The Professionals Circuit Archive - Puppets on a String	Puppets on
a String

 

by Tessa Rae

  
 *There are times,
 when you've looked at me, 
 and smiled, 
 that special smile, 
 and I knew you cared. 

There are times, 
 when I've been
 afraid, 
 You've held me close, 
 and I know you care. 

But the little, 
 Unimportant times, 
 when I watch you, 
 and you've not known. 
 When I'd give you everything, 
 I had to give, 
 though you asked for nothing

The small incidental moments, 
 of growing close, 
 within our daily lives, 
 shared. 
 With you. 
 And knowing, 
 You'll always be there...'*

"Move out all units, and remember I want Losada alive!" the Scott's accent
reminded them tartly over the R/T unit. He turned and glared at his driver
impatiently as they dodged through the heavy London traffic. He wished
they were closer to the docks, but the meeting with the Minister had been
of prime importance. He checked his watch and glanced out the window. It
was a miserable evening and he shuddered inwardly. 

Two dark shapes detached themselves from the alley wall, moving silently
with guns drawn. The tall, smooth featured man's mouth was set in an
almost permanent sneer as he shoved the R/T in his coat pocket and glanced
at the smaller man at his side.

"Do you think he was referring specifically to us?"

"Knowing your trigger finger, sunshine, anything is possible." Doyle
grinned, his face half lit by the light from a distant street lamp. He
turned away and gestured with his head to the warehouse that awaited them.
"This one's ours. Up or down?" He pursed his lips, the smile lingering in
his eyes.

Bodie considered the question, knowing his partner's unspoken concern for
his healing knee. It was an old injury now, but still a lot of climbing
caused him discomfort. He glanced at the building opposite, knowing
another team was already in the process of checking it out, and time was
of the essence as Cowley wanted the KGB bastard before midnight. His mouth
drew into a smirk. "Down." 

Nodding, Doyle saluted him briefly with his gun and padded his way slowly
along the warehouse's wall, stopping in the shadows to listen. 

Moving himself, Bodie kept half an eye on Doyle, making sure he mentally
knew where his partner was at all times. They had performed this same task
so many times, that it was now second nature and he turned back to glance
down the dark alleyway leading to behind the old, disused warehouse.
Taking out his lock pick, he cheerfully broke into the ground floor of the
storage shed. It was large, but with luck he and Doyle would have it
secured within the hour. 

Cowley was hunting another Governmental mole and they had learnt the KGB
agent's whereabouts from an informer. The man had been reluctant to talk,
but eventually divulged the information Cowley had wanted when given the
right persuasion. He and Doyle had then spent two boring weeks staking out
a Russian diplomat who was supposedly visiting London on medical leave. It
all seemed legitimate on the surface and he and Doyle had taken bets on
Cowley's motives. They had both been wrong as the old man had obviously
been convinced by the authenticity of the informer's information and
Cowley had ordered the diplomat picked up immediately. But by then the man
had given them the slip, adding insult to injury and so they were now
making a sweep of the entire area.

Opening the warehouse door carefully, he stilled, well aware that one
mistake could mean either his or Doyle's life. He paused, allowing his
senses to sharpen to a new edge of alertness before advancing soundlessly
into the ground section.

Doyle saw his partner vanish from view, then headed for the back of the
building, noting the possible escape routes as he reached for the fire
stairs, swinging himself up effortlessly. Crouching on the cold metal
landing, his eyes narrowed as he checked his surroundings again for
telltale signs of a laser scope being sighted. *Nothing.* Squinting over
at the building across, he wondered how Murphy and Turner were doing.
Subconsciously he clicked the safety off on his Browning, snapping to
attention as he heard a faint sound. It was a slight creak above him.
*Bodie or....* Disliking the feeling of not knowing and leaving his
partner vulnerable, he mounted the escape stairs quietly. 

He was making his way to the roof, to secure all exits and then work his
way down through the warehouse. Hopefully if, *and it was a big IF*, the
KGB agent was in the building, then he and Bodie would trap the man
between them. It was a neat plan and had worked well a million times
before. 

It took five minutes to reach the roof. It was clear with no sign of
recent habitation. Using his skeleton keys, he had the roof door open
smoothly and he started his careful descent into the dark interior.
Briefly he left the door open behind him, waiting until his eyes had
adjusted, wondering where Bodie was.



Bodie was on the third level, painfully still with his ear pressed against
the side of a wall. He could have sworn he had heard movement from this
room from below, but now it seemed as quiet as the grave. Bracing himself,
he knew that there was only one sure way to find out and he stepped back a
few paces before crashing into the room. He hit the door with his
shoulder, vaguely hearing a helicopter approach, but ignoring it as he
rolled neatly into the darkened room to land in a contained crouch. He had
his flashlight out and gun aimed in preparation but nothing moved as he
expertly detailed the darkened area. The place was empty and he
straightened, shrugging his shoulders elegantly beneath his styled jacket
as he noted the evidence of recent habitation. Whoever had been here had
left hastily and he glanced at the ceiling. If it was the KGB agent, and
he was starting to get a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, then it
could only mean the man had moved upwards. Up towards Doyle. His mouth
tightening, he left the room and sprang up the dusty stairs lightly. In
the back of his mind, he noted that the chopper was getting closer, then
the R/T in his pocket alerted him to the possibility of trouble. He didn't
wait, rushing up the wooden stairs.



Doyle had tensed when he had heard the crash half a dozen floors lower. No
sound of gunfire killed the silence so he assumed it was just Bodie
flexing his muscles. He was on the level below the roof and he frowned as
a helicopter seemed to fly in overhead. The sound was almost deafening in
the stillness and he glanced compulsively overhead and almost missing the
movement off to his left. Only his training saved him and he fired
instantly, knowing that it wasn't Bodie.

"Shit!" cursing under his breath, furious with himself as he was slammed
backwards against a hard wall by a bullet. He clutched his shoulder and
swore angrily again as he tried to pinpoint his attacker. A movement to
his left again and he whipped the gun up, firing off a couple of shots
before he awkwardly rolled away, hastily reloading his Browning. Waiting a
painful moment in silence, he edged upwards to glance in his attacker's
direction, listening hard and seeing a figure disappear down the stairs.
Mystified as to why the KGB agent had not tried to finish him off, he
pushed himself up to stand and froze as a cold gun barrel was pressed
behind his right ear. He was dead and he knew it.



Bodie gave up on stealth as he heard the shots overhead. He yelled into
his R/T for back up as he rushed up the remaining stairs. The first gun
had been a Walther PPK, the second a Browning. The unease in his system
increased as he heard another gun fire. It was not a Browning either, and
his guts turned to water. *Doyle...* 

It was ahead and he ducked into non-existent cover as the gun discharged a
third time, peppering the cold stone behind him. Forced to back pedal, he
broke into a disused room, returning fire instinctively. Waiting a long
anxious second with held breath for the Walther to sound again, his mind
emotionlessly identified the fact that Doyle was not in pursuit. His
partner was definitely *not* in pursuit. *That could only mean one
thing....*

A sound outside his room alerted him and he leapt through the open
doorway, firing after the enemy agent as the man ran down the stairs. He
could not be sure if he hit the man or not and was about to pursue him
when the chopper overhead drew his attention again. It was so close,
directly overhead and his mouth dried as an abrupt realization hit him.
The retreating figure was a *decoy* and he sprang up the stairs in cold
panic. "Bloody hell! Doyle!"

He reached the roof, breathless, and saw the chopper pull away. A pool of
blood was illuminated by the helicopter's search lights. It gleamed white
under the strong beam, highlighting the shape of a discarded gun. *A
Browning...* Raising his gun in shock, he fired at the retreating chopper,
knowing it was useless, as a rage built inside him. They *had* Doyle,
*his* partner, and he emptied his clip helplessly into the air. With an
angry shout, he yanked his R/T loose and demanded immediate assistance.

In the helicopter, Yuri Losada smiled mirthlessly as he watched the
English agent fire his weapon. It posed no threat and he turned his
attention to out-smarting the aerial detection Major Cowley would surely
launch. Handing over a roughly sketched map to his pilot, he turned back
to his hostage. This would be his means of escape, as he ran his gun
barrel down the unconscious man's face. He didn't recognize the English
agent, but if he was CI5 then he was certain the man would carry
invaluable information in his brain. All the security codes would
certainly be invalid as CI5 would change them almost instantly and
routinely, but other more basic information could prove beneficial to him
and fatal for the English. Smiling again, he was glad he had not killed
the man out right, his death could wait a short while.

It pleased Losada, but then the aroma of a killing always did.



Racing back down the dark stairs, Bodie continued to swear as he listened
to the staticky report via his R/T. Nothing was moving fast enough for him
as he burst from the warehouse, seeing Murphy and Turner by Anderson's
car. He stopped and breathed in a shuddering breath, feeling totally alone
and vulnerable for a shaky second before he resurrected his emotional
armor. Murphy was holding up a man against Anderson's car and his teeth
clenched as he recognized the man he had shot inside the warehouse. Grim
determination and betrayal marked his face as he pushed the taller CI5
agent aside and grabbed the front of the captive's shirt. Turner was
talking on the car radio with the air traffic controllers.

"Bodie..." Murphy gripped his arm. "...the Cow wants him whole."

Shrugging him off, Bodie slammed the Russian agent up against the car and
shook him. "Now, you are going to be very co-operative and I'll tell you
why. If you aren't, I am going to ram your bloody ivories down to your
fuckin' knee caps! Do you understand me!?"

"Ahh, mate," Murphy started.

"Bodie!" Cowley's cold command halted any further delicacies Bodie was
going to inform the Russian of as Murphy walked over to CI5's Controller
in subtle distraction. He knew Bodie and Doyle *very* well, and wanted to
draw Cowley's fire to give the other man some slack. 

Releasing the captive, Bodie watched dispassionately as the man slid to
the cold ground. He swore violently, muttering a string of curses, as he
kicked Anderson's car tyres viciously in useless frustration.

"What's going on here?" Cowley demanded as he limped over to the group of
agents, guessing Murphy's ploy as he pushed the tall agent aside.

"Losada got away and..."

"What!" Cowley took off his glasses and glared at Anderson.

"He bloody well shot Doyle!" Bodie jabbed an accusing finger at the man on
the ground. The Russian stared up silently, his eyes vacant.

"Where's 4.5 now? Still in the warehouse? You men get up there
immediately."

"NO! He's been..."

"Sir, the air traffic controllers say the chopper is headed towards the
French coast," Turner interrupted. "And they are having difficulties
tracking it."

Cowley leaned in the window and took the R/T off Turner and talked to the
traffic controllers himself. Bodie paced the area behind him, brooding, as
Murphy watched him worriedly.

Turning away from the car, Cowley looked disgusted. "If it passes the
coastline, then we've lost it," he muttered, peeved.

"Sir..."

"They took Doyle!" Bodie cut in. "Spirited him away in that bloody
chopper! So get those pussy-livered Air Force pansies to block--"

"Bodie," Murphy started, stepping in front of the other man again, knowing
Bodie was only going to make the situation worse with his loose tongue.
This was one of the reasons he did not want a permanent pairing, as he
never wanted to experience what the dark hairdo agent was going through
now. The loss, pain and anger he could see mirrored in the vibrant blue
eyes. *It was like a death sentence...*

"What!" Cowley demanded. "Why didn't you say so earlier! Now we've got
them." He reached for the R/T a second time and contacted CI5 base. "Get
me General Ainsworth of the Royal Air Force."

Murphy gripped Bodie's arm. "Easy mate."

"Anderson, get this man to interrogation room five, and you two come with
me," Cowley ordered curtly before limping briskly away. 

Murphy waited for Bodie, gripping the other's arm, not surprised when the
scowling agent shoved him away. Burying his pity, he gave the other a
hard, pointed look, then turned to follow Cowley's energetic figure,
seeing the other agent hesitate before following slower. The latter barely
contained his temper and worry.



Back in headquarters, Cowley listened as the air traffic controllers
turned over the details to the RAF. Unfortunately, neither could find the
craft due to air traffic and dense fog, and it became apparent that the
chopper had landed somewhere on English soil. It improved their chances
and Cowley freely used his authority to involve the Army. He called
Ainsworth and thanked him for his co-operation, gleaning all details he
could from the General before turning his attention to other prospects.
The ground would be searched at first light when he had all reports of any
chopper landings within the last twenty four hours relayed to his
operations room. It was a large task.

It took a full thirty-six hours for the deserted helicopter to be found
and with no clues evident, except the all too obvious blood stains on the
metallic floor. *Doyle's blood.* Cowley was ropeable as he had badly
wanted Losada and the information he had locked in his brain regarding the
security aspects of the government. He had suspected the presence of a
mole for the last six months and had carefully worked toward uncovering
the impostor before this case had blown up in their faces. 

As always he had his suspicions, but no proof and the Minister was not
interested unless he had unshakable evidence. Enough scandals had rocked
the ancient British foundations within the last year and all the
Ministerial officials were eager to downplay any additional security
risks. The entire system stank and Cowley had left the Minister's office
in a foul mood.

Turning to other options, he had contacted the Resistance, relying on
their information as he passed on Losada's and Doyle's meager details. It
was a stab in the dark, but worth a try.



Ten days passed with no further leads on Yuri Losada or Doyle. The
Intelligence in France and Russia was limited and the Home Office declared
the entire affair a bad misadventure. Not willing yet to drop the
operation completely, as so much work had been put in and an agent had
been lost, Cowley speculated quietly, playing a dangerous double game. 

The Russian agent they had apprehended claimed diplomatic immunity, which
surprised no-one and the man had been placed on a plane and flown back to
the USSR within hours. The atmosphere within CI5 deteriorated further with
Bodie haunting the building like an explosive thunder cloud, refusing
sleep and any comfort from even his closest friends. He let Murphy and
Turner watch the volatile man, knowing they would stop Bodie from doing
anything too stupid. 

Not that it surprised Cowley, as the younger man's personality was
basically dangerous and wild, only being temporarily tamed in the presence
of agent 4.5. That was one of the reasons which made the two men such a
good team, and which held them above other members inside CI5. Very few
outsiders understood his men, yet he knew them all perfectly, knew what
triggered their actions, and also knew how to play them for the benefit of
the country. They called him a bastard behind his back, 3.7 calling him
that to his face. It amused him mostly, as really they did not know the
half of it.

Bidding his time and watching the tensions increase inside his agents,
Cowley's patience paid off and he received a coded message three days
after Doyle's disappearance.

Hearing the phone ring, Cowley glared at it briefly before picking it up.
"Yes!"

"Sir, it's about that coded message which came through half an hour ago."

"Good. About time. I will be right down." Cowley left his office and made
his way down to the communication section. The corridors were quiet for
once.

"Well, have you decoded it yet?" He went over to the operator, putting his
glasses on.

"Yes Sir. But you are not going to like it."

"You're not paid to pass judgments man, just give me the message."



Back in Cowley's office a few hours later, Bodie faced the Chief
expressionlessly. He had been on suspended leave following his outburst in
the interrogation room where he had punched the KGB agent for telling him
how unprofessional his partner had been. He had not regretted the action
and would have done it again if Murphy had not pulled him off the man. In
fact he would punch Murphy just given half a chance as the other man
seemed to crowd him, always lounging somewhere to watch him as he offered
support. But he did not want support, he wanted action. He wanted to go
out and find the bastards who had done this to him, who had *dared* shoot
and abduct his partner. This was wholly personal now, and he had informed
Cowley of that less than a week ago. And so now he was feeling less than
charitable towards CI5 and the world in general. He glanced at Cowley and
saw the old man looked more haggard and tired than usual.

"Have a drink Bodie and sit down." Cowley sighed and waited for his man to
sit.

"Am I back on active duty Sir?"

"That depends," Cowley said dryly as he eyed the younger agent.

"I see." Bodie's expression never softened. "Any news on Doyle?"

"6.2 tells me that you started a fight at the Castle down at St John's
Wood."

"Murphy's got a big mouth. Sir." Bodie only said. "Any news on Doyle?"

"Aye." Cowley leaned back in his chair. "We received a message earlier
that was intercepted on the wire, stating a British agent had died eleven
days ago. The sources are most reliable, therefore we must assume it was
Doyle," he ended quietly. "I'm sorry lad."

Bodie clenched his jaw and meet the clear blue eyes of his Commander. "And
you are leaving it at that?"

"Doyle knew the risks as does every other agent in this organization."

"Bullshit!"

"Bodie..."

"It's a lie!" He stood up and glared at the older man. "A damned lie.
Ray's not dead. It's just a ruse to throw us off the scent. Can't you see,
we must be getting too close for those bastards!"

"3.7 sit down and stop imitating a maniac!" Cowley ordered.

"But surely you can't be blind-"

"I said, *sit down*!"

Bodie sat and looked over Cowley's shoulder, refusing to meet the icy
gaze.

"Now I know you and Doyle were partnered a long time..."

"Six years, three months."

"...a long time." Cowley studied the man over his glasses. "...but I'm
sorry lad, I have no choice but to close the case. Ministerial pressure,
not to mention the lack of evidence."

"Since when does CI5 follow the Home Office?"

"Since I decree it," Cowley reprimanded. "Now..." Cowley opened another
file, his tone becoming businesslike. "...it has come to my notice that
you have not taken any leave for fourteen months. I want you to take two
weeks, commencing immediately." Cowley watched Bodie's face change and
tried not to smile. He could understand the other man's pain of losing a
partner, he remembered how he had felt. The way you felt immortal,
unstoppable. In his younger day he had left many friends behind, not
knowing for certain if they were dead. It had been required, part of his
job, as much as he had disliked it. Quinn had been a hard reminder of the
fact. Right now, he just prayed Bodie remembered enough of his training.

"No." Bodie stood up again and braced himself. "I am not letting you brush
this under the carpet."

"Bodie..."

"You just said we got a coded message from Europe. USSR? Well if that is
the case, why can't someone go in and find out if it is real! And nail
this bastard Losada while we're at it!"

"It is out of CI5 jurisdiction."

"Then who got the information?" Bodie demanded.

"Intelligence."

"Then why can't they go in?"

"It is not their case," Cowley answered patiently. "Bodie, where is all
this leading?" He rubbed his eyes, hiding his smile. His plan depended on
Bodie making the decision freely and without obvious manipulation.

"Then why can't one of us go to Intelligence and make it our case!" he
asked belligerently. "Hell, it wouldn't be the first time..."

Cowley just looked at him over his glasses. "What are you suggesting 3.7?"
His manner was deceptive.

"That..." Bodie trailed off and glared at Cowley, realization dawning
slowly. He straightened after a long stretched moment and took his gun
out, removing the clip. "How do you want me to address my resignation?" he
asked sweetly.



Left to his own devises, he cut all ties with CI5 and chose his own
undercover disguise, knowing it would have to stand up to stiff
investigation. So he consulted the Mortuary and fell upon the list of
people recently deceased who were not likely to make a splash in the
papers. Someone whose memory he could keep alive for at least another
week. There were a number of viable prospects, but on seeing their
photographs, there was not much hope of transforming himself into similar
identities. He snickered over one, imagining himself adding about 150
extra pounds, bald, red beard and beady little bloodshot eyes. *'An
enormous improvement', Ray would have cackled....* breaking that thought,
Bodie straightened, sobering quickly. No, he needed to find a more
practical identity.

He spent a few more hours laboring over the recently deceased files,
shocked at the number of people that had died in the last fortnight that
had no known family. Only one character looked promising. As he dwelt on
the possibilities, he became more convinced on the prospects of success as
he studied the limited information and picture he had of the dead
salesman. A seemingly successful businessman, late 50's, well built,
running to fat. No outstanding debts or close family members in London. In
fact the police were still trying to find the man's relatives. His hair
was short, greying fast, as was his beard and mustache. Studying the
information, Bodie discovered the man had been living alone, a secluded
life and had been found dead by his landlady two days ago. His place of
employment had already re-advertised his position without bothering to
check the reason for his disappearance.

It was a sick society, Bodie decided. Doyle had been right when he'd said
the romance of life had been extinguished in the seventies. No-one seemed
to care any more and Bodie shut Mr. Craig Ross' file with a snap.

He *cared.* Too damn much at times. Cared about his partner and wouldn't
accept the idea that Doyle was dead. *They were immortal...* Ray had
always been there, would always be there. He shook his head and signed
Ross' file out of the Mortuary as he planned his next move. Cowley had
given him his unvoiced consent and he was determined to bring Doyle back
to England. *One way or another.*

Squaring his shoulders, he stopped on the steps looking out into the
drizzly, grey day and turned up his collar as he ran to his car. It was
3.18pm in the afternoon and he had a plane to catch in 9 hours.



Arriving in Moscow a number of hours later as the plump, bearded
businessman, Bodie went through customs and was given a two week visa to
carry out all his business engagements. He smiled stupidly at the
officers, bouncing on his toes in an exaggeration of a typical Englishman.
He would have loved to have seen Doyle's face regarding his performance.
As it was, the Soviet Security Officer just muttered at him disgustedly,
allowing him entry through the gate. Bodie heard the words and digested
them, understanding the language to a certain extent. Accepting his
passport back, he sent a silent prayer to Cowley, glad the old man had
railroaded himself and Doyle into the revised language sessions five
months ago. At the time, they had both complained bitterly until it had
become painfully obvious they were just wasting their breaths. The old
bastard never gives an inch. Their only consolation had been in the
endless supply of jokes they had started about their ability now to defect
to the KGB. At the time it had seemed hilarious. They had been safe and
secure... *whole.* Not this injured half-life he was currently leading.

Pulling himself together with effort he plastered on a vacant look and
hurried out of the bleak airport to get a taxi to his hotel.



He settled in and looked out the window of his room. The square outside
was grey, matching the clouds and unsmiling faces. Six elite guards
marched around the square, reminding him suddenly of caution as he planned
his next step. He would need to rent a car and then inform the hotel
management of his intentions to travel up to the next major town. He
already had a visa that would cover him for limited travel and had made a
booking in the next town, which should alleviate suspicion of his
movements.

Seeing the hotel management, he had to work hard on his temper as they
reluctantly agreed to his movements and he went out to hire a little blue
Schoda. It was not a car he liked, but one that suited Ross' image.
Besides, he was very conscious of being watched. Putting on an unconcerned
and cheerful front, he packed a few necessities and headed out of Moscow.

Once past the check points, his watchers seemed satisfied and left him and
he breathed a sigh of relief, knowing he only had a few days at the most
before they would start to search for him earnestly a second time. Already
they would be running Ross' information through the computers as a matter
of course and he just prayed the British were slow on updating their
information banks for once.



It took him a day and a half to locate the town Cowley had told him the
Intelligence service suspected Losada was working from. The base was known
to CI5 and listed in their computers as a KGB training base. On the
outside it looked to be no more than a low grade military warehouse. 

Stocking up on basic necessities again from a small village, Bodie made
out to all observers as if he was intending to travel further. He had
discarded the Ross disguise hours ago. He hid the car about ten miles out
of the village, Dietskoye Selo, and crept on foot to the barricaded
training base. To all outward appearances it looked like an ordinary
establishment, with single storey levels and paved courtyards. Presumably,
Bodie decided, it must have hidden underground floors, for although he
observed very little activity from his vantage point, he would swear the
base was heavily populated. Four guard- posts at each corner of the
compound overlooked the entire area as well as the surrounding bush and an
electrically charged fence about ten foot high surrounded the perimeters.

