Out of the Dark, Chapter Seventeen, Parts One and Two
Seems I've forgotten to post on my own LJ the two last parts of my current Pros story in the same time I published them to teaandswissroll; So, here they are:
And then, he was there, just in front of him: a dark figure against the light, blurrily framed by the darker background of the copse. A moment before there was nothing to see but the barely quivering branches of the fir trees and a lonely rock in the foreground. The sudden clink of a stone behind him had distracted Cowley for a split second. Repressing a move of anger, he spoke gently: “Bodie? Why are you hiding?”
He still couldn't see him distinctly but he had a feeling the man was sneering. He got no answer. The silence stretched. Then a sardonic bark:
“Sure, I have no reason for hiding: I'm just being hounded by all the special forces in the country.”
“Much exaggerated: it's only MI6, a team of three men who are under strict orders not to fire.”
Cowley saw his opponent stiffen. “You're well informed.”
“Not quite, not until I questioned the poor fellow you threw overboard into the silt, minus his weapons; a very upset fellow by the way, and nicely talkative.
“And of course you'd heard nothing from Angus.”
“Not much, and too late.”
“I don't believe you.”
“Come on, Bodie...”
The young man stepped forward out of the shadow. He was indeed sneering.
“What's the fairy tale of the day? “I give you my word: Be faithful to me and I won't let you down, whatever happens,” remember?
Cowley froze; those very words had haunted him since Angus called in the morning. “I remember; I never lied to you, Bodie. Trust me.”
“I don't trust you any more.”
The tone was final. Cowley swallowed painfully; he had a bad taste in his mouth.
“Don't be silly: when I got a warning from Angus, the chopper had already landed and you know perfectly well I had no means of contacting you.”
“You fixed the meeting place and time. It was a set-up: by either you or Angus, I don't care.”
“That's pretty unfair.”
“Don't talk about fairness; you don't even know the meaning of the word.”
Anger prevailed over caution. “If you cannot listen to reason, at least think of your interest!”
“I know my interest.”
Cowley started. It wasn't the low growl out of Bodie's throat; it wasn't the fierce glow in his gaze: a gun had appeared in the other man's hand: the action so swift he hadn't even caught sight of the move.
“My interest is to be free and you're going to help me to just that.”
“And what was I trying to do since I brought you with me?”
“Pulling your damned information out of me!”
“For your own good. That's how I rescued you from MI6; did it once and I can do it again.”
“You certainly can. I'll make sure you do.”
The gun was held firmly, and steadily aimed at his chest, straight at the heart. From this distance there was no chance of missing. In the same time, the man was too far for any foolhardy attempt at disarming him to succeed. Wise from him. Dangerous, fast and wise: what an agent he would make if...Damned it, you'll never learn...
But what had happened to the Bodie who had carried him for hours through hills and woods, and had taken care of him almost tenderly? What about the gently teasing companion who knew how to make him laugh and who himself laughed at his bursts of temper? Something must have snapped in the man's brain, or was it in his heart?
No, sentimentality was out of order. “What do you expect of that folly?”
“I've got nothing to lose.”
“Stupid git! You've everything to lose, you idiot _”
“Shut up and listen to me: we're going back to the boat and you'll steer it to the other end of the loch, eastward; then we'll walk to the next village.”
“And then what? What have you in mind?”
“Then, I'll decide.”
“Bodie! If you have no consideration for me left, at least don't waste your last chance: any unlawful act would be your doom.”
“You talk too much. Keep your big mouth shut and throw your gun towards me.”
Looming out of his past, the ghost of a brash, reckless young Cowley popped up in his mind, foolishly suggesting he could deny having a gun on him, so to entice Bodie to come closer and search him, but he was dismissed at once by the older, more experienced Cowley. He would have other, less hazardous, opportunities to test his not unremarkable skills in the martial arts on his offender. The view of Bodie's finger softly nibbing the trigger of his own gun wasn't for nothing in his restraint.
Moving with extreme slowness, making sure that his every gesture would be constantly visible to Bodie, he retrieved his hidden weapon from his lower inside pocket and, with the same caution, he threw the gun in the required direction. With a gracious lob, it landed at the young man's feet, from where it was picked up with equal deftness. At no time was Bodie's gaze diverted from Cowley's moves or his gun-holding hand wavering. Even from that distance the unnatural feverish glow of his eyes was apparent. Cowley wondered if he might have been hit on the head, in some manner, by Preston during their fight. However there was no doubt about the man's perfect awareness and control of the situation.
