Raymond Doyle and the Most Popular Man in the World
Author name:longstrt
Artist name:norfolkdumpling
Genre:Slash
Characters/Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
World Count: 19,104
Warnings: none
Summary: Bodie and Doyle are assigned to guard Jeremy Townshend,called by some, 'The Most Popular Man in the World.' As a result of the assignment, the two agents have a fight which leads to the end of their partnership. During their separation, Doyle is injured and the two men are forced to deal with their feelings for each other.
Notes: Thanks to ND for her superb photo manips which add so much to my story.
URL for art: "http://norfolkdumpling.livejournal.com/182827.html"
Raymond Doyle and the Most Popular Man in the World
By lbc
Note: see at end of story - just a note about a character
** Indicates thoughts
Prologue
As befitting a sovereign surveying his realm, Sir Jeremy Townsend sat in his office staring at the material things that reminded him of how far he had come. In this man-made domain the horizon seemed to reach as far as one could see due to the 25 windows that each measured over 20 foot in height.
**This place befits the most popular man in the world, doesn’t it?** The thought barely took place before it left the man’s mind for a more fundamental emotion - fear. Sneering at himself, he wondered again how supposedly the most popular man in the world could truly fear a paid assassin. **Shows you what the title’s worth.**
The title was, of course, arguable by any standards, but he had had his15 minutes of fame when some clever journalist had coined the phrase, proclaimed the title on top of a picture of the handsome, greying middle-aged man on the front of one of those global entrepreneurial magazines, thus making Jeremy Townshend’s life a living hell. He was too suave, too worldly, and too intelligent to let it really bother him, but it had become a roadblock in his efforts to remain in the background and do what he did best, especially now that he was to leave his bastion of thriving energy in Switzerland to venture forth into another one of the hives of modern business - - London.
He made frequent visits to his home country for various reasons, but this occasion was supremely important, especially to the economic peace and security of a world in which he was a master player. He wasn’t a particularly popular man with the denizens of the dark, murky side of business since he felt compelled to go to England to testify about some of those hidden denizens and the dangers that lurked due to their constant machinations.
Sighing, Townshend, who was a realist, knew that that superficial shell of the fantasy title would not protect him from an assassin’s bullet; therefore, decided to play his ace in the hole. Relying on a name from the past to safeguard his future, Townsend picked up the phone and said, “Wells, get me George Cowley.”
Several Miles Away in CI5 HQ
“Hey Doyle, wait up.”
The tall, slender frame of his partner stopped immediately as if moving at Bodie’s beck and call, but that image was quickly smudged when Bodie saw the real reason that his partner had stopped: a long-legged, blonde with blue eyes who was seemed to be enthralled with 4.5’s words of wisdom. She giggled beautifully, but in Bodie’s opinion, she thought seldom.
Of course, that was 3.7’s opinion of every bird that came within 4.5’s radar range. William Bodie had known Ray Doyle for over eight years, but he couldn’t figure him out. He was straight as a die both morally and sexually and yet his scrawny, moody, hot-tempered partner had, almost from day one, flaunted that body; flirted with his partner, and let William Bodie do things that no other living person would be permitted to do. The sheer ecstasy of watching the Doyle backside in motion started a wet dream that tilted on the edge of meltdown. And yet . . . Doyle did it unconsciously, or, at least, that’s what Bodie assumed.
Bodie lived in fear: one day Ray Doyle would find someone that he would truly be attracted to, find what he needed, and leave his lovesick partner in the dust. Bodie was pretty sure it would not be a woman. Ann Holly had taught him that much. Doyle did not need a woman who expected Doyle’s life to revolve around her; he needed someone who was his equal, and who made every effort to understand the complexity of the Golli. In short, 3.7 hoped it would be himself, but Bodie knew that was highly unlikely. After all, Ray had had over eight years to declare himself and never shown a hint that a relationship, other than partnership, was needed or wanted.
While all these profound thoughts were swirling in the ex-merc’s head, the well-known and feared voice of George Cowley echoed through the corridors of CI5.
“Bodie! Doyle!”
“Running all the way, sir.”