Definitely not an ordinary warehouse. Bodie's resolve hardened as he
studied the area intently though makeshift field glasses. He should be
able to get in all right as only the fence would pose a serious problem.
Getting *out* was going to be difficult.

He spent the next eighteen hours checking and double- checking the guards'
routines within the compound. He knew he was pushing his luck, but his
calculations had to be precise otherwise they were all dead, and Cowley
would have one hell of an explanation to make to the Home Office.
Meticulously he studied all angles as he changed position regularly,
leaving nothing to chance. He begrudged the time spent, thinking of it as
possibly driving another nail into Doyle, but he had to be sure. Had to
know everything precisely so that he could get them both out alive. *That
was if Doyle was even there. He had to be... Ray just had to be alive.* It
was just a feeling, but a feeling he did not like to ignore. And if it was
true that Ray was dead, then he planned to take as many of the murdering
bastards with him as possible. That resolve was crystal clear in his mind.
Orders, or no orders.

He had the guard changes down pat. Every 4 hours they rotated position,
meaning the guards outside the base needed to return, so the electric
fence was cut for 30 seconds every 4 hours. It was a set routine and the
guards looked a little lax, so a plan started to form in his devious mind.
Doyle was always accusing him of having an evil and twisted humor. He
could almost hear his partner's voice, and he pushed the memory aside as a
sound next to him startled him. He relaxed as the small creature scurried
away.

If he could get into the compound, then he would have four hours to find
Doyle and get his partner out. Checking his watch, he decided to wait
until the 6pm change so he could have the cover of night. Not that it was
ever dark inside the compound.



At 5.57pm Bodie stationed himself at the back of the base. The guards in
the two immediate towers were intent on other activities and he mentally
willed them to stay looking away. Once he cleared the fence, he estimated
it was 100 meters of open ground before he would reach the safety of the
compound. It was just on dusk now and the automatic floodlights would be
turned on at the 6pm change. He prayed the routine did not change.

He gazed at his watch. The digital changed from 5.59 to 6.00pm and he
automatically counted another 5 seconds as a safety margin. With another
swift glance at the guards, he silently crouched as the Russians continued
to look away. He moved to the fence. 25 seconds was all he had.

Preparing himself for the possible shock, he sprang up the wire
monkey-like, vaulting over the fence to drop silently on the other side.
All the time counting mentally to himself.

*'six one thousand...'*

Putting his head down, he sprinted to the shadows of the compound wall,
half expecting the splatter of bullets around his feet or to be cut down.
Nothing happened and he fought his breath as he continued to count under
his breath. 

*'...eighteen thousand...' *

Two more seconds passed and the powerful floodlights were snapped on. He
pressed against the wall, half startled by the glare, but nothing happened
and he released a sigh as he squinted around. Edging carefully sideways,
he found some shadow as he spotted a half-concealed, promising ventilation
shaft. Suppressed a twisted grin, he wondered if this was a universal
building fault of European installations. 

In no time, he had the metal grid loose and free from the wall after he
had disconnected the security wiring. Going feet first, he left no trace
of his presence as he slid along the shaft and laboriously replaced the
grid and repaired the security breach. Stifling a sneeze, he cursed the
dust in anguish as his eyes started to itch. Removing his handkerchief, he
covered his nose and battled against the urge to blow or sneeze, reciting
all the rude jokes he and Ray had made up one evening in Cowley's honor.
It worked and he found the irritation passing so that he could move again
and he struggled painfully to maintain his silence as he worked along the
shaft. 

He came to a T-junction and turned around, elbowing his way downwards,
praying his luck held. There was no sound around him and all the offices
he passed were deserted. *Maybe Cowley and Intelligence were wrong, and
this was just an ordinary secondary military instillation?* He could not
be sure so he kept going, searching for activity and sound.

Forty minutes passed and his movements took on the hint of urgency as he
stopped himself, lying still and clenching his jaw against the crushing
disappointment. He could not puzzle out the discrepancies and decided to
keep going. He should find something soon. *Shouldn't he?*

He heard a sharp sound to his left, like a metallic door shutting, its
echo sounding very near. Shuffling towards the noise, Bodie prayed he was
going in the right direction as he came to another junction. But this time
the ventilation system dropped down with a ladder disappearing into the
darkness.

*A secret level?*

His heart raced and he took out his pencil light, studying the passage
quickly. A breeze hit his hand and he smiled wickedly. 

Maneuvering around, he climbed down the metal ladder and entered another
labyrinth of shafts. He followed his instincts and was rewarded as voices
drifted faintly up to him. Russian voices. He tried to make out their
words. It was difficult and he moved carefully closer. The sounds got
louder and he started peering into the grids dotted along the ventilation
system. Seeing empty rooms and the occasional tea room with half asleep
guards reclining, he went further until other voices drew him, listening
to half snatched conversations.

The shaft angled down at one section and he went with it, being rewarded
as he seemed to come across the deeper offices. How far down he was now,
he could not tell as he slid silently up to one grid and looked in. The
room had two occupants in it, both were dressed in high ranking military
uniforms and he held his breath as he concentrated on the thick accents.
One man was talking on the phone as the second slowly lit a long cigar,
savoring the taste. A knock on the door ended the brief phone conversation
and everyone in the room went silent as the new arrival entered the
office.

The conversation was fast and clipped and Bodie frowned over his limited
knowledge of Russian, only recognizing one name. Yuri Losada. The man who
Cowley had wanted was now returning to this base some time that evening.
It seemed Losada had gained some... *new?* information or instructions
regarding an Allied agent, and was returning to personally interrogate the
man himself.

It was enough for Bodie, and he concentrated harder as the third man left
the room, leaving the two Russians looking at each other silently. It
seemed they were *... surprised ...* by either the new orders or something
else the other man had said. Bodie was not sure as he had only gleaned the
general gist of the conversation. *An Allied agent? An English agent? Or
CIA?* Unsure as his Russian was not as good as he let Cowley believe, he
still felt a small spark of hope grow. *Losada was coming here... and if
Ray was dead, then so was that bastard.* Suppressing a grin Bodie checked
his watch.

Then again maybe the Allied agent referred to *was* Doyle... he let the
idea grow, wanting to believe that more than anything else. *It just had
to be Doyle.* His eyebrows darted up to his hairline in an impressed
salute. *So Ray now warranted Losada's personal attention...*

Wriggling backwards, he amused himself by thinking the KGB had finally
found out about his partner's steamy sex life and now wanted to wrangle
the secrets from him. Those sordid little secrets he was sure Doyle would
never part with. He stifled a smile recalling some of their intimate
double dates as his sixth sense confirmed his deep inner feelings that
Doyle was close. Cowley called it plain stubbornness on his half, but even
the old man did not deny his inner sense. He checked his watch again and
found he only had 148 minutes left until the guards changed. He was
cutting it fine.

It was tedious maneuvering his stocky frame around the innards of the
building and he thankfully came to another grid. Peering through the
corridor, he found it was empty and decided he'd had enough of crawling
around on his stomach and would try another method of attack. Gritting his
teeth, he removed the grid and cautiously looked around. No sound could be
heard and he started to lower the metallic cover when a door up the
corridor opened abruptly. He froze instantly and painstaking raised the
grid, holding his breath and praying to every God he had ever heard about
for luck, as two tall Commanders left the room. The door remained open and
sweat dripped down his face as he waited. It was not long before two other
guards marched from the room dragging a disheveled figure between them. He
immediately recognized the mop of unruly curls as the guards roughly moved
Doyle down the corridor. The guards and prisoner disappeared around a
corner and two Russians remained to stand guard outside the vacated room.
The door was locked and the key pocketed. Biting down on his acrimony,
Bodie held the grid firmly as he checked his watch again.

Eighty four minutes before the fence was cut. Time was starting to run
out. 

He watched the two guards thoughtfully for a further 20 minutes, thinking
hard as they change shifts with two other Russian guards. Unless he did
something, he would be trapped and Doyle almost certainly killed by
Losada. He had run out of time. If he left his position and tried to find
another grid entrance, he might never find this corridor again.

Cursing his tied hands, he watched the new guards for another 23 minutes
before he saw his opening. One of the guards said something to his
comrade, passed the key over and walked down the corridor. *Perhaps nature
calls? Perhaps to get coffee...* Bodie was not sure just thankful for the
break in procedure.

Now was his chance and he did not hesitate. He positioned himself so that
his legs were flexed with feet a few inches from the carefully balanced
grid plate, he then took out his knife and tapped it on the inner wall
three times. He made sure the sound only carried outwards.

The guard frowned and glanced down the corridor, dismissing the noise
almost immediately.

The tap repeated.

The guard turned and frowned again as the noise lingered this time and
looked towards the grid. 

The tap repeated a third time, annoyingly and the guard approached,
bending down to investigate.

Bodie suppressed a depraved smirk as he watched the man, his lip curling
as the young Russian bent down. *Lights out sunshine....* as he prayed the
second guard did not return or another patrol suddenly appeared. He
slammed his feet into the grid, knocking the guard backwards and slamming
him against the far fall, to slide down the stone in unconscious. 

The momentum carried Bodie from the ventilation shaft and he cursed as the
noise of the grid falling on the polished floor vibrated around him.
Checking his surroundings hastily, he replaced the grid in a fluid motion,
clipping it into place as he liberated the guard's gun and dragged the
unconscious man into the closest vacant room. He leant against the closed
door and breathed a sigh of relief, listening for activity.

Not giving himself longer, he checked the guard over, stripped him and
started to dress in the Russian garb. Looking down at his attire he noted
with amusement that the pants were too short and slightly tight. The shirt
would not do up either, but the coat would effectively cover that minor
problem. Pulling the cap down determinedly, he felt he would pass in a
pinch and slammed the gun down on the back of the guard's head as the
young man started to come to. He had the option of killing him, but chose
not to as he tied the man up and concealed him in a cupboard before
straightening his shoulders and peering into the outside corridor. The
second guard still had not returned and he went out, projecting an air of
ease as he checked his watch. He had 39 minutes left.

He was pushing it fine, but then he and Doyle always did, and he hid a
devilish smile. The borrowed clothing cut in painfully and he regretted
discarding his expensive wear. It had been a necessity and one which he
hoped to claim on expenses when he returned to England.

Marching down the corridor, imitating the Russian's stance, passing the
unguarded door and rounding a corner to follow the way the prisoner had
been dragged. He stopped and studied the twenty meters in front of him.
Doors on either side of the corridor were closed, probably locked, and he
walked by them slowly. Doyle could be behind any one of them and he
agonized over his decision to continue forward. Unsure, he approached a
T-junction. The left was clear, but the right had two guards posted
outside a room. He instinctively took the right, without even thinking and
walked confidently down the wide corridor. Neither guard looked up at him
and his fists clenched in anticipation. *Could this be Doyle's room?* He
kept walking, getting closer. *He could go straight past and double back
or....* one of the Russians glanced up, suspicious, and his resolve
hardened. He snapped to attention in front of both men debating using his
gun. They looked startled at first then hastily saluted at his
authoritative manner.

*Should he attempt using his poor Russian or revert to baser instincts?*
"I have come to collect the prisoner for interrogation," he instructed in
what he hoped was passable Russian. His accent could give him away if his
words did not and his hand strayed to his concealed weapon.

The two guards looked at each other, slowly relaxing. "But the Major is
not due to arrive for another 90 minutes."

Bodie hoped he was deciphering this correctly as both guards started to
frown.

"Those are my orders." He pinned the first guard with an aggressive snarl.
"I do not question their authority." He jutted out his chin.

"I don't recognize you..." the second started to protest as the first
paled, and Bodie gripped his gun.

"I am with the Major." Any more questions and he would blast them both.

They both seemed like they would question his authority further and Bodie
braced himself, but the first took out a key and unlocked the door,
revealing the room's contents.

There was no interior light, just the few slivers of light from outside
the room. There was also no furniture, just a wooden bench jutting out
from the wall. The prisoner lay face down, one arm hanging over the edge
of the bunk.

The two Russians entered the room and roughly dragged the prisoner off the
bunk causing the man to inhale sharply. They jeered at him in gutter
Russian, words Bodie did not understand and he watched appalled. The man
lifted his face and Bodie was relieved and frightened to see that it was
Doyle, that his partner was alive if not in good shape. One of the guards
pushed a gun under Doyle's chin, sneering words at him as the other
laughed and Bodie stepped forwards, clubbing both men over the back of the
head. He wanted to kill them, but had no silencer and his main priority
was to get Doyle to safety. Checking the corridor hurriedly, he used the
guards' belts to bind them, before he lifted his friend and ushered him
out of the room. He locked the door and pocketed the key, gripping his
partner firmly he glanced around worriedly as Doyle sagged against him.

One good eye opened and glared at him, the green orb very bright. The
second eye was swollen shut, bruised horribly from abuse.

"Bo... BBBodie?"

"Shh mate," Bodie whispered urgently as he looked down the corridor again,
getting the smaller man moving with difficulty. It would be easier to just
pick Doyle up and carry him, but if they ran into other guards, it would
only cause problems.

"Noooo..." Doyle groaned. "You're goin' to... to get killed--"

"Shut up and play along or we'll both be stuck in here." He juggled his
partner's weight, half supporting, half dragging him along as he
desperately sought for a way out. He needed to get them to the higher
levels. The corridor ahead was clear, but he could hear footsteps faintly.
Not wanting to meet anyone just now, he hurried Doyle along as he heard a
whine from around a corner. He pressed against a wall and peered in the
direction of the noise. A lift of some sort, he assumed as a group of men
exited the lift and walked away from him. He breathed a relieved breath as
Doyle groaned quietly beside him. His friend was not up to heroics, so he
checked the area again, then dragged Doyle around the corner and quickly
approached the lifts. He stabbed a finger at the button, praying it did
not have a security code as the doors opened automatically. Ushering Doyle
inside, the door closed slowly, too slowly for his liking as he heard
voices approaching. "Come on, come on..." he muttered as it took an age
for the door to seal. The voices were almost on them, then they were lost
in the whine of the ancient lift. 

Taking out his gun, he clicked the safety off, not knowing what to expect
as he pressed the second top button. No doubt the top floor was the
helipad and he did not want to deliver himself or Doyle up to the Russians
gift wrapped. Glancing at his watch he had 23 minutes. Doyle groaned again
and would have slid sideways, but Bodie caught him as the lift stopped and
the doors opened. No voices could be heard and he squinted round, tasting
the fresh air as he pulled his partner inelegantly from the old elevator.

He rushed along the corridor, an urgency in his stride, only stopping and
cautioning Doyle as they approached junctions. More activity was around
and the sound of marching feet echoed in the sterile area coming towards
them as he tried the door handles along the corridor. If memory served him
correctly, most of these offices were empty. But all the doors were locked
and the approaching guard's footfalls only got louder. Cursing under his
breath, he rested Doyle up against a wall as he searched his pockets for
his skeleton keys he had used earlier, positive he had removed them from
his other clothing. He raked his pockets frantically as Doyle slid down
the wall semi-conscious as the approaching guards seemed almost on top of
them. About to give up on that plan as he imagined the confrontation, he
went to reach for his stolen rifle as his searching fingers closed over
the keys and he yanked them free, opening the door swiftly and dragging
Doyle inside. He closed the door soundlessly and held the handle tightly
as the guards entered the corridor and marched past to the lifts. No doubt
they were assembling in honor for Losada's visit.

Breathing a sigh of relief and locking the door from inside he crouched
down and turned to his partner. The other man was a mess. His clothing
torn and stained with blood across his shoulder, his face was pale and
even his vibrant curls hung lifelessly. Lifting the blood stained
clothing, he examined the gunshot, seeing both the entry and exit wounds
and noting the infected looking tissue caked with fresh blood. Laying a
hand on Doyle's damp forehead, his anxiety only increased. Compressing his
lips in worry, Bodie checked his watch again. Only 18 minutes left.

Scanning the room, his eyes rested on a large window and he walked
carefully around the desk to look though the venetian blinds. Directly
across from him was the fence, no more than 50 meters away, and beyond
that freedom. A 100 meters or so up was one of the security towers, with
the floodlights illuminating the entire area. *Just like the middle of
Battersea Park in summer* he mused disgustedly, as he looked around to see
if the patrolling guards were visible. They did a circuit every ten
minutes or so. If luck were still on his side, they should do a circuit in
6 minutes, then there would be nothing until after the change over.

Bordering the window frame deliberately with his fingers, he found the
security system and switched it off and then slowly and quietly pushed the
window open, checking for the guards continuously. Nothing moved out there
and he prayed the men in the towers continued to stare outwards. After
opening the window he looked at his watch again. Eleven minutes to go
until the change over.

Going back to Doyle, he saw his friend was propped up against the wall,
watching him with a disapproving eye.

"Bodie, are you completely out of your mind," Doyle whispered hoarsely.
"Has Cowley flipped? This is suicide--"

"Shut up goldilocks and rest your brain for five minutes." Bodie snapped
good-naturedly, letting a slow smile caress his mouth.

"Bodie..."

"This is my idea, okay Ray, now just shut up as we have very little time."

"God... I always knew you were an asylum case. "

"Lucky for you I am." He let the smile grow, noting how the other man was
breathing very shallowly as a fine film of perspiration covered the
bruised face. "Ray, I reckon we can..."

"I'm dead mate." Doyle breathed seriously. "Don't risk your life for me."

Bodie stopped and glared at his partner. "Are you quiet finished sprouting
the self-righteous crap?"

"Shit, Bodie..."

"Neither of us are going to die, especially as I have gone through so much
trouble to find you. Think of our expenses rebate."

Raising a hand to hold his ribs as he stifled a grin, Doyle shook his head
as he considered his partner gratefully. "The Cow's too tight arsed to
allow," he broke off as he coughed, the sound far from encouraging.

Ignoring the wet cough, Bodie plastered on another reassuring smile. "Now
just think positive."

"Realistically..."

"I think they must have scrambled your brains mate, now listen closely,"
he went on crisply, dropping the banter, very glad to see a tiny smile
touch the pale face. "We only have, damn... 8 minutes to get to that fence
out there and then 30 seconds to get over it. There should be no further
patrols around the inside parameters for at least another ten, eleven
minutes so we have a chance to get out. If our luck holds."

"If."

"Don't be a defeatist. "

"Someone has to remind you of your limitations. You're not superman." The
tone was gentle.

"Come on Lois, I have my bit of kryptonite," Bodie pantomimed quietly as
he levered Doyle up.

"God... now I know we're doomed..."

"Only if my x-ray vision fails."

"Lunatic."

"Over to the window and I'll show you the set up," Bodie went on, noting
his partner's trembling muscles. He didn't mention it, instead silently
pointing out the towers, fence and the circuit the guards made.

"We'll never make it. Correction, I'll never make it," Doyle breathed.

"Sure you will." Bodie gripped his shoulder. "See that pole, beside the
oblong building. It must house the generator and it is the only object
that throws a shadow..."

"A very thin shadow."

"... that we could use," Bodie ended. He glanced at his watch. "Let's move
outside the window and wait in that shadow by the wall." He pointed again.

"You're clutching at straws mate."

"Please Ray," Bodie said suddenly, seriously. "I won't go without you." 

Doyle turned and regarded his partner through one eye and shook his head
sadly. "I don't know if I can make it." He replied just as seriously.

"You will."

They looked at each other silently for a long moment. "Come on," Bodie
urged as he lifted the venetian and gazed around. He had no choice and
slid out the window as he heard Doyle swearing quietly behind him. He
could understand his partner's feelings, but couldn't let the other man
see his own doubt. If they were going to make it, they had to believe it,
wholeheartedly. No doubt could encroach on their minds, and he had to have
enough hope for both of them. The hot floodlight made him feel naked as he
helped Doyle clear the window. He expected the alarm to be raised as they
were spotted and held his breath as he determinedly grabbed Doyle and ran
them bent over to the meager shadow. Nothing moved and he felt Doyle's
erratic pulse under his hand.

"The pole mate, we must get to the pole."

"Bodie..."

"Shut up and trust me." He glanced around, the tower looked deserted and
he frowned. "Now!" he hissed, giving his partner no option but to move as
they sprinted as one to the narrow pole standing all alone near the
security fence. No shots halted them and they both stilled, wondering if
they had been caught, or if a trap was being set up. It was an eerie
feeling.

Doyle's face was a lather of sweat, drawn and pale, his breathing shallow
and uneven. Increasing his hold on his friend, Bodie glanced at his watch.
80 seconds to the power cut.

"Ray, get on my back," Bodie commanded suddenly as he regarded the ten
foot fence. Doyle just stared at him blankly. "God damnit Doyle, just do
as I say for once!"

"Don't... be... be daft..." Doyle stammered, shaking his head.

42 seconds to the power cut.

Bodie grabbed the front of Doyle's shirt and swung him around, not wanting
to argue. "Get on and hold on tight!"

"Bodie..."

"Shut up and do it!" he hissed, past anger now.

*19 seconds to the cut.*

He grabbed Doyle's arms and swung his rifle around so he could reach it
easily. Not that it would do them much good if it was a trap. *What if
they didn't cut the power to the fence?* He shoved the thought aside,
knowing it could be an extremely short trip if his calculations were
wrong.

*11 seconds*.

It was five meters to the fence and he looked up at the tower. Guards
appeared and looked to be changing over. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"Bodie?"

*4 seconds*.

He grabbed Doyle's legs and hoisted his partner's weight. "Grip my waist
god damnit!" he ordered harshly and felt his mate comply. He could feel
the sharp, hot breath assault his ear as the curly head rested on his
shoulder. Adjusting his gun again, he checked his watch and saw it was
past 10pm. 

*6 seconds past*.

Time to go. "Hold on goldilocks..." he muttered as he sprang forward. "One
one thousand, two one thousand, three one thousand.." He counted silently
as he sprang at the wire, climbing and feeling his progress slowed by
Doyle's dead weight. "Eight one thousand, nine one thousand..." He was
half way up the fence and already 15 seconds had gone. He wasn't going to
make it...

Doyle's legs slipped and he increased his efforts, scared the smaller man
would drop from his back, finding the strength to reach the top as he
silently hit the 22 second mark. 

It was too close. *Far too close.*

Drawing energy from somewhere in himself, he hurled his body over the
wire, almost losing his grip and falling as Doyle moaned quietly,
releasing his hold as their time had run out. Not daring to delay any
longer, he dropped, landing awkwardly, drawing a cry from his partner.
Juggling with the weight and rifle, he hurried for cover as he heard feet
running towards them.

Attempting to melt as much as possible into the undergrowth, Bodie clamped
a hand over his partner's mouth as the guards stopped a few meters from
the fence, glaring outwards. Their automatic machine pistols were cocked
and Bodie held his breath, praying they did not spray the bush with fire.
Unexpectedly an owl flew out of the tree nearby and all the guards aimed
their rifles, stopping as they identified the noise. Two chuckled as they
relaxed, glancing around once more before returning to their posts.

Only after the guards had gone, did Bodie bury his face in the grass and
breath deeply. It had been too close and he sat like that for a long
second. Beside him, Doyle lay unconscious and he considered his options. 

