The Loneliness of Birthdays (2/3)
Title: The Loneliness of Birthdays (2/3)
Author: lbc
Disclaimer in first part of story
Bodie walked into Jack Craine’s office. He was prepared to face Cowley’s messenger if it was the only way they were going to let him in to see Doyle. Craine looked up and suddenly a smile crossed his face as he realized that Bodie wasn’t here to do mayhem.
“Bodie, good to see you. Please sit down; I want to talk to you about Doyle.”
Bodie’s unruly left eyebrow shot up into the air since the man was quite frankly surprised that Craine was being so direct.
Craine obviously read his face and laughed. “No, I didn’t drag you in here to convey messages and threats from Cowley. He leaves me alone, and I do likewise. I may have to report to him occasionally to convey my analysis on his agents, but I am not his puppet.”
Those words having cleared the air a bit, Bodie sat down with a somewhat straight back but felt comfortable enough not to bring it to totally military position. “Since you know that I’m here to see Doyle, what would you like to know so that I can go find him?”
“Relax, he won’t be off the range for another ten minutes or so. He takes his job very seriously as usual and in just a few weeks he’s already my best instructor in street defence. His intensity is phenomenal and I think he likes what he’s doing, but . . .”
Craine’s words had bothered Bodie slightly since in a sheepish sort of way, Bodie had to admit that he had hoped that Doyle would be miserable, but when he heard how Craine ended his comment, Bodie took heart. “What’s bothering you?”
For a moment Craine hesitated, obviously trying to read Bodie’s temperament. “I’m not sure how to put this. I think he loves his job here and he even likes most of the recruits that he’s training, but he has a look in his eye that bothers me. It’s difficult to read; sometimes I think its despair and other times I don’t know what it is. I thought he might be missing CI5, but I don’t think that’s right either. What can you tell me?”
“You’ve been with him for two weeks on a regular basis; how can I tell you more than that? He’s a moody little sod, and as you know he lets even the tiniest detail bother him.”
“Yes, that’s true but you’ve had ten years to get under his skin and get to know him. You should know him better than anybody else; that’s why I want you to look him over very carefully and see if you can analyze his mood or even better his thoughts.”
“Well, quite frankly Jack I haven’t seen him in over a month and before that we were operating separately most of the time, so I’m not sure I can read him as well as you think.”
“Well, I hope to God you can Bodie or I’m not sure that I can keep him on here.”
Bodie almost jumped up out of his seat so astounded was he by Jack’s words. Sinking back down on the hard, wooden chair, Bodie was no longer interested in military precision, he wanted to know what was going on with his partner . . . ex-partner, and he wanted to know what Jack was seeing. “What are you talking about, Jack? Is he ill or something?”
“No, I don’t think he’s ill in the physical way, but emotionally, I’m not so sure. There’s something missing in him or rather there’s something there that’s bothering me.”
Bodie’s eyebrows fit together in a confused frown. “What are you talking about, Jack? Say it to me directly. This is Doyle we’re talking about and you know he likes hiding his thoughts . . . even from me.” As Bodie said these last few words, he realized how true they were. Doyle was notorious for wanting to talk certain things to death, but when he had been hurt or damaged in some way, he retreated into himself and wouldn’t even tell Bodie what was the matter, unless the ex-merc really worked at getting the problem out of the man.
Jack Craine studied the man he admired very much. Bodie had always been the one who had shoved things away so he wouldn’t have to deal with them. The only time that Craine had ever seen him deal with something directly was the King Billy affair. Bodie’s desire for revenge against King Billy and his gang was extraordinary and came very close to getting Bodie kicked out of the service, and perhaps even more importantly permanently damaging his relationship with Doyle.
During the mock anti-terrorist exercises that he had had the two men engage in, Craine could see the tension between the two and how out of sync the team was, but somehow they had put it together again, and Craine had been proud of their work for him since that time. Now it was a different story. Craine took a deep breath and let it out. He had to pick and choose his next words carefully because he wasn’t sure how Bodie would read them, and he had seen Bodie’s potential for being out of control and he definitely didn’t want to ever see that again.
“All right, here’s what I’ve seen. Doyle’s eyes are very expressive, and at times, I’ve seen despair, sometimes incredible hurt, or confusion, but the image that has bothered me the most is the look I’ve seen there for the last two weeks. It’s a look that reminds me of someone else and that is very disturbing.”
Bodie felt his stomach muscles squeeze tight in a spasm as his entire body turned to ice. His voice was a hoarse whisper as he asked, “Who does he remind you of?”