“And now, do the same with your RT!”
“What?”
“Throw it to me. Now!”
“What do you want to do with this device?”
“Nothing; won't be of any use now. Throw it. Do not discuss my orders.”
A wave of cold anger rolled over Cowley with renewed force; what is he going to demand from me next? Remove my shoes? The idea of being so powerless was infuriating. Never had it felt like this since his brief captivity in Korea. But there was no conceivable way to evade it. What's your defense against a mad man? A very resolute, clever and heavily armed mad man...
Teeth clenched to hold back a bout of nausea, Cowley took the RT hooked to his belt and flung it to Bodie, who made no attempt to catch it on the fly. He just made a step forward and crushed it under his boot with needless violence.
This view restored some of Cowley's confidence: the man wasn't as perfectly in control as he wanted to appear. And, Cowley thought with relief, Bodie didn't suspect he still had his own RT with him, not to mention the syringe of narcotic. Good that these fishing vests had so many large, deep pockets; very convenient...There was hope. Maybe.
What followed remained later in Cowley's hazy and sketchy remembrance as a long, harrowing, meaningless nightmare.
First Bodie went back to the old chapel to retrieve his package, never letting his attention falter for a second. Cowley wondered, with dread, if he was going to force him to take his share of the burden, for the weight of his own gear was the very most he could carry, and he already felt exhausted. But no, the man seemed made of steel; he shouldered his oversized stack of paraphernalia as if it was a kid's schoolbag.
Walking down the slope proved to be harder than climbing due to sliding stones and slippery grass, not to mention the traitorous outcropping roots, of infamous memory. Cowley made cautious steps, once at a time and his slow progress obviously irritated his captor, impatiently trampling behind.
“Wake up, dammit! We haven't got all day.”
Cowley halted and turned round, facing the gun: “We? I don't know about you but, as for me, I'm not going anywhere.”
His rather poor attempt at humour fell flat; Bodie was deadly serious. “You'll go with me, everywhere I go.”
“Bodie, stop that nonsense: You do not stand a chance of getting out of this without my help.”
“Precisely: you're helping me just fine; you're my safeguard, aren't you?” Bodie's smirk wasn't quite sane, Cowley thought with alarm.
“Must I infer from your statement that I am your hostage?”
“Oh yeah, you might put it that way.”
Cowley's sense of alarm was growing fast. “Bodie! That's pure madness and you know it.”
Bodie's face closed up. “Not your concern. Shut up and walk on.”
“I can't. I'm knackered.” Seeing Bodie frown, he hasted to add: “I need to take my pills. You remember? The medication Angus gave me: I have to take it every two hours.” Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to mention Angus in that context. Bodie's frown deepened.
“I don't want any of your tricks. Open your jacket wide, slowly, and turn aside a little, so I can see every of your moves. Don't try to fool me if you value your life.”
In spite of the threat, Cowley felt to some point reassured by Bodie's acceptance, though the man's strangely haunted look kept him worrying: he promised himself, if he managed to sort things out eventually, to ask Preston what exactly had happened during the fight on the boat. Bodie was in full light now and there was this suspicious bruise on the left temple, just above a bloodied eyebrow.
Meanwhile he did as instructed and retrieved the box of pills from one of his front pockets, the most easily accessible. At the tip of his fingers he could feel the syringe, in the same compartment. That was oddly comforting. There would be an opportunity some time later...before they reached the boat.
The slow walk down resumed, Cowley making no effort to hasten the pace, as much from a very genuine discomfort as in the hope to put Bodie on edge, to have him riled, enough to loose a little his vigilance. It might be foolish, it might be hazardous, but it was the only way to get him to come closer, to commit an imprudence.
At the moment, however, Bodie was very much in command indeed, of the situation as of himself; disturbed maybe, but not to the point of letting his guard down. For the first time Cowley could catch a glimpse of that part of the man's personality that had been covered but not suppressed by amnesia: the workmanship of the finely-adjusted killing machine, the ruthlessness of the jungle warrior. In other circumstances he would have been duly impressed.
Eventually Bodie seemed to be on the verge of losing his temper. “To hell with you! Do you think I can't see you're dragging your feet on purpose? Hurry up a bit and spare me the bullshit.”
“What will you do if I collapse?”
“Nonsense! You're not half as tired as you try to look.”