Glancing up through the dry grass, he watched the compound for a moment
longer, waiting for some evidence that the base was going on alert, but
nothing happened. He turned to Doyle and shook his friend, getting no
response. Doyle's unconscious state might even prove beneficial in the
long run, he decided, as he backed away from the fence and lifted his
partner's dead weight, balancing him over his shoulder. He looked back
once and then started to make his way quietly back to the hidden Schoda.
Hopefully he still had a bit of time before the area was crawling with
KGB. His mind worked over, remembering Cowley's orders to try and learn
Losada's plans and he discarded the objectives, making their escape
priority. No doubt the Russian would eventually show his hand and return
to England and then Cowley could pick the agent's mind. Stilling
instantly, his senses searched around for the sound and he relaxed,
realizing it was nothing dangerous. He increased his pace, his mind alert
for traps and guards as he wove through the undergrowth.

It took him a further ten minutes to locate the Schoda and he hastily
bundled Doyle in the back, throwing a coarse blanket over his friend
before starting the small car and pulling out his make-shift map. He
needed to make for Sigulda.



It was phase two of the plan that Cowley had devised with the resistance
network in Russia. Bodie just prayed their ranks were not infiltrated like
everything else these days. By heading towards the city of Sigulda it
would hopefully buy them time by diverting the KGB operatives for a short
while. His fake identity would be useless now as the computers would have
been updated with the knowledge of Ross' death, so Moscow was out. It
would be sealed off as would all other major cities and settlements. Their
only hope was swiftness and Cowley had promised him a safe passage out.
Intelligence was supposed to contact him. A prickle of fear touched him
and he glanced in his rear view mirror, slowing his speed as he searched
the skies for tell-tail signs of pursuit. Cowley's plan left a lot to be
desired as usual, and he would normally have opted to take his own
chances, but with Doyle so ill and his bouts of unconsciousness
increasing, he did not dare deviate from the set up.



From Dietskoye Selo to Sigulda, Bodie had estimated the trip to take 36
hours on the inside. He would have to be careful not to draw attention to
himself and his impatience chaffed under the restraint. As it was, it took
two and a half days for him to reach Sigulda and during that time the
Schoda had over heated six times and two tyres had blown. His impatience
increased especially as Doyle's fever and wet cough got worse, so that his
slender partner looked grey and haggard with disorientation marring his
waking moments. His sleep was fitful and even though Doyle had said the
pain in his right shoulder had gone, his arm felt numb and heavy. A small
smile had graced his partner's lips briefly with that slurred comment as
the green eyes were dull and vague, and Bodie had just managed to hide his
worry. It was not a good sign and he was forced to watch helplessly as his
partner's physical condition continued to deteriorate. He cursed the
amount of time it took to travel the bad roads, cursed Cowley and his
clever plans and cursed the system that had placed his other half in this
position in the first place. Sitting grumpily in his Schoda, he wrapped
his borrowed clothing tighter around his frame, wishing he had a nice warm
leather jacket to keep him warm as he listened to Doyle's half mumbles.
Whoever the resistance Intelligence agent was he just hoped they would
make contact damn soon.



The man who finally approached him was very casual and Bodie had to study
him twice as the Russian was four foot nothing and round and
uncharacteristically jolly. Most people never smiled, this one had
permanent laughter lines, jet black hair parted in the middle
military-style and piercing grey eyes. He gave his name simply as Beria.

He was the Captain of a sea trawler called 'All Seasons' which was very
fitting as his trawler and crew had a long- standing reputation for going
out in any weather. In casual conversation, like a tour guide explaining
the sights, he informed Bodie during his discussion in Russian that the
'Seasons' would be setting sail that evening. He slipped an old map
Bodie's way with the direction to the dock on it and left the main square,
collecting various supplies. Bodie studied the map casually and destroyed
the note. His only problem was getting Doyle to the dock without
suspicion.

The Russian patrols around Sigulda increased during the afternoon and he
kept out of sight. Ditching the car, praying it would not be found as he
hid Doyle and wondered the markets, slipping into shadow. He listened to
the conversations around him, only picking up half of what was said but
getting the general gist of the town's mood. It seemed more military
personnel were expected before night and the town was to be sealed.

Gambling on time, Bodie planned to get Doyle to the trawler by seven as
the ship sailed by 8 PM. He retraced his steps and checked his guns before
he settled down to rest. He had three hours to wait. Looking briefly at
his friend he contemplated his future and wondered where it had all gone
wrong and when had he lost control of his life. *Was it before Doyle or
after?* Pulling the semi-conscious man close, he redressed the infected
gunshot wound, pushing damp, over-long curls out of the other's face as
his fingers came down to rest on Doyle's erratic pulse. Half a dozen years
ago, he would not have found himself in such a defenseless position.
Gazing down at the troubled sleeper's pale face, he reluctantly admitted
to himself, that given the same choices a second time, he would not have
chosen differently, even if it meant dying.



Getting Doyle onto the trawler was not difficult, as he had the cover of
darkness and it made it easier to avoid the patrols and stay under cover.
The difficult part was keeping his partner conscious until they reached
the boat. Donning his Soviet uniform once more, since it proved to be the
latest and most respected fashion, he bundled Doyle onto the 'Seasons' and
into the capable hands of Beria. Then he took himself back to the deck and
double-checked that he wasn't followed. Nothing looked out of the
ordinary, yet still his nerves were tensed. He really would not be happy
until they were back on English soil, but even that seemed so far off.
Activity at the end of the dock drew his attention and he swore as he saw
the extra guards that had started stopping and searching all the stalls
and first few vessels. Glancing at his watch, it was 7.55pm and he
squinted up at the man on the platform above. They were cutting it fine
and he turned to stare out at the dark blackness of the Baltic sea. He did
not know their destination - yet - but anywhere had to be better than the
Soviet Union.

Going below deck again, he checked on Doyle and found him resting
comfortably, although his partner's features were withdrawn and he
hesitantly placed a hand over his friend's damp forehead. Ray was burning
with a fever and he undid the makeshift bandage with a sick dread, his
spirits sinking even lower. The bullet wound was getting worse, and he
touched Doyle's face anxiously as he heard the other mumble his name. What
the other man was seeing in his feverish nightmares he did not know, just
wishing there was more he could do, before releasing Doyle and going to
the cabin door looking for Beria. No one was in sight. Walking back to the
unconscious man, he stared down at the small bundle of flesh and blood
that had somehow managed to penetrate all his emotional barriers in the
years they had known each other. It was a crippling feeling, and he
brushed the over-hot forehead a second time. So far, in the last thirty
six hours, they had not exchanged more than two lucid words, and he wished
now he could tell Doyle how much their last few years together had meant
to him. How much the friendship had dragged him down to earth and given
him something more than just duty, excitement and danger to think about.
How much he needed this man to link him with society. *Ray had to make it,
had to survive, if he didn't...* footsteps behind him cut the thought and
he turned, seeing the Russian.

"Away," Beria spoke in English, his Russian accent noticeable. "..and no,
as you English say, hitches." He chuckled, regarding the British agent's
face critically. "You had better take that uniform off, there are other
clothes over there." he indicated the small trunk against the curved hull.

"Thanks," Bodie said absently. "How far are we going?"

"Sweden." Beria walked closer and looked down at injured man, lifting the
blood stained bandage. "Your friend needs medical attention, we have
nothing on board of value. Maybe when we reach the coast."

Bodie just nodded as he stripped of the constricting uniform. "Is it
likely we will be boarded?"

"It doesn't usually occur, but yes, it is possible." Beria pinned him with
a hard look. "So stay below deck, one of my men will bring you food and
water, so you can redress that wound and clean him up."

Nodding again, Bodie turned back to the unconscious man, his thoughts in
disarray.



The hours seemed to stretch as Bodie sat perched on the edge of Doyle's
bunk, his eyes fixed intently on his partner's grey features. Ray seemed
to drift in and out of hellish nightmares, where he would toss and turn
uneasily, muttering incomprehensible undertones. Beria or one of his other
men would appear for a second then vanish without a word. Not that Bodie
objected, *shit*, he could hardly keep track of anything lately. He was
near physical exhaustion and he knew it. Beria must have realized it as
well for the perceptive Russian sent him down a heavily laced coffee with
a young Russian lad, plus instructions to rest. Accepting the drink
gladly, Bodie pulled his chair closer to Doyle and eyed the youth. He was
tall, with thick mousy hair and a crooked grin. Two of his front teeth
were missing as he started to soak a rag and wipe Doyle's face. He spoke
in badly accented English, only half his words recognizable as he
explained where they were in the Baltic Sea and what his name was. It
started with 'D' and was unpronounceable, so Bodie nick named the kid
Danny. It fitted and he gave up his struggle against sleep as he saw Doyle
was in safe hands and slowly let his eyes close.



A little disorientated, Bodie snapped awake as a shot fired above deck.
Glancing at his watch, he automatically reached for his gun. Frowning, he
could not work out the time or date for a confusing minute and he glared
around the closed room. His watch said almost 18 hours had passed and he
froze as floor boards over-head creaked. *What was happening above?*
Creeping to the closed door, he listened as he clicked the safety off his
gun, his eyes darting anxiously back to Doyle's restless sleep. His
partner was drenched in sweat, naked in the rough sheets and Bodie
blinked. When he had last observed his friend, Doyle had been dressed,
wrapped in a number of blanket which had held him firmly. He was not given
the time to work the answers out as floor boards over-head creaked again
and he heard raised voices. Leveling his gun at the hatch overhead, he
leaned against the wall, next to the closed door. He did not like it as
there were too many exits and he did not have the fire power to cover them
all adequately. *Why was Ray naked..?*

The latch to the door turned and he swung around, grabbing the shirt of
the man who entered and pressing him face against the wall.

"Danny?" He released his hold, recognizing the young lad Beria had
introduced him to earlier. The kid muttered anxiously and Bodie released a
tense breath.

The boy turned, wiping blood from his lip, his eyes wide as he started
babbling in Russian. Bodie shook his head and gently cupped the smooth
face to calm the lad. "Slowly, slowly. What is happening?"

Muttering again, Danny glanced up at the ceiling as the footfalls got
louder. "Petrolls," his accent was thick. "Ve stopped about tan mins ago.
I do not..." he broke into his own language again and gestured helplessly
to the deck above.

"Trouble." Bodie concluded as he glanced up also. He went to the door.

"Ny!" Danny grabbed his arm and whispered urgently. "Maybi, routin umm...
" he muttered again exasperatedly. "..chek stop, umm out by Sweedish
seas..."

"Inspection check by Swedish Custom officials?" Bodie asked slowly. Danny
nodded releasing a breath. "But what if they search us?"

Danny grinned. "Tey vill serrch. Beria had plays...ummm-"

"Beria has a plan?"

"Ya." Danny nodded again.

"I'm going to buy you a dictionary when we get out of here," Bodie
muttered as he checked outside the door. Danny pulled him back inside room
a second time.

"Nyet. Muist stay."

"Okay kid, what's the plan?"

"Simpkel." Danny pointed to a metal bin pushed in a far corner. It was
attached to the top deck by runners and rails that ran over the hatch.
Bodie's eyes followed the young boy's fingers. Frowning, he was certain
that bin had not been there before. It was also covered in a tarp.

"Ve, ummm... " he screwed up his face and pulled Bodie over towards the
bin. "pusss... umm, li--"

"We move the bin under the hatch." Bodie ended, half smile on his face, as
he helped the Russian move the bin. It ran smoothly on well oiled runners
and he idly wondered how many times Beria and crew had used this maneuver.
All they needed now was the fish to fill it.

"Stop." Danny whispered urgently. "Muist hur.. fast." he quickly untied
the tarp and pulled the cover free. The smell of fish filled the room and
Bodie gagged. "Neu... pusss, ovir... ummm-" he pointed to hatch.

Moving the bin into place, Bodie waited as Danny rushed to the door and
locked it with a key. He pressed himself to the old wood and held his
breath. Watching him, Bodie rubbed his noise as Doyle groaned and he went
to his partner's side. Using the sheet he wiped his friend's face. The
high cheeks were flushed now, lips dehydrated and he wondered how long it
had been since Ray had swallowed fluids. Biting fingers on his shoulder
made Bodie turn and glance up into the Russian's scared face. The kid
raised a bony finger to his lips.

A scraping sound above deafened them as the hatch was thrown open and the
compartment inspected. The officials above would only see fish and soon
Danny was breathing a sigh of relief. 

"Ver saff. Good ni?"

"Very good." Bodie sighed as he turned back to study his partner's hot
face. "You did this?" Bodie asked as he indicated Doyle's state of
undress.

"Sic, no heithy."

"No. Not healthy."

Within minutes Bodie felt the trawler move under way again, the big
engines starting their low hum. Danny was muttering quietly, soaking a
sponge in sour wine and rubbing Ray's lips with it. Beria appeared and
explained what Danny had told him in broken English. They had been
searched by the Swedish Custom Officers and would now be arriving in
Stockholm in forty-five minutes. Two others would take Bodie from there
and get him out of the city. Sweden was neutral territory, and Bodie
breathed a sigh of relief. 

They docked in one of the less frequented moorings and Bodie thanked Beria
and Danny as the trawler and its crew prepared quickly for departure,
moving to different moorings. Everything was moving too fast for Bodie and
he stared, a little disgruntled as he was rushed off the 'All Seasons' and
into the company of two tall, very blond men. Swedish by birth, both men
simply gave their names as David and Daniel. Blue eyed and identical, and
Bodie started to have misgivings.

Ray was wrapped in a thick woolen blanket, his dreams still feverish, and
Bodie cradled his weight as the Swede who looked like Daniel half-dragged
him towards a waiting car. It was just before dawn, the air moist and
crisp, as activity on the surrounding docks covered their movements. Not
liking the idea of feeling exposed, Bodie, tried to slow his breathing as
the two blonde guerrillas conversed quietly but rapidly in their own
language.

"Here. Quick." The one who had introduced himself as David gestured for
Bodie to get in the back seat of the car. Grunting under the cramped
conditions, Bodie held his tongue, just, as a cold blanket was thrust at
him.

"We were not informed of this complication." The first said again as he
eyed the sick man.

"I thought Sweden was neutral territory." Bodie drawled, his temper thinly
masked.

"In theory yes, but in reality...." he left the rest unsaid. "Your friend
will need some sort of medical aid before the next stage."

"What stage?" Bodie asked suspiciously.

"Hopefully Stevenson will be available." David turned back to his silent
partner.

"Stevenson? Hey what the hell is going on?" He asked gruffly, reaching
over the seat to grabbed David's tunic. The blond stopped him, capturing
his wrist in a vice-like grip.

"We are unable to explain. You must understand this. Now relax, the trip
will take an hour."



The feeling of uneasiness did not leave Bodie in the long hour's drive it
took for them to reach Stockholm. The two blond Swedes remained
close-mouthed about everything and Bodie gave up baiting them, as he
slumped back in the narrow back seat and cradled his partner. Doyle was
exceedingly pale, lifeless and burning hot. The worry over his condition
made Bodie's temper even chancier. Again it was because he was no longer
in control of his or his partner's destiny. It was so hard to just sit
back and let others take control, and he battled to bury his pride and
accept help, not liking the idea that others would aid his partner where
he could not.

About 7am the small car pulled off the road and into a country estate west
of Stockholm. The two blond Swedes remained silent as they helped Bodie
from the car, carrying Doyle's dead weight between them. All Bodie could
do was follow, not liking the feeling of releasing his partner into
unknown hands.



Stevenson was waiting in the massive house, as blond as the other two men,
except he was in his late fifties. His eyes danced nervously as he frowned
over the Englishmen, not happy at all with the changed plans. He hovered
over Doyle, checking him over and Bodie realized with a start that this
apprehensive little man was actually a doctor. He listened intently to the
hushed exchange between the three men, not understanding a word of the
argument as Stevenson put down his medical instruments hurriedly. It was
like observing a badminton match, with the doctor obviously losing the
exchange. Straightening abruptly, Stevenson glared at the two younger
operatives and left the room. Bodie turned slightly, aggressively, one
brow cocked questioningly towards his blue eyed helpers.

"Well!" He demanded.

"The sooner we get your companion to Britain, the better. We will leave
immediately."

Bodie grabbed the man's arm with decisive strength, wanting answers. "Now
hold on a minute sunshine, that wasn't all that was said in here." The
blond man just stared back at him blankly, not offering resistance. "I
want to know what else was said."

"The doctor only confirmed what we... what you have already guessed." The
second blond answered from behind Bodie. "We can do nothing for him, he
needs hospital aid and that can not be risked here. It is vital neither of
you are discovered here."

The first Swede pulled his arm free of Bodie's grip. "We leave
immediately. The car will be out the back in five minutes. Be ready." Then
he glanced at his associate and the two left the room.

Feeling anchorless all of a sudden, Bodie sat on the bunk next to Doyle.
*How could it have all gone so wrong?* He reached out and felt for Doyle's
pulse. It was thin and thready. Not liking to admit his helplessness, he
gently leant down and tried to rouse the other man. Doyle's lips were
grey, his breathing a struggle. "Doyle..... Ray?" He caressed the grey
lips gently. "Ray..? Hey sunshine, can you hear me?"

Briefly Doyle's eyes opened, as the other stared up in confusion. He tired
to say something, puzzlement touching his pale face, before he fell back
into unconsciousness.

Scared by the response, Bodie carefully slid his arms under his partner's
shoulders, lifting him up into a sitting position. "Ray.... hang on old
son, as I'll soon have you in good hands..."

"Ready?" One of the blondes was back at the door and Bodie wanted to punch
him. He was tired, hungry and his sense of humor had deserted him weeks
ago. "Hurry as the winds will only be with us for so long."

Clamping his teeth together, Bodie had to remind himself that these people
were trying to help. It was like a sick joke. Nodding marginally, he did
not meet the direct blue eyes as the Swede helped him get Doyle out to the
car. Once there a flask of hot tea was thrust at him with a packet of
sandwiches. He gave the blond a half smile, burying his paranoid
grievances.

Within ten minutes they reached a remote part of the property and a small
twin engine plane came into sight. It was slightly modified and fitted
with larger than normal fuel tanks. Inside the plane, all the seats had
been removed except for the pilots and he was able to lay Doyle down on
the pile of blankets. He grimaced as one of the Swedes climbed into the
pilot's seat and quickly went through the pre-flight sequence. It was
going to be a rough ride and Bodie made himself comfortable, trying not to
think of all the things that could possibly go wrong.

"Jack of all trades, aren't you mate?" He cast a hard eyed look at the big
blond. He got no reply and settled back with one hand resting on Doyle's
chest. It was his only anchor to the future.



Flying low, they crossed the Swedish coastline, avoiding all populated
areas. Bodie watched the changing scenery with disinterest. Doyle never
regained consciousness, and he knew with a certainty that his partner and
friend of six years would be dead within the next 24 hours. It was a
painful acknowledgment and one that was eating away at his soul.

As evening set in they were still flying south-west over the North Sea.
The uncommunicative Swede told Bodie in one precise sentence that they
would be crossing the English Coast soon, and landing an hour later at the
old Padley Airfield.

Digesting that bit of information, he grunted and glanced at Doyle. If
anything his partner was slipping further away from him. *To be so close,
yet so far...*



Padley Airstrip came into view some eighty minutes later and the small
twin engine plane landed aided only by guider lamps. It smelt of a well
oiled operation and Bodie pinned the Swede with a shrewd look before
spying a familiar red Rover. He pushed the plane's door open as they
taxied over to the waiting cars, noticing Cowley briefly before turning
back to get Doyle. His first priority was still to his partner.

Dragging Doyle out of the cabin, he met Cowley's stern expression. Murphy
and Anderson's solemn faces appeared beside him, giving him a hand with
Doyle's weight.

"Sir..." he stopped as Murphy took Doyle's complete weight. Anderson just
gripped his shoulder for a second, before he followed the other agent over
to the Rover. He wanted to follow, but Cowley needed a report. "Sir...
Doyle needs an ambulance."

"Aye laddie. We'll take care of him." Cowley turned to the Swede as the
big man walked around the nose of the plane. He went over to the blond man
and shook his hand.

Bodie did not wait to listen to the exchange as he went over to the Rover
and saw Murphy strap a oxygen mask to Doyle's sweaty features.

"Difficult time of it 3.7?" Murphy asked conversationally, not liking the
possessive look he saw enter the worried blue eyes. "Bodie," he started in
warning, knowing this could only mean trouble for them all. "... he'll be
fine now mate. So relax..."

"Bodie!"

At Cowley's voice, Bodie turned. The CI5 Controller was all business as
the plane behind them powered up it's engines and taxied towards the
hangers. He gave his other two agents only a brief glance before pinning
the dark hair man with a stern look.

"Sir?"

"In the front with me. 6.2 and 7.1 will take care of 4.5. Right now I want
your report." Cowley ordered as he climbed behind the wheel of the
powerful Rover.

"Where we going Sir?" Bodie asked as he complied with his boss's
instruction. It was dark outside as the Rover left the Airstrip and headed
back towards London. "Doyle needs medical attention-" he started again.

"I'm well aware of that fact 3.7." Cowley said tartly. "A CI5 medical
officer is currently waiting at the assigned safe house. Now I want your
report." It was not a request.

Taking a breath, because it was useless to argue, Bodie related everything
that had happened. His only consolation was the fact that he *knew* he
could trust Murphy.



Back in Moscow at 2 Dzerzhinsky Square, unofficially known at the KGB
Headquarters, Major Yuri Losada attended an awkward meeting concerning a
recent security breach. The sole subject revolving around the compromised
security now of their agent Omega One in Great Britain.

It had been a mistake to allow the English CI5 agent to live in the first
place, Losada ruefully admitted. The interrogation sessions proving
fruitless as the man knew nothing of vital important, not even
understanding their language, or so Losada had first believed.

But after having received secret files from their London contact, he had
been initially surprised, then angered and finally impressed by the
British operative's convincing performance.

Kicking himself for not following his instincts, Losada berated himself
for not remembering how cunning Cowley was, and how a man like that would
only employ the very best in the secret service. So he now understood the
potential threat this operative could pose to their Omega One. For it was
possible this Doyle may have overheard a reference to the English double
agent, and since his Russian was more than passable, it was also highly
likely he overheard more than just snippets of vital information.

Omega One was adamant that Doyle be silenced immediately, already guessing
that somehow Cowley had managed to sneak the man back into Britain within
days of his escape.

How that had been achieved, Losada would love to know, but he had his
orders and was very reluctant to disappoint his superiors a second time.

Closing his suitcase with a snap, he intended to return to London
personally and finalize the business concerning Doyle swiftly.



Cowley soon learned, if not actually anticipated the increased interest
that would be shown in Doyle's return to Britain by both the Home Office
and the Intelligence Department, plus his agent current where-abouts.
Trying not to gloat as he watched the officials involved ask delicate
questions, he decided to keep his recovering operative under wraps until
he was ready to play his ace. All he wanted was confirmation of Losada's
arrival on British soil and then he could flush out the mole that was
draining their government of resources, information and valuable
operatives.

Picking up a report and glancing at both the medical doctor's opinion on
agent 4.5's recovery, he glanced also at Dr. Ross professional
recommendations. It seems she was more concerned over Bodie's mental
fitness to return to active duty than Doyle's.

