Day 27: Discovered Among the Reindeer

[longstrt]

Title: Hidden Doyle

Author: longstrt

Summary: Doyle has been hiding a secret for a long time, but it will soon be his 39th birthday and he has made a major decision about his future.



Raymond Doyle, better known as 4.5, stared at his partner, William Bodie - - well maybe that wasn’t true anymore about Bodie being his partner. The tall, handsome agent had just come blasting (that was the only word for it) out of Cowley’s office. It was easy to tell that Bodie was fuming and that no volcano on earth could rival the man for more explosive power at the moment.

Bodie’s fury could barely be contained. He almost had to bite his lips to keep even a minimum of control, “Do you know what that old man just did? He stuck me with Newsome!”

“Newsome? You don’t mean that new agent who thinks he’s God’s gift to the agent world?”

“You got it. I have been informed by his Imperial Highness that I need to help shave off Newsome’s rough edges so that he can go into the field full time.”

“Shave off the edges? That’s a laugh - - who’s going to shave off your edges; I’ve been trying to do that for years.”

“That’s funny, Doyle. Well, I am ready to tell that old ba****rd to take this job and shove it.”

Doyle had heard those threats practically every day since the two men had been partnered, but things had changed lately. Bodie wasn’t acting like his Bodie, and something else had changed. He had met a woman who had been with him now for several months. Several months was a lifetime for Bodie and any bird. He ran through their companionship like an ant through sugar, but this time ANDREA seemed to have sticking power.

ANDREA Carstairs was beautiful, slender, and rich, and she didn’t seem to mind when Bodie had to call off a date (A RENDEZ-VOUS as ANDREA called them). ANDREA seemed to know how to play the game with Bodiem, and the handsome agent seemed to fall in with her every wish.

Doyle stared at Bodie for a moment then asked what was really important, “Well, if you’re going to be with Newsome for a while, what’s happening to me?”

Suddenly, Bodie seemed to calm down and began to leer at Doyle, “Oh, you got the pick of the assignments, YOU’RE CHAUFFEURING THE COW FOR THE NEXT MONTH.”

“What! What’d I do to deserve that? What have either of us done to deserve our new assignments?”

“I sincerely doubt if my assignment will last a month because Newsome will be dead within a week, if he mouths off to me like he did to Anson when he was working with him.”

“Yeah, but COWLEY! I’m the best agent in CI5, and I’m being wasted. You were born to teach Newsome a thing or two, but me - - what a waste of the VERY BEST!”

“What are you talking about - - I’m the best. Have you forgot how I took you in hand when we first got together and made you into the agent you are today, even if you are getting to be an old’un.”

Doyle stood there stunned, almost stuttering at those words. Bodie had never brought up Doyle’s age before - - after all Bodie was only two years younger. Doyle was almost ready to retaliate when he heard the words that sealed his decision about his future for good.

“You know, Doyle, ANDREA, said that she could help you get an appointment with a person who could help you fix that swelling on your face and make you look a lot younger. You don’t want to really look the way you do now, do you? How you ever goin’ to get a bird if you don’t do something before you’re 40? Andrea knows all the important people, and you’re not getting any younger.”

Doyle was stupefied - that was the only word for it. Bodie and that minx, ANDREA had been talking about him???? Doyle was about ready to contradict Bodie’s assertions when Murphy walked up and said to Bodie, “Hey, 3.7, Your queen just called and commanded you to be at her apartment in 30 minutes or less ‘cause you’re going to have dinner with ‘daddy’”.

Bodie, seeming totally oblivious to the furor he had caused, nodded and headed down the hall at what approached the speed of light, yelling as he left, “Thanks, Murph”.

Both Doyle and Murphy stood staring at the back of the departing agent, saying nothing, then Doyle turned to Murphy and said one word, “Thanks”.

Murphy’s thick eyebrow shot up into the air as a puzzled look covered his face, “What’s that for?”

“Well, I know I’m leaving these hallowed halls in a little over a month, but I don’t think that the Cow would appreciate an agent laying another agent out flat on the floor in front of everyone residing in these honoured halls.”

Murphy’s eyebrows practically met each other as the look of puzzlement increased five-fold. “What’d that idiot do this time? Or, did he say something about ANDREA?”

It amused Doyle to hear Murphy emphasize THAT WOMAN’S name just as Doyle thought of her in his private and not-so private thoughts. “You tired of hearing her perfections, too?”

“I’m tired of hearing, ‘Andrea says,’ all the time. You’d think that she was the reincarnation of Venus or somebody.”

“I’m surprised, Murph. I didn’t know you knew big words like reincarnation, but I figured you’d know the goddess of love.”

“I rated very high on the intelligence exams they gave to get into this institution, I’ll have you know.”

“I’m sure you do have intelligence, unfortunately not everybody here has a lot of common sense or the power to see what’s in front of them.” With those words they both turned to stare down the hallway where the recently departed Bodie had trod. Murphy didn’t have to ask who Doyle was talking about.

“DOYLE!” The gentle, melodious voice of George Cowley, Controller of CI5 reverberated down the halls of CI5 at that moment.

Doyle shrugged and said in a not so quiet tone, “Coming, Master!”

Not seeing the grin on Murphy’s face, Doyle quickly left for Cowley’s office, preparing to spend his next days chauffeuring the demanding Cowley around to his many appointments.

Surprisingly that next week flew by relatively quickly. Doyle had always known that Cowley worked harder than anybody in the government, even if he didn’t always get the credit, but the week was filled with meetings and greetings of all kinds of official and not-so-much official goings-on, so that at the end of the first week Cowley could honestly say that he had done his part in keeping England smelling faintly of lavender.

The week had been so busy that Doyle hadn’t had much time to think about anything, not even Bodie. Having a few minutes off before his next skirmish with the duties that Cowley imposed upon him, Doyle took advantage of relaxing in the rest room where the seldom-heard silence of a vacant room was attractive to the curly-haired man who had been inundated with a cacophony of voices and demands for the better part of a week.

Unfortunately, the peace was broken by the entrance of Anson, whose less-than-gentle vocal eruptions did nothing to aid the headache that had been building under Doyle’s curls.

“I’ve been looking for you. Cowley wants to see you, tout de suite, you didn’t know I was bilingual, did you?”