Smiling to himself, the phrase reminded Bodie of the same scenario many years before in which Bodie had drawn the conclusion that this was no gentleman; it was only George Cowley. This time, however, Bodie did not voice those thoughts but headed towards Cowley’s door, hoping to camouflage the fact that his partner was still engaged in amazing repartee with the tall blonde.
“You wanted to see us, sir.” Fortunately, by the time Bodie had said this, Doyle was just sliding in the door, the very picture of innocence. As usual, Cowley took his own time to acknowledge the two men, but finally he removed his horn-rimmed glasses and looked at the two agents.
“Jeremy Townshend.”
For a moment Bodie stared at his boss in confusion. This was really a strange way to begin a conversation; this could mean only one thing. “Do you want us to babysit, find, or shoot him, sir?”
Behind Bodie, Doyle snorted then stepped forward, obviously hiding a grin behind the slim fingers of his hand. Since Cowley’s blue eyes were so glacial that they would freeze a two metre piece of steel, Doyle entered the breach, “You mean the Most Popular Man in the World, sir?” Doyle then looked at his moronic partner with a look that bespoke the idea that Bodie’s IQ must certainly be in single digits.
Cowley grimaced slightly then said, “Err, yes, Doyle, but I want it understood that Sir Jeremy does not appreciate nor condone that ludicrous title. He will, however, be visiting London for a certain amount of time and CI5 will be giving him protection.”
Bodie‘s IQ digits took a further hit as he muttered, “If he’s so popular, how come he needs protection?”
The silence in the room was truly deafening but once again Doyle came to the rescue. “I would assume it’s because of the testimony he’s supposed to be giving at some goings’ on here in London.”
Cowley looked penetratingly at his two agents and then replied quietly, “Exactly, Doyle, but could you please tell me how you are aware of this testimony?”
Fortunately, Cowley did not hear Bodie’s small quip about it having appeared in The Times, so all of the Controller’s attention was turned to Doyle.
Hesitating slightly, Doyle avoided the blue eyes of the ever-curious Bodie, cleared his throat and began, “Well, sir, you see I’ve been known to go out with this bir . . . lady, Penelope Carter. Her father is big in the foreign office and well, just last week, she invited me as her guest to one of those posh parties that they’re always throwin’ for somebody.”
Doyle heard the undisguised snort in the background. He turned to glare at his soon-to-be thumped partner, but quickly regained his focus when George Cowley commanded him to continue.
“Well, sir as I was saying, we, Miss Carter and me, attended this party and while she went to the . . . powder room, I found myself on my lonesome and being ever vigilant for CI5, I walked around, trying to detect bad guys. I heard this one bloke talking about Sir Jeremy and being an admirer of his work, I listened. The gist of the conversation was that Sir Jeremy had some information about the activities of certain corporations and he was comin’ over here to discuss this with some pretty high-ups.”
“I see.” Cowley continued to glare at Bodie because that young man had started up a whole gymnastic routine with his face as soon as Doyle had said that he had been invited to a posh party. The gyrations ceased quickly, however, as soon as Cowley gave him what was fondly known in CI5 circles as THE GLARE. The worst part about THE GLARE was that it worked well on most mature individuals, but since William Bodie did not measure up in that area sometimes, the effectiveness of those blue eyes was often of short duration.
“Do you know the name of the individual who was divulging this information?”
“Uh, no sir, but I could recognize him, I think.”
That admission turned THE GLARE onto 4.5 and Cowley’s next words matched it in tone and glacial intensity. “I should hope so, 4.5; you DO realize the tremendous amount of money the taxpayers have put forth to help you develop your skills for this job? That, of course, also includes your memory development. I will expect you to spend your afternoon, looking through our photos of government agencies to see if you can locate the person who has been so free with top secret information.”
Not thrilled with spending the afternoon looking at a bunch of stiffs that he cared nothing about, Doyle merely murmured, “Yes sir.” Looking over at his nitwit partner who had backed up almost to the door as if waiting to escape like a bat from hell, Doyle’s head whirled when he heard the most gratifying words of the day, “Don’t go anywhere 3.7., while Doyle is busy, I have a small escort task for you to do. Betty has the paperwork. Return here at 4.00 after completing your assignment, and we’ll make plans for Sir Jeremy’s visit.