Which was only half wrong (damn the bastard and his devilish perceptiveness!) but Cowley still hoped his objection had hit the mark. Actually, what could Bodie do if he did collapse? Abandon him there? Possible, but he thus would lose his “hostage” (a stupid idea in itself but that was another matter, and since the fool seemed to believe in its feasibility...).
“Your call.” He ostensibly quickened his pace.
Not for long: A few yards farther Cowley stopped walking and abruptly sat down on a welcoming tree-trunk, which he had spotted from afar. A shot rang out and reverberated eerily from hill to hill in the empty surrounding space: Bodie had fired, over his head but at the precise place where his head had been a split second before.
“I won't budge.” Cowley stared at his opponent with cold resolution. For the shortest of whiles Bodie looked defeated. Then his face clammed up and he turned his gaze towards the blue-rimmed horizon, a mere gap between two hills.
“You have ten minutes, exactly.” he said at last, still not looking at Cowley.
“How generous of you! Should I thank you for missing me?” He didn't ask if the miss was intentional. Bodie didn't answer. He didn't sit down either but lowered his gun. Stepping to and fro, he got closer but still out of reach.
Cowley stood up abruptly before the term of the allotted time. His back complained vehemently, in tune with his leg. He straightened himself with a wince of pain. When he recovered his focus, Bodie was pointing his gun at him again. “keep quiet; move slowly.”
“Slowly? I thought I was 'ordered' to move faster?”
“Watch it! My reserve of patience is limited and you have already used most of it.”
“Bodie, I am serious; I can't stand it much longer. What are you going to do when I'll stop for good? Carry me across your shoulders? You did it once but I don't think you want to make a habit of it. It would be somewhat harder this time, I guess!”
For the first time Bodie looked hesitant. “ Let's see then. You're stronger than you pretend; you're perfectly able to walk to the boat at least.” He shrugged: “Take your wonder pills!”
“I just did; a double dose would be toxic. And my pack is too heavy, I can't carry it any longer and you can't take both.”
“Leave it then; soon you'll have no use of it anyway.” Probably realising what sinister meaning his words could have, he hasted to add: “ I've got enough of everything for two and there's other supplies left in the boat.”
Cowley sniggered: “Glad you don't intend to get rid of me too soon.”
“Don't tempt me too much.”
Cowley couldn't tell whether that was a joke or a threat. He opted for threat.
As usual, all comments are very welcome.
And then, he was there, just in front of him: a dark figure against the light, blurrily framed by the darker background of the copse. A moment before there was nothing to see but the barely quivering branches of the fir trees and a lonely rock in the foreground. The sudden clink of a stone behind him had distracted Cowley for a split second. Repressing a move of anger, he spoke gently: “Bodie? Why are you hiding?”
He still couldn't see him distinctly but he had a feeling the man was sneering. He got no answer. The silence stretched. Then a sardonic bark:
“Sure, I have no reason for hiding: I'm just being hounded by all the special forces in the country.”
“Much exaggerated: it's only MI6, a team of three men who are under strict orders not to fire.”
Cowley saw his opponent stiffen. “You're well informed.”
“Not quite, not until I questioned the poor fellow you threw overboard into the silt, minus his weapons; a very upset fellow by the way, and nicely talkative.
“And of course you'd heard nothing from Angus.”
“Not much, and too late.”
“I don't believe you.”
“Come on, Bodie...”
The young man stepped forward out of the shadow. He was indeed sneering.
“What's the fairy tale of the day? “I give you my word: Be faithful to me and I won't let you down, whatever happens,” remember?
Cowley froze; those very words had haunted him since Angus called in the morning. “I remember; I never lied to you, Bodie. Trust me.”
“I don't trust you any more.”
The tone was final. Cowley swallowed painfully; he had a bad taste in his mouth.
“Don't be silly: when I got a warning from Angus, the chopper had already landed and you know perfectly well I had no means of contacting you.”
“You fixed the meeting place and time. It was a set-up: by either you or Angus, I don't care.”
“That's pretty unfair.”
“Don't talk about fairness; you don't even know the meaning of the word.”
Anger prevailed over caution. “If you cannot listen to reason, at least think of your interest!”
“I know my interest.”
Cowley started. It wasn't the low growl out of Bodie's throat; it wasn't the fierce glow in his gaze: a gun had appeared in the other man's hand: the action so swift he hadn't even caught sight of the move.
“My interest is to be free and you're going to help me to just that.”
“And what was I trying to do since I brought you with me?”
“Pulling your damned information out of me!”