Doyle’s green eyes looked up at Anson as he quietly commented, “I didn’t know you were singular lingual to tell you the truth.”

“Ha! Ha! Well, I’m the one who’s going to be laughing when you find out what’s happened. That idiot Newsome has been inflicted on almost every agent in CI5 just because he’s the relative of somebody important, and don’t ask me who.”

Doyle looked at Anson, who Bodie had often called an idiot and said, “He’s Bodie’s problem, isn’t he?”

Anson turned on a lascivious grin that lit up his moronic face, “Not now, he isn’t. Bodie’s on suspension and someone near and dear has inherited Newsome.”

A chill ran through Doyle as he stared into Anson’s gloating face, he was extremely wary of asking but he took the plunge, “Whatta ya mean, Bodie’s suspended and Newsome isn’t his problem now?”

“Bodie decked him almost right in front of Cowley, so he’s been given a vacation for a week or so, and YOU have now become the mentor and partner of Cowley’s bad boy! That’s what I came to tell you, so you better get going before Cowley sends the whole swat team after you.”

Doyle scrunched up his handsome face in dismay but carefully got up, forcing himself to avoid slugging Anson and wiping that grin off his face. As he approached the door, he turned and said quietly to the gloating man, “Thanks, Anson, I guess Cowley got tired of putting an idiot with an idiot the first time around and decided to go with the best. Either that or he hoped that Bodie would kill the blathering idiot and that would put an end to his difficulties.” With those words, the slim-hipped agent walked out of the rest room.

Barely knocking on Cowley’s door, Doyle entered and marched to the desk. As usual Cowley was busy with paper work or pretending to be. Doyle noticed that Cowley didn’t have his horn-rimmed glasses on and since he couldn’t see well without them, Doyle knew that this was all a pretense.

“You wanted me, sir?”

“I suppose my shouting tipped you off?” (Oh, so it was going to be one of THOSE days)

“No sir, you do that so often that I barely notice it anymore. It was the illuminated sign that Anson has been carrying around that gave me the hint, . . . SIR.”

Cowley said nothing for a moment, blue eyes trying to stare down green eyes for a full minute, then he said, “Feeling frisky today, 4.5 . . . or is it suicidal?”

“Oh no, sir. I’m just officially giving you notice of my resignation from this blessed plot, this realm, this . . .”

“Enough, 4.5, I get your point. Is this your not-so-subtle way of hinting that you are planning to relieve all of us of your presence here at CI5 in the near future?”

“Yes, sir, thank goodness I knew I could count on you ‘cause I didn’t want to be too subtle.”

Cowley grimaced but decided to give Doyle some more rope (hopefully to hang himself but who knew), “And what exactly is your grievance THIS TIME? Surely it can’t be your new assignment?”

“Do you mean me pulling your fat out of the fire by taking on Newsome and trying to make him into something human? No, sir. Although I have to admit, it’s taken you enough time to realize that Newsome needs the very best to rescue his image. It’s either me or you give him the boot which will certainly not be looked upon as a good thing in certain places in this establishment.”

“I MAKE the decisions here, THERE ARE no other places in this establishment!”

“Yes, sir, have you told that to the PM, and the oodles and boodles of other officials who are constantly sticking their noses into CI5 business?”

“THAT’S ENOUGH, DOYLE! Just exactly what is the reason that you are leaving us, THIS TIME?”

For a moment, Doyle stood there shuffling his feet back and forth, looking at the floor, then he burst out with, “You know that it is less than three weeks until Christmas and in another month, I will be 39 years old. I always promised myself, I would be off the streets before I was 40, so I figure that this is the time to do it. I guess you could say that Newsome is the straw that is breaking the camel’s back. I may not have a hump exactly but I certainly have taken my lumps for this organization, and if Bodie couldn’t put up with the guy for more than a week, I figure I can tolerate him for a month or so and then when I clock him, excuse me, sir - hit him, you don’t even have to suspend me since I’ll already be on my way out.”

Cowley studied Doyle’s intense face for several minutes, then looking down at his desk as if he couldn’t look him directly in the eye, queried, “So, it has nothing to do with Bodie, then?”

Doyle had always known that Cowley was the master of the double and triple think, but this was the most important moment of his life so the lie he was about to tell had to be good and sound like the truth or the jig was truly up, and all the hiding that Doyle had done had been wasted.

“Well, sir, the truth is, it is because of Bodie. The other day he was in a fit of rage over his new assignment, uh I mean that he was relating something that Andrea had said to him, and it got to me, it certainly did.”

Now Cowley looked skeptical but decided to let Doyle hang himself a little further, “Go on”.

“Well, he called me an “old’un” and it got me thinkin’ that he was maybe right. I’m not at the top of me form anymore, and I can’t go out on the streets and risk somebodyelse’s life or limb on me less than stellar qualifications so I got to thinkin’ about it and decided to retire from the streets before I did any damage to me or any of my partners. After all, you proved it to me this last week by putting me behind the wheel as a chauffeur that I won’t always have Bodie to save me so I better do something right away, and, well, I thought this Christmas season would be a good time to do it. That’s all.”

For once Cowley was stunned. He hadn’t expected this argument, but what really puzzled him was why Bodie had called Doyle an “old’un”? When he had put his Chalk and Cheese together, there had clearly been some friction, but they had quickly turned their antagonism into a smooth working machine and his best team. Even Bodie’s legendary stand off attitude and keep it cool nature had fallen to Doyle’s charm and steady perseverance, so why would Bodie call the man, only two years his senior, “old’un”?

“What was the occasion for Bodie’s declaration about your age, Doyle?”

Doyle suddenly looked like he had swallowed a goldfish, but he cleared his throat and replied, “Well, it wasn’t really Bodie, who came up with the terminology; he was just relating what ANDREA had said and how she knew someone who could make me look younger, but it still hit home, . . . sir.”

Cowley, the master at showing no reaction, had a difficult time in not bursting out with an exclamation that would have stirred every agent in CI5 that day to come in and find out what cat was being killed. “ANDREA? You mean Andrea Carstairs, Bodie’s latest . . . companion?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What’s she got to do with this?”