Cowley did not wait for an acknowledgement from Bodie; he merely changed gears and informed Doyle that it was time for the young agent to give him a MUCH MORE DETAILED briefing of this “party”.
Hours later, an exhausted Doyle sat in the restroom, claiming to one and all that he was seeing spots in front of his green eyes, due to the need to look through hundreds of “civil service” grade photos before he identified the posh party messenger. As soon as he had said, “That’s the bloke,” a whole bureaucracy set forth like a battering ram against an impregnable castle. Samuel Stephenforth was in for the time of his life, if George Cowley had anything to say about it. The guy would be lucky to come away with his balls intact.
Doyle did not waste one moment of sympathy for the soon-to-be-victim because this big mouth had forced him to waste an entire afternoon, looking at pictures that would fit better in a chamber of horrors; those images would scare even plague rats away. Maybe that’s what the government was keeping ‘em for.
Using his natural charm, Doyle attempted to convince Murphy to get him another cuppa, just as Doyle’s better half arrived in the restroom. Bodie looked even worse than Doyle felt after his go-round with 3,141 photos before the winner appeared.
“What’s up, mate? You have a go with the Dandy Diddly’s Dilletante Dozen or something?”
“Or something.” Looking in Doyle’s empty mug, Bodie frowned at his partner with a face that spoke of Doyle’s negligence in not having a fresh cuppa and biscuit ready.
Assuming that Bodie had run into some heavy stuff, Doyle was immediately concerned. Getting up, Doyle was immediately replaced by Bodie’s body that plunged itself on the sofa in melodramatic fashion. Doyle got a fresh mug for Bodie and inched in beside him. “Tell us all about it, my son.”
Doyle swore that Bodie blushed, but the mug hid his handsome features so quickly that Doyle wasn’t sure. Bodie - blush? “What is it, Bodie? You can tell me.”
“I had escort duty for . . . 15 relatives of certain higher ups for the afternoon, if you must know.”
“Relatives? You mean like wives or something?”
Bodie dropped his head, trying to shrink into the dilapidated sofa. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “No, they were young, and since they were vulnerable, I guess that’s why CI5 was picked. Now, I’m not saying anymore. It’s almost 4.00 so we better get to Cowley’s office.”
Doyle said nothing else, but, as he followed his partner out the door, he was determined to get to the bottom of Bodie’s afternoon adventure.
George Cowley was just putting down the phone as the two men were admitted to the Inner Sanctum. Cowley had just confirmed that Townshend would be on a private flight due at Heathrow in about an hour. Security was extremely tight and the location of the plane once it arrived was on a need-to-know basis.
For a moment, Cowley remembered how he had met Jeremy Townshend so many years before. Korea was a time of much confusion and crisis, something major every hour. Colonel Jeremy Townshend had walked into the Officer’s Mess and with his natural presence stopped the conversation of the gathered crowd. Even George Cowley who prided himself on having “seen it all” noted this remarkable display.
Somehow the two men lurched into each other and from then on a fast friendship developed. The men were remarkably similar in beliefs and outlook on life. Both men were self-made although Townshend had a small amount of money leftover from a munitions family trust which had been squandered by an earlier generation.
Cowley smiled as he remembered those first few moments of knowing Jeremy Townshend; he always counted himself fortunate that he was in the mess that day and not standing on protocol and eating elsewhere.
Remembering that the two men were waiting for him, Cowley broke his reverie and looked at his agents.
“I have just been notified that Sir Jeremy will arrive at Heathrow in a specially prepared area so that there is no need for him to check in the usual way. You will meet him at exactly 18.00 at the location I have designated. At this point Cowley shoved a small map across his desk, staring at the men for a moment than continued with, “You better get on your bikes, boys. When you arrive at the airport you will find a much changed Bentley which you will be driving during the length of Sir Jeremy’s visit. Take good care of it; it’s signed out in your names, and you will pay for it, if it’s damaged.