Again there was silence then Craine continued, “You . . . when you were here doing the training exercises just before everything went to hell with King Billy.”
There was no sound in the office for a long moment; even the ticking of the clock on Jack’s wall could be heard. Craine had never seen Bodie’s face go so white. Of course, he didn’t see the men too often except when they were training, but he recognized Bodie’s distressed nature immediately. Craine didn’t think that Bodie would say anything, but after several tense moments, Bodie made the effort.
“I didn’t have a death wish, and neither does Doyle and anybody who says that he does, is wrong.”
“I didn’t say he had a death wish, and for your information, I never thought you did either. That was Katie’s idea, not mine, but there is something there that reminds me of you in those dysfunctional days. That’s why I thought I would talk to you and see if you could shed some light on Doyle. I guess I was wrong.”
Craine could see that Bodie was suffering from what . . . was it fear or something deeper? He really didn’t know, but he felt that he had to give Bodie a chance.
Finally Bodie spoke up. “I wasn’t here for his birthday. I misread what he was thinking about being forty. I know I hurt him. I guess he’s been thinking about leaving the streets for a long time, but I didn’t pay very close attention. It’s my fault.”
Jack Craine smiled to himself, but nodded visibly. So, it was what he thought. He had, of course, noticed how close the two men were. There were brothers, who were more distant, and somehow one-half of the team had badly judged the other half, and the abyss had cracked wide open. Jack Craine now knew that there was only one man who could repair the damage, and he was sitting in front of him.
Looking at his watch, Craine replied, “All right, I think you should handle this. Doyle should be finished with the morning group, and he doesn’t have anything scheduled for a couple of hours so go talk to him. He’s on Range A. I’m sure you know where that is.”
At those words, Bodie immediately leapt up and headed for the shooting range. As he walked towards the area that he knew so well, he thought about Craine’s words. What can I do to heal this breach? What specifically did I do that caused Doyle to leave? It looks like I’m going to have to fix this, since I caused it, but what do I say?
As Bodie walked towards the range, he spotted the well-loved, slender figure coming towards him. Doyle had not spotted him yet so Bodie could study him for a moment or two. Doyle had lost some weight; his slender frame was even more seductive. His shoulders, however, were slumped as if he had somehow been defeated in life or at least at that moment. Bodie decided it was up to him to remove that defeated look from the man he loved.
Drawing a deep breath, Bodie called out in a quiet voice, “Hey, mate, how was the shootin’ today?”
Doyle looked up quickly as he focussed on the person calling to him, immediately recognizing Bodie’s voice. He stopped in the middle of the pathway, his face expressing his effort in trying to find something to say. Finally, he settled on, “Bodie, what are you doin’ here?”
What do you think, you moron? Bodie held off from voicing that retort and settled for, “Want to talk to you, sunshine.”
Hearing that old familiarity made Doyle’s heart flip-flop, he hadn’t realized how much he had missed the dumb crud until hearing and seeing the man he had come to love. No, that wasn’t true; he had realized how much he had missed his former partner, but he had refused to allow himself to acknowledge it. Standing within ten feet of Bodie was like standing near a magnet. He had to draw closer.
As Doyle moved closer so did Bodie until the two men were within arm’s length of each other. Bodie noticed that Doyle was carrying some targets marked with various names so he decided to start out this discussion on familiar ground. “How’s this class of marksmen doing?”
Doyle smiled briefly, recognizing Bodie’s tactic, but decided to answer anyway, “Not bad, but they certainly aren’t ready for the streets. Some of them would be lethal weapons all right . . . to innocent civilians, that is.”
Bodie smiled; his blue eyes lightening slightly as his humour improved. “Ready to take on one-and-all with their weapons, even the innocent ones, huh? Cowley won’t like that!” And then in a replica of Cowley’s accent Bodie continued, “Agent 2000.4 it is not verra gud to shoot down one of our citizens without knowin’ what he’s done!”
Doyle smiled then laughed at Bodie’s banter. It felt so good to be near the man again and to hear his inane and often moronic sense of humour. Oh, how he had missed him! “You are a nitwit, you know that? But, it’s true, I can just see Cowley staring down at a body and giving Agent 2000.4 his usual lecture about protecting citizens, not killing them.”
Bodie smiled as he looked into Doyle’s eyes and caught the look that bothered Jack Craine so much. Was it the same look that he had before the King Billy incident? He had to find out what was on Doyle’s mind, and he had very little time to do it.