“She’s concerned that I’m looking old and that plastic surgery can fix this lump on my face. . . . and I guess Bodie agrees.”

Cowley’s triple think swung into action as he read the situation for what it was and decided there and then to allow Doyle to think that he accepted his resignation without further questions. “Very well, Doyle, I’ll begin working on your request to resign in a month. Meanwhile we have work to do, so return here in an hour so that you can meet Newsome and begin your . . . partnership.”

“Yes, sir.” Doyle turned to leave Cowley’s office, congratulating himself on successfully spreading smoke on the whole affair. If he had been able to see Cowley, however, he would not have been nearly as pleased with himself.

PART II

Since Cowley had left the two men alone so that they could get “acquainted”, it was never known what occurred between the four walls of Cowley’s office, but Newsome came out of that meeting a seemingly different man - grey, drawn, and hesitant. His usual arrogant, know-it-all had disappeared and he seemed prepared to cease and desist in his efforts to annoy everyone in CI5.

Doyle was equally close-mouthed, but he was wise enough to know that he had to seize the day and take advantage of this moratorium on arrogance to try and successfully transform Newsome’s personality for the better.

Doyle knew that he could do little in less than a month’s time, but just from the brief conversation the two men had just had, Doyle had quickly summed up the man’s deficiencies. Deficiencies which would make him a very poor partner for anyone because he would certainly get himself killed and probably his partner as well.

As the two men walked out of Cowley’s office, he peremptorily commanded the younger man to be at the shooting range in exactly 15 minutes. Newsome’s reaction was to be expected, “I KNOW how to shoot.”

The look that Doyle gave him, however, quickly resulted in a very meek, “Yes, sir, 15 minutes.”

The TON (training of Newsome) plan began at that moment and would continue for the rest of Doyle’s tenure with CI5 because Doyle’s stubbornness would not let him admit failure with this strange young man.

The two men had been on the shooting range for more than a half hour and Newsome’s targets were still almost as pure as the driven snow. “But, I’M RIGHT HANDED, why you making me shoot with my left hand?”

Doyle stared at the moron but kept his patience and asked, “Suppose you are too wounded in your right hand to shoot, is the bad guy going to stop trying to kill you, just because of that?”

Newsome seemed to think that over and then mumbled, “I’ll bet half the guys on this range today can’t shoot with both hands. How about you; you talk big - are you ambidextrous with a gun?”

Silently, Doyle removed his gun from his holster beneath his left shoulder and fired at the distant target. He fired some of the shots with his right hand and the remainder with his left. All of the shots were clustered around the heart area of the distant figure.

Doyle re-holstered his gun, turning to Newsome, “No, I am not ambidextrous, but I TAUGHT myself to use both hands accurately. That’s what good agents do; do you want to be a good agent?”

Suddenly, Newsome grinned, “Sure, I’m going to be Numero Uno someday.”

Doyle stared at the man for more than a minute, then asked, “Then why have you been doing everything you can to be obnoxious to everybody around you; don’t you realize that police work is 33% hard work, and 66 % personality and who you know?”

“Sure, that’s why I’m going somewhere ‘cause I’m rich and I got good contacts.”

Doyle came very close to slapping the arrogant young idiot. He had thrown out those percentages, hoping that Newsome would immediately retaliate by saying that he intended to get to the top by using hard work and being the best. At that moment, Doyle felt very old indeed.

Before Doyle could say anything, however, Cowley’s voice came over the speaker, triggering a general call out of all agents.

Hours later the agents had been released from duty and Doyle was crawling back to his flat. Just the vision of the stairs he would have to ascend was daunting and once again he realized that Bodie’s “old’un” title wasn’t so far wrong.

Suddenly, Murphy pulled up in the last parking place in the block and walked towards Doyle with a large box in his hand. Doyle looked at the handsome man and asked, “What’s that?”

“Losing your sight, 4.5? That’s your favorite pizza. I know you are addicted to muesli, but I thought pizza and beer might sound good after 10 hours of hunting down those bad guys involved in the terrorist threats.”

Doyle tried to smile, but his face seemed frozen, “Thanks, Murph, how’s Jones and Crawford?”

“Oh, they’ll be all right. They’re staying overnight at hospital, but they’ll be back on duty faster than that cadaverous body of yours will be. Me long dead uncle looks better than you do at the moment.”

“Thanks for the compliment; well just don’t stand there, help me up the stairs so I can devour that pizza. Haven’t had one like that in months”.

More than an hour later with the pizza devoured and the two men sprawled out finishing the last of the third beer that seemed to have appeared, Murphy crawled over to Doyle’s cupboard and pulled out a box.

“Oh, not tonight, Murph, I’m not in the mood for Scrabble.”

“I’ve been noticing your spelling on your recent reports, my curly haired friend. You need help so get ready we’re going to play one short game to intensify your spelling proclivities.”

“You keep my proclivities out of this, they’re very tender at the moment.”

It was short, Doyle’s spelling propensities seemed to be in high gear and quite quickly he had used up all his letters except the last four letters sitting on his holder. Suddenly, Doyle’s whole body went cold as he realized that those four letters were: E H D I.

What were the chances that his last remaining letters would spell HIDE?

“Come on, Doyle, put down your next move, what you waitin’ for?”

Doyle sat there staring at the meaningful word, and then up at Murphy. Suddenly without saying anything he swiped the letters and the board off the table and onto the floor.

Anybody else would have questioned Doyle about his behaviour, but not Murphy. He had been Doyle’s lover for several months over a year ago, and he knew Doyle better than almost anybody. Murphy had seen Doyle’s final word and knew immediately what the word, HIDE, meant to Doyle, and once more, Murphy knew what it was that Doyle was hiding.

“Well, it’s getting late, I better get going; it’s been a very long day.”

Doyle stared at Murphy for a long moment, then asked in a very quiet whisper, “You remember you’ve been drinking?”

“Yeah, I’ll be all right, don’t worry.”

“Cowley catches you drivin’ after three beers and you’ll be sittin’ out your next three birthdays. Stay here tonight.”

Murphy hesitated; both men had avoided any true closeness after they had stopped being lovers and both men knew why. Still Murphy badly wanted to stay; Doyle needed him. “You sure?”

