. It had been years since the last
time he'd allowed himself to admit the attraction of another man, and even
longer since he'd revelled in the scent and feel of man flesh. How could
he have worked alongside him and been so blind to the innate sensuality of
the man? He knew Doyle was feeling the same attraction for him; unless he
wanted to frighten Ray off forever he knew he would have to slow down. 

"Ray, it's all right. I promise I won't force anything on you." He moved
slowly across the room. "We'll take it as slow as you want. Anytime you
want to stop -- just say so, it's going to be okay." 

As Bodie reached out a hand and laid it on his shoulder, Doyle flinched,
but he didn't draw away. Sliding one hand around Doyle's waist, under his
shirt and the other around his shoulders, Bodie drew him into a light
embrace and softly kissed him again, tracing the outline of the full lips
with a moist tongue tip, teasing until they opened, allowing admittance to
the hot mouth. Without pushing or demanding, Bodie gently explored; their
tongues touched and moved together. Soon, Bodie felt a surge of pleasure
as Doyle began to respond to the kiss, exploring Bodie's mouth in turn. 

Bodie drew away a little, causing Doyle to open his eyes in confusion. 

"Why don't we lie down, it will be more comfortable?" Bodie asked softly. 

Doyle swallowed hard, and looked from Bodie to the bed, and back at the
flushed face of his partner; Bodie seemed to be very sure of himself.
Seeing the indecision in the green eyes, Bodie gently pulled Doyle into an
embrace, sweeping his hands across the bare skin under the unfastened
shirt. 

"Are you cold?" Clad as he was in only his pyjama trousers, Bodie knew
that the room was pleasantly warm. Unable to speak, Doyle could only shake
his head. 

"You're trembling." 

"I know." Doyle managed to force the words through his numb lips. 

"Scared?" whispered Bodie. The word could have been spoken as a challenge
-- but it wasn't, and Doyle knew that with Bodie there was no need for
pretence. 

"Yes." 

"Do you want to stop?" 

"No," Doyle mouthed the word, no sound came out but his decision had been
made and Bodie gently claimed the parted lips again. 

Doyle's arms encircled Bodie's waist lightly, the grip tightening only
when warm hands went to the fastening on his jeans and slid inside to grip
his pulsing sex. 

As he grasped Doyle firmly, Bodie felt the tightening of the warm band
around his waist; he knew Doyle wanted this, the pulsing shaft he held in
his hand was proof of that. Still being careful not to frighten Doyle, he
maneuvered them towards the bed and tipped Doyle backwards. Slipping out
of his pyjamas Bodie lay down beside him. For a moment he remained propped
up on one elbow just looking at his partner. Doyle was lying where he had
been placed on the bed, shirt open, trousers and pants pushed partially
down the lean body, waiting for him, trusting Bodie with everything he had
-- his life, his body and his love. 

Bodie felt his own hand tremble, so strong were the feelings inside him.
With shaking fingers he stroked the sweat-damp hair from Doyle's forehead.
At the light touch, Doyle opened his eyes; Bodie guessed that everything
he was feeling must be there for Doyle and the world to see, not that he
minded. How long had they been building up to this, he wondered, months,
years? Yesterday would have been too soon, tomorrow would be too late, but
tonight -- tonight everything was perfect. 

His nervousness dissipating, melting away under the glow of love and
warmth that Bodie was radiating, Doyle ran his fingers across the uneven
eyebrows and over the beautiful dark eyes. 

"This all feels very right," he whispered. 

"That's because it is, for us." Bodie captured the fingers that were
exploring his ear and kissed the palm. 

"I don't know what to do, this is very new to me," said Doyle, confirming
what Bodie had suspected, Ray had never made love with a man before. 

"That's okay, just do what feels right for you," Bodie encouraged. 

"Show me -- please." 

Complying with the request, Bodie employed all the skills he had acquired
throughout his many and varied encounters. For what seemed to Doyle to be
an endless time Bodie kissed and caressed him, alternately fanning the
flames of desire then calming the fire he'd ignited, taking Doyle to the
edge again and again until he held in his arms a quaking, quivering body
that was begging for release. 

"What do you want Ray -- tell me -- what do you want?" Bodie could barely
speak, seeing Doyle so helplessly aroused was not exactly doing much for
his self control and his own needs were making themselves felt, but he
fiercely clamped down on what he knew he wanted. That could come later --
tonight was for Ray. 

Doyle's whole body was running with perspiration, and screaming for
release, Bodie was arousing him to a level of awareness he'd never
experienced before. Even with his eyes firmly closed he knew where Bodie's
hands were going to touch him next -- his skin was so sensitive to touch
he could feel the radiating heat as Bodie's hands skimmed over him from
chest to nipple down his back to his buttocks then round over his hips and
abdomen to his aching pulsating cock. 