Therefore, he decided to get down to business. “Can we talk awhile, Ray?”
Instantly the green eyes became wary then relaxed. Doyle nodded once then said, “Sure, come along to my office - - such-as-it-is, I want to analyze the accuracy of this latest group of recruits. They have a tendency to not focus.”
As the two men walked towards a small building in the distance, the talk was random and light. Doyle told Bodie about one group of recruits that he had taken out to an unfamiliar area and had them walk through it while trying to decide which springing targets were the correct ones to shoot. The first go-around had led to many casualties that were on the forbidden list and very few that were villains.
Bodie laughed at that, remembering their activities with the A180 which the two men had tried out in a close-quarter version of the same idea. His heart suddenly filled with pain at the memories of that event. Preston had almost killed Doyle then and it had only been another A180 with Bodie at the trigger which had saved the situation. He stopped laughing as the feelings of that day flooded his memory. It had also been the threat by Preston that had caused Bodie to question Doyle’s idiocy in exposing himself to a possible bullet from that same A180 which had prompted Doyle’s prediction, “you’ll save me.”
Thankfully the two men were at Doyle’s office which was found to be basically a small room with a large desk and little else. Doyle laid the targets down on his desk and motioned Bodie to the only other chair in the place. Doyle sat down on the chair behind the desk and tried to act nonchalant, but anyone who knew Doyle well could see the tension in the slender body.
The two men stared at each other for a moment; then Doyle broke the silence with, “Okay, shoot . . . no pun intended.”
Bodie only hesitated a second then asked, “Why did you leave me?”
“I didn’t; I left the A Squad. It was time.”
“Who told you that?”
“No one . . . well, maybe my body did. I’m 40, Bodie, and I needed to leave.”
“Why didn’t you wait until I got back, or talk to me about leaving?”
“I didn’t realize that I needed your permission to leave. You could have asked. You knew how close my birthday was, but maybe it was because we haven’t seen much of each other recently.”
“Whose fault was that? Cowley kept separating us, and every time I asked you to go to a pub or something, you were always busy.”
Doyle’s green eyes grew more luminescent as he acknowledged that was true. “You’re right; you were avoiding me and I was avoiding you. I wonder if it was for the same reason.”
“What was your reason?”
Doyle’s broken cheek bone seemed to protrude more noticeably as he contemplated his answer, but he sighed and replied, “I figured you needed time away from me or you were just being kind and didn’t want to tell me that I stunk at the job.”
Bodie, who had been leaning slightly back in his chair, sprang forward, causing a crash that almost deafened the two men. His handsome face showed his incredulity and fury. “What the hell are you talkin’ about? You were . . . are the very best. It had nothing to do with you being incompetent at your job. You’re the best partner a man could have.”
Doyle seemed to take that with a grain of salt before he queried, “Then what did it have to do with?”
Bodie sat back in his chair, admiring how neatly Doyle had set the trap for him. Was this it? Was he finally going to have to tell him the truth, and see their already endangered friendship go the way of their partnership? Sighing, Bodie stuck his hand into his jacket where he felt the pressie he had bought for Doyle. In practiced military terms, he figured he could use this as his delaying tactic before the roof came crashing down on him or a right-hook met his jaw. Pulling the package out of his jacket, he gently laid it on the desk and said, “Happy Birthday.”
Doyle stared at it for a moment while a myriad of expressions crossed his face; then he looked up and with a voice which was filled with bitterness said, “Haven’t you heard? My birthday was a couple of weeks ago. Oh that’s right; you weren’t here, were you?”
Is that what this is all about - - me not being here for his birthday? When had that become so important to Doyle? Bodie found himself to be speechless and short of breath, but he finally found the ability to ask, “Is that what the trouble is, Doyle? Do you hate me because I wasn’t here for your birthday?”
“Who said I hated you?”
“Well, you must since you left me without a word.”
“I didn’t leave you; I left the A Squad.”
“That’s a cop out; when you left the A Squad you left your partner, and in case, you’ve forgot that’s me.”
“I think it was you who forgot.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
"Do you deny that for several months before your undercover work, you grew more and more distant? You never once went to Cowley and asked why we weren’t being partnered on various ops. What else was I to think, but that you no longer wanted to be partners, and then when you volunteered to do the job in the north, I figured that was proof of your feelings.”
“Why . . . just because I would knowingly miss your birthday?”