Doyle gave him that special smile that he reserved for Colin Murphy, and said, “Absolutely, last one in bed has to kiss Cowley.”

After a few minutes of preparation the two men lay quietly together wrapped in each others’ arms as they had done so many times before. Murphy whispered, “You asleep, Doyle?”

“How could I be asleep what with you snoring?”

“I don’t snore, but if you don’t stop that slurping I’m going to stifle it with a pillow across your face. I thought you only slurped when you were drinking tea?”

“I have never slurped in my life, now tell me the truth why did you bring the pizza tonight?”

Murphy seemed to hesitate, but finally he came out with a tentative, “Why you really leavin’ CI5?”

“I told you and the rest is none of your business.”

“Is that why the word, HIDE, bothered you so much?”

“Don’t know what you mean.”

“What are you hiding, Doyle?”

“Since I’m hiding it, makes sense not to tell you, does it?”

“Suppose I guess what it is?”

“Since when have you joined Cowley’s double think club?”

“Since I stopped being your lover all those months ago.”

Doyle sat up in bed and looked into the darkness at the vague shape of the man he knew so well, “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“’Cause that’s when I realized that you were in love with Bodie.”

The silence that filled the room seemed heavier than the meal Murphy had tried to replicate from a recipe he had found, but finally Doyle laid back against Murphy’s chest and whispered, “Guess I didn’t do such a great job of hiding.”

“You did okay, it’s just that I know you pretty well, and just watching you around Bodie made it fairly obvious. I’m sure nobody else has noticed, especially that idiot Liverpudlian.”

“Yeah, he’s too wrapped up in ANDREA. Oh well, I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of one of his right cross when he heard the news anyhow.”

“Doyle, sometimes you are the most blind and naive person that I have ever met, but get some sleep now because have you forgot, you’ve got a date with Newsome and Macklin at five in the morning?”

With a loud groan, Doyle slid under the covers and buried his curls under his pillow.

PART III

5.00 in the morning came too early and the darkness added to Doyle’s depression. Murphy had left earlier so 4.5 was free to leave to pick up Newsome, who was not entitled to a car since he was still in training.

The younger man quickly ran to the car and got in, slouching in the seat, fully intending to catch a few more moments of sleep while Doyle did the driving.

Doyle briefly looked at the slumped figure and said in a commanding voice. “Oh, no, you’re not going to grab some more beauty sleep. We need to discuss today’s little get together with Macklin and Towser today. You haven’t met those two gentlemen, have you?”

“Nah, they were doing something else when I did my training.”

“Well, I’m sure you’ll enjoy what they have to teach you, but remember that they are deadly serious and do not stand for any chatter or lack of concentration.”

“You’re goin’ to be there doing the same training, aren’t you? So how tough can it be?” Newsome covered his grin but not well enough. When Doyle saw it, he told himself to make sure that Newsome got the full Macklin/Towser treatment.

“Well, just remember, Newsome, you have to pass the Macklin/Towser training school if you hope to move up to full status as an agent.”

“Oh, I’m even more confident now that I was before.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, you’re leavin’ so I might get your spot, but that abominable snowman, Bodie, is leavin’ too so I

two chances now of moving up.”

Doyle gripped the wheel until his knuckles showed white, and he had himself under control, then asked, “Whatta mean, Bodie’s leavin’?”

“Well, I guess I mentioned to you that I’ve been close friends with the Carstairs for years? Andrea has been interested in my family’s money and so that makes me interesting. Well, “daddy” as she likes to call him, let drop to a friend of mine that he had offered Bodie a position with one of his la-de-da businesses, and I figure that Bodie would be crazy to turn it down, especially if he’s going to be the son-in-law.”

From that point on Doyle heard nothing of Newsome’s random rantings. Doyle was so lost that he felt shattered in body and soul. Hiding from the truth had allowed Doyle to maintain his pride, but that decision was costly to Doyle’s hopes of Bodie’s waking up and realizing how important Doyle was to him.

The two men arrived at the Macklin/Tower Emporium of Good Times through Torture, and, for once, Doyle was thankful for the rigorous activities that they were put through. He couldn’t think of Bodie and survive Towser’s humongous body bending him around like a pretzel. If anything, however, Newsome was getting an even more rigorous treatment.

Newsome kept throwing glances of pain at Doyle as he was being bent around Macklin’s shoulders and being spun at supersonic speeds. Both agents were eternally grateful when Macklin finally announced a ten minute rest period, BEFORE the really strenuous stuff began.

Doyle was just about ready to collapse on the floor when he heard footsteps moving quickly towards the gym. Knowing those footsteps very well, Doyle made an effort to pull himself together and meet what or who was approaching with such intensity.

William Bodie entered the gym with all the furor of a tornado, stopped in front of Doyle, and proclaimed, “I want to talk to you!”

Bodie then noticed that he and Doyle were not alone and that one of those onlookers was that moron, Newsome. The brief thought, wondering why Newsome was still alive crossed the ex-merc’s mind, but then he returned to the reason he had violated Cowley’s suspension edict, but this was between him and Doyle, so he turned to Macklin and said, “Mack, could you take that pile of flesh over there and get a drink of water or something?”

Macklin smiled brazenly, replying, “Of course, 3.7; he does look as if he needs some loving kindness, doesn’t he?”

With those words and Towser hefting the collapsed Newsome over his shoulder, the three men departed the gym.

Bodie turned to Doyle once again, his blue eyes icy cold as he demanded, “Why are you leaving CI5?”

Doyle was about to ask how he had heard that but realized that it made no difference so he decided to brazen it out. “What’s it to you; you aren’t my partner anymore.”

“So it wouldn’t bother you to just leave me out on the streets without you as me backup?”

“Oh, that’s rich, considering that you’re going to go work for ‘DADDY’ and leave CI5 in the lurch, so don’t tell me you care about a partner or anything else, just yourself.”

At that moment, Doyle was sure that he was going to receive a well-deserved left-right combination, but suddenly Newsome’s whinging voice was heard as he came into the gymnasium, running for his life. “Don’t let them entertain me anymore!”

Doyle turned quickly to look at the whining, whinging man, disgusted with Newsome’s behaviour, but when he turned around again, Bodie was gone.