Bodie’s strangely shaped left eyebrow flew into the air, but he said nothing. **This guy must really be somethin’ to rate all this!**
The two men quickly murmured, “Yes sir, “and headed to Heathrow. Normally the drive would have been much longer, but the usual Bodie School of Driving techniques took over and the pair arrived at Heathrow with time to spare. Bodie let out a sharp whistle when he saw the brand new Bentley gleaming in the watered down sun. It looked like it could take on a tank, but still gleamed in its elegance. Mother Nature certainly seemed to shine on the efforts of Jeremy Townsend.
Bodie whistled at the machine, remembering another limousine, much older and more battered, that had saved his life and Charlie’s during a race to avoid assassins during the supposed Hanish op. **Hope this baby stands up as well as that one did.**
Taking possession of the gorgeous machine, the two men took up position so that they would spot the incoming plane. Sitting silently for a moment or two, Bodie could no longer hold back his curiosity. Subtlety was not always the ex-merc’s middle name and on this occasion, he barged in with nary a concern for delicacy, “Okay, sunshine, let’s hear the story of the extent of your admiration for our soon-to-be-visitor.”
Doyle had been drowsing in the passenger’s seat, hoping against forlorn hope that Bodie had missed this slip of his tongue. He had not meant to mention his admiration of Sir Jeremy, but now it was out and he supposed he would pay the piper. In his eight plus years of knowing William Bodie, very seldom had the man given up on the trail of a juicy story or some titbit about the man who was his friend and partner. Ray Doyle was in for it now. This would surely entertain the tall, dark-haired man for hours if Doyle permitted it; so Doyle went for a rapier thrust.
“I admire his accomplishments, his beliefs, and his dedication to do what he believes is right; nothing too astonishing. I’m sure, even you, can understand that.” While Doyle hoped that that would be enough, he knew deep down that it would never satisfy Bodie who seemed to have the most prurient interest in every nook and cranny of his partner’s life while absolutely refusing to reveal anything but the most essential snippets about himself.
“Of course, sunshine, but why have you never mentioned this paragon to me before, then we both could have ‘admired’ him.”
“Well, I also admire Sir Laurence Olivier but I sincerely doubt if his name would come up in our conversations since the parameters of your practice of English vocabulary seems to be limited to 38 - 24 - 36 and BIG!”
Hoping that would distract his smirking partner, Doyle felt crushed when Bodie stared him in the eye and said quietly, “Now, Raymond, just because you think I’m some libidinous, uncouth, priapismic slob does not mean that I didn’t notice when that mug lit up at the mere mention of Sir Jeremy Townshend.”
“What you talkin’ about Bodie? I was merely interested that the man is comin’ here, and we were responsible for his safety; what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, sunshine, but it’s good to see you so enthusiastic about the upcoming op. Of course, I do think it is a bit strange that the gentleman in question is not a bad looker if you prefer them on the older side. Of course, since you are beginning to reach the upper echelons of age as well, maybe that’s the attraction.”
Without really meaning to, Bodie had touched on a very sore spot with the words that he had so carelessly thrown out. Doyle would soon be 40 years old and he had been thinking quite a bit about what lay in his future. He didn’t want to forego the streets and leave Bodie unprotected, but neither did he want to become so decrepit that he could no longer protect the man that he cared about. Bodie’s words were like an open wound to Doyle.
Doyle was about to sharply retaliate when the plane carrying Jeremy Townshend appeared. For the moment, the professionalism of the two men took over and it would only be later that the aftermath of this seemingly innocent conversation would reveal its important and dramatic ramifications.
Using their credentials, the two agents approached the plane, as they did a tall, slender greying man came through the hatchway and began to descend the stairs. The plane was obviously a corporate jet designed with every comfort and that meant wealth. Both men had studied Townshend’s folder and knew every detail about him. His family had once been wealthy; then the fortune had been squandered so Jeremy Townshend had re-made himself into a very rich man indeed.
At the bottom of the stairway, Townshend held out his hand and spoke quietly but firmly to Bodie and said, “Mr. Bodie,” then he turned and started to take Doyle’s hand, but as well done as it was the millisecond hesitation was readily apparent to Bodie if to no one else - - Jeremy Townshend had taken his first full look at Raymond Doyle and the effect had been dramatic.