“No, because you didn’t even talk it over with me. I know your loyalty has always been with Cowley, and that you would do anything he said, but I would have thought after ten years of being partners that I had come to mean enough to you that you would have mentioned it to me.”
Bodie felt his heart sinking as he heard these words. It was clear that only the total truth would do, and it was time to tell the truth. “You’re wrong.”
“What? I don’t even merit a very brief conversation with my so-called partner about his plan to leave me and go north and maybe get himself killed, trying to catch some gun-crazy mercs?”
“No, you’re wrong in saying that my loyalty is to Cowley; it hasn’t been that way for a lot of years, and besides that, Cowley forced me to go north.”
Confusion crossed Doyle’s beautiful face. Although Bodie had said the words in plain English, they made no sense. Ever since the two men had been partnered, George Cowley had always been the imminence grise who had won and claimed Bodie’s loyalty and now the dumb crud was claiming that wasn’t true. “I . . . I . . . I don’t understand.”
“If Cowley were here right now, he would understand, and so should you. Although I am willing to work for CI5 and do the job, I am only willing to do so as long as you are there. All my loyalty belongs to you, you nitwit, and if you weren’t so blind you would have realized that and not gone off half-cocked like you did.”
For a second anger boiled up in the sea-green eyes; then they cooled off as Doyle realized the implications of what Bodie was saying. His face became an image of total confusion as Doyle stammered out, “What did you mean that Cowley forced you?”
Slowing down his speech so that even a four year old could understand, Bodie replied, “I-am-saying-that-I-would-have-left-with you, if-you-told-me-how-you-felt, and Cowley guessed that, so he sent me north.”
Doyle’s mouth dropped open and his eyes widened. He couldn’t help it; it was just too much to take in. Swallowing several times, he gasped, “How did he do that and even more important why would you give in to his threats?”
Bodie closed his eyes as he dropped his chin to his chest. Rubbing the bridge of his nose, he knew that it was time for the brutal truth, but even then, he tried one more stall tactic. “I’ll tell you everything, but open your pressie first.”
“Why should I do that; I want to hear what you’ve got to say?”
Looking up into the bewildered green eyes, Bodie replied with a quavering voice, “Because I want you to have it before you punch my lights out when I tell you the truth.”
Without saying anything, Doyle reached for the package and carefully opened it. Inside were two small soldiers just like the ones in his collection . . . his former collection. He had sold them when he decided to leave the A Squad. “Thank you, but why give me a pressie now?”
“Saw them while I was in Birmingham and thought they would go well with the rest of your collection.”
A pink flush covered Doyle’s handsome face as he dropped his head momentarily; then he looked up and said, “Sold ‘em, that’s what I did.”
“Why?” Bodie asked, disappointment evident in that one word.
“Look around will ya. This office is twice as large as my billet. Didn’t figure I had room to display ‘em so I sold ‘em to that antique shop in Chelsea.”
Bodie knew immediately which one Doyle meant. They had often gone in there and looked at the militaria - - because Bodie wanted to. Doyle was always doing things that Bodie wanted to do. Once again, Bodie felt the loss of this man’s friendship.
“I’ll return ‘em if you’d like somethin’ else.”
Doyle immediately grabbed the two small figures. “I’m not lettin’ you take ‘em back; this is my first pressie from you and I’m keepin’ ‘em.”
Bodie smiled as he realized the implications in Doyle’s words. Maybe telling Doyle the truth wouldn’t be so bad. Studying his former partner, Bodie opened his mouth to begin his explanation of his feelings when he heard pounding on the door of the office.
Doyle yelled, “Come,” as the door quickly pulled open and a clearly out of breath young man entered the room.
“Mr. Doyle, Sergeant Ritchie wants you right away on range B, Snorkles has gone bonkers again and is running around shooting at the targets.”
Just as Doyle stood up to follow the young man, his phone rang. Picking it up, expecting it to be Craine, he discovered that it was Craine’s assistent. Listening for a moment, he turned to Bodie and said, “It never rains, but pours. Cowley wants you back in London immediately. All hell has broken loose.
As both men rushed to their separate crises, the thought briefly crossed each man’s mind that perhaps they would never see each other again, but they didn’t have time for any words just a look that was as enigmatic as it was brief.
Bodie ran for his car so that he could get on the road. Completely focussed on what could possibly be happening in London, Bodie did not think about Doyle again until he saw the outline of CI5 headquarters and then he wondered who Snorkles was and why was he running amuck? After entering the building Bodie became embroiled in a wave of events which wouldn’t permit him to have time to think about Snorkles or Doyle again for almost a week as a wave of terrorism struck various London areas.