After several minutes in the shower, and then several hours of paperwork, Doyle and Newsome were finally off-duty. Doyle was still furious with Newsome and the way he had behaved with Macklin and wanted to tell him to shove off on his own - that’s what his feet were supposed to be used for, but in the end the two men left in Doyle’s car.

Newsome was even more slumped down than he had been that morning, and their conversation was non-existent. Then, Newsome sat up and made an effort to be coherent, “Could you move a bit faster, 4.5 ‘cause I got an engagement party to go to tonight, and you don’t think I’m going without another shower, do you? Those showers at CI5 are two steps below civilized, and I need to dress in something better than this.”

Doyle’s face grimaced; he so badly wanted to stop the car and shove the obnoxious little twit out the door, but once again he held his tongue and said, “Must be important; I thought you’d be at home tonight picking up your bodily pieces.”

“Yeah, that’s what I feel like. Your concept of Macklin “entertaining” me is a load of shite, but I promised old man Carstairs, I’d be there.”

Doyle’s green eyes widened, as he realized what those words meant, “Richard Carstairs, ANDREA’s father?”

“Of course, I told you that I have known them for a long time. I’m sure glad that Andrea’s getting’ married ‘cause now I’m off the hook from the money-grubbingest woman in the realm. She and daddy love money and little else. That’s why I can’t understand why Andrea would want Bodie. I’ll bet he doesn’t have enough money to keep her in baubles, let alone jewels and other things to which she is accustomed. No, Bodie, really must be a disappointment to “daddy”, let alone to Andrea, and he’s so crude and rough. Do you know I don’t think he even completed school, but you have to to join CI5, don’t you?”

Doyle pulled over to the sidewalk, leaned over, and opened the door shouting, “OUT!”

“What you talkin’ about, I still got several blocks to go and I told you I have to go to that party.”

“I don’t care where you have to go or what you have to do. Bodie clocked you, and if you don’t get out now, I’ll do even worse. Use your feet and walk, or take the underground - - that’s what we non-stuck up people do.”

Newsome stared for a moment and then shuffled his way out of the vehicle, leaving the car door open, hoping some belligerent terrorist would wander by and slam into the open door.

Doyle waited barely a second to make sure that the pest was going, leaned over, shut the door, put the car in gear, and took off into the traffic.

PART IV

It was now Christmas Eve and Murphy was looking around for Doyle, who had been rather invisible for the past two days. In fact, neither Doyle nor Newsome had not been seen in the halls of CI5 recently. Murphy was just about ready to hunt Doyle down at his flat or his local because the tall Irishman had a major bone to pick with that agent.

An elf must have liked the handsome man, because within two minutes, Ray Doyle came sauntering into the rest room, completely at ease for the first time in what seemed like years.

“Ah, there you are, Murphy, Happy Christmas to you.

“Bah, Humbug! What’s so happy about it?”

“Well, I haven’t had to babysit Newsome for the last two days and that is certainly a joy to savour.”

Murphy walked over to the shorter man and put his face so close to the older man that their noses were practically touching. With his teeth gritted, Murphy managed to get a question out of his seething body. “Why did you boot Nuisance Newsome out of your car and make him walk to his “humble shack”?

Doyle looked strangely at his friend, then said, “I was kind of ticked off with him, and I felt that if I didn’t get rid of him then and there, I would activate my homemade Chinese water torture kit and make him the first target. Besides, what’s it to you?”

Murphy’s face had turned red; he sounded like he had just swallowed an ostrich egg as he proclaimed right in Doyle’s face, “BECAUSE, 4.5, whatever you did the moron caught the grippe and is laid up in bed!”

“What’s so bad about that? Now, at least, I have a few more days of peace; heck, I might even get lucky enough that he won’t be back before my resignation kicks in.”

“Doyle, you total moron, the patient has raised himself up from his bed of the 100 years plague, insisting upon returning to work. He wandered into the rest room and out again just a few minutes before you arrived. He told me to give you a message, “He says you shouldn’t have made him walk those 22 and a half blocks to get home because his delicate constitution can’t take such rough behaviour, and he hoped that his NEW PARTNER wouldn’t treat him so unfeelingly.”

“New partner, whatta ya mean ‘new partner’”?

Apparently, Newsome’s father complained about the rough treatment of his “boy”, and so, as a result, the Doyle/Newsome barge has sailed into the sunset. You are definitely not going to get a Christmas prezzie this year, Doyle.”

“You mean that I’m emancipated? Now I know how Lincoln felt.”

“Haven’t you forgot one thing, Doyle?”

“Whatta ya mean? I’m free; I’m liberated, I feel a five stone weight has been lifted from my shoulders.”

Murphy’s eyes flared with disgust as he realized that Doyle was going to keep this euphoria up so he dropped the anvil so that Doyle would soon regret his joy. “Aren’t you going to ask who is Newsome’s new victim?”

“What do I care? Let the moron, who’s shouldered with him now, worry about him.”

Murphy continued to stare at Doyle, using his extra height and greater weight to intimidate without saying a word.

Doyle stared at Murphy, waiting for the name of the poor sucker who was now burdened with The Jinx of CI5 when a light appeared above Doyle’s curls, his green eyes opened wide, a puckered look appeared on his face. “You . . . you . . . you don’t mean YOU, do you?”

“Yes, I do, former lover and friend of mine. Starting Boxing Day, I will take that little darling into my professional embrace and teach him all I know.”

“Oh, oh! Sorry about that Murph, I was just so pissed with him after what he said to me that I just dumped him. Should have dropped him right in the middle of the traffic and saved us all a lot of trouble.”

“You should have slipped him some arsenic during one of your drinking sessions that would have made his death by grippe a sure thing.”

“Well, I’m really sorry, Murph, but how did you get him?”

“DADDY went to Cowley, seems they’re good friend, and complained that his boy was being mistreated and that sonny boy needed a better partner. Oh, by the way, the Cow WANTS to see you toute de suite for a little discussion about your behaviour.”

“Oh great!. First, I have to hear you imitating Anson, then I have to go see the Scottish Autocrat. Well, he’d do me a big favour if he’d fire me right now so I could be out of here before Christmas.”