“For your own good. That's how I rescued you from MI6; did it once and I can do it again.”
“You certainly can. I'll make sure you do.”
The gun was held firmly, and steadily aimed at his chest, straight at the heart. From this distance there was no chance of missing. In the same time, the man was too far for any foolhardy attempt at disarming him to succeed. Wise from him. Dangerous, fast and wise: what an agent he would make if...Damned it, you'll never learn...
But what had happened to the Bodie who had carried him for hours through hills and woods, and had taken care of him almost tenderly? What about the gently teasing companion who knew how to make him laugh and who himself laughed at his bursts of temper? Something must have snapped in the man's brain, or was it in his heart?
No, sentimentality was out of order. “What do you expect of that folly?”
“I've got nothing to lose.”
“Stupid git! You've everything to lose, you idiot _”
“Shut up and listen to me: we're going back to the boat and you'll steer it to the other end of the loch, eastward; then we'll walk to the next village.”
“And then what? What have you in mind?”
“Then, I'll decide.”
“Bodie! If you have no consideration for me left, at least don't waste your last chance: any unlawful act would be your doom.”
“You talk too much. Keep your big mouth shut and throw your gun towards me.”
Looming out of his past, the ghost of a brash, reckless young Cowley popped up in his mind, foolishly suggesting he could deny having a gun on him, so to entice Bodie to come closer and search him, but he was dismissed at once by the older, more experienced Cowley. He would have other, less hazardous, opportunities to test his not unremarkable skills in the martial arts on his offender. The view of Bodie's finger softly nibbing the trigger of his own gun wasn't for nothing in his restraint.
Moving with extreme slowness, making sure that his every gesture would be constantly visible to Bodie, he retrieved his hidden weapon from his lower inside pocket and, with the same caution, he threw the gun in the required direction. With a gracious lob, it landed at the young man's feet, from where it was picked up with equal deftness. At no time was Bodie's gaze diverted from Cowley's moves or his gun-holding hand wavering. Even from that distance the unnatural feverish glow of his eyes was apparent. Cowley wondered if he might have been hit on the head, in some manner, by Preston during their fight. However there was no doubt about the man's perfect awareness and control of the situation.
“And now, do the same with your RT!”
“What?”
“Throw it to me. Now!”
“What do you want to do with this device?”
“Nothing; won't be of any use now. Throw it. Do not discuss my orders.”
A wave of cold anger rolled over Cowley with renewed force; what is he going to demand from me next? Remove my shoes? The idea of being so powerless was infuriating. Never had it felt like this since his brief captivity in Korea. But there was no conceivable way to evade it. What's your defense against a mad man? A very resolute, clever and heavily armed mad man...
Teeth clenched to hold back a bout of nausea, Cowley took the RT hooked to his belt and flung it to Bodie, who made no attempt to catch it on the fly. He just made a step forward and crushed it under his boot with needless violence.
This view restored some of Cowley's confidence: the man wasn't as perfectly in control as he wanted to appear. And, Cowley thought with relief, Bodie didn't suspect he still had his own RT with him, not to mention the syringe of narcotic. Good that these fishing vests had so many large, deep pockets; very convenient...There was hope. Maybe.
What followed remained later in Cowley's hazy and sketchy remembrance as a long, harrowing, meaningless nightmare.
First Bodie went back to the old chapel to retrieve his package, never letting his attention falter for a second. Cowley wondered, with dread, if he was going to force him to take his share of the burden, for the weight of his own gear was the very most he could carry, and he already felt exhausted. But no, the man seemed made of steel; he shouldered his oversized stack of paraphernalia as if it was a kid's schoolbag.
Walking down the slope proved to be harder than climbing due to sliding stones and slippery grass, not to mention the traitorous outcropping roots, of infamous memory. Cowley made cautious steps, once at a time and his slow progress obviously irritated his captor, impatiently trampling behind.
“Wake up, dammit! We haven't got all day.”
Cowley halted and turned round, facing the gun: “We? I don't know about you but, as for me, I'm not going anywhere.”
His rather poor attempt at humour fell flat; Bodie was deadly serious. “You'll go with me, everywhere I go.”
“Bodie, stop that nonsense: You do not stand a chance of getting out of this without my help.”
“Precisely: you're helping me just fine; you're my safeguard, aren't you?” Bodie's smirk wasn't quite sane, Cowley thought with alarm.
“Must I infer from your statement that I am your hostage?”