Not really surprised by that, Cowley closed the folder, knowing he could
use that information also to place his cards temptingly in front of the
double agent. He did not like using his men as living bait, especially
unknowingly, but on some occasions keeping them ignorant was the best
policy. Especially when it concerned operatives 3.7 and 4.5.



Within a month, Doyle was showing all the old signs of returning to his
normal cheerful, aggressive self. Once the fever had been broken and his
shoulder cleaned of infection with an intense course of intravenous
treatments, he had regained physical health in almost record time.

Bodie on the other hand was subdued, trying to put on an unconcerned,
arrogant front, not wanting to admit his worry. He struggled to regain the
old closeness as his partner just sent him puzzled looks, before the clear
green eyes turned away and the conversation was changed. It bothered them
both, but neither was willing to discuss the topic inside the safe house,
both silently knowing they needed complete privacy to settle the unease.

Refusing to think about what might be troubling his stubborn partner,
Doyle shelved the doubts as he buried his nose in the morning paper. He
was sitting on a couch in one of the open sitting rooms, waiting for Dr
Ross to give him the all-clear so he could return to normal life. He was
still a little under weight, and he knew Macklin loomed in his immediate
future, but still he was damn glad to be alive. All thanks to Bodie... *So
why wouldn't the stupid bugger talk to him?* Hearing an exaggerated sigh
from across the room, he ignored it as he stretched out his legs on the
coffee table and pretended to be fascinated by the social scandals on page
three of the Times.

Glaring at his obstinate partner, Bodie, returned to the list he was
crossing off, marking what items they would need on the CI5 inventory for
the following few days. It was baffling, as he had expected to be recalled
to CI5 headquarters days ago. Jax, the postman incognito, was waiting down
stairs to collect the inventory. Sighing again in annoyance, he eyed the
sprawled figure before him.

"Anything else you want to add to this list?" he asked peevishly.

Doyle lowered the paper and looked thoughtful for a prolonged moment. Then
his face brightened and he grinned. "Yep, order some beetroot."

Bodied studied him incredulously, eyebrows and voice raising to new
heights. "Beetroot?"

Doyle just nodded, hiding his grin, knowing he was exasperating the other
man.

"You want beetroot." It was a statement of pure disbelief. He suddenly
received a very sunny grin, the sight making him hesitate. He glanced down
and added it to the list. "You keep that grin up mate and I'll have to
order you a dentist."

"As long as she's tall and blond with great-"

"Oh here speaks the voice of a depraved sex maniac." Bodie cut in.

"...experience." Doyle ended lightly. "Unlike you mate, I like my women to
be able to think."

"What ever for?" Bodie asked mockingly. "Since when Raymondo, do we have
time for conversation."

"Since when do we have time for anything," Doyle reminded him bluntly.
"It's been so long, I think I've forgotten how."

Looking at his partner in mock pity, Bodie raised his pencil. "I can add
that request to the inventory, as I'm sure the Cow would be only too happy
to pimp for you."

"You do and I'll,"

They were interrupted as Turner entered the room. "Is that list ready yet
3.7, as Jax has other thing to do besides hang around waiting for you
rejects of society."

"Do I sense resentment still?" Doyle quipped.

"Almost finished." Bodie replied." Anything you can think of to add 4.5,
leaving out your granny's vege patch that is." Bodie gave him an indignant
look.

Walking over, Doyle lent over his partner's shoulder, eyeing the list. He
stabbed his finger at the extensive list of alcoholic beverages
underlined. Each week Bodie had submitted the same requested, and each
time it had been ignored. "Don't you think this is a bit subtle?" He
asked. "I mean if they haven't got the hint by now, they never will."

"Raymond my boy, I've worked the system out."

"This should be good."

"It's called persistence."

"I see. If you can't abuse them into submission, dazzle them with stubborn
politeness." Doyle finished and saw the other man just grin at him evilly.
"Besides all this effort is probably wasted-"

"Why?"

"..as the old man veto's it first." He informed him loftily. "But you'd
better add a toothbrush to the list," he commented after a beat.

"Why?"

"'Course I sick to death of you using mine, that's why."

"How do you think I feel?"

"I'm sure you've had worse things in your mouth."

"I could comment, but I won't." Bodie replied immodestly.

"I bet you could."

Finishing off the inventory Bodie handed it to the patiently waiting
agent.

"Oh by the way Doyle, Cowley arrived about ten minutes ago and he wants to
see you upstairs in the study something like," he checked his watch. "...
eight minutes ago."

"Thanks Turner." he growled with feeling.

"My pleasure 4.5."

"Maybe the doc reported my finding about you sunshine," Bodie called,
wanting to lighten the suddenly tense atmosphere.

Doyle did not turn as he gave his partner a two fingered salute.



Cowley was sitting behind the desk in the study, having overheard the
conversation downstairs via the planted microphone. On the surface
everything seemed okay, yet still Dr Ross was not happy with either
agents' progress. *What had happened to them while in Russia, besides the
obvious? And would either man be willing to broach the subject?*

As Doyle entered the small office, he glanced disapprovingly at the other
man and gestured to the chair opposite him. Leaning back, he took off his
glasses and swung them lazily as he asked in a mildly interested tone,
"Now 4.5, tell me again everything that you saw and heard. But this time
leave nothing out."

Fidgeting as a sense of unease entered him, Doyle took a deep breath and
started from the beginning again. *What was the old fox up to now..?*



Leaving there a few hours later, Cowley was inwardly pleased with what
Doyle had told him and had not told him. For once it only confirmed *all*
the suspicions and conclusions he had arrived at months earlier. He now
*knew* who the mole was, but just needed irrefutable proof, and he also
knew how to get that proof. But on a sourer note, he also knew now he was
on the verge of losing one of his best teamings unless something was done
fast. *Maybe he would be doing everyone a favor by throwing them to the
wolves? * Dr Ross did not agree, but it was still his decision to make.

Climbing into the passenger side of his Rover, he clipped off an address
he wanted to be taken to, knowing the Minister would want a private report
on his findings.



Another five days passed before Doyle was declared fit for active, but
light duties. Bodie teased him about what the Cow classified as *light
*duties, turning the other agent into a tea lady being the mildest
suggestion. It eased the mood a little, yet still they were on edge. 

Doyle did not understand why the other man was holding back from him. All
he could think of was the fact that something horrible had happened over
in Russia which the other was refusing to discuss. *Had he done
something... or said something in his disorientated state that offended
Bodie?*

Knowing Doyle was worried about him, Bodie just tried to bury his unease,
yet the bald stark facts still remained. The sick certainty that he now
was forced to acknowledge. The fear that he *could* become useless to
himself and CI5 without Doyle. That somehow he *had* become so
dependent... *It was a scary thought.*

Leaving the safe house the following morning, they were both ordered to
report to Cowley's office before returning home.



Getting out of the borrowed car, Doyle was in an outrageously happy mood
and it showed in his step, expression and cocky comments he made to his
partner. 

Insulting the man at the door out of habit, they walked side by side down
the busy corridors inside CI5 headquarters, heading towards Cowley's
office.

Groaning as Doyle had just told him another sick depraved joke, Bodie
scowled at his grinning partner's face, for some reason feeling irritated
by the other's good mood.

"You keep this up mate, and I'll sell you to the Houses of Parliament as
their new mascot."

Tapping lightly on Cowley's door with two fingers, Doyle considered the
suggestion in mock speculation. "Now there's a thought, I wonder what the
pay would be like?"

"Come!" A voice bellowed bad-temperedly, and Doyle straightened.

They entered the office together and sat immediately as Cowley waved to
the seats opposite. Hanging up the phone, he glared at them, weighing them
up, before picking up a pencil and writing a quick note. "I have read both
Doctor Gordon's and Doctor Ross's assessments, and it seems 4.5 that you
have returned to a reasonable level of fitness." He pinned the curly
haired man with a critical look.

"Thank you, Sir."

"In body, but not necessarily in mind." Bodie said under his breath, just
loud enough for Cowley to turn and glare at him.

"There is just one small detail which I need cleared up 4.5, and that
regards your contract with this organization."

"My contract?" Doyle frowned puzzled. Looking at Bodie he saw the other
shrug.

"Aye. It was suspended pending confirmation of your reported death. But
now in the face of new facts, it is necessary to review your status."
Closing the file in front of him, Cowley placed the pencil down and leant
back in his seat to watch his agent carefully. Out of both of them Doyle
was the more wary. *The more suspicious and mistrustful.* "That has been
done, with your record, files and new background assessments reconsidered.
I am sure you can appreciate the delicacies of the matter 4.5?"

Scowling harder Doyle said nothing as he tried to work out where Cowley
was going with all this.

"Unfortunately, with the most recent developments, your fitness has been
reconsidered, and it has been ultimately decided that for the security of
this department you should be retired from the service."

"What?!" Doyle demanded aghast. "Are you saying I am being kicked off the
squad?" He asked in disbelief.

"No." Cowley said precisely. "Just retired. With full entitlements of
course. But retired."

"But why? I thought CI5 was run by you, and not by a bunch of jumped up
politicians!" It was a half shout as Doyle rapidly lost his quick temper.

"It is." Came the plummy reply. "And as it stands, I happen to agree with
the Minister on this occasion."

Feeling betrayed, Doyle pushed the chair back hard as he stood, at a loss
to understand the old man before him. He had *trusted* Cowley with his
life...

Watching the younger man, Cowley saw the gambit of emotions cross the
expressive face. Everything from confusion, loss and hurt to betrayal.
Flickering his glance briefly to the silent man still sitting he was
shocked to see Bodie's haunted fear.

"Well you, CI5 and the whole bloody organization can go and rot in hell
for all I care! Who needs or wants to be part of a department which is run
by a group of two-faced double-crossing bastards! The KGB are not our
enemies," Stopping before he lost complete control, he took out his ID and
Browning, flinging them on Cowley's expensive desk. Then turning he
reached for the door.

"Don't try and go far Doyle, as your debriefing is scheduled for 10am in
room F8. I would be there if I were you." He let the threat hang in the
icy atmosphere, knowing it was not lost on the other man.

Jerking the office door open, Doyle sucked in a shuddering breath, feeling
as if his world had just exploded. "Piss off," he hissed before slamming
the solid door.

Sitting there frozen in place by what he had just witness, Bodie looked at
Cowley trying to read if this was another set-up or if the old man was for
real. It just made no sense, as he could not fathom the Controller's
motives.

Seeing the darker agent open his mouth, Cowley plunged on with no remorse.
"3.7, now about your-"

"You can't do this." "Bodie cut him off, sitting forward and searching the
old man's face slowly. He wanted to give the older man the benefit of
doubt. "I mean this is some kind of set-up, right? You want Ray to lead us
to the mole."

"This is no set-up, as you term the phrase." Cowley answered, pleased
despite himself that the other was at least thinking clearly again. He
would need Bodie to control Ray Doyle.

"You can't kick Ray off the squad." Bodie said stronger, seeing nothing in
the other's closed expression. "Not after all that's happened," he ended
in disbelief.

Leaning forward in his chair, Cowley rubbed his eyes tiredly under his
glasses, knowing how carefully he would have to play the angry man. If he
had read Dr Ross' reports correctly, then Bodie should prove more loyal to
his partner than to CI5. It was a worrying conclusion, but one he could
utilize in this instant. Ross had tried to warn him years ago about this
side effect in close partnerships, but he had been more concerned with
productivity. And you only achieved excellent productivity from a well
teamed unit. Watching the paling man now in front of him, he hid his
compassion, needing Bodie out in the field, close to Doyle so that he
could break through that undeniable code of moral ethics which infused the
ex- policeman. And if anyone could do that, then 3.7 could with his
unscrupulous behavior and open lack of morals. And if Bodie failed, then
Doyle was dead. It was as simple as that, as he knew Losada would not miss
the other man a second time. Too much depended on it.

Injecting impatience into his tone, Cowley scowled at the blue eyed agent.
"None of this concerns you 3.7. CI5 is more important than single
individuals, and I am not prepared to risk this organization for one
individual. Regardless of who he is. Is that perfectly clear 3.7?" He
waited seeing the other man just stared at him speechlessly. "You will be
re-teamed with Jackson." He put his glasses back on. "Now regarding this
earlier matter-"

"Just hold on!" Bodie cut in, starting to get the picture perfectly. "It
bloody well does concern me! Doyle has just been through hell and despite
what those inadequate bastards in the Home Office want to believe, he is
not a risk, and you damn well know it! Ray would not sell out the squad,
as he's almost as tight-arsed about security as you are. So cut this crap
and-"

"Bodie!" Cowley's irritated voice vibrated through the small office,
silencing the bigger man. "I will have none of your obscenities in this
office." He paused, his voice low and hard. "I am still Controller of this
department, and I make the ultimate decision. Doyle' security has been
compromised, and I am not willing to risk further possible security
breaches. If you don't like it, then you can get out also. But for as long
as you work for me, you will respect my decisions and keep your opinions
to yourself. Now the subject is closed. Is that clear 3.7?!"

"Perfectly." Bodie growled. Getting up he took out his gun and ID,
dropping them on the table next to his ex- partner's. "You can file that
resignation I wrote a few weeks ago." Turning, he stopped and looked back
at his old boss. "Just a word of caution, Cowley. You will regret this,
because if you continue to run CI5 through the skirts of the Home Office,
you'll end up with a useless squad. Maybe it already is." Lifting a brow
in contempt, he opened the office door.

"That is your choice 3.7. If you leave this office now, then you might as
well report for debriefing at," he glanced at his watch, "..1pm in room
F2." The door slammed shut, but he knew the other man had heard him.

Relaxing back in his comfortable chair, only then did he allow himself a
rueful smile. Things were working out *very* well...



Mr. Cowley's secretary, Paula Smith, looked up startled as agent 3.7
slammed the door to the Controller's Office. His features invited no
conversation as he swore viciously, a murderous gleam in his attractive
blue eyes. She had never seen him so angry before and wondered what had
happened, as firstly 4.5 had stormed away with no comment and now 3.7.

Both men were so normally flirtatious... Jumping in startlement she looked
at the intercom as Mr Cowley's voice barked a question at her.

"Has Dr Ross arrived yet?"

"Yes, Sir. She went directly to room F8."

"Tell her I'll be there in a moment."

"Yes, Sir." Puzzled, she bit her lip in thought, knowing enough not to
stick her nose into operational matters.



At about 10.15 am Doyle bad temperedly entered room F8, knowing his
debriefing had begun. At 1.30pm Bodie arrived in room F2, no less pleased,
as he had tried to find Doyle before the other's debriefing, but had
failed. Sitting down moodily, he wondered how things could go so quickly
from bad to worse...



Both debriefing were conducting in the same cold businesslike, impersonal
manner. Open hostility was ignored, as Doyle left CI5 for the last time at
2pm. And Bodie left just after 5.30pm. Neither man saw each other, and
both knew as they left that they would be under surveillance.



Returning to his flat, Doyle slumped in an easy chair, at a loss still to
understand why Cowley would retire him. *God... when things started to go
down hill, they didn't just tumble, they raced! Look mum, I've reached the
top of the world, and what a bloody rotten sight it is. Hey help... I'm
fallin'... Stop! Let me off this merry-go- round...*

Dropping his head back on the cold leather chair, Doyle stared at the
ceiling. *Did he want out of the squad?* 

Thinking hard about that fact in all honesty, he realized that no, he
enjoyed his work. Liked CI5... so *why?!? Was he a security risk like
Cowley intimated?* 

Dwelling on that, his resentment rose again, laced with anger and
disappointment. Maybe he should just start again and not think of the
past. Wipe out all memory of CI5 and the damned Police Force before
that... as it only caused pain.

*Pain because...* hesitating, he lifted his head, to look at the afternoon
gloom outside his window. *Where was Bodie?* He had wanted to talk with
Bodie... yet no doubt Cowley would have told the other to stay away. But
that would not make a difference to his obstinate partner. Now ex-partner.
*Of everything*, in all honesty... *he would miss his annoyingly smug
partner the most.*

Acknowledging the truth of his thoughts, he admitted that that was what
hurt the most. Bodie was now his *ex- partner. The other would be teamed
with someone else...* he would go on to new operations and risks, leaving
*him* behind. Leaving his back unprotected.

Getting up, he paced the small flat furiously, wanting to work his anger
out. *They would part company... maybe see each other occasionally*, but
that would not be the same. The *feelings would be gone* as would the
*rare* understanding of each other. And if he wanted to be fair to the
other man, he should break all contact otherwise Cowley would station
Bodie out of London. He could just imagine the blue eyed man grumbling
about that. *Bodie hated the country with a passion...*

Burying the thought, he picked up his coat and headed for the door. He was
currently free of all obligations, with nowhere to go. Nothing to do, and
no one to do it with.

It was a bitter thought.

He definitely wanted to see Bodie again, but he wanted to see the other
man when his mind was clearer, when he had worked out some of the
resentment. Their partnership needed to be dissolved properly... *Hell,
who was he kidding? How on earth could he face the other man and keep a
civil tongue? How could you break a partnership which was more like a
marriage...except they didn't share the same bed. Might as well have for
all the intimate situations they had shared...*

Opening the door to his flat, he scanned the street and spotted his tail.
It looked like Goddard, *the little prick who prided himself on
technique.* Looking away in disgust, he left his car behind and walked
down the street. *Give the man something to do*, he decided as he headed
towards the local. Maybe after he had a few beers and chatted up the
barmaid, he could put things into better perspective. Glancing down at his
watch he saw it was only 4.05pm. There was no rush, as he no longer had
anywhere to go... *had lost his reason to live.*



Leaving CI5, Bodie went immediately to Doyle's flat. Using his spare keys
he let himself in, seeing the white Escort but no sign of Doyle.
Reflecting momentarily on what must be going through the other's mind, he
groaned as he could see all too clearly the torment his partner would put
himself through. He knew how his partner's confusing mind worked, and knew
how the other man would be feeling lousy and how he would be blaming
himself. Ray's whole life had been consumed by his need to be part of
something bigger. First he gave up his family for the Police, and then he
gave up his life for Cowley. This betrayal would be only one of the things
eating at Doyle's soul at the moment.

Re-locking the door behind him, he tried to feel what his own emotions
were over the day's events. But what had happened was still too
unbelievable. He had always imagined leaving the squad with a bullet
through his heart... *with Ray next to him, murdering the son of a bitch
who dared to shoot him. A romantic notion...*

He had never imagined leaving CI5 because Doyle could not be trusted.
Never imagined resigning his commission.

Standing on the open pavement as the night descended, he tried to put
himself in Doyle's shoes, and suddenly remembered the local down the road.
It was a favorite drinking hole of theirs. Getting into the Capri, he
pushed it into gear and headed towards the pub.



Parking in their usual place, which was about a block from the actual pub,
Bodie got out of the Capri and locked it. He noticed Davis' car pulled out
of sight about 100 meters back and suppressed a smile. He would let the
CI5 agent follow him for the present.

He and Doyle always parked their cars here, for two reasons. One it was
off the main road and less likely to get dented, which was a major
priority to consider. And secondly if he or Doyle had drunk too much, then
the walk to the car usually sobered them enough to drive. If not, then the
car would be safe until they could retrieve it the next day. Either way
the car would be safe.

Thinking on all this, Bodie neared the pub and caught sight of Goddard's
car. The man's eyes were intent on the pub's immediate vicinity, so he did
not see Bodie's approach.

Reaching the driver's window, Bodie bent down and tapped lightly on it
with his forefinger. Goddard's face clearly showed his shock and
startlement as he faced the other man's smug expression. Smiling
charmingly, Bodie looked at the stricken agent and indicated for him to
roll the window down. Goddard obliged.

"'Ello." Bodie chirped with false cheerfulness. "Doyle inside?"

Managing to nod, Goddard struggled to recapture his composure as Bodie
trotted across the road and up to the pub's entrance. Like all the other
agents in CI5, he was shocked to learn that two of their own had left the
Squad under suspicious circumstances.



Scanning the interior of the pub, he spotted Doyle almost immediately as
the other man shared a laugh with the local's resident drunk, whom they
knew as Frank. Making his way over to the other man, he noticed his
partner had a full half-pint in his hand, his features alight as he
gestured boldly to the barmaid serving them.

Shaking his head he stood behind his friend, listening to the story Doyle
was entertaining the old drunk with. Thinking back, he recalled it sounded
suspiciously like the last fishing expedition they had gone on.

"Greeeeen," Frank was trying to say as he burped inelegantly. "I've never
seen a fish with..." he hiccuped again. "...with green eyes. So what did
ya do?"

"Went home and looked in the mirror." Bodie chipped in from behind.

Turning Doyle's brow disappeared up under his curls. "Bodie!" Then he
frowned as if remembering something important. "What's ya doin' here? I
can't have broken the law already."

"Nah, don't be daft." Bodie said good-naturedly, seeing how Doyle was
already three quarters cut, and it had only taken him a few hours.
Liberating the beer glass from the other's grasp, he placed it on the bar
and took his partners arm. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"Why?" Doyle demanded, refusing to move. "I have nowhere to go-"

"'Cause it's stuffy in here, and we need to talk." He said seriously
before giving the other man a quick grin, wondering if it was worth
talking to Doyle until he sobered up anyway.

Standing up and sucking in his chest, Doyle tried to imitate his
ex-partner's expression. "You 'ave the floor my dear chap, so speak your
mind," The word mind being lost as the curly haired man started to giggle.


It was infectious, and Bodie wished he were as drunk just so he could have
enjoyed the laugh. Glancing around he heard Doyle order another drink, and
he stepped forward, firmly taking the other man's elbow and dragging him
away from the bar.

"Bodie..."

"Come on mate."



Outside the pub, Bodie saw that Goddard had vanished. Probably comparing
notes with Davis, he assumed. Looking back at his inebriated companion, he
decided to let their two watch dogs tag along for the moment as he
propelled the other man down the street towards his parked car.



Watching Bodie moodily as his head pounded, Doyle rested his elbows on the
kitchen table and cupped his sore head. It was just after 7pm, yet if felt
much later as he glanced around the small kitchenette, the smell of coffee
brewing making him want to throw up.

A cup of steaming liquid landed under his nose and he pulled back,
scowling at the man across from him. All he had wanted to do was lose
himself for a few hours without having to think, but now here he was in
front of the last person he wanted to face, or talk to. Pushing the hot
drink away he glared up at the other man, trying to ignore the genuine
concern he saw reflected in the dark blue eyes. *Christ, why did Bodie
always have to make him feel so fucking vulnerable...*

"Just leave me alone," he snarled, angry with himself as he dropped his
head down so he did not have to see Bodie's face any longer.

"Come, on, drink up goldilocks," Bodie said lightly as he pushed the cup
back towards his irritable partner. "As there is plenty more where this
came from."

Ignoring the pointed comment, he contented himself with looking at the
coffee cup in distaste. Getting to his feet, he made his way unsteadily
over to the fridge and opened it, before taking out a new beer.

"Uhuh, no." Bodie said firmly, taking the bottle out of his hands. "Ray,
listen to me mate, we need to talk, and I need you at least partially
alert for that."

Trying to push the hands away which pinned him to the fridge, he muttered
a curse, forcing the other man to release him. "What's there... to fuckin'
talk about!" he snapped angrily, not believing that Bodie would not leave
him alone for at least a single night.

"Everything."

"Nothin'!" he shouted back, releasing some of his pent up frustration as
he slammed a fist into the wall. "I am finished! Useless to everyone. I
can't even go back to the damn force."