“Well, I don’t know about that but don’t expect a pressie from me. This turn of events is enough to make me start thinking about resigning just to escape the” Idiot Express that has thundered his way through CI5.”

Suddenly the two men heard a familiar voice, proclaim in a level that needed no megaphone, “Mr. Murphy, oh, I’m so glad to be working with an agent whose expertise is without question.!”

Doyle quickly vacated the premises without seeing Newsome’s glare, and the wiping of his nose with a very wet handkerchief. His superior hearing, however, did pick up Murphy’s enthusiastic groan before something hit the wall of the rest room.

Once again, Doyle knocked on Cowley’s door and immediately entered without giving the Cow a chance to moo his invitation to come in. Marching in what he supposed to be military formation, Doyle stopped at the desk, saluted pathetically, and ripped out with “SIR!” (It was remarkable what knowing of your soon-to-be deliverance did for a person)

“Stop this nonsense, Doyle, and go over and get us each a glass.”

Turning quickly, Doyle did not let Cowley see his smirk as he headed towards the sideboard.

Returning with a healthy sample of the golden liquid for each, Doyle took the seat that Cowley indicated.

“I suppose by now you are aware of the change in your assignment?”

“That’s a pretty mild way of putting the agony of working with the biggest putz in CI5’s history. I do feel bad, however, about Murphy getting stuck with him. Begging your pardon, sir, but what does Newsome, Senior have on you or is it someone in the government . . . sir?”

Cowley’s face took on the look that he had had to use more and more to stop himself from committing homicide against one of his own. It was a cross between the look that Lucretia Borgia must have given to some of her victims, and the Royal Executioner when the ax didn’t work.

Sitting there silently with intense blue eyes staring down defiant green ones, Cowley asked in a strangely quiet voice, “Doyle, how would you like to have a new job?”

Trying to avoid showing his astonishment, Doyle stammered out, “What? - sampling the lab’s new poisons?”

Cowley barely managed to stop himself from reaching into his desk for his revolver by doing a triple think exponentially carried to the tenth power.

In the cold voice that only Cowley could develop at a moment’s notice, the Controller said, “I want you to take on the task of training our new recruits in real life crises that seem to be occurring more and more on our streets. Newsome praised you for some of the things that you taught him that he had never heard before, and it got me thinking that we are deficient in those areas. Of course, that was before your abandoning him into the deepest, darkest slime pit that any man had ever endured - - that is to quote him, of course.”

Doyle was smirking on the inside due to the unexpected flattery, but he wasn’t about to forget what Newsome had said about Bodie. Nobody but Raymond Doyle could criticize Bodie. It was well worth it to dump the slime ball onto the London streets of less than stellar fame.

“Thank you, sir, for the offer, but I already have an offer which I am seriously considering. After all, I will still be 39 on my next birthday, and my knowledge of the streets will quickly grow out-of-date, and then I will be of little use to you.”

“I will be honest with you, Doyle. I cannot afford to lose two top agents at the beginning of the New Year. What would you think of developing this street-smart program and running it for six months, and then you can go with a hefty addition to your pension?”

Although it was an attractive offer, Doyle had heard nothing about it after Cowley had said the words, “lose two agents”. Who was the other agent?

“I don’t understand, sir. Who is the other agent?”

“Your double-think mind must be getting rusty, Doyle. I mean, your former partner, William Bodie, who has . . . other plans.”

Doyle’s heart seemed to stop at the mere name of Bodie. So then the marriage rumours must be true. Bodie was leaving CI5 because he would never agree to going onto the B Squad, or maybe ANDREA had put her rich foot down so Bodie would take “daddy’s” job offer.

“Sorry, sir. I wasn’t thinking. I guess you’ll just have to make due. I’m sure there are several agents, hiding somewhere who can fill our shoes. I still plan to leave the week before my 39th birthday, but I’ll be happy to start setting up your training program so that someone else can carry on. I’m sure that Towser would love to go one-on-one street style with the agents.”

“Very well, Doyle. I’ll see that your resignation forms are sent over to be confirmed. Please report to me in an hour. You’ll be driving me to a small party for some government officials - - after all this is Christmas Eve. You may have tomorrow off duty, but be here bright and early on Boxing Day because I have a large list of meetings to get through.”

As Doyle walked out of the office, his only thought was, *oh great, Bodie gets married, and I get Cowley!*

PART V

Doyle spent Christmas Eve - - alone, and he preferred it that way. He knew that Murphy was having a go at enticing a certain individual to spend the night with him, and he tried to tell himself that he didn’t care what anybody else was doing, but he finally decided that if Murphy had figured out what he had been hiding for so long that he might as well go confront Bodie before he lost him forever. After all, once the blue eyed devil married ANDREA, it wouldn’t matter what Doyle felt for him.

Several months before, when Bodie and he were still on good terms in their partnership, Doyle had purchased a Christmas present, little realizing that by the time the present could be used, there would not be a partnership to celebrate. Now, staring up at the building where Bodie had resided for most of the time of their partnership, Doyle felt a twinge of despair that this might be the last time, he would ever see the man he cared so much about, but he certainly wouldn’t go to the wedding, no matter what.

Reaching into his jacket pocket, Doyle pulled out the envelope that contained his gift, then it suddenly dawned on him that he didn’t even know if Bodie was home - - after all, why would he be, considering it was Christmas Eve, and he certainly would be “celebrating” with the Carstairs.

Doyle was almost ready to turn around and leave when he noticed a glimmer of light coming from the flat that surely must be Bodie’s. 3.7 was home! Why? Shaking his head now that he had no excuse to avoid handing over the prezzie, Doyle mounted the steps slowly, finally arriving at the ominous door where his future would surely come crashing down in a very few moments. He knocked and hoped that Bodie had somehow just forgot to shut off the lights.

After a very brief time, the door opened in a rush and there stood the embodiment of all his dreams, which had so recently crashed.

“Doyle, what you doing here?” as Bodie invited his former partner to come in.

Almost knocked speechless, Doyle stuttered, “C - Come to give you a Christmas prezzie. Why are you here?”

Bodie looked puzzled but replied, “’Cause I live here - - at least, for a while.”