Bodie understood Townshend’s reaction very well. He often felt that way about his partner, even though he had seen the moody sod almost every day for eight years. It was an effect which never dimmed once you’d seen the slender, auburn-haired figure in person. Bodie suspected that Townshend, being the tactician that he was, had studied both men’s photos before leaving Switzerland, but that still didn’t prepare one for the sheer sensual effect of a nearby Raymond Doyle. Bodie ought to know since he was the founding member of the club.
The two men were now shaking hands, a bit longer than necessary if Bodie were asked, but it quickly broke up and the threesome headed towards the specially prepared area where Sir Jeremy could check in so that they could be cleared immediately.
Bodie had been prepared for a man who stood on form and protocol in all things, but there was none of that seen in the next few minutes so that the procedure was done quietly, efficiently, and with haste. The three men soon found themselves in the Bentley with Bodie driving.
Since the agents already knew that Sir Jeremy would be staying in a private home that had been loaned to CI5 by one of Townshend’s very good and wealthy friends, Bodie headed for the address. Indeed 3.7 and 4.5 had been too busy to spend much time on the arrangements for the “safe house” so they had to rely on other agents’ efforts on Townshend’s behalf. Townshend’s testimony this first visit would only last for approximately a week, but several more visits would be needed so it was felt that this was a wiser set up than one of London’s luxury hotels.
Townshend kept an apartment for his own use when he was in London so this became a “decoy” spot, housing another squad of agents who were the ultimate support if they found themselves needed in any situation. Townshend rode in the backseat. He seemed to relax and had a desire to talk, but Bodie’s rigid demeanour did not seem conducive to conversation. Townshend, however, was comfortable in every situation so he made a few innocuous comments to Doyle which immediately led to a lengthy conversation which lasted the duration of the trip to the country home.
Doyle and Bodie never relaxed, although they knew that they were riding in a vehicle which could practically take a direct hit from a bazooka. They were both relieved when the large car pulled in front of the grand entrance to the beautiful home. Townshend was greeted by his host and introductions were made. Townshend was clearly in his element and within minutes, it was established where the agents would be housed and that they would talk with Townshend after he had had a chance to freshen up.
So began the week whose aftermath would shake the partnership to its foundations.
DBDBDBDBD
Approximately an hour later, all three men gathered in the beautiful library with thousands of books, lining the walls. It was a leisurely meeting, but the two agents were very cognizant of the amount of control that Jeremy Townshend exhibited, even in small ways.
“I’ll only be testifying in the most preliminary way this time. I’m afraid that there is so much material that it will take two or three visits to complete my information. I really appreciate all the help that George has given me, and, of course, you gentlemen being here. I understand that there will be another team of agents as well?”
Bodie’s gaze seemed to be boring into Townshend’s body so Doyle answered, “Yes sir, Agents Murphy and Anson will be on night duty in the house, and, of course, we will have numerous agents assigned to the grounds as long as you are in residence.”
“Very good. I know George is the best, but then he always was.” Looking speculatively at Bodie, assessing him and putting two and two together, Townshend realized that he did not have a friend in Bodie, but he knew a military man when he saw one, even if he had already read that in Bodie’s file.
Looking directly at Bodie and with a carefully measured voice, he queried, “Are you aware of the events of Hill 282, Mr. Bodie?”
For a minute Bodie didn’t react, but if possible, he set up even straighter, took on a more military demeanour and stared into the older man’s face. Nodding briefly, he replied, “Yes sir, I do. Anyone who knows the British Army knows the action that took place there.”
“Yes, I thought you would. George Cowley, well he was a Major then, and I got to know each other . . . rather well during that little event. Things like that build trust in a man.”
“Yes sir,” was all that Bodie said, but there was a different light in his blue eyes.
Turning to Doyle, Townshend smiled and said, “I don’t stand on ceremony. After all you’re risking your life for me. I usually dine by 7.30, and I would enjoy having you two for company at the meal, but I certainly won’t coerce you. I have a lot of material to go over for tomorrow so I will call it an evening after that.” If you are interested, fine. I’ll see you later.” Although the words were directed at both men, Townshend’s devastating blue-grey eyes were looking directly at Raymond Doyle.
The two agents watched the older man leave the room. They couldn’t help but feel the cosy atmosphere had somehow been diminished by the exit of this tremendous presence.