"Would you want to?" Bodie asked, giving the other man room as he watched
the play of emotions cross the angry green eyes.

"No." Doyle snapped. "But that's not the point, is it!" he half sneered.

"Look Ray-"

"Did Cowley send you?" Doyle interrupted nastily. "Does he get his kicks
out of watchin' you pull my corpse back from hell, so he can sack me
'cause I heard too damn much!"

Lifting a brow curiously, Bodie wondered what Doyle had heard. They'd
never discussed why Losada had wanted Doyle. Or why he had been kept
alive.

"Or do you just want to know how God damn broken I feel! I never took ya
for the gloating kind *mate,* but maybe I was wrong... maybe you enjoy
Cowley's games, enjoy manipulating peoples lives and feelin's."

"Doyle, stop this!" Bodie cut him off, grabbing his shirt and pushing him
roughly against the dented wall behind them.

"So why did ya do it?! What happened over there, Bodie? At least you owe
me the truth!"

"What are you prattin' on about now?" Bodie asked genuinely lost as he saw
the green eyes cloud over in pain.

"Why do that, then cut me cold-"

"Cut you..." Bodie repeated as he tightened his hold on the other man.

"But then I'm justa pawn." Doyle went on, hardly seeing Bodie's concern.
"A fuckin' pawn in one of you're-"

"Damnit Ray!"

"Did I say somethin', or do somethin' which you won't talk about?"

"Christ, I hate it when you're drunk."

"Or don't ya care? At least I had thought you cared," Doyle continued, not
even seeing the other man as all his emotions over the last few months
spilled out. "...you really had me fooled." His head still hurt and he
just wished the room would stop spinning.

"Idiot!" Bodie snapped. "Of course I fucking well care! Or do you think I
chased after your skinny arse across Europe for the fun of it?!?" Sucking
in a sharp breath Bodie tried to suppress the sudden fear he had felt when
he remembered how close he had come to losing this man completely.
"Christ, Ray! Do you think I would have resigned if I didn't care!"

"Wha..." He tried to blink up as the angry words partially sank into his
fogged brain.

"I care too bloody much," Bodie shouted, seeing the other man blink
owlishly at him as the other's hands gripped his own. Shaking Doyle a
second time in irritation, he could only see in his mind how the other had
almost died and he abruptly closed the short distance between them to
savagely taste the alcoholic laced breath.

The dry touch lasted a stunned second, before he felt Doyle wriggle as the
other opened his mouth, moving incredibly closer. Prolonging the brutal
kiss, the warm contact deepened seductively losing them both in the
addictive sensations of mixed emotions before Bodie pulled back startled.
Releasing the other man completely, he backed away not believing they had
just done that.

Sucking in a deep breath, Doyle tried to focus on the other's face,
sensing concern and apprehension. Lifting a hand he rubbed his bruised
lips. "I think I need to sit down." 

Accepting that, Bodie stepped back further, not aiding the other man, as
Doyle staggered past him, to leave the kitchen and fall heavily into one
of the lounge chairs.

"Ray-"

"I don't know what's going on any more," Doyle muttered, at a loss to
explain the last few minutes. "You have me so confused."

Perching on the low table in front of his partner, he spied a look at the
expressive face. Doyle just met his gaze wide-eyed, confusion warring with
vulnerability. It reminded him of a time just over a year ago, when Doyle
had torn himself apart because he believed he had killed Paul Coogan. Then
too, he had looked just as lost and confused and Bodie had fought the urge
to either shake the man, or comfort him. Now he met those wide green eyes
scared, balling his hands at his side, praying that the other man looked
away. No longer sure he had the strength to walk away a second time.
"Ray-"

"I've never kissed a bloke before," It was said without judgment as Doyle
leaned back and eyed the other man warily. He wished his senses were
clearer and that his head did not hurt so much as he tried to work out how
he felt. Tried to work out how to ease the tension radiating out of
Bodie's contained figure. "Have you?"

Not liking the question, Bodie scowled. "Doyle, we need to talk about
CI5."

"Well have you..." he repeated, trailing off as his alcohol fogged mind
homed in on the evasion. "You have, haven't ya?"

"It was a long time ago."

Nodding, Doyle stopped the action as his headache increased. "Oh yeah, I
remember... Angola." Opening his eyes, he glanced around, not seeing the
other man. *Had he fallen asleep and just imagined the...*

"Here, drink this."

Jumping as the warm hands touched his wrist, he just stopped himself from
pulling away as he saw his ex- partner's pinched expression. *Nope, it was
no dream. * "Wha' is it?"

"Aspirin." Bodie informed him, opening the packet. *How things had got so
out of control, he would never know*. The flat felt suddenly stuffy and
hot around him.

"So..." Doyle breathed as he threw the tablets back, grimacing as the
taste caught at the back of his throat.

"Ray-"

"Bodie." he returned and then grinned, wanting to relieve the tension.

"I-"

"I don't think that is actually the wackiest thing we 'ave ever done," He
added, making light of the situation. *Hell, but he could hardly remember
the situation...*

Meeting the warm green eyes, Bodie released a tight breath. "Definitely
not the dumbest either..." he trailed off.

Settling back against the soft chair, Doyle studied his friend, missing
the last few words as he tried to sort out his spinning mind. "So what did
ya have to talk to me 'bout, that was so urgent it couldn't wait 'till
mornin'? Don't forget I'm out of it now mate." A touch of bitterness
entering his tone again.

"That's just it, so am I." Bodie replied, relieved to have the subject
changed and back on safe ground. Doyle might be able to discuss
relationships to death, but he couldn't.

"What the hell are you talkin' about now?" Every word was precisely
emphasized.

"After you stormed out of Cowley's office, I resigned."

"What?"

Leaning forward, Bodie grinned at his startled partner, feeling better.
"Clean your ears, Doyle, I said I resigned."

"But... why?" He asked, getting lost again.

"I don't want to work for an organization that treats its operatives like
shit." He said very slowly. 

"Oh God, Bodie, you idiot." Doyle sighed, yet the realization of what the
other had done warmed him also. "The last thing I wanted was for you to
resign,"

"I know that." Bodie cut back. "The old man wanted to team me with Jackson
and I-"

"Jackson?"

"You know the blond with the permanent sneer and cork screw up his arse."
Bodie described, seeing the other nod.

"I don't know how he got a position on the active list."

"Maybe he's sleeping with the old bastard." Bodie said without thinking,
then stopped and relaxed as he saw Doyle laugh in that disgusted tone of
his. Only now it sounded inviting.

"I'm sure you could 'ave asked for another partner." Doyle put in after a
strained moment. "The Smurf would jump at the chance to team with you."

"Nah, as he's often stated that he would prefer to work with you as you
have the better looking..." Stopping abruptly as he realized what he had
just been about to say, Bodie coughed to cover his action. 

"Better lookin' what?"

*Did he dare say it?* Yet an hour ago he would have said it and used it to
make Doyle squirm.

"Bodie?"

"Ray, it's just that I didn't want another partner." Bodie said simply,
covering the moment smoothly as he pinned the other man with a sincere
look. "The whole idea of staying in CI5 paled after what Cowley said to
you. And I just don't buy it."

Biting his lip in thought also, he rubbed a finger over his temple,
wishing that the pounding would cease, as he was certain he was missing of
lot of what *wasn't* being verbalized. *Trust Bodie to want and have a
deep and meaningful when he was hung over...* "You think he's setting me
up?"

"I don't know." Bodie admitted worriedly. "But I've never known him to go
this far before."

"Neither have I." Doyle mused. "He gave me a week to move, and they will
impound my car tomorrow mornin'."

Confirming he was in the same situation, Bodie lifted a questioning brow,
hearing the slurred tones as Doyle tried to smile at him. "So we need to
find a job."

Resurrecting another grin, Doyle shook his head. "Oh God, do I 'ave to
think of this now? My head is killin' me, and I think I need to go to the
bathroom before I pass out."

"You always did have a weak bladder."

Letting his eyes turn serious, Doyle gazed at the other man as Bodie stood
up and stretched. "Thanks mate."

Lifting a superior brow, Bodie reached down and pulled Doyle to his feet.
"For what?"

"For being an annoyin' pain in the arse, but also for being the best
partner anyone could ask for. I never did thank you for getting' me out of
Russia, did I?'

"No need, as I know you would have done the same for me." He squinted
closer at the wide green eyes, seeing them glisten. He could still smell
beer on Doyle's breath and he tightened his hold. "Don't you dare cry on
me, Doyle-"

"I'm not, you daft sod." Doyle assured him, as he turned away, hiding his
face.

Letting the subject drop, Bodie frog marched him to the toilet and pushed
him inside, glad when he heard the other start in on the rude jokes he had
heard down at the local. "Shut up, Doyle, or you'll scare the rats away."

Ambling out, the other man just gave him an unrepentant smile.

"Go crash on the bed and I'll bring you some fresh coffee."

"I hate coffee," it was mournful.

"I don't care." Bodie called back, as he went back into the kitchen. Once
there he leaned against the sink and closed his eyes. He still could not
believe they had actually kissed, nor could he believe the fact that Doyle
had taken it so well. *Thank God he was drunk! Yet was he as drunk as he
seemed?*

Dismissing that thought, he refilled the coffee pot and turned it on. *So
where did this leave them both? * They would have to find accommodation,
and before tonight he was going to suggest they share a flat for a
while... *but now?* He would still like to share a flat on a short term
basis, as it was practical. Not to mention the need to find a new set of
reliable wheels. He would really miss the Capri. *Bloody Cowley!*

Pouring the coffee, he mulled over the numerous problems, carrying the
fresh cup into the bedroom. Doyle was stretched out fast asleep on the
double bed like he owned it. His jacket was off and on the floor, shirt
undone and jeans top button open. Even his shoes were still on.

Putting the coffee down on the bedside table, Bodie breathed a sigh of
relief as he stared wide eyed at the sprawled figure before him, privately
admitting to himself that he had enjoyed the open mouthed kiss. *Not that
anything would ever come of it...* but acknowledging it had occurred went
a long way to sorting out his mixed feeling and thoughts.

Picking up a blanket, he threw it over the sleeping man, thinking how
young the other looked when the stress of the day had been stripped away.
Grabbing another blanket he went back out into the living room and settled
on the lounge. Turning on the telly, he prepared himself for a long night.



"Mornin'," Doyle whispered as he placed a cup of hot tea down on the low
table.

Rubbing his eyes, Bodie glanced around disgruntledly, wondering why he was
so stiff and sore. Then memory fell into place and he remembered *why* he
had slept on the lounge.

"You didn't have to sleep out here," Doyle continued as if reading his
mind before he placed a plate down next to the tea. 

Two pieces of toast half burnt stared back at him, and Bodie craned his
neck to see where the other man had disappeared to a second time.

"No one has ever complained of my snoring before." Doyle went on as he sat
opposite his grumpy partner. Bodie's hair was standing on end, his blue
eyes puffy and blood shot as he glared around the flat.

"Yeah well," Bodie mumbled as he picked up his tea. He squinted up,
disgusted that Doyle looked so clear eyed and alert this morning. "You
felling better?"

"Like my old self."

Stalemate. 

Putting his cup down Bodie stood and went to the bathroom, splashing water
on his face. He needed the space, knowing Doyle as he did, he just knew he
would have to be careful of what was actually said for the next few days.
When he came back out, Doyle was still sitting in the same position,
watching him with an unreadable expression. 

"So," Bodie started.

"I've been thinking-"

"This should be interesting." Bodie mumbled as he tasted his tea. Pulling
a face he held up his cup. As usual Doyle had forgotten to put sugar in.
"Doyle!"

"I thought you'd cut back?" he said innocently.

Getting up again he went to get the sugar. "So what has your brain been
working over time on?"

Running fingers through his hair, Doyle gave him an amused glance. "I've
been thinking about the prospects out there, and how most of the really
interesting ones are on the shady side of things."

"So?" Bodie intoned.

"So, we can't very well change sides!" Doyle cut back, thinking that had
been obvious.

"I know this man who umm, would employ people like us, with no questions
asked."

"You know most of the low lives in London, so what's your point?" 

"My point is, Doyle, that we will need money before long. And this man is
a respected business man on the posher side of town." He ended with a
knowing grin.

"He might be respectable, but what of his business, ah?" Doyle said,
guessing at what sort of work his partner was angling at.

"Well he employs men for all events. Bodyguards, security and so on."

"Yeah, sure. Bodyguards and security to protect his illegal dealings.
Maybe involving smuggling and a kill along the way. Bloody hell, Bodie,
use your head as you know Cowley would have our necks before we could walk
three paces." He ended firmly.

Regarding his partner for a long moment, Bodie gave an impatient sigh. "He
may just have something straight up front. We'll never know unless we
inquire. Besides, why the hell are you so bent on upholding Cowley's
standards? What do you... do *we*, owe him and the rest of those bastards?
He kicked you out remember! He gave you your marching orders waving 'sorry
Doyle, it would have been better if you had died'. Think Ray, they don't
give a damn about you. It is up to us to make our own future." He finished
acidly.

"I know, it's just... I don't know." Glancing up at Bodie's uncompromising
expression, he went on. "You're probably right, what would it hurt to
inquire?"

"That's it sunshine, we'll go pay a friend of mine a visit after we-"

"After we ditch our watchdogs." Doyle finished for him.



CI5 lost track of the two men that morning. Cowley was only too aware of
their abilities, but still he laid into Davis and Goddard for
incompetence. The atmosphere around CI5 was electric to say the least,
with mixed feelings ranging from acceptance to disbelief over the
dismissals. Keeping a close watch on certain other older agents, he sent
Murphy, Turner and Jax out on a country assignment until after things
settled down.

Ultimately his only consolation would be the fact that they would finger
another mole which was draining them of top level secrets. Plus the fact,
that if CI5 had lost the two men, then so to had the KGB.

Acting swiftly, he put another APB out on the two men, wanting them
located fast.



Losada also berated his agents for losing the two ex- operatives. He had
been surprised to learn that both the Home Office and the Intelligence
departments had backed Cowley on retiring Doyle from the elite squad. He
had also been relieved to learn that Doyle remembered very little of his
ordeal in the secret training base in Russia, as Omega One's position
remained solid and secure.

So if Doyle had been retired because he was now considered a dangerous
security risk due to his capture and hypnotic torturing, then he would be
a man with a grudge. A grudge against his own kind. *And what of his
partner?* As he had voluntarily resigned to follow Doyle. *Interesting...*

The circumstances surrounding the two men offered a rare opportunity, and
one he would like to seize. Of course he would have to receive Omega One's
consent to proceed, but that should not be long in coming.



Exiting the posh Country Club, Doyle suspiciously glanced around the
stately gardens. Mr Roberts had seen them both briefly, only informing
them that he would be in touch. Bodie had given the man's assistant a
phone number where they could be reached. It was a third rate Hotel, one
which Bodie had picked and which he stated would suit them until they
found other suitable accommodation. The prospect of living out of a
suitcase did not bother Doyle, but Bodie for some reason was decidedly
unhappy, consoling himself with the idea that at least they had lost their
shadows.

They had also ditched their cars behind the CI5 workshop, knowing that the
vehicles would be discovered eventually, and then Cowley would have a fit
as he reviewed the time lapse monitors and saw Bodie's obscene salute.
Smiling privately to himself about that, Doyle glanced around the lawns, a
prickling of unease touching him.

Watching his partner, Bodie straightened the collar of his leather jacket.
He had been amused when the Doorman of the Country Club had almost refused
Doyle entry on the basis of his clothing, as he was wearing those faded
jeans again which left little to the imagination. *The ones with the patch
on his...* Breaking the thought off, he remembered how Murphy had teased
him when he had offered to pimp for his partner after the blind run
fiasco. *Now the memory took on a whole new meaning...* Glancing again at
Doyle, he kept his gaze above the distracting patch as the other man
turned full circle, scanning the gardens around them. "What's bugging
you?"

"I keep expecting to see Cowley," Doyle muttered with distaste.

"Nah, this place is not posh enough for him. He likes the old military
establishments, where men are men and-"

"Boys are replaceable." Doyle finished, used to hearing the joke. He took
out his sun glasses and squinted around the grounds again, before pushing
them up his nose.

Picking up on the other's edginess, Bodie looked around also, reaching for
his keys to the ford they had rented, feeling naked without his hand gun.
"Nothing here, Doyle," he decided in a business like tone. "So move your
carcass, as my throat's getting dry."

Looking over his glasses at Bodie's closed expression, Doyle sighed,
wondering if they were ever going to regain the relaxed atmosphere.
Somehow he doubted it, as the other seemed to retreat behind a wall of
indifference. And it could not be just because of the events of the
previous night... *could it?* Shaking his head minutely as he opened the
car door, he dismissed the idea. Sliding into his seat, he slammed the
door as Bodie revved the engine to life. They were both too liberal minded
and impulsive to let such a small occurrence destroy a six year
partnership. And it had been an insignificant event compared to all the
other things they had done or seen within the job. Yet still *something
*niggled at the back of his mind. Like he was missing a vital clue to the
entire puzzle and a nightmarish image came back to him. He remembered
waking up once after Bodie had somehow smuggled him out of the camp... the
memory distorted as he had been feverish. But he *did* remember hearing
Bodie's anxious voice calling him, the words were indistinct, but the tone
was filled with suppressed pain and he had struggled to wake only to find
the other man *leaning* over him. The blue eyes had been filled with a
fearful desperation, *but of what he could not tell...* and he never found
out either as he had lost his hold on reality.

Considering the memory now, he reached for the seat belt, as Bodie drove
them with a maniac's speed around a corner. *If he kept this up, they
would not have to worry about Cowley finding them, as the police would
lock them away. *

"What's the rush?" Doyle asked, miffed as he looked over at the other
man's set face. "The pubs won't close for another," he paused, checking
his watch. "...eight hours at least." He received no answer, so he let the
silence stretch.



By evening they were back in the small rented room, feeling acutely
uncomfortable with each other as Bodie turned on the small television set.

Watching him, Doyle was at a loss to understand the problem, worried that
this insidious awkwardness could do what CI5 had failed to do and break
the friendship. *Was it him? Or the... *Falling onto the large bed as
Bodie sat moodily in the only armchair in the room, he forced himself to
re-think the previous night. To seriously consider all that had been said.
But the harder he tried to concentrate the more his mind went traitorously
back to the scene with Bodie leaning over him. *Had something terrible
happened and had Bodie needed his help? Had he failed his partner in some
way?*

"Bodie?" he received only a grunt in reply. "What happened?"

"What?" Glancing back over his shoulder, Bodie tensed, praying Ray did not
raise the subject of the previous night again. Not now when they were
forced to share a room. *Share a bed...*

"Over in the Soviet?" Doyle elaborated, seeing his partner's
uncommunicative scowl lighten with his words. *Relief??? But relief over
what?*

"You read my report."

"Yeah, I know, but it didn't really tell me anything."

"What more would you want?" Bodie demanded, getting a little annoyed,
wanting to shelve the experience.

"Why'd you do it?"

"What?"

Doyle sat up and watched the other man carefully. "Why did you go over to
the Soviet. For all you knew I was dead." He carried on in a serious
voice, not wanting Bodie to give him a flippant reply. "Cowley showed me
the resistance's coded messages."

"For Christ sakes, Ray, what do you want me to say?" Bodie shot back
angrily. "You were not dead, end of story!"

"But-"

Getting to his feet, Bodie avoided meeting the questioning eyes he could
feel on him. "Look, Doyle, that's over, it is a past event. Just accept
the fact that some sixth sense told me you were alive so that what
happened... happened." He stopped for a breath as he grabbed his coat.
"Now, I'm starving, so I'll head down to the corner shop we saw and get us
something, okay?"

Not answering, Doyle just watched the other man walk away, knowing then
that the partnership was all but over.

Cursing himself as he shut the door to their room, Bodie unclenched his
fist as he tried to block out the sight of the other man's shocked
expression. He had not missed the sharp intake of breath as Doyle covered
his emotions swiftly, knowing that the curly haired man would never ask
the same question again. The realization of what he had just done was like
a nail going into his soul, and he wished he had the courage to just
explain his fears. But the moment was now lost... *all because of his
stupid carelessness.*



Two days later Bodie heard back from Robert's agent. He was told they
would be given a trial run at an establishment west of the docks called
'Alfies'. The night-club dealt mainly in a discotheque, a strip show and
some legalized gambling... on the surface. It was only for a week, or
until the manager terminated their contracts, as Roberts was still not
sure they could be trusted.

Slamming the phone down in disgust, Bodie glared at the address he was
give, wishing he could run the information through the CI5 data banks to
learn what else 'Alfies' was a front for. But still it was a job, and
would give them something to do, other than sit in the local all night and
pretend everything was fine between them.

Checking his watch, he saw it was 10am, with luck Doyle would be back soon
from his run and they could go and check out the place.



Parking outside the address given, they stared in disbelief at the sign
hanging over the large doors. It read 'Alfies Night-club and Bar' in big
neon letters which were currently switched off. Lifting an eyebrow in
amusement, Doyle turned to eye his partner. "Is this it?"

"Yep." Bodie nodded as he checked the address again.

"How have we missed seeing this little gem before now?"

"It probably doesn't smell bad enough for Cowley to take any interest in."

"Well, let's hope it stays that way for a while longer."

The side door was unlocked and Bodie led the way in, finding the entrance
foyer as he pushed aside some hanging beads. It was a spacious area,
expensively decorated with oak grained wood paneling on the walls and a
chandler hanging form the ceiling.

Behind him he heard Doyle whistle through his teeth.

"Deceptive."

"I smell money," Bodie said in an aside.

"I smell a cover-up. They probably use this joint to launder money or
shift drugs." Doyle said quietly. "I wonder if-"

"Can it, mate." Bodie cut him off. "Were here for a job, not to spy out
the place."

Turning away Doyle went to study the notice board, seeing numerous
photographs of past events decorating half the wall. Raising a brow in
amused disbelief at was he saw, he decided not to draw Bodie's attention
to it. At least not while the other man was in such an odd frame of mind.

Moving out of the foyer and into the next huge room, Bodie gazed around
impressed as he saw a magnificently set up bar bordering the dance floor
and stage. At the bar was a man intent on some ledgers and Bodie made his
way past the tables and chair to speak with him.

Approaching the bar, the other sat up and Bodie could see he was in his
late forties, with greying hair and a neat trim mow, wearing a blue silk
shirt. A handsome man of trim build, and searching dark eyes as his gaze
swept up Bodie's frame approvingly.

"You must be the new security man Mr Roberts informed me about. I thought
there was supposed to be two of you?"

Hearing the cultured accent, Bodie plastered on a friendly smile. "I'm
Bodie. Doyle will be along in a minute."

Pursing his lips, the man frowned as he closed the books he had been
working on. "Stuart Harwood. Manager of this... night-club." He stopped as
he saw the second man quietly approach the bar and his eyes lit up even
more.

Seeing the expression and the way Harwood's eyes swept down Doyle's frame,
Bodie just jerked a thumb at the other man. "Doyle."

"I see," Harwood intoned, letting his dark eyes narrow as he regarded the
first man again speculatively.

"We were informed that you might have some work for us?" Bodie went on,
not taking his eyes off Harwood as he felt Doyle stop at his side.