“I thought you’d be at some fancy Christmas party or . . . something else.” (Doyle couldn’t stand to even say the word, engagement so he left it vague)

“What party, you talking about? You know I don’t go to Christmas parties unless they’re the CI5 ones at the local pub. “

“I thought maybe you’d be at Andrea’s tonight.”

“Andrea’s? Why would I be there?”

Now Doyle was completely confused and didn’t know what to say so he swept past his puzzlement, and handed Bodie the envelope that he had been carrying. “Happy Christmas!”

Bodie stared at the envelope for the longest time, then said, “How come you got me something? We don’t usually exchange prezzies, just spend time together on Christmas - - that’s been gift enough.”

Doyle’s ice cold heart warmed momentarily upon hearing those words, but he knew that the inevitable had to happen so he whispered, “Open it. I got them months ago ‘cause I knew how much you really wanted to go.”

Bodie looked even more puzzled but slit open the sealed envelope and pulled out two tickets to a concert he had been wanting to go to. The event was scheduled for the beginning of the New Year and had been sold out for months.

Bodie seemed almost speechless as he looked at the tickets, “Doyle, these must have cost you a bundle. How come you bought them? You did buy them, didn’t you?”

“What’d you think I did to get them - - sell this old body?” Doyle had tried to be funny ‘cause he felt he was drowning in his own grief, but the humour failed him.

“You’re not old and that body is still gorgeous.”

Now Doyle was truly confused: Bodie never paid him compliments, and he certainly never seemed to notice Doyle for any reason except to always be there as his back-up. Doyle knew that Bodie had had a hard life in his younger years so he had developed a thick skin of protection t he wore like a banner saying, “KEEP OFF AND KEEP AWAY.

“Bodie, I’ve never made a secret that I meant to leave the streets before I was 40. That will be in a little over a year, and an opportunity for something different has come up so I’m taking it.”

Bodie stood there stunned, looking at the tickets to avoid having to meet those beautiful green eyes. The disappointment and despair in his face was quite obvious, but Doyle, for the life of him, couldn’t figure out why Bodie was acting so downhearted. After all, he was going to start a whole new life and career with . . . ANDREA, wasn’t he?

Knowing that the hold on his control was slipping away, Doyle started retreating towards the door. “Well, I hope you and Andrea have a great Christmas and New Year; I’ve got to be going, and I just wanted you to have those tickets since the concert is just a week away. Take care of yourself, Bodie.”

Panic entered the depths of the blue eyes that Doyle knew so well. Bodie, almost seemed to be plunging over the side into hysteria as he watched the slender man begin to walk away. Suddenly, Bodie blurted out, “Why do you keep mentioning Andrea; I haven’t seen her or talked to her in several weeks?”

Doyle stopped as if he had been hit with a rock that robbed him of all motion and understanding. Finally, he pulled himself together and demanded at a quite healthy volume, “WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT YOU HAVEN’T SEEN HER IN A COUPLE OF WEEKS. WHO THE HELL ARE YOU ENGAGED TO, THEN?”

“Engaged, what you talkin’ about, Doyle? Where’d you get that idea? I saw the writin’ on the wall, and I got out of there with my skin barely whole after that female bloodsucker tried to grab me. She thought I’d be her toyboy for awhile and used me to make her real target jealous. I got wise pretty fast and told her to shove off. Practically the closest I’ve come to oblivion in me life.”

“You mean, you dumped her?”

“Faster than Anson’s birds dump him.”

“What’d ‘daddy’ say about that?”

“He was thrilled since he didn’t want a character of my low repute doing perverted things with his little girl - - as if I would. Just the idea of those claws, getting into me, turned me stomach. Who told you I was engaged to that female ruttin’ machine?”

Doyle said nothing for a minute but finally found his voice. “Sorry, I was just astonished that CI5’s number one Romeo not getting a leg over as soon as you charmed her. Doyle hoped Bodie wouldn’t

notice that he had avoided Bodie’s question. After all, it wouldn’t do for Bodie to kill Newsome now.

“Is that what you really think I do? I have my way with women, but there’s only one person I really want to charm, and, . . . maybe . . . get my leg over, but they don’t seem too receptive to that idea.”

Doyle sighed, *so it wasn’t over yet ‘cause Bodie’s always been better at hiding things than me - - after all, he’s always been Mr. Cool. He does have someone he wants only they must be playin’ hard to get.”

“Sorry about that, Bodie. Can’t help you with that. Hope they are interested in the same type of music as you are so those tickets won’t be wasted. Anyway, I got to be goin’.”

Bodie’s despairing blue eyes watched as the slender figure turned and headed towards the door. *How many hints have I got to make? For a man who does triple think, this moron needs to be hit over the head with a Swiss roll or something. Well here goes.*

Bodie’s long strides quickly caught up with Doyle, whirled him around and lowered his lips onto those alluring cupid’s bow ones that had been tormenting him for the last eight years. The moment continued for what seemed an eternity, but finally Bodie released Doyle from that blissful moment, stepped back, expecting to receive a right cross which would lay him out for the foreseeable future.

BUT NOTHING HAPPENED!

After that mind blowing experience, Doyle continued to stare at his former partner, not sure why Bodie had just given him that devastating kiss, but it had felt so right that he didn’t want to shatter the moment by saying the wrong words now.

Finally, taking the plunge, Doyle hesitantly asked, “What’d you do that for?”

“Well, if you have to ask, then I must have been doing it wrong.”

“Don’t play games with me, Bodie. You’re as straight as they come, and I won’t be played for a fool so if you want to retaliate against me for what I’ve been hiding then slug me now so I can get out here.”

“Did that kiss feel like retaliation . . . Doyle? By the way, WHAT have you been hiding?”

When Doyle shook his head, his curls quivered, and he felt as if he were staring into an abyss, but what difference did it make, he would never see Bodie again after tonight? “All right, my double think must be as tired as I am right now. Murphy figured it out so I guess I’m more obvious than I thought.”

Suddenly, Bodie’s face went beat red as his angry words burst forth, “Murphy, Murphy, Murphy - - there’s that name again!!!! All right so you were lovers, does that make him perfect? Can’t you forget him?”

Doyle frowned because the image of his former partner that he was seeing right now was one of . . . JEALOUSY. Why would Bodie be jealous?”