As the two men walked towards the exit, Doyle turned to Bodie and asked, “Hill 282?”
“Yeah, it was an early action in Korea. Bunch of our guys had taken Hill 282, but they didn’t have any artillery so when they found themselves under fire from a more elevated position nearby, they called in aerial support. Instead of hitting Hill 388, the P-51s hit Hill 282 with napalm. The lucky ones were the ones who died immediately because the napalm left a lot of injured and burned men.”
Neither man spoke as they stared at each other briefly. Each man’s previous career had delivered some heartrending trauma, but to be killed or maimed by friendly fire was a truly devastating thought, revealing how vulnerable they could be if something went wrong in one of their ops, but thinking about the possibility could drive a man crazy so, once again, they put it aside.
The two agents spent the remainder of the day going over security measures. When Murphy and Anson reported, they coordinated routine and procedure with them, making sure that the outside men had been properly rotated.
Jeremy Townshend made himself popular with every shift of agents by making sure that they could partake of the food that was available, but only Bodie and Doyle sat down to dinner with him. The quality of the food was of the highest level as was expected, but it was neither outlandish nor exotic. It was good and hearty and the conversation was interesting as well.
“I won’t pretend that I haven’t read both of your files. George Cowley has been my friend for thirty years, and, as you would expect he has, from time to time, bent the rules for me.” Townshend gave a mischievous smile to incorporate both men in the feeling of intimacy, but only Doyle took him up on that intimacy.
“I believe you were in the police, Mr. Doyle?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t too popular with some individuals so here I am in CI5.”
“Yes, you seem to fit in George Cowley’s concept of right and wrong. I first met him in the aftermath of Hill 282. He was working with Military Intelligence, I believe, and took the grave injustice done to those men on the hill personally.”
“Bet, not as personally as the injured did.” The sarcasm from Bodie’s lips filtered throughout the room. Bodie stared at Townshend and Doyle in defiance, but only Doyle seemed to be upset at Bodie’s rudeness.
“You’re perfectly right, Mr. Bodie. The first time I met George Cowley I thought that he would be the perfect sword of justice for mistakes and other wrongs, but not even he could totally understand what those men felt. Those are days long past, not forgot, but now reside in a different perspective. Now, you and George fight a different kind of war, and I want you to know I do appreciate your efforts. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I just go over my files for my testimony tomorrow.”
As Townsend gracefully walked out of the room, the agents stood and watched his exit; then Doyle turned to Bodie and asked, “What’s got up your hooter?”
Bodie stared at him silently. How could he tell Doyle that what was bothering him was the obvious admiration that Townsend was lavishing on his partner? Ray Doyle could be so obtusely blind sometimes. Of course, the bionic golli had never noticed the stares of both men and women as he paraded down the street with those open shirts, and that gorgeous arse on display, but Bodie had . . . oh most definitely Bodie had and practically since the beginning of their partnership, Bodie had had a goal, but now that rich, charming man seemed to be ready to move in on Doyle.
It would have surprised William Bodie to have recognized jealousy in himself. Never in his life had he admitted to such a feeling. Bodie accepted that he was attractive and he accepted that people looked at him twice due to his appearance, but this time the tables were turned and he, most certainly, was attracted to the most moody, cantankerous, and lovable human being on planet earth.
Sighing, Bodie signalled to Doyle that he was going to walk the perimeter once again and check up on the outside patrols. He knew that Murphy and Anson were already in place in the interior, but it never hurt to be cautious, especially when a crazy golli was wandering around who Bodie was not prepared to lose to some wealthy, older man.
The next day Sir Jeremy’s testimony began. To accommodate Townshend and George Cowley, the testimony was taken in highly secure quarters with a limited audience of only those with the need-to-know. This was a foreshortened day since Townsend only presented background material, but tomorrow promised to develop into much more detailed information.
Both Bodie and Doyle were nervous about the vulnerability of Townshend in spreading the testimony over days and weeks, but it could not be helped. Each tiny detail had to be checked out for its veracity. No one really doubted Townshend’s word, but to build a case against some of the largest corporations and entrepreneurs in the world called for the utmost caution and effort. No loopholes could be permitted in the government’s case and since Townshend was the linchpin of the case, everything was being done to insure both the safety of the testimony and the key witness.