“Oh yeah, you might put it that way.”
Cowley's sense of alarm was growing fast. “Bodie! That's pure madness and you know it.”
Bodie's face closed up. “Not your concern. Shut up and walk on.”
“I can't. I'm knackered.” Seeing Bodie frown, he hasted to add: “I need to take my pills. You remember? The medication Angus gave me: I have to take it every two hours.” Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to mention Angus in that context. Bodie's frown deepened.
“I don't want any of your tricks. Open your jacket wide, slowly, and turn aside a little, so I can see every of your moves. Don't try to fool me if you value your life.”
In spite of the threat, Cowley felt to some point reassured by Bodie's acceptance, though the man's strangely haunted look kept him worrying: he promised himself, if he managed to sort things out eventually, to ask Preston what exactly had happened during the fight on the boat. Bodie was in full light now and there was this suspicious bruise on the left temple, just above a bloodied eyebrow.
Meanwhile he did as instructed and retrieved the box of pills from one of his front pockets, the most easily accessible. At the tip of his fingers he could feel the syringe, in the same compartment. That was oddly comforting. There would be an opportunity some time later...before they reached the boat.
The slow walk down resumed, Cowley making no effort to hasten the pace, as much from a very genuine discomfort as in the hope to put Bodie on edge, to have him riled, enough to loose a little his vigilance. It might be foolish, it might be hazardous, but it was the only way to get him to come closer, to commit an imprudence.
At the moment, however, Bodie was very much in command indeed, of the situation as of himself; disturbed maybe, but not to the point of letting his guard down. For the first time Cowley could catch a glimpse of that part of the man's personality that had been covered but not suppressed by amnesia: the workmanship of the finely-adjusted killing machine, the ruthlessness of the jungle warrior. In other circumstances he would have been duly impressed.
Eventually Bodie seemed to be on the verge of losing his temper. “To hell with you! Do you think I can't see you're dragging your feet on purpose? Hurry up a bit and spare me the bullshit.”
“What will you do if I collapse?”
“Nonsense! You're not half as tired as you try to look.”
Which was only half wrong (damn the bastard and his devilish perceptiveness!) but Cowley still hoped his objection had hit the mark. Actually, what could Bodie do if he did collapse? Abandon him there? Possible, but he thus would lose his “hostage” (a stupid idea in itself but that was another matter, and since the fool seemed to believe in its feasibility...).
“Your call.” He ostensibly quickened his pace.
Not for long: A few yards farther Cowley stopped walking and abruptly sat down on a welcoming tree-trunk, which he had spotted from afar. A shot rang out and reverberated eerily from hill to hill in the empty surrounding space: Bodie had fired, over his head but at the precise place where his head had been a split second before.
“I won't budge.” Cowley stared at his opponent with cold resolution. For the shortest of whiles Bodie looked defeated. Then his face clammed up and he turned his gaze towards the blue-rimmed horizon, a mere gap between two hills.
“You have ten minutes, exactly.” he said at last, still not looking at Cowley.
“How generous of you! Should I thank you for missing me?” He didn't ask if the miss was intentional. Bodie didn't answer. He didn't sit down either but lowered his gun. Stepping to and fro, he got closer but still out of reach.
Cowley stood up abruptly before the term of the allotted time. His back complained vehemently, in tune with his leg. He straightened himself with a wince of pain. When he recovered his focus, Bodie was pointing his gun at him again. “keep quiet; move slowly.”
“Slowly? I thought I was 'ordered' to move faster?”
“Watch it! My reserve of patience is limited and you have already used most of it.”
“Bodie, I am serious; I can't stand it much longer. What are you going to do when I'll stop for good? Carry me across your shoulders? You did it once but I don't think you want to make a habit of it. It would be somewhat harder this time, I guess!”
For the first time Bodie looked hesitant. “ Let's see then. You're stronger than you pretend; you're perfectly able to walk to the boat at least.” He shrugged: “Take your wonder pills!”
“I just did; a double dose would be toxic. And my pack is too heavy, I can't carry it any longer and you can't take both.”
“Leave it then; soon you'll have no use of it anyway.” Probably realising what sinister meaning his words could have, he hasted to add: “ I've got enough of everything for two and there's other supplies left in the boat.”
Cowley sniggered: “Glad you don't intend to get rid of me too soon.”
“Don't tempt me too much.”
Cowley couldn't tell whether that was a joke or a threat. He opted for threat.
As usual, all comments are very welcome.