“Murph’s been a good friend; I feel like I can go to him when I’m confused about . . . you, but there’s no sex between us now ‘cause he knows . . . well, he knows how I feel about my age. Besides, how did you know about me and Murph, and what business is it of yours anyhow?”

Bodie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or to kiss that beautiful mouth again. Of course, he might not live through the next few minutes, but he was determined to make Doyle forget Murphy.

“After kissin’ you like that, you wonder what business it is of mine whether you’re still sleepin’ with 6.2? You got to be kiddin’, Doyle.”

“You’ve been praisin’ that . . . female, blood-sucker, ANDREA, for the last several months, and I didn’t say anything about her even though I was tired of hearing, ‘Andrea this and Andrea that. Why don’t you just admit that you enjoy being with birds and let’s forget that kiss happened.”

Bodie stood very quiet for a full minute then said in a mournful whisper, “I don’t want to forget you, you moron. I’m not in love with that female leech. She’s hooked onto an old, very rich admirer now, and I expect that was the big announcements that occurred recently, but that won’t make any difference to us since we’ll be too busy to even send them a pressie.”

Green eyes fired up. *How dare Bodie decide what I’m going to do.* “Oh yeah? And just what are we going to be doing?”

Bodie grinned and said, “Well, we can either choose to continue working for the Cow, or I hear you got a big job offer. I’m sure I could live as your toyboy for awhile and then we could hook up together and start, THE BODIE AND DOYLE DETECTIVE AGENCY!”

Doyle put his hands on his slender hips and asked in a belligerent voice, “And why should it be Bodie first and me second?”

“Because I’m the tall, superb detective, who is so handsome that he’ll draw all the female clients to him.”

“Bodie, you are the most self-centered, egotistical individual that I have ever loved. Don’t know why I put up with you, but I need some sleep so I can think about the reasons. Happy Christmas, I got to drive for Cowley tomorrow, but I might be able to get some time in there to contemplate your suggestions.”

“You can’t leave. If you get stopped for a breathalyzer, you’d fail.”

“Whatta ya mean, I haven’t been drinking - - at least, NOT YET so it’s adios, mon ami.”

“No!” Bodie grabbed his arm and pulled the slender body to him. “Why can’t you stay here tonight?”

“I’m SHOCKED, SHOCKED, 3.7 that you would suggest such a thing. I’ve put up with you as the junior partner for almost eight years, and I don’t want to lose your respect by just hopping into bed with you . . . without a little negotiating.”

“Believe me when I say that I won’t lose my respect for you since I never had any, anyway, and what makes you the senior partner, anyhow?”

“Doyle’s grin showed his chipped tooth as he said shyly, “Well, if I don’t have your respect, what do I have?”

Bodie’s face turned lascivious as he leered at the older man. “You have my undying love, admiration, and need. If you want to go to work somewhere else, I will follow you to the ends of the earth, but I’ll never let you go. THAT’S what you have.”

For a second Bodie saw the moisture in the beloved green eyes, then Doyle wrapped his arms around Bodie’s body and hugged him tightly. I reckon that will do as a start. How about we begin negotiations in the next room. I really do have to get my rest. You know what a stickler Cowley is in his expectations of all of his chauffeurs?”

Bodie grinned and whispered, “Forget what Cowley expects, just wait until you see what I expect!”

Hours later, wrapped in each others’ arms and sated from their recent activities, Bodie whispered into the ear perched below some sweat-soaked curls, “You okay, Angelfish?”

“Hmmmm, better than okay. Best Christmas I ever had, thanks.”

“What are we going to tell Cowley?”

Doyle raised his head, his green eyes flaming, “Well, I should hope you don’t mean about what we’ve just done?”

Bodie laughed, “Didn’t mean that; I just meant, are we both going to leave, or am I going to be your toyboy at your new job, until I can find a job of me own?”

“What do you want to do, blue eyes?”

“Don’t care as long as we’re together.”

Doyle began to gently caress the smooth, sweaty chest that had intrigued him over the years. Why was it some men had such gorgeous, smooth chests and then there were men like himself - - all hairy and unappealing, he wondered.

His work-hardened, callused hands gently slipped over Bodie’s brown nipples as he placed his mouth on the closest one and licked it to Bodie’s delight. “You got a gorgeous chest, 3.7. Like how smooth you are, wish me chest was like that. I’ve been thinkin’ about havin’ it shaved and then getting’ nice and smooth like yours.”

Bodie pushed himself up on his elbow so he could see his lover better, “You do that, sunshine, and you’ll be sorry.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothin’ worse for itchin’ than shavin’ off parts of your body hair. I tried it once on me private area, and it about drove me bonkers for weeks until enough grew back to calm it down.”

Doyle smiled licentiously, “Don’t remember you doin’ that and I’ve kept a pretty close watch on you when you’ve been taking our community showers.”

Bodie suddenly looked very sad, “Didn’t happen when I knew you, was in me bawdy youth in a pretty tawdry and disgusting place. Thought it kept me cleaner in some pretty hairy (no pun intended) situations.”

Doyle stared deeply into his lover’s eye, knowing a fraction of the story of Bodie’s earlier life. Maybe, just maybe Bodie would feel enough confidence in him to tell him the full story one day.

“Memories go deep, don’t they? I know you’ve had some pretty harrowing experiences. I guess we all have had things happen to us that we would prefer to forget, but one thing I’ll always remember, and hope to repeat a lot more in my life time - - you being deep in me. It felt like we were one person. I know you’ve always been leery of trusting others, but I want you to know that I will always be there for you, until the day you say to me that you no longer want me or no longer want us to be together. Being friends and lovers with you has made this the best Christmas of my life.”

Reaching over Doyle gently squeezed the deflated cock that had so recently cuddled inside of Doyle. Doyle leaned over and kissed Bodie’s manhood, and whispered, “Love you, Bodie.”

Bodie seemed stunned for a moment. His voice sounded strained as he pulled the slender man into his arms. “Nobody’s said that to me in a very long time, Doyle, and made me feel like you do. I love you too, and that’s something I didn’t ever think could happen to me. Thank you, Angelfish. Now lay back and let me get at my Christmas prezzie.”

With those words, Bodie started a whole new Christmas tradition with his lover.

The End



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