"Temporary only as two of our regular staff are umm... off sick, shall we
say." Harwood explained. "It will be a week's work, maybe two, depending
on how you do. Six hundred pounds a week and you can even sleep here if
you need accommodation. The hours are from 6pm to 6am six days a week." He
cast his glance between the two men, stopping to settle his eyes on Doyle.
"Are you interested?"

"What does the work entail?" Doyle asked and Bodie, groaned inwardly, just
knowing his obstinate partner was going to ask that question.

"Basically you keep the peace. Some patrons get a little distressed after
losing at the tables, you will escort them out with no fuss. The same goes
for the dancers who work here. If a patron get overly friendly and refuses
to pay for the service, you intervene. Plus help out in the foyer and bar
as directed." He studied them seriously, weighing them up. "Joe controls
the Bar area of a night and I expect you to follow his instructions
without question. Any queries?"

"When do we start?" Bodie answered before Doyle could open his mouth
again.

"Tonight." Harwood said in a clipped tone. "David's out back and he will
have your contracts." He gestured with a hand towards the door behind the
bar. "Just follow the corridor and he is in the last room on the right. He
will also show you around." He glanced at them again, eyeing them from
head to foot. "Do you by chance own tuxedos?"

"No." Bodie said flatly, not liking the way the manager looked them over.

"Tell David and he'll fix you up." He said in dismissal.

Following Doyle towards the back of the bar, Bodie waited until they were
in the poorly lit corridor before leaning forward and whispering in his
partner's ear. "David will fix you up," he said in an outrageously mocking
tone.

"Just shove it, Bodie." Was all Doyle snapped back.



Returning to the night-club at 5.30pm, both men were dressed in elegant
tuxedos and were separated immediately, given individual tasks. Bodie on
the top floor with Charles, to watch over the gambling tables and Doyle
downstairs to help Peter and Jim with the main clientele.



The first two nights passed smoothly, with both men opting to return to
the Hotel during the day for rest.

Bodie had observed all the games upstairs, guessing that both cards and
dice were marked and loaded accordingly, as large amounts of money
exchanged hands. And of course it was always in the night-club's favor. A
few patrons reacted badly, and he and Charles had removed them to the
quiet offices for interviews with Harwood and his own bodyguard, as a way
was found for the debt to be paid off.

Recognizing the scam instantly, Bodie just continued to watch, wondering
why MI6 had not closed the place down as yet. Briefly he had been asked to
go down stairs to help Joe bring up more supplies for the small bar
servicing the games room, and he had spied Doyle through the crowd of
dancers and strippers.

He had been shocked at first to realize that the shows contained both
female and male strippers and that the audience was a mixture of wealth,
elite and eccentric patrons, and he watched in calm interest the mingling
of sexes and staff from the stage shows alike.

Oddly concerned that Doyle had not complained about the atmosphere, he had
questioned him about it after the second night when they had returned to
the Hotel.

"Weird mob downstairs last night," Bodie started.

"Quieter than Monday night's crowd." Doyle yawned, the movement almost
cracking his jaw. "What's it like upstairs?"

"Boring." Bodie said without hesitation as he saw his partner fall into
bed gratefully. "How you finding it?"

Lifting his head off the pillow, Doyle cast the other man a puzzled look.
"Why?"

Shrugging, Bodie refused to look away as he meet the assessing green eyes.
"It's not exactly what we're used to."

Hearing the *'we're'*, Doyle translated that into *'you're'*, knowing the
other man wasn't happy with the job either. "I just treat it like an
undercover assignment." He replied honestly.

"Just don't lose yourself in the part." Bodie quipped having witnessed the
other security men working with Doyle. They were as bent as the Home
Office's budget report.

"Who knows, we may even stumble on something useful,"

"Turning snitch on me. Doyle?" 

"Nah," Doyle shook his head closing his eyes again. "If they haven't been
busted yet, then it's probably for a good reason,"

"Like MI6 is too bloody stupid to find their own backsides, let alone
daylight."

Hiding his smile at that, Doyle turned over to face the wall. "You get no
argument from me," he yawned again. "But I can tell you I'm starting to
over hear some interesting facts from Joe and David."

"All buddy buddy are you?"

It was almost a sneer and Doyle tensed, telling himself to ignore the
comment. "Well one of has to try and fit in," he cut back mildly, turning
over to glance at the other man. Bodie had not even started to undress and
he frowned worriedly. 

Listening to the sleepy voice, Bodie decided he would try and get
downstairs the following night, just to see what really was going on. *Not
that he didn't trust the other man...*



Checking the description again on his note pad of the two men he had just
seen enter the questionable establishment called 'Alfies', Constable Bruce
Hartly radioed in, telling his desk sergeant that he had a 90% positive ID
on the two men wanted by CI5. Waiting until he received further
instruction the constable dismissed the matter as he was directed to
continue on to his original destination.



Receiving the report about an hour later, Cowley was only mildly surprised
to learn that his two men had accepted employment in an establishment run
by Jeffrey Roberts. The millionaire business man had a finger in almost
every shady deal which occurred north of the river, as well as having the
legal ability to hide his dealings. It made him a hard man to catch as he
kept his operations just low enough not to draw the eye of MI6, running
the local police ragged instead.

Still he was amazed either man would jump into the deep end so soon,
concluding it had probably been Bodie's idea, as Doyle's sense of ethics
would have normally made him avoid such a place. Depressing the intercom
button, Cowley ordered Paula to locate operatives Campbell and Morgan.



The feelers Losada put out also paid off, and he located the two men
within days. Having done a background check on both Doyle and his partner
now he was mildly excited to think how valuable these two men could be,
especially if they were now giving Cowley a hard time.

But before he could swing his operatives into motion, he still needed to
wait for Omega One to give him clearance. And it should not be long in
coming as the man was doing his own careful assessment of the situation.



Reading the reports in front of him, Cowley was still displeased as he
realized there were at least three other known KGB agents in London which
his men had been unable to locate yet. He wanted to know were all the
pieces were before he swung the plan into action. Only then could he be
positive of the safety of his agents and the success of the mission.



Escaping from the room upstairs about 2am on the third night as the
boredom of the game was making him more irritable than usual, Bodie
offered to help Joe restock the fridges in the private rooms. Going into
the crowded bar near the dance floor he automatically scanned the room for
his other half, seeing Doyle turn to look at him as if on instinct. He
lifted a brow in silent communication, pleased when the other man ambled
over to him slowly, stopping a few times to speak with one or two patrons
who approached him.

Never liking being forced to wait, wanting action, Bodie found these new
circumstances restrictive, wishing that this *were* a CI5 assignment and
not the cold reality of his life now. He needed the adrenaline surge of
doing something dangerous, of taking risks and busting open this joint for
what it really was. Instead he was forced to play it legit...

"What's up?"

Scowling as the gentle words touched him, Bodie just checked his temper in
time, not sure if he wanted to punch Doyle or Harwood... or preferably
Cowley.

"My, I can see you are just thrilling company tonight. What happened, did
Harwood sack you for putting all the patrons off their losing streaks?"

"Very funny, Doyle." He growled, unamused, as he tried to relax tense
muscles. "How are things here?" "Same mate." Doyle sounded unconcerned by
the atmosphere as he turned and smiled at a tall woman who touched his
shoulder in passing.

Not understanding why the other man was accepting the job so easily and
willingly, he felt his temper and impatience rise another notch. "We're
out of here after this week," he growled, not inviting an argument.

Looking back at the angry face, Doyle buried his amusement, reading
Bodie's underlying mood easily. He also found the place restrictive, but
as long as he treated it like an undercover job, he found it bearable and
even enjoyable. Especially as it was getting up Bodie's nose to such an
extent. Smiling up innocently, he glanced away as he saw the blue eyes
darken further in unleashed annoyance.

"Ray?"

A voice intruded from behind them, and they both turned to see Joe glide
up to them. "I believe Dex is requesting your assistance again."

About to protest, he stopped seeing Bodie look questioningly at the
barman. Deciding to deliberately bait his partner further, he sighed,
pretending interest. "What does Dexter want?" he asked.

"Something about how you are ignoring requests. You have to learn to
mingle more Ray." Joe informed him as he cast his eyes dismissively over
Bodie. "And what are you doing down here? I thought you had finished in
the private rooms."

"I have." Bodie growled.

"Then you had better get back upstairs." He ended as he grabbed Doyle's
arm, motioning for him to get moving also.

Watching his partner walk away, he contemptuously ignored Joe's pointed
glare as he followed the curly haired man's progress across the floor.
Doyle stopped at a corner table and was immediately ushered into a group
of grossly overdressed... *men.*

Frowning harder, he realized his first impressions had been correct.

"William!"

Just holding his temper, he glared at the barman wondering where the other
had learned of his birth name. *Bloody Doyle.* "I answer to Bodie only."
He snapped.

Unperturbed by the open hostility he saw in the remarkable blue eyes, Joe
only shrugged. "Mr Harwood needs you upstairs immediately."

"Who's this Dexter character?" He asked instead, not moving an inch as he
glared across the smoke haze in the room at Doyle's elegant figure. His
partner was laughing at some joke or another.

"He is a valued *paying* client, and none of your concern. Now go!"

Muttering under his breath, Bodie sent his partner one final scowl seeing
someone throw an arm around the other man's shoulders, before he angrily
left the dance area. *Why Doyle was playing games he didn't know. Nor did
he understand why he was so angry... so unhappy and discontent...*



Muttering under his breath as the new man, Bodie, walked away, Joe turned
back to the bar and found and old friend waiting. "Giles, what are you
doing,"

"Shhh," The other man said as he glanced around nervously.

"Christ, Giles!" Joe said in exasperation. "Does Stuart know you're out?"

"'course!" Giles Granger snapped before he downed his scotch. Letting his
eyes scan the crowded club he indicated with his head the far corner. "Did
you say that new man's name was Ray?"

Frowning, Joe nodded slightly. He hated it when Giles turned up as it
usually meant they were going to get raided by the local beat cops down
the road. Nothing but bloody trouble... why Stuart put up with the man...

"Ray as in Raymond Doyle?" Giles asked as a nasty edge tainted his tone.

"I believe so. Why?" Joe asked.

"Because he looks suspiciously like a bastard I used to know."

"Giles-"

"A fucking pig!" Giles clarified.

Stopping what he was going to say, Joe frowned.

"Mind you, it was eight years ago." Giles said reflectively. "But I never
forget a name. Nor a face. Especially not one that so cold bloodedly
killed my kid brother."

"Christ." Joe breathed. "Are you sure?" he asked. In his mind all he could
see was the possibility that they might be staked out again. *Yet Mr
Roberts had recommend the new men... and Stuart trusted Roberts.
Implicitly.*

Not answering, Giles slipped off his chair. "Think I'll go and have a word
with Stuart."

Three hours later, Bodie had convinced Charles that he would go and fetch
them some fresh coffee. The other security man had just nodded, his eyes
never leaving table three.

Sneaking down stairs, he just stopped himself from going into the corridor
as he sensed movement close by. Stopping he automatically reached for his
gun that was not there, hearing voices. Four voices, as throaty male
laughter reached his ears. About to dismiss it as one of the *valued*
clients leaving the club via the back door with one of the stage
performers again, he froze as he heard Doyle's voice intermingled with the
others.

Edging closer, he concentrated on what was being said.

*"Oh, come on Ray, Stuart's an understanding boss as I'm sure he'd let you
leave with us. Besides you finish in an hour,"*

*"Maybe so, but I've only been here a few nights, and I don't-"*

*"Ray, Ray... I'm willing to pay you..." It was seductive and quiet. "It's
just I'm having a private party, just a few friends, and I could use your
expertise, so to speak."*

*"I'm flattered but-"*

*"A thousand pounds? How does that sound? Can I tempt you just a little?"*

Bodie heard Doyle sigh and say something which was lost as staff exited
the dance area into the corridor also.

*"Stuart!"* 

One male voice called, and Bodie chanced a glance around the wall to see
the far end of the narrow corridor. Doyle was half turned away as a tall
man leaned against the wall next to him. Another handsome long haired male
was still talking to Doyle as a fourth chatted with passing staff members,
trying to attract the Managers attention. 

*"Stuart love!"*

*"Hello Dex, enjoying the new floor shows?" Harwood asked in a pleasant
tone as he went over to the group.*

*"Delighted by the new talent." The other said in amusement. "Stu, can you
help me to convince Ray to extend his services for just one night. I've
been trying to tell him that I have a healthy tab and that you really
wouldn't mind."*

*"Sure, go ahead. Say 10%?"*

*"Fine," Dex agreed as he patted Harwood cheek in thanks. "See Ray?"*

"Bodie!" It was a furious whisper from behind, and Bodie turned to see
Charles glare at him. "Things are winding down at table three and Harwood
will want the bait, so come on."

Gritting his teeth, Bodie shouldered his way past the older security man,
heading back upstairs, very conscious of the fact that the other man
glanced around the corner also at the raised voices. He did not like what
he was seeing, *but what could he do as Doyle was a grown man...*

Re-entering the smoky room, he let his eyes pick out the occupants of
table three as he felt Charles stand next to him. "Forget about
downstairs, is my advice. That is another world, and one I don't think
either you or I would tolerate for long."

Surprised by the quiet comment, Bodie gave the other man a speaking
glance. "You used to work down there?"

"Briefly." Charles nodded, before looking at Bodie in curiosity. "I hear
your friend fits right in. You known him long?"

"A while." Bodie said non committal.

"Yeah, I had a good friend like that once. Didn't know what was going down
until Joe told me. Was very educational."

"Doyle isn't like that." Bodie defended.

"Neither was my friend until Dexter and his group got his claws in. If
they dangle a carrot big enough, and if the House pushes... then your
friend will go. And before you know it, he's no longer your friend."

Digesting those facts, Bodie tried to dismiss the concern he felt, knowing
how his partner reacted to given situations. *But was this the same? They
were no longer communicating... nor where they part of CI5... so maybe
Charles had a valid point.* "We're only here a week," he started,
wondering why the excuse sounded so lame even to his own ears. "By then
your other regular security team will be back."

"Maybe." Charles shrugged. "But I doubt if Jon or Marcus will return." he
said as he stepped forward seeing one of the men at table three start to
complain about the dealer.

"Why?" Bodie caught his arm, feeling suddenly scared.

"Because they were found floating face down near the docks last Sunday
morning."

Reacting slowly, Bodie's mind easily pieced two and two together, not
liking the picture. *Somehow he would have to warn Doyle...* 



Slamming the car door as they arrived back at the Hotel, it was almost 7am
and the clear dawn morning was lost completely on Bodie.

They had not spoken during the long drive back to the Hotel, and Bodie was
tired and irritable as Doyle just walked away from him without a single
word.

Closing the door to their room, he glared at the other's uncommunicative
back as Doyle dropped his coat over the back of a chair and heeled off his
shoes.

"I'm wrecked," Doyle mumbled, too tired to deal with the other's moody
irritation. He would be glad when the week was over and they could go back
to a semi normal life. *God!... normal, who was he kidding.* They were out
of the squad, yet if Bodie wanted he was sure Cowley would take the other
man back. In fact he was positive Cowley was just waiting for Bodie to
stuff up so he could drag him back into the fold and reprimand the stupid
sod. Cowley wouldn't let an agent like Bodie run free for too long... He
was too damn valuable. * So where would that leave him?* Back at his
original conclusions*. The partnership was over *and he just *had *to make
Bodie accept the fact so they could dissolve the friendship before it was
too late. Somehow he would talk Bodie into returning to the squad, knowing
the other would not be completely happy until he was back in the harness.
Rubbing his smoke sore eyes, he yawned, sitting down to remove his socks
as he felt an angry glare cut into his back. "You want the bathroom
first?"

"So why didn't you take it?"

"Huh?" Doyle looked up mystified, seeing that the other was spoiling for a
fight. *That was all he needed now. He'd had enough for one day. *What
with Dex and then Stuart Harwoods' strange looks... If he wasn't out of
CI5 and honestly working for himself now, he would have been damn
suspicious that he'd blown his cover. *Yet...*

"The offer." Bodie said concisely, not having heard the end of the
seductive conversation.

"What offer?" Doyle asked mystified as he refocused on the other man.

"Don't give me that shit, Doyle! You know what bloody offer I'm talking
about!"

Standing up, Doyle scowled at the furious man opposite him. "I wouldn't
ask if I knew."

"Dex bloody 'I want your services' offer!" He mimicked, his tone turning
nasty.

Feeling his own temper rise, Doyle just studied the other man's demanding
stance. "That's none of your business," he said slowly, not wanting
another argument.

"The fuck it isn't!" Bodie cut back, as he just stopped the shout. He
paced forward and glared at Doyle from the space of a heart beat. "He'll
screw you in more ways than just the obvious, and you'll end up like the
last two security guards who are, surprise, surprise... not really on
*sick* leave!"

Frowning Doyle, studied the other man, confused by the venom behind the
words. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"You and that human leech!" Bodie spat, getting more infuriated as Doyle
refused to answer him properly. "I would never have believed it possible,
but after the other night, I'm not so sure."

Biting down on his own anger, Doyle tried to control his tone as he
breathed out slowly. *Somehow he knew Bodie had been stewing about that
night when he had gotten drunk*. "I don't think we should discuss this at
the moment,"

"Well we bloody well are!" Bodie injected, not bothering to keep his voice
down that time. He jabbed Doyle hard in the shoulder. "What's going on,
Doyle? What aren't you telling me?"

"You tell me, since you seem to know everything already!" Doyle hissed
back, trying to keep control of the volatile situation.

"You were all over that creep in the corridor-"

"You spied on me?!" Doyle broke in incredulously.

"I..."

"You spied." Doyle concluded, not believing this. "What right have you got
to dictate my life to me? You're not my God damn mother! You're not even
Cowley!"

"Christ, Doyle, one of us has to keep our heads, and you've lost your!"

"Me!" Doyle drowned him out, roughly pushing the hand away which jabbed at
him again in emphasis. "You've been barely civil for days-"

"Oh great, blame me!" 

"And now you're pulling a heavy because you feel your masculinity has been
compromised!"

Locking his jaw, Bodie almost slammed the other man into the far wall.

"Well I hate to break it to you sunshine, but you're the one with the
problems! You're the one who has the hang-up, not me! I can cope with
bastards like Dexter Luthin, and don't ever think I can't!' He took a
steadying breath, trying to inject some sense into the other man. "And
don't *ever* spy on me again."

"Or what?!" Bodie sneered, not liking the feeling of vulnerability. Not
liking the fact that Doyle had worked him out so quickly. *Yet he should
have known he would...*

"Or we part company here and now." Doyle answered in a quieter tone, dead
seriousness reflecting in his expression.

"The fuck we will!" Bodie exploded, his anger far from settling. This only
confirmed his worst fears. "I'm not giving up on this partnership just
because you have!"

Looking away, Doyle swore under his breath, feeling Bodie's finger bite
into his healing shoulder as the other man tried to swing him back around.
It hurt.

"I never took you for a quitter."

"Me?" Doyle shook his head, not knowing any more what Bodie wanted him to
say. Not knowing how to correct the wrong. Shrugging the bruising fingers
aside, he tried to reach for his coat.

"And stop bloody running all the time!" Bodie demanded.

"Then be honest with me for once!" Doyle yelled back just as strongly,
glaring at the furious man. "Cut this crap and tell me what really is
going on in that crazy head of yours, because mate I can tell you, I've
had it up to here." He gestured angrily, his face mirroring that anger.
"Firstly you risk your life for me in Russia and then resign, and you
won't tell me why! So now I'm starting to wonder if this is a set up,"

"You bastard-"

"Fine!" Doyle stepped around the other man, heading for the door. "Then
I'll end it for both of us here and now so you can go back to your real
life. Go back to Cowley, and let me get on with mine!"

"For Christ sakes!" Slamming the door shut as the other pulled it open,
Bodie crashed into the other man as Doyle turned, taking a wild swing at
him. It missed and they ended up falling over the armchair beside the
door, carried by the momentum.

Grunting out a painful breath as Bodie's elbow slammed into his ribs,
Doyle twisted around, feeling his shoulder pull and finding they were nose
to nose before either could disentangle themselves.

"Damn," Doyle breath, wincing in real pain as he saw Bodie hesitate above
him, a look of utter desperation clouding his blue eyes... *an image of
Bodie leaning over him, calling his name as he battled to stay
conscious...* before the other leant down and covered his mouth brutally. 

Amazed at his own stupidity, as the clear memory of a night of five nights
ago assaulted his mind, Bodie never the less could not stop himself as he
touched the dry lips of his partner, knowing they had nothing left to lose
now. Doyle was right, the partnership *was* over and it was all because of
his own stubbornness. He felt Doyle grunt as the other tried to move,
expecting an angry rejection. But it never came, and he increased the
pressure, tasting hot breath before the other opened his mouth slowly.

Mildly shocked, Doyle attempted to understand what was driving Bodie, not
scared of the physical contact as he had seen, read and witnessed too much
in his short life already to be surprised by anything. Oddly, he was the
more liberal minded of the two, but still he had never imagined Bodie
trying something like this, even with his harsh mercenary back ground.
*Give Bodie enough rope and he'll eventually hang himself...* Believing
the other man would come to his senses soon enough, then there would be
hell to pay. *Thank God they were off the squad... or Cowley would kill
them himself for being so stupid...* Wondering where this would lead, and
how it would effect the friendship, he decided to wait and see what the
other would do, as he closed his eyes and opened his mouth further. It was
not that much different from kissing that Irish gym instructor he had
dated six months ago, before Bodie has tricked her into a double date and
left him with the other's reject. *Not that it bothered him...* as neither
could hold down a serious relationship with the kind of job they did. *Had
done...* he reminded himself bitterly. Feeling his mouth besieged, he
raised his hand to touch the other's short cropped hair. 

Startled that Doyle had not protested, Bodie started to imagine what else
his partner of six years might be into that he was not aware of. *What
might he have said and done with that Dex character from the club...* It
was a maddening thought. Tasting the hot mouth, he reluctantly broke the
contact and lifted his head to stare down into shrewd green eyes, seeing
no judgment, just patience and concern as the other waited for an
explanation.

"Ray..."

"Bodie, what is going on?"

Dropping his head down into the other's warm neck, he tried to sort out
his jumbled thoughts, suddenly seeing in his mind *the KGB's secret base
again and Doyle's broken and dying body. * He strengthened his grip on the
hot body. "I... " Feeling the erratic pulse beat under his mouth, he bit
the damp skin gently, not wanting to lose this comforting feeling of
closeness. Scared of what would happen if Doyle walked out of his life for
good. He felt the other wriggle, trying to move away and he bit the skin
harder, tasting the other's aftershave and sweat as the erratic pulse beat
quickened.

"Bodie?" It was almost husky, yet questioning just the same.

Ignoring it, Bodie worked his way around the damp skin, just waiting for
the ax to fall, not meeting the wide eyes as he reclaimed the open mouth
in a deeper sharing. *How could he possibly start to explain his fears?*

Getting extremely worried now, Doyle broke the second kiss, realizing what
would happen next as his own body welcomed the seductive caresses. *This
was not happening... was it? And why now? * They had shared many beds over
the last few years and had joked quite intimately with each other, *so why
was this a surprise? Was it because they were both out of CI5, and that
the restrictions were gone? Or was it because they needed something to
fill the void?* "Bodie?" He felt a hand skim down his flank and he almost
panicked. "For God sakes... Bodie!"