That week was one of the hardest that Bodie had ever faced, perhaps even more difficult than the time when Wakeman and Catrell had tried to decimate CI5. This week had been about decimation as well, but the target was the British public with a few of the IRA doing their best to cause havoc at some of London’s most notable landmarks. After a week of almost constant chasing leads, and rushing to areas that were threatened, Bodie felt he was on his last legs. His 37 year old body was definitely feeling the effects. He couldn’t even remember his last meal or the last time he had put together more than three hours sleep, but the real grating on his psyche was his “partner”, Thomas Stephens.
Stephens clearly didn’t belong with the A Squad. He was a decent marksman, and well-informed on CI5 methods, but he was not street savvy, and might not live to ever get to be that way because of his fundamental thinking patterns. Extremely late on the day after the terrorists had been caught, Bodie decided to confront Cowley because enough was enough; the ex-merc barely knocked on Cowley’s door before pushing his way in. It was so late that even Betty had left, but there was the Controller of CI5 still at work although looking very old and in pain. Normally, Bodie would have walked over to where Cowley kept his liquor and got both of them a drink, but Bodie’s manners were teetering on the edge of exhaustion so he moved to the desk and started to talk. None of Cowley’s usual tactic of ignoring the speaker until he wanted to talk would do with Bodie; he was here to have it out.
“I want to work solo for the remaining time I have here. Stephens should never have been put on the street. Whoever gave him the okay must have been out of his mind. The man doesn’t think logically. He just goes and does. He almost got us both killed today when he stopped in the middle of the street, claiming the driver of a car was a well-known terrorist.”
Cowley sat with his glasses in his hand, staring at his agent. Bodie was looking extremely tired and frazzled. Cowley was quite used to Bodie’s rants and criticisms. He had known from the first that Stephens and Bodie would never mesh, but he had hoped Bodie could wear away at some of Stephens very rough edges. Unfortunately, the young man was a nephew of a high-placed minister in the government, and while usually Cowley would never bend to political pressure, the young man’s file hadn’t been that bad. Cowley was aware, of course, that Stephens would never be a Doyle so the teaming was in trouble from the beginning.
Cowley, however, could not permit this insubordination and questioning of his decisions to continue, so he decided to take the direct approach. “3.7, since you are less than two weeks away from the end of your contract, surely you can deal with the situation a bit longer? Unless, that is, you want me to remove you from the street entirely and put you, let’s say, on less-accommodating duty?”
Bodie hated doing the files more than almost anything except baby-sitting important visitors, but he was not going to be intimidated by Cowley’s words or demeanour.
“Mr. Cowley, I have worked for you for ten years. I know you consider me to be one of your best, but I will not work with that numbskull any longer. He’s a danger to everyone he meets or works with. I don’t know why you allowed him to join the A Squad, but for everyone’s sake, put him somewhere where he will not endanger anyone.”
“I am not accustomed to my agents questioning my assignments, and I am also not accustomed to having you admit defeat, 3.7. I thought surely that you, above and beyond all my agents, could deal with, let us say, the “foibles” of the young man and overcome them. I know it hasn’t been easy, but you’re giving up already . . . it’s only been two and a half weeks, hasn’t it?”
“Two and a half hours is enough time to see that Stephens doesn’t belong here. I resent your manipulating me with the implication that I can’t handle Stephens.”
“Hmmm, then what would you say it was because it looks very much like you can’t handle Stephens.”
Bodie bristled at those words and even though he knew he was being manipulated, he still plunged forward into the trap. “That’s not the point, I can work with anybody, for a time, but Stephens is so careless that he is going to get us or some innocent bystander that you seem so fond of, killed. Is that what your triple-think wants?”
“Don’t talk silly, man. Of course not, but I feel that you haven’t given Stephens a chance. Continue as partners until the end of the week. I will work on finding someone to partner him. Now, 3.7, if that is all, I have work to do.”
The end of the week was in two days so Bodie decided to go with that. Surely, Stephens couldn’t do too much damage in so little time, and then Bodie would be free to complete the last week of his contract without the MENACE OF CI5 plaguing his every step.
Bodie had plans for his free weekend. He was going to go see Doyle. He needed to see him, and while he didn’t want to explain why he had grown so distant before he had left on the undercover op, and how Cowley could force him to go, Bodie knew he had to if he ever wanted to get back into Ray Doyle’s good graces.