"Tell me what you want, Ray," Bodie entreated. "Tell me." 

"Let me come, Bodie, please, make me come." 

Matching their bodies perfectly, Bodie twisted and pulled until Doyle was
lying on top of him, face to face. Taking possession of the eager mouth he
slid his hands down the satiny, sweat-slick back until he cupped the lean
buttocks in his hands and pulled their lower bodies closer together urging
Doyle to match his rhythm, thrusting together until he felt him go rigid
in his arms. Realisation that Doyle had reached orgasm triggered his own
explosive release and they shuddered to a glorious halt, their spilled
semen flowing between them. 

******

Doyle awoke first; from the snores he guessed that Bodie was still fast
asleep, and he twisted around to see the time. Six-thirty, still early.
They'd have to catch a train from Manchester about mid-day to enable them
to get to HQ in time for their next duty that night. 

After the events of last night, CI5 seemed to be in a different world --
last night had changed everything; or had it? Doyle was suddenly assailed
by doubts. Had anything changed? Everything had happened so quickly -- one
minute they were arguing and the next... He looked at the face next to his
on the pillow; last night Bodie had been wonderful, so careful, tender and
loving. He'd known exactly what to do, the strangeness hadn't bothered him
at all. 

When Bodie finally woke up he found a pair of deep sea green eyes staring
at him intently, he blinked the sleep from his eyes and then smiled
warmly. 

"Morning." 

The smile was returned and Bodie saw that the eyes were clear and wide
awake, not like his own bleary, sleep-clogged ones. 

"You bin awake long?" 

"About an hour. I was beginning to think you'd died during the night. If
you hadn't been snoring so loudly I'd have called for an undertaker." 

"Ah well, you'll have to get used to me snoring, won't you?" 

"Will I?" 

Bodie struggled to wake his brain up. The note of worry in Doyle's voice
hastened the process considerably. "I don't always snore, not every night,
leastways, I'll try not to." 

"Oh, I see, not every night. That's okay then." 

"You could always join in you know -- stereo snoring." 

"I don't snore." 

"Who says?" 

"I've never heard myself, not once, ever." 

"I'll soon let you know if you start up." 

"You're planning on doing some research into it then?" 

"Oh yeah. As long as you don't mind me sleeping in your bed every night --
purely for scientific research of course." 

"Of course." 

The banter petered out and they looked deeply, searchingly into each
other's eyes, then Bodie spoke first. 

"I love you." 

"Love you too." 

They kissed gently then broke apart. Doyle flicked another look at the
clock. 

"It's quarter to eight, d'you fancy some breakfast?" 

"Yes," Bodie answered, as he pulled Doyle into his arms. "Come here." 

******

Doyle parked his car neatly in the CI5 car park, the next space was
conspicuously empty. As he switched the ignition off he turned his head in
time to see Bodie glancing longingly at the vacant space. 

"Maybe if I close my eyes and wish very hard my fairy godmother will hear
me and make it re-appear, good as new." 

"Have you worked out what you're going to tell him yet?" 

"I think it would be a good idea to just leave the country, now, while
it's safe." 

"Coward," Doyle joked, though he knew it was no laughing matter. Even
though the car had been stolen there had been the slim chance it would be
found intact. But the Hathersage PC had informed them this morning that it
had been written off in an accident only hours after it had been stolen.
Cowley was going to go berserk. Only a few days before they had gone on
leave the entire department had received a very caustic lecture on
conserving department funds and economising wherever possible. Writing off
a year-old Capri was not going to please the accountants very much -- or
George Cowley. 

"Okay, I'm a coward," Bodie admitted cheerfully. "You go in and tell him
*you* lost it." 

"Your car, mate, you tell him." 

"*Was* my car, you mean," Bodie reminded him gloomily. They climbed out of
the car and moved towards the door to the building. 

"When shall we tell him about us?" Doyle asked. "Before you tell him about
the car or after?" 

"God knows. Let's just play it by ear, see what kind of mood the old goat
is in first. Never know your luck, he might not even be in the office." 

But he was, and after booking in for their turn of night duty they were
summoned to the inner sanctum. 

Two whiskeys and half an hour later the two agents almost fell over each
other as they left Cowley's office. Closing the door behind them they
moved out into the corridor. 

"I think he's gone mad," Doyle announced. "Reckon we ought to call Kate
Ross in to psychoanalyse him?" 

"What will you tell her? 'Scuse me Doctor but the old man's gone cuckoo,
he's behaving like a human being with a real heart." 

"Maybe he's just a sucker for love stories." 

"No that's not it. We didn't tell him about us until after you'd told him
about the car." 

They walked on down the corridor, two very puzzled -- but happy -- young
men. Bodie's voice drifted back up the deserted corridor. 

"Did you get the feeling that he was happy to see us? We ought to go on
leave more often."

-- THE END --

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