"Shut up," Bodie said almost absently as he closed his eyes and just
concentrated on the sensations, thinking about how the other had almost
died and how he had been useless in protecting his partner. *That had
never happened before to him...* he had always been in control, achieved
the impossible until seven weeks ago.

Never one to deny pleasure, Doyle still struggled with the concept of what
was happening as his shirt was pulled from his trousers and experienced
fingers caressed his abdomen. "Bodie!" He gripped the broad shoulders and
tried to force the other man's head up.

Lost in the dark memories, Bodie latched on to the damp skin under his
mouth and bit the flesh hard enough to mark it. He felt the other gasp,
before strong hands were pushing him away.

"Bloody hell, mate!" Doyle complained as he finally got Bodie's attention,
trying to control his erratic breathing as he met the clouded blue eyes.

"You don't like it?" Bodie asked bluntly, already guessing the answer.

Thrown by the directness, Doyle hesitated. "It's not that. It's just-"

"What?" He pushed. "You were willing to let Dexter touch you a little
while ago."

"That was all show," he started to protest.

"Really?"

"Yes, and you know it!" He said, attempting to frown.

"And now?" Bodie let his grin grow evilly as his fingers slid up the warm
skin he touched, liking the idea of getting Doyle off balance.

Not wanting to admit to the effects Bodie's touch was causing, Doyle tried
to glare at the unrepentant man. "Bodie, I'm warning you-"

"And I'm sick of hearing your threats about leaving me." He pressed his
advantage, letting some of his own anger resurface. "You want to know why
I disregarded the coded message Cowley received? Well, I'll tell you. It
was because I could not let myself believe you were dead. I couldn't let
that happen. I was out of CI5 regardless of what Cowley wanted, and he
just turned it to his advantage as usual, by arranging for me to meet his
contacts in the USSR. I had to find you, Ray, and one way or another I was
going to bring you back to English soil."

Stunned by the emotion-laden words, Doyle could only blink up speechless
as the image of Bodie leaning over him in haunted his memory again. He now
started to realize that the fear and desperation he'd seen was not from
any outside dangers, but rather from the mental anguish and turmoil that
the other was going through. "I didn't know,"

"Obviously." Bodie snapped, then softened the remark with a mischievous
smirk. "Then when Cowley threw you off the squad I felt..."

"Anchorless..." Doyle offered, starting to understand as he admitted to
his own feelings and frustrations over the de-activation.

"Exactly," Bodie whispered as he leaned in close again, seeing a slight
wariness enter the green eyes. "Then you took off before I could find
you."

"I needed a drink-"

"You got drunk, and I couldn't talk with you." He admitted ruefully. "Then
you got me angry and we..."

"I remember the rest." Doyle told him quickly. "Only the next morning you
clamed up on me."

"You remember it all?" Bodie asked, latching on to the first part of the
statement.

"I wasn't that drunk, you over grown idiot." Doyle snorted indignantly.

"You little shit," he muttered, seeing the other resurrect a typical grin.
"And now?" He asked.

"And now what?" Doyle sobered fast.

"Now that you're sober..." Bodie left the rest unsaid as he hid his grin,
seeing the green eyes darken in worry. Moving his hand again, he knew
exactly what to do to get the other man distracted. Having had seen him in
enough positions over the last six years together, Bodie probably knew him
better than his own mother did.

Sucking in a breath, Doyle reached for the persuasive hand that skimmed
over his abdomen, knowing how Bodie could tease him. He held no illusion
regarding Bodie's numerous sexual conquests as they had shared enough
double dates, and even swapped girlfriends on too many occasions. "Bodie-"

"I bet I could make you enjoy it."

"No arguments, but I don't think we should-"

"Christ mate, will you shut up!" He snapped before claiming the open
mouth, enjoying himself now as he pushed the advantage. This was a new
twist on their normally active and often varied sexual encounters, and now
he wondered why they had not tried it before. *God knows how close they
had come to it on countless occasions.* Suddenly Murphy and Turner's lewd
comments regarding their relationship were starting to make sense. He felt
Doyle squirm, as he bit at the other man's soft lips, drawing blood. At
least in this he already knew Doyle. Knew what made him tick, and knew
what to expect from his exasperating partner, as there would be no
illusions or pretences. Just friendship and trust. 

Dragging in a breath, Doyle gasped as his mouth was released. "Bodie..?"
Despite himself, he could not deny the pleasure of it as he felt his
partner's hands undo his zip and cup his genitals hotly. Whether is was
from stress, exhaustion or confusion... he no longer cared as he
surrendered to the sensation, tangling his fingers in Bodie's dress shirt
and pulling the other man closer. "Bastard."

Hearing the whisper, Bodie buried his smile as he let Doyle devour his
mouth in a hungry kiss, swamping his senses with instant lust as the man
under him came alive to his touch. It was gratifying and powerful to be
given something he had not known he had wanted or needed. Needed so badly
and he savored the taste and feel of the warm body under his hands.
Feeling Doyle shiver he lifted his head and heard Doyle curse. "What..."
*Doyle would not back away now, would he? Would not give him a sample of
heaven and then withdraw the willingness?*

"Don't know about you, mate, but it's bloody freezin' on the floor." Doyle
said lightly as he saw the blue eyes darken with that strange fear again.
"Bloody drafty," he got no further as he was abruptly hauled up and shoved
towards the bed. *Thank God it was a small room,* he mused as he stumbled
on to the hard mattress, other wise he would have ended up on the floor
again. *Typical Bodie...* Then hands were on him and he sighed as he felt
his shirt roughly pulled off his shoulder. "Bodie-"

"Shut up." Bodie growled, ignoring the few buttons that hamper his
progress as he threw Doyle's shirt on the floor. Shoving the other man
flat again he studied him in minute detail, almost seeing him for the
first time.

"Bodie..?" Doyle question as he held his breath and let his mind start to
work again. In all reality this was definitely not a good idea. Adding the
volitiles of sex to their already strained relationship would not help
matter. Quite apart from the small, yet not insignificant fact that he was
not that way inclined... well at least not normally. Yet Bodie had
inspired a sense of arousal in him that was frightening. "Bodie? Maybe we
should just stop and think..." Doyle tried again and he lifted himself up
on his elbows. But instead of getting an answer he found himself
speechless again as the tall man slowly started to undress. It set a nest
of butterflies off in his abdomen.

"Think, sunshine?" Bodie asked suggestively as he eyed the sprawled
figure. Ray was deceptively lean and undeniably desirable as he lay semi
naked across the bed. "Can you think?" Bodie whispered as he heeled off
his shoes and let his trousers slid to the floor. He gave a half smile as
Doyle swallowed as his eyes lowered to center on his proud erection.

"Well..." Doyle swallowed again. *Christ...* Bodie was a work of art. He'd
always known that, yet now it made more sense. Now it impacted on him
especially as he saw how aroused the other man was. Never before had his
partner's full heated attention been so blatently leveled at him and it
was flattering. Terribly exciting in a very dangerous way. Licking his
lips he blinked and then looked up, just in time to see the other man
reach down and pull off his shoes. "Bodie-"

"Christ, Ray, can't you think of anything else to say?" Bodie laughed
softly, feeling oddly in control as he crawled up his partner's frame and
homed in on the open mouth without invitation. Delving into the hot
expanse, he sort out every corner of his partners mouth, tasting him
intimately before grabbing his hands and pushing him flat. It was erotic.
Utterly satisfying and welcoming as he absorbed Doyle's soft grunt of
compliance before he pushed his knees between the slender thighs.
Remarkably Doyle gave in and he lapped up the unusual willingness, knowing
that as soon as Ray got over his shock then the struggles would begin. He
looked forward to it, later. But now he just wanted the gentleness of
acceptance. The taste and feel of having control, of being able to
protect... Breaking the deep open mouth kiss, Bodie looked down into his
partner's dazed face, enjoying the vulnerability he glimpsed before he
latched onto the extended neck and marked the skin lovingly.

"Bloody hell, Bodie-"

Hearing the hoarse whisper, Bodie tried not to laugh. Pressing down into
the heat under him, Bode let his urgency answer the other man. Releasing
the trapped wrists he mouthed his way down the naked chest to leave a
trail of hot, moist desire until he came to the open waist band of his
partner's trousers. Stopping there he crouched between spread legs and
lightly caressed up the inside of Doyle's thigh. He watched mesmerized as
Ray arced up slightly, bending one leg in silent and unconscious
encouragement. Laughing gently he crawled up Doyle's body until he was
leaning over him. "You, sunshine, are a fuckin' tease."

"Yeah?" Doyle lifted one brow in challenge.

"Oh, definitely." Bodie decided. Reaching down he unceremoniously dragged
Doyle's trousers and underwear off the squirming man.

Feeling the mood lighten between them slightly, Ray reached up and turned
them over. He was still not sure what he should do. If they should follow
this dangerous situation to its conclusion, or end it now with a bit of
light hearted wrestling and then shelve the last twenty minutes into the
realms of 'best forgotten experience'. Going for a three quarter hold on
the other man, he grunted as he was suddenly and expertly flipped over
only to have Bodie gaze down at him with smug understanding.



"Not this time, Ray."

"Listen you over grown lunatic-"

"This is not a game."

Sobering immediately, Doyle let himself meet the shrewd blue eyes. "No."
He admitted after a long pause. "But that's why,"

"That's why it is so important." Bodie finished for him. Sliding a thigh
over his partner's hip, he saw Doyle suck in a breath and grinned
mischievously. "You also like this, if I'm not mistaken."

"Sadist."

"I thought I was a bastard." 

"Oh, that you are mate. Trust me,"

Halting the words, Bodie initiated another kiss, thrilled when he got an
instant response that was neither hesitant nor shy. He knew that getting
past Doyle's ethical objections was the hardest part so set about to
distract his partner. He also briefly wondered how much experience Ray
had. He would have thought none... *yet...* "Ray?"

"Ummm?"

"Have you ever done this before?"

"As in-"

"Don't play dumb."

"I'm not." Doyle growled. "Christ, Bodie! What do you think!?"

"I wouldn't ask-"

"You've read my file. And unlike yours it is complete."

Strangely pleased by that, Bodie ignored the questioning look aimed at him
as he dropped down the lean body and abruptly took Doyle's aroused shaft
in his mouth. Leaving a hand on the flat abdomen, he restrained his
partner as he felt the other man cry out and arch up. 

"Christ!" Doyle gasped, not having expected this. In fact he was not sure
what he had expected. He was consumed in a heat that tore at his control.
It devoured him as Bodie's mouth expertly drove him to a fast desperate
state of need and arousal. His entire existence narrowed to that damning
mouth as the soft tongue tantalized him while one strong hand pressed him
to the bed and the other large hand caressed up inside of his thighs. It
was maddeningly mind blowing as he insides turned to a molten jelly that
drove all rational thought from his head. He struggled to breathe, his
hands gripping the bedding as he strained to let go and come, but he was
deprived of release as the hot suction let him gasping.

Lifting his head, Bodie shook his head at the sight of his partner
stretched out in such wantonness. Perspiration covered his body as the
green eyes blinked around dazed, an expression of disbelief and wonder
fighting for supremacy. Moving to lie next to Doyle, Bodie trailed his
hand up the damp body, letting his own urgent need brush Doyle's hip.
"Ray?"

"That was-"

Smiling, Bodie, turned his lover's head with a finger under chin, liking
the look of such openness and claimed the panting mouth. Releasing him, he
licked his lips seductively. "Want more?"

"Be mad not to," Ray said the first thing that came into his head and then
stopped the words as he focused a little more on his partner. He could
read now the banked down sexual need that burned in the blue eyes. "You
want me to-"

"Later." Bodie said as he continued to stare at Doyle.

"So..?" A little confused again, Doyle tried to re-gather his erratic
thoughts as he felt Bodie caress down his heated flesh. "Damnit, mate, I'm
not a mind reader."

"No," Bodie said reflectively. "Ray, how would you feel about-"

"What?" Ray asked a little too harshly as Bodie's simple touch re-ignited
all his over sensitive nerves again. He was so aroused it almost hurt now.

Licking his lips again, Bodie debated what to say or do.

"Oh," Ray said with sudden insight as he saw the long lashes sweep down to
hide his partner's true thoughts. He was not *that* naive, even if Bodie
believed he was. "You wanna fuck me, is that it?" Abruptly he was pinned
by a very hot stare as Bodie's lashes lifted and the blue eyes seared into
him with undisguised hunger and desire. It was enough to almost push him
over the edge.

"Yeah," Bodie just breathed the word as he held himself very still.
Logically he knew it was too soon to ask this of Ray. *Way too soon, but
Christ he wanted it. Needed it.* Had needed this since he'd first lost it
after Ray had been taken by Losada. To gain control. To find the direction
in his life and lose the irrational fear. To bind this man to him. To hold
him at his side indefinitely...

"I've never-"

"'s okay, sunshine." Bodie coaxed. "I'll take it slow."

A little thrown, Doyle just nodded blindly, cursing softly as he was
rewarded with a swift deep kiss that left his senses reeling before he was
abandoned. Lifting his head off the bed, he blinked, just catching sight
of Bodie striding out of the small bathroom they had. The tall agent was
magnificent to look at. All pale skin and well defined muscles. A
sleekness that implied strength and power. Dropping his head down, Doyle
closed his eyes not believing any of this. *Maybe it was another weird
dream...* Hell, but if Dr. Ross ever got hold of this little warped
fantasy Cowley would certainly kick him off the squad. *But wasn't he off
the squad anyway..?*

"Wake up goldilocks," Bodie whispered as he ran a hand up his partner's
damp chest.

"Bodie," Ray breathed and tried to lick his lips.

"Turn over mate."

Hesitating, Doyle didn't move until he saw his partner's face swim closer.
Then without thought he instinctively opened his mouth wanting the kiss. A
response which both shocked and frightened him because of its intensity.
Then he was turning, feeling his engorged shaft rub against the rough bed
sheets and muffling his gasp of need. Hands at his hip pulled him to his
knees, and he let Bodie do it, no longer sure of his own mind as his body
seemed to have other ideas. Doubts would come later. Much later. But right
now he wanted this. Wanted to feel the depth of his partner's desire. To
experience this irrational craving that ate into him every time Bodie
touched him.

Studying the body presented, Bodie's hands shook, not believing Ray's
willingness. The openness that had pushed him over the edge of longing as
he tipped some of his gun oil on his fingers and gently started to prepare
his lover. He rimmed the tight entrance, slipping one finger into the
smooth heat, then using a second to stretch the resistant muscle. He hear
Doyle mutter something, but ignored it as he searched with his fingers for
the spot which would deaden any pain and make the smaller man under him
fly. Finding it abruptly he had to use his other arm to grip Ray around
the waist and pull he back, gratified when the tight muscle relaxed. It
was all the encouragement he needed. Knowing that the state they were both
in, neither of them would last much longer. Positioning himself, he gently
thrush in.

Crying out, Ray was not sure if he wanted to push Bodie away or drag him
closer. The sensations were incredible. His body had exploded with
sensations he'd never felt before as Bodie's fingers had fucked him, but
now the pleasure had changed into a sharp pain that was worryingly
lustful. Only he couldn't have said why and he gasped feeling himself
filled. *It was utter madness...* Then strong hands were at his hips,
sliding up his flank, to his chest, caressing and reaffirming who he was
before he was dragged back to sit in Bodie's lap. "Fuck..!" Breathy
laughter in his ear was his only answer.

"Christ your bloody hot... and tight," Bodie said on a labored breath,
turning his mouth into the flesh presented. He bit the back of Ray's neck,
his hand running urgently over the lean body plastered against him as he
felt his lover shudder. Then Ray arched, tilting his head back and giving
himself over completely to the pleasure and experience as he pushed down.
Sliding hands over damp skin, Bode lifted his lover slightly, then dragged
him down again, his fingers biting into narrow hips even as his teeth sank
into a tempting shoulder.

Gasping out at the over stimulus, Ray climaxed hard, barely noticing when
he was shoved forward and then covered by a demanding heat. He felt Bodie
tense as he was pressed into the ungiving mattress, letting his partner
control him in utter trust as he was swamped by his friend and lovers
release.

What seemed like an eternity later, Bodie rolled off the seductive heat
and dragged Doyle over with him. The sharing had surpassed all his other
encounters, making him even more determined to fight for the partnership.
The friendship. The trust. *The love..?* "Ray?"

"Mmmm?"

Forcing himself to look at the other man, Bodie pushed over long curls out
of his partner's face. *Lover...* "That was..."

"Fuckin' fantastic." Doyle said sleepily, not even bothering to open his
eyes. He was tired and he really didn't felt up to dissecting the emotions
of the situation just yet. His mind was too confused...

Seeing how Doyle was ignoring him, Bodie sighed. Leaning over he chastely
kissed the corner of his lover's mouth, silently vowing not to let Ray
dismiss what happened that easily. But later in the day would do. It had
been a long night. Reaching down he dragged up the blankets at the foot of
the bed and covered them both. Moving closer to the dozing man, he
snuggled in, deciding the best form of defense was offense...

 



Losada quickly learned of CI5's interest in the ex-agents, and he was
intrigued as reports filtered down about Cowley's displeasure over where
both men were working. Indeed, it was a change as he had heard of Roberts
and his shady business deals. But Cowley was a devious old fox, already
having out-smarted him once and tarnishing his excellent record, not to
mention his professional ego. And he did not like being made a fool of, so
this time he wanted to bring Cowley down as well as destroy CI5's
credibility. All his agents were in place, as he just waited now for Omega
One's nod of approval. It could come as early as that evening...



A security meeting was held on Thursday afternoon and attended by the
Minister, the Head of MI6, Special Branch and MI5 Divisions, plus the
various Home Office watch dogs. Cowley and the Home Secretary also
attended. A number of grievances were sorted out, usually over Cowley's
broad jurisdiction which upset cases by MI6 agents. The budgets were also
negotiated, as each Head was ordered to cut back on useless stake-out
operations and over-use of expensive surveillance equipment on diplomatic
visitors.

When it came to Cowley's report, all eyes turned intently on him, knowing
he was the biggest abuser of the current system as he tried to control his
squad of '*savages*'. And no matter how many times he stressed the point
that neither he nor his agents wasted tax payers' money, no-one believed
him. Everything his organization was involved in was a necessity and he
himself would be the first to put an end to the squad if they were not
needed by society. But shelving that topic, he turned to the arguments of
the day, carefully laying down the ground work for his plan so he could
reel in his two young hot headed operatives before they disgraced
themselves completely.

Glancing coldly between the Heads of MI6 and MI5, Cowley opened his
folder. "CI5 is already running within your delicate margins, as you know,
Minister."

The Minister nodded and looked at Cowley tiredly. He was not a happy man,
especially as he knew what Cowley was trying to prove. "Yes, George, I
know. I have read your somewhat brief reports. But George, what we want to
know here is if you have been able to cut down on the number of agents
involved in an assignment at one time?"

"Sir," Cowley stated flatly, only a slight annoyance marring his speech.
"Every man I use is necessary. If I took so much as one man off each case,
the case would then become a potential risk, not only to my department but
also to the public we serve."

"Yes, George, we understand that, but surely there are some cases which do
not require all your operatives working around the clock seven days a
week. That sort of abuse just destroys the budget." This was from
Anderson, the Head of MI6, with his deputy, Alex Hart nodding in
agreement.

Cowley looked at the man like a snake looked at a rat. "I am not aware of
any such cases, Ron."

"Come off it, George," Hart started, backing his superior. "What about the
case dealing with your two rogue agents?"

Disliking being addressed by his first name, especially by jumped up
governmental weeds, Cowley turned to look at the skinny man, injecting
just enough genuine curiosity into his tone as he framed his question.
"And which case is that, Hart, as I did not think MI6 concerned itself
with CI5 business."

 Knowing he had backed himself into a corner, Hart went on the defensive
and met Cowley's challenge. "Everyone knows that you have assigned half
your operatives to finding and containing two volatile madmen whom you
dismissed. Now we are not questioning their dismissal, just the fact of
wasted tax payers' funds spent on trailing them."

Cowley settled a deadly smile on the other man before replying. "That,
Alex, is CI5 business. And no, if you want my opinion, I think I do not
have enough men assigned to the case. Because the two you speak of have
just taken up with Roberts and have the possibility of becoming a
dangerous security risk."

"Good God, George!" The Minister exclaimed. "I hope you plan to correct
this problem and soon."

"Yes, Minister. The details for the operation are not up for discussion
here, but if you like I can bring the relevant files around to your office
tomorrow morning, say 11am to discuss it."

"Yes, George, I would appreciate that." The Minister agreed before turning
to the other men in the room. "Well gentlemen, that about closes the
meeting for this week..."



On the same afternoon Cowley was leaving the Minister's office, Bodie was
leaning against the railings over looking the Thames river. Doyle had
taken off about an hour ago, stating he needed to go for a run and Bodie
had not argued, needing some space himself. They each had a lot to think
about.

Remembering the events of the early morning, he groaned, not believing
that they had had finally made it to bed... *after how long?* Six years.
And waking up at 2pm and being faced with a slumbering Doyle in his arms
had not damped his desire one bit. Nothing like this had happened to him
since school and he was both embarrassed and amused by the idea and level
of hunger involved. It had not even been the most planned seduction he had
ever experienced, *the most memorable... definitely*, and he smiled
despite himself. And it had seemed to clear the air between them and
relieved a lot of the past few weeks' tension. It would be interesting to
see what Doyle would do the following morning when they returned from the
club, as the Hotel room still only sported one bed. Letting his smile turn
into a predatory grin, Bodie allowed his imagination free reign, knowing
Doyle as he did. Besides, in the end the main thing still was the
partnership, and it would now survive.

"You still standing here?"

Turning at the soft voice, he was not surprised to see the other man as
Doyle looked hot and sweaty in his runners. He was also carrying a
sandwich wrapped in plastic, which he held out. "It's quiet and peaceful,"
Bodie answered, accepting the food.

"It's also open." Doyle replied with emphasis.

"You still jumping at shadows?"

"Only when they jump back." Doyle quipped as he leaned on the railing a
few paces away.

Seeing the action, Bodie hid his smile, opening his sandwich. "It's tuna!"

"I know, ruddy expensive too. I hope you're worth it."

"Oh, I am sunshine." He assured, seeing how Doyle was attempting to
distance himself. That ploy wouldn't work for long. "But I hate tuna."

"They're quite cute I thought-"

"Who? Me or the fish?" He asked, trying to raise a smile out of the other
man and almost succeeding.

Turning Doyle gave him an innocent look, all eyes and hair. He still was
not sure how he felt as the run had failed the help him focus. *There was
no doubt that the morning's activities had felt good at the time... but
what about now? In the cold light of day things often appeared different.*

"Have you ever been force fed?"

"I'm trying to kick the habit."

Releasing a breath, Bodie moved closer to the other man, almost touching
him. "Ray,"

"What?" It was said with no teasing or amusement as the green eyes
returned the other man's look. "I honestly think that this morning was the
stupidest thing we have ever done."

"Nah," Bodie said with the same level of gravity. "I think it was always
going to happen, just the timing was unknown."