Like the Pied Piper of Hamlin, Bodie soon noticed his own pet “rat” following him as he departed CI5. He refused to stop since he wanted the idiot to get the idea that Bodie did not want him around, but ignoring Stephens never seemed to work.
“Hey, Bodie, stop a second. Didn’t you see me behind you?” Bodie stopped then, but refused to turn around. In his usual whiny voice, Stephens continued, “I need to ask you a question. Could you give me a ride home, my car’s not working, and I really could use a ride.”
Bodie breathed in and held it to stop himself from blasting away at Stephens and telling him what he really thought of him. Trying to remember that he only had two more days with the moron, Bodie decided to make a concession and talk to him with as much civility as he could muster after almost two weeks of the idiot’s constant presence.
“I’m sorry I can’t drop you by your flat. I’ve got to go to the bank to get some money. I have plans for the weekend, and I haven’t been able to get to the bank, or ANYWHERE else since the IRA went haywire.”
“That’s great! I need to go to the bank as well, and since we use the same bank, that will be perfect.” With those words Stephens ran to Bodie’s car and stood there waiting to be let in.
Bodie opened the door for Stephens; then entered the driver’s side. Headaches come in all sorts of shapes and sizes, but Bodie couldn’t decide as he quickly left the parking area whether the one in his head or the one sitting to the left of him was the bigger one.
He hoped that driving would fill him with tranquillity as it often did, but thanks to the conspiracy of the traffic and Stephens constant chattering, Bodie was sure that his frustration level would be at an all time high by the time they reached the bank.
Finally, Bodie couldn’t take it any longer and broke in with a question of his own, “How did you know what bank, I use?”
So preoccupied with his own spiel of words, the question didn’t register with Stephens for a moment, then as an afterthought, Stephens replied, “Oh, it’s in your file. I know all about you.” With that response, Stephens, once again, began his monologue which lasted all the way to the bank.
Finding a parking place with a minimum of trouble, Bodie left the car immediately not trying to stay with Stephens as they entered the bank. His mind was now filled with his visit to Doyle. He hoped this weekend would end the alienation he felt from his long time friend. For once, William Bodie’s senses failed him as he was moments away from a crisis which would colour his life for the foreseeable future.
BDBDBDBDBDBDBDBDBD
Ray Doyle was just entering his office from once again putting his students through their paces in trying to deal with the springing targets when the phone rang.
Picking it up, he immediately replied, “Doyle”. The speaker filled his ear with a loud voice that was clearly excited. Once again, it was Jack Craine’s assistant and Doyle was needed in Craine’s office ASAP.
Within moments, Doyle reached the office and was confused to find numerous instructors and other facility personnel sitting and standing around waiting for something or someone. Within moments they were all herded into a large meeting room where Jack Craine addressed them.
“We have just been notified that we are on alert. There have been several terrorist attacks on the capital and other cities. This looks like a concerted effort to cause as much chaos as possible. The various agencies are being stretched to the maximum and have asked that some of our personnel to be sent to London and other places as back up so that the maximum manpower can be put on the job.
I am going to London to help coordinate activities for CI5 since Major Cowley is in the field right now, and several agents have already been deployed to various cities. Your assignments for the coming few days are posted on the board. I expect you all to give a good accounting of yourself. That’s all.”
Doyle wanted to immediately run to the board to see his duty, but Craine called him into his office. “Ray, CI5 is going full stretch. It’s an Grade 7 call-out, but we’ve just been informed of a new situation. I . . . I was wondering if you would go to London to be involved with it?”
“What is it? I thought I would be assigned to the terrorism squad.”
Jack Craine looked positively white as he murmured, “It’s a bank robbery.”
Confusion covered Doyle’s face as he asked, “Why can’t the local boys handle that?”
Craine took a deep breath and let it out, “Because two CI5 agents are being held hostage, along with some civilians, that’s why.”
Doyle felt his face drain and his heart stop as he whispered, “Do we know who the two agents are?”
“Well, as you can imagine things are a little chaotic what with the call-out and everything, but we think its 3.7 and 2.15, Bodie and Stephens. They’ve been missing for several hours.”
“I . . . see. Do we know anything else?”
“Anson is covering the situation. I got you clearance to go to the scene. So I think you better get going. Here’s all the information you’ll need.”
For a split second, Doyle looked at the paper and saw the name of Bodie’s bank, and right then he knew it was Bodie and what had probably happened, but he had been taught not to jump to conclusions, so he headed to his bike to make the fastest trip possible to the hostage site.
End of part 2