Stunned, Doyle just stared at him. "You can't be serious."

"Perfectly." Bodie assured him. "Think about it Ray, we work very well
together, live in each others' pockets constantly until we know each other
better than we know ourselves. We've shared beds, clothing, cars, tooth
brushes and girlfriends. Do you really think any of that is going to
change?"

Reflecting on all that Doyle had to admit the other had a valid point.
"I'd still like my own tooth brush back, if that's okay."

"Idiot." Bodie shook his head. "Seriously Ray, nothing's really changed.
Except maybe our perspective."

Pursing his lips Doyle considered that, glad they were finally having a
serious conversation for once. "So where do we go from here?"

"Where ever we want to go," he said, tossing some of his sandwich to the
pigeons.

Wanting to believe that, Doyle instinctively tensed as he scanned the
area. "I think we have a tail," He stated casually.

"Who, the green Vauxhall?" Bodie asked pleasantly as he instantly braced
himself, turning unobtrusively away.

"Yeah, I saw him earlier down by the bridge."

"Were you playing cops and robbers again without me?" He joked lightly as
he casually followed Doyle as the other headed back towards the park.

"Had to do something as I was getting lonely."

"You should have just told me, and we could have stayed in doors." He
replied straight faced, trying to suppress his laughter as he saw Doyle's
shocked then disbelieving look.

"I wasn't that lonely."

"Now I'm hurt."

"You'll survive." He said without heat. "Doesn't look like one of ours."

"No." Bodie agreed. "Could be MI6 or MI5..."

"You think we've accidentally blundered into one of their operations again
at the club?"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"I don't buy it." Doyle decided. "Shit, look at the plate."

Coolly glancing over, Bodie swore. "Diplomatic plates..."

"KGB?" Doyle ventured as he quickened his pace slightly, not liking the
look of this.



"Could be." Bodie agreed. "Looks like they want you back, sunshine," His
words greatly contrasting his tone.

"You know, I've just had another thought," Doyle mused, ignoring the way
Bodie had said that. It had sounded dangerous.

"What? Like if they're watching us, then-"

"The Cow's watching them watching us." Doyle finished.

"Christ, it was a God damn set-up." He said with feeling. "That old
bastard..."

"Which means-"

"We're about to get thrown into the shit again."

"Without a shovel." Doyle agreed. "You carrying? I'm not."

Reaching the center of the park, Bodie just shook his head, indicating
he'd left his spare in the room also. "I'll go around the oak and head for
the west alley way." Bodie said low and urgently as he briefly touched his
partner's arm in silent warning.

"Yeah, I'll meet you around the other side. Maybe we'll get lucky."



Going down to the workshop to meet the two agents waiting for him, Cowley
checked his watch as Campbell and Morgan walked over. He ignored them both
as he turned to the CI5 head mechanic and asked for Bodie's car keys to
the Capri. Both cars were still sitting at the back of the shop untouched
just like Cowley had ordered.

Taking the keys he limped over to Campbell and tossed them at him. "You're
driving."

Staring at the CI5 controller in wary disbelief, Campbell checked the tag
on the key ring before going to retrieve the car. If he was surprised by
which car the boss wanted then he covered it well as he pulled to a stop
beside his partner and the Chief of CI5.

Climbing in the passenger seat, Cowley eyed his two men, knowing they were
up to the task he was going to ask of them. In fact he was very pleased
with himself having just learned that Bodie and Doyle had rumbled two KGB
agents, hopefully upsetting Losada even more. Just one more day and it
should all be over, then all he would have to do is drag both men back
into CI5. He did not think it would be too hard.

"Where to, Sir?"

"Oh, to the Minister's private home will be fine."

"This time of night?" Morgan asked, knowing it was well past 9pm.

"Aye," Was all Cowley said. "Take the back route if you will."

Complying, Campbell started the car moving, navigating the traffic
expertly.

About half way to their destination, Cowley took out a file and eyed both
men. "I have an assignment for you both."

Neither answered, both just looking at him in mild interest.

"Tomorrow morning at precisely 10.30 am I will leave CI5 Headquarters with
a briefcase and make my way over to the Minister' Office in town.
Somewhere between the two Offices I expect to get stopped. It will
probably be in the Home Office car park."

"Probably..." Morgan started.

"Aye, in fact I'm counting on it." Cowley looked back at the man and
smiled. "Now this is what I want you two to do..." 



Having settled his problems with Doyle, Bodie positively beamed as he
watched the three games in progress up on the first floor of 'Alfies'.
After scaring their tails, they had spent some time getting lost in the
dock area before heading back to the Hotel to change. It had given them
barely an hour to reach the club, and they had almost been late. It was
actually a pity they had to work, because for the first time in weeks he
felt comfortable in the partnership again and would have liked a quiet
night. *Oh well, it would have to wait until the morning now...*

Everyone was commenting on his changed personality, and he had just
grinned, refusing to comment as he carried out his duties mechanically. He
didn't even worry about Doyle downstairs, knowing the other man was
perfectly capable for handling Harwood or even the over-amorous Dexter. It
was no longer a concern as he waited with anticipation. Cowley was up to
something, and he knew that before long both he and Doyle would be neck
deep in action. It was an encouraging thought.

What was puzzling him was the idea as to *why *Cowley had set them up
without telling them. *Why he had let them think they were out of the
squad... Surely he should know by now that they could have acted the part
convincingly? They could have baited the Russians even better... So why
the deception?*

Letting the puzzling thought go, he just concentrated on the task of not
buggering up the scam Cowley had set in place, which would mean continuing
working for Harwood until Cowley contacted them. *Or until the Russians
showed their hand... Or they got themselves killed...* The only
consolation was the fact that if Cowley were setting them up then that
would indicate that Losada was back in London. And Bodie *wanted *him for
what he had done to Doyle...

Rolling his shoulder and shifting the expensive coat marginally, he felt
dressed for the first time in days as the gun nestled snugly under his
left arm. Let Losada come, as he would just love a second chance at
blowing the man away. *Case or no case... Because if Cowley could keep
them in the dark then he really could pretend that he and Doyle had not
worked out the old man's ploy and act as free agents. Meaning he would
take Losada out... And it would be on Cowley's head.*

Seeing a confrontation brewing at table one, he walked over and placed a
restraining hand on the elderly gentleman's shoulder. "Sir, could you
please accompany me over to the bar?' he asked pleasantly.



The next morning, Campbell and Morgan gave Cowley a two minute head start
before leaving CI5 Headquarters anonymously. They did not approve of the
risks the shrewd Controller was taking, but respected his wishes, not even
really understanding what he hoped to gain by setting himself up as bait.

Reaching for a switch on the tracking device, Morgan flicked it on,
hearing the dull bleep as the radar lit up in front of them. They both
considered the bright green light thoughtfully for a couple of seconds.

"Well, at least that is working," Morgan exclaimed. The radar indicated
Cowley was still on course for the Home Office.



Pulling up outside the security gates of the Home Office, Cowley showed
his ID before being allowed in to park. He picked a parking slot away from
the gates as he figured his assailant would be one of three KGB agents
Losada liked to use. In fact he was counting on it.

Getting out of the Rover, he locked it slowly and then turned to limp
towards the car park elevators. Depressing the button he waited
impatiently as the old lifts whined into life. Around him there was no
movement and he glanced around casually into the dimly lit area. The high
pitched grind of the old lift shattered the silence as it ground to a stop
on his level and he sighed, thinking that maybe he had miscalculated with
the other man. He had been so positive that the files would be taken that
he had not even formulated a concrete back up plan.

Watching the door of the old lift open, he was startled as a figure leaped
at him from the right, knocking him off balance hard. Stumbling backwards,
he just caught himself, pretending to be injured as he watched the
assailant. The man scooped up his brief case and pulled out his gun aiming
it at him, just forestalling the action as voices could be heard
approaching. Without hesitation the thief darted away back into the
shadows.

Waiting another few seconds to make sure he was alone, Cowley stood and
brushed himself off as he walked back towards his Rover.

Two security guards walked around the corner and gave him a wave before
moving on and he dismissed them as window dressing only.

Driving out of the car park, he phoned the Minister and told him of the
snatch, then pulled up outside a News Stand to pick up Goddard and Davis
who were waiting as ordered.

"Alpha one to 9.2, come in." He barked into the R/T.

"9.2, Sir. We have the object on radar... heading north about six miles
from our current position."

"Good. Keep with him, but not too close, as I don't want to scare him off
now."

"Yes Sir." Came the staticky reply. "We have just turned into Victoria
Road..."

"Right. Keep me informed. Out."



Replacing the R/T, Morgan eyed his partner. "He sounded cheerful."

"This geezer doesn't believe in speed limits," Campbell complained as the
green light traveled to the edge of the radar swiftly.

"Yeah... just don't lose him, okay?"

"I'll try not to." He said indignantly.

"'Cause I don't wanta be the one to tell the old man we stuffed up.
Again."

"And you think I do?"



The black triumph pulled up outside a stately home and the man quickly
entered the house going up the massive flight of stairs. He knocked on a
closed door and after a brief mumble was admitted immediately.

"You were not seen or followed?"

"No." The man shook his head. "I checked carefully."

"Good." The other man said as he walked around a magnificent cedar table.
"And the case?"

"Here." The thief lifted the black briefcase, giving it to the other man.

Placing the case gently on the table, the man turned to the other occupant
in the room. "Now, Losada, unlock this combination and we will see if your
theories are correct. We will see if these two men are worth all the
fuss."

"Yes." Losada nodded. "By knowing Cowley's plan, I will close in behind
CI5 and snatch them both away. General Andropov will be well pleased with
our achievements." He grinned fleetingly. "To quote Cowley's words, 'Those
two would be invaluable in the wrong hands.'"

"Don't get too excited just yet, Losada. They may be worthless and if not,
Cowley will probably move immediately to silence them." His voice held
very little interest in the proposed venture, unhappy with Losada's idea.
Yet orders had come from a higher authority that he should aid the
intelligent Russian.

With two sharp clicks the case was opened and all looked on as Losada
checked for booby traps. But the leather was clear. Opening the case wide
he picked up a manila folder and thumbed through it, seeing nothing but
blank pages stare back at him. First disbelief and then panic gripped him
as he grabbed another folder, seeing the same thing.

"You fool, it is a trap!" The man snapped as he shoved the brief case off
the table in Losada's direction.

"I do not understand..." Losada could only say, not understanding how his
careful plans could be destroyed so easily.

Turning to the door the man stopped dead in his tracks as he saw Cowley
watching him with two goons who he called agents flanking his side.

"Going somewhere, Ron?" Cowley asked pleasantly.

Knowing he was dead either way Ronald Anderson leapt at the older man in
rage, going for his throat. Davis pulled him off the Chief as Goddard held
a gun on the two other men in the room. Be-hind them Morgan and Campbell
entered, reporting that the house was secured.

"Good. Very good." Was all Cowley said.



By late afternoon, forensics had been through the house as Cowley ambled
down stairs to meet the Minister.

"Horrible work this, George." The Minister stated flatly as he looked
around the beautiful house.

"Our mole, Minister. Ronald Anderson, former Head of MI6. How long he's
been draining our organizations of information, we will never know. Even
after the experts have finished interrogating him, we still may never know
the entire truth."

"I had thought it was Hart." The Minister said looking at Cowley before
sighing. "But you knew it was Anderson all along, didn't you, George."

Cowley just gave him a half grin, not answering. "I have ordered my men to
pick up the other known KGB operatives who have moved into powerful
positions within the government over the last few years. We'll clean out
the nest good and proper, at least for a while."

"Good Lord, George! Do you know what the paper will make of all this... of
this scandal?"

"Aye." Cowley nodded. "They will say that we lost a good man. They deceive
the public as usual to the real truth, making the people who live here
feel safe and warm. But at least I will know we have evicted a dangerous
man. Until the next one appears." He looked past the Minister to his men
who were escorting Losada from the premises. "Now if you'll excuse me,
Minister."

"By all means." The Minister said as he continued to look around,
wondering how he was going to cover this mess up.

Arriving back at Headquarters, Cowley smiled pleased as two of his men
escorted Losada to the airport where he was to be deported. He would be
followed home, and once there Cowley was sure General Andropov would have
a lot to say to the disgraced agent.

Calling Morgan and Campbell into his office, he eyed them both. "Where's
3.7 and 4.5 at the moment?"

If they were surprised to hear the two men referred to by their unit
numbers, Morgan and Campbell hid it well as they glanced at each other
before replying. "8.9 reported that they entered the establishment on 159
North Road about three hours ago Sir."

"'Alfies'," Cowley muttered thoughtfully. "Right, I want you two to go and
pick them up before they get into any more trouble."

Both agents looked at Cowley in puzzled astonishment. "You want them here?
Now? Sir?"

"That is what I said, isn't it?" Cowley asked pointedly. "Well, what are
you both waiting for, a royal escort! Now move as I want to go home
sometime tonight!"

Beating a hasty retreat out of the Chief office Morgan scratched his head,
confused. "What's going on now?"

"Beats me, but I can tell you I'd hate to be in Doyle or Bodie's shoes."

"Yeah, but didn't you think it strange that Cowley referred to them as 3.7
and 4.5?"

"An old habit I suppose."

"You're probably right." Morgan sighed as he checked his watch. "It'll
take us a good hour to get through the traffic as it is! God we'll be here
all night at this rate."



Helping Joe lift more crates, Bodie spied a look into the packed dance
room, before returning upstairs to the small stock room. The nose from the
discotheque below was deafening as a show took center stage and he
wondered where Doyle was. After getting home the previous morning, he had
expected Doyle to agonize over the sleeping arrangements, but had been
relieved and surprised as his partner had just climbed into bed too tired
to argue about anything. It was the waking six hours later that caused a
few arguments and concerns.

Smiling as he remembered the half hearted protests from his partner, he
was just about to go back downstairs when he felt the unmistakable hard
coldness of a gun placed below his left ear. Raising his hands slowly he
turned and saw Morgan's smiling face and groaned.

"Hello, Bodie."

"If it isn't Bubble and Squeak. What do you two arseholes want?"

"Just a chat."

"A chat?"

"Yeah, down at HQ."

"I can't," he said with false regret, not really surprised to see the
agents. *Only thing was he had expected Murphy or Turner...*

"Think again." Morgan said sweetly. "The gun is just a precaution mate,
but unless you have forgotten, I do know how to use it."

"Oh very droll," Bodie said sarcastically.

"So where's wonder boy?" Campbell asked as they got Bodie moving before
the other staff member returned.

"Down stairs." He looked over at Campbell as he saw the other agent peer
out the door cautiously. "Why don't you let me get him?"

"As if!" Morgan scoffed, as he took out a set of hand cuffs and forced
them on the ex-agent.

"Will you be right with him?" Campbell asked as he re- sheathed his gun.

"Sure." Morgan nodded, ignoring Bodie's graphic swearing. "Hay Taff, just
be careful of Doyle. I hear he has a rotten temper."

"No problem," The other grinned as he left the room silently.

"You two will pay for this," Bodie growled.

"Save it for the Cow." Morgan advised as he shoved Bodie forward. "Now
move."



Slipping into the crowded dance area, Campbell gave the female behind the
bar a courteous smile as he scanned the room for his target. It did not
take him long to locate Doyle over by the archway leading to the foyer.
Approaching the man, he felt for his gun, plastering on a reassuring smile
as he saw the ex-agent spot him.

"What the fuck do you want?" Doyle didn't bother to contain his dislike of
the man, keeping his voice down as another patron walked past them.

"Just dropped in for a chat," Campbell started. 

"Then you can just drop out again." Doyle snapped back, turning away.

Following him into the less crowded open foyer, Campbell grabbed the other
man's arm, feeling the muscles tense under his hand. "I will after I get
what I came for."

"And what's that?" It was a hissed sneer, green eyes flashing subdued
violence.

"Cowley wants you pronto."

"Piss off-"

"You know the score as well as I do, Doyle. Cowley wants a chat so you can
either come quietly or I'll pull out my ID and cause a scene." He
threatened coldly. "Besides, we already have Bodie, so you might as well
just accept the inevitable."

Biting his lip, Doyle scowled at the blond agent, knowing that the man was
not really his enemy. "Damn him..."

"I take that to mean a yes?"

Given little choice, he preceded Campbell to the door and stopped abruptly
as he came face to face with Giles Granger. Abruptly the stockier man
pulled and gun and aimed it at him.

"Shit!" Doyle exclaimed as he ducked to the side and shoved two patrons
out of the way. He heard the gun discharge and felt the rush of air near
his left ear. Hitting the floor he rolled away reaching for his own weapon
that he no longer had.

"Drop the gun!" Campbell shouted, as he raised his own gun and targeted
the insane gunman.

But Granger paid him barely a glance as he charged Doyle firing his gun a
second time, just missing the swearing curly haired man. Then a bullet
slammed into his shoulder, spinning him around and he collapsed back
against the far wall. But his eyes never left Doyle as he raised his gun a
third time.

Knowing he was vulnerable, Doyle sucked in a breath, desperately searching
for a way to disarm the other man, when Campbell fired again, but this
time killing the gunman.

Around them people started to scream and Campbell took out his ID and
shoved it arrogantly under Stuart Harwood's nose as the manger appeared.

"CI5?" Harwood blinked as he glanced around at the destroyed entrance
parlor. 

"Yes." Campbell said with confidence. He took out his RT and told his
partner to contact base, then grabbed Doyle.

"But..." Harwood was at a loss, especially as he saw the CI5 agent slap a
set of cuff on Doyle. He had been told the man was a policeman... rather
ex-policeman... but now to have CI5 here was too much. He'd kill Giles
himself if the man wasn't already dead.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Doyle demanded.

"Shut up!" Campbell snapped. "Don't touch the body!" He ordered as another
of the club's security bodyguards appeared. "Get everyone back into the
main room as they will need to answer some questions." 

"Is this strictly necessary?" Harwood asked.

"You can take it up with my superior." Campbell said sweetly before he
shoved Doyle out the door. Swearing under his breath he just knew this was
going to turn into a long night. *Damn!* Also he doubted Cowley would be
pleased.



Staring at the CI5 Controller in outrage, both Bodie and Doyle sat
themselves warily as Morgan and Campbell left the office. But not before
Cowley had ordered the cuff removed from both agents wrists.

"Trouble, Doyle?" Cowley asked mildly as he digested the brief report from
Campbell.

"Nothing you need concern yourself with. Sir." Doyle added as an after
thought. He was still miffed at how it had all turned out. Nor was he
ready to play the old man's games just yet.

"I see." Cowley said slowly and in a voice that implied he understood
perfectly. "Well gentlemen, I think it's about time I filled you in on
some of the other facts." Cowley started, then proceeded to relate the
events which had followed their departure.

"You crafty old fox," Bodie muttered in admiration as the other finished
telling them of Losada's deportation. Then his voice abruptly changed to
one of hurt with appropriate expression to match. "But Sir, why couldn't
you at least have told us. Trusted us enough."

"No, lad. For I wasn't sure when Losada would move against Doyle. I just
had my suspicions and it was a risk I could not afford. I had to have
Doyle believe he was out of the squad as well as have Losada convinced by
Doyle's actions. I also knew he would be watching other agents, and they
needed to believe you were both out also." He said gently, seeing the man
in question regard him suspiciously. *And by the looks of it the
partnership was still intact, so maybe he had solved two problems...*

"Then where did Bodie's dismissal fit in, if it was me you were using as
bait?" Doyle asked quietly.

"I didn't dismiss him. He resigned." Cowley said simply.

"But you provoked me beyond the limits of endurance... Sir." Bodie pointed
out, getting genuinely hurt now.

"Then I suggest a month at a training camp 3.7, if your endurance levels
are so low." Cowley advised him, hiding his smile.

"Sir, what if Losada hadn't fallen for your ploy, I mean where would that
have left me... us?" Doyle asked, still not comfortable with what he had
heard.

Sitting back in his chair, Cowley regarded the cautious man honestly,
seeing some of the betrayal still in the clear green eyes. "There was no
doubt in my mind Doyle, that Losada would take the bait, especially
considering what he would gain. Namely you."

"But what if he didn't?" Doyle persisted.

"Then I had you both covered from the beginning, knowing exactly how much
time I had to play with before pulling you both back in." He smiled in
satisfaction, seeing Bodie's delight as he realized the scam and Doyle's
continued scowl of irritation and mistrust. He would have to work hard on
the latter agent over the next few weeks. *Get him in to see Ross
again...*

"Sir," Bodie cleared his throat. "May I say that-"

"No you may not." Cowley cut him off as he looked at his watch. "I have to
finish up here and I want to get home before midnight, as I have a very
early meeting with the Heads of departments in the morning." He waved them
both away. "I do expect you both here tomorrow at 9am sharp, with a full
typed report detailing your activities in the Roberts affair."

"What?" Doyle muttered.

"You can treat it as an undercover assignment," Cowley told them as he
looked over his glasses at both men. "That is if you want to get paid for
the week." Bodie appeared resigned to the idea, while Doyle's frown didn't
ease. *Something vital has shaken Doyle... and he narrowed his gaze.* "You
can both move back into your flats anytime. Your cars are in the pool
also. Now get out of here."

Moving Doyle before Cowley could tell them again to leave, Bodie grinned
at his partner ruefully.

"Oh and Doyle?" Cowley called, watching the way the smaller agent turned
to him in suspicion again. "A full report on a one," he consulted the
report Campbell had given him. "..Giles Granger, would also be advisable."

Doyle just blinked at him in disbelief.

"Dismissed." Cowley added for emphases.

Grabbing his partner's arm, Bodie closed Cowley's door behind them and
started them walking away. "Ray?"

"So it was all a set-up from beginning to end." Doyle muttered unhappily.
"He probably started the set up when he lost Losada the first time,
manipulating you into wanting to go to Russia."

"Uhah." Bodie shook his head negatively, seeing where this conversation
was going instantly. "I was going with or without Cowley's permission. And
don't ever think otherwise."

Turning that thought over in his head, Doyle just walked away.

Watching him, Bodie still grinned, feeling good about his life. Even if a
training camp was looming. He knew Doyle's over active imagination would
eventually cause another fight, but that didn't worry him either. *Not now
that he understood the partnership better and understood how to talk Ray
out of his dark moods.* Then another thought hit him. "Ray..."

Waiting for the other man to catch him up, Doyle scowled at the grey walls
feeling decidedly angry and betrayed still. "What?"

"Do you realize, we have just kissed good-bye to 600 quid each... EACH!"
He repeated as the full implications hit him.

"Strewth," Doyle groaned, running fingers through his curls. "Maybe we
could go 'round and see Harwood tonight and get something,"

"Nah, wouldn't work. Especially not after Campbell hauled your arse out of
there so openly after he shot Granger. Probably had us checked out by
now."

"Yeah," Doyle agreed, mirroring his partner's expression, hoping life
started to make sense again soon. "I didn't believe that much money
existed anyway..."

"So your place or mine?" Bodie continued, seeing the expressive green eyes
darken again.

"What for?" Doyle asked suspiciously, not really wanting a repeat of the
last two days. At least not until he had worked the confusion out of his
mind.

"To write these bloody reports of course. Hell Doyle, use your head,"
Bodie moaned, hiding his grin as he saw the other relax. It was a start. 

*A definite start...*

It would just take persistence and patience.

-- THE END --

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