The overriding factor, however, was that George Cowley was a personal friend of Sir Jeremy Townshend. Cowley would never have admitted that Townshend would receive specialized treatment due to that friendship, but Cowley had always had a special place in his tough Scots’ heart for the man whom he had met almost thirty years before. They had kept in touch over the years, and while Cowley became legendary in one way and Townshend in another that bond continued to be forged year in and year out.
Cowley had even felt comfortable enough with his friend to discuss Annie with him. He had met the young lass after the war as he tried to continue his education. It was a wonderful and unhappy time as Annie and he seemed to want different things and finally went their separate ways; then Korea hit the headlines and Cowley met Jeremy Townshend near a hell hole called Hill 282.
In many ways that meeting with Annie was more prophetic and telling than even the second time so many years later. Jeremy Townshend had begun to make a name for himself in the business world, but had chosen to return to the military when he was needed. The two men understood each other well. Both utterly dedicated to what they believed was right, many would have said that they had taken on more windmills than two sane men could ever defeat. But, each in his own way had succeeded.
Even in women, they understood each other. Cowley had expressed his feelings about Annie to his friend, and Townshend, who had made a marriage of convenience to ease his family’s squandered fortune, talked about his growing affection for the “model” wife. Cowley had loved and lost; Townshend had not loved, but had seemed content. It was an indelible link, and now Jeremy Townshend’s life was in danger.
BDBDBDBDBD
Lying in the luxurious bed in the separate suite that had been provided for each agent, Ray Doyle lay under the duvet, thinking; he was not thinking great thoughts or even ones that a person would pay a penny for, but he felt unease and couldn’t quite pin it down. Putting his arms under his curly head, his green eyes stared at the beautifully detailed ceiling. He knew it was not the job that was causing the unease. Of course, it was a lot of responsibility to guard a man as famous as Sir Jeremy, but he and Bodie had done it hundreds of times, and George Cowley had trained them well.
No, it was Bodie himself that was causing his partner to be nervous. What was wrong with Bodie? Sir Jeremy had testified for the last three days and tomorrow would be the last day for the first session. Townshend would return to his Swiss domain and disappear from view until the next time that the government called or invited the man to risk life and limb for his country.
Doyle had grown to like the man very much and even more importantly to trust him. They had spent the last few evenings playing chess and discussing their eclectic taste in books. As Doyle seemed to grow closer to the older man, Bodie seemed to grow more frigid and standoffish. What was going on with Bodie?
In the eight years he had known the ex-merc, Doyle had realized that Bodie had an almost unlimited capacity for understanding and forgiveness - - especially of his moody, sharp-tongued partner, but this was a Bodie that Doyle had only seen more recently. Bodie had already built a shell around himself before Doyle had met him, but over the years, Doyle had thought he had seen that casing begin to dissolve; now his skin was so thick that not even the shell from a Tiger tank could penetrate it.
Looking at his watch, he knew that he had a few minutes before their expected dinner with Townshend. The meals over the last three days had been nothing short of gourmet. Townshend had made every effort to accommodate both agents in their tastes. He had even gone to the trouble to see that there were vegetarian choices available. Strangely, Bodie did not seem to appreciate the food or the quality as he would normally do so.
Doyle certainly did, but to himself, he also admitted that he would have preferred to be in his flat with Bodie, eating takeaway and watching some good movie or a match. What was wrong with Bodie?
Getting up from his bed, Doyle freshened up and went down to the huge dining room that dominated the ground level of the home. Sir Jeremy was already seated, but there was no sign of Bodie. Bodie’s behaviour recently had bordered on insolence and rudeness, but he had never missed a meal.
“Ah, Mr. Doyle, it seems you have to put up with only me this evening. Mr. Bodie has been sent for by George so he asked me to let you know.”
Townshend stared at Doyle for a moment, but was too polite to remark on the surprise which clearly showed in the green eyes. Doyle felt like he was floundering. Why hadn’t Bodie told him? Why had he made Townshend his messenger boy?
Doyle was too well trained, however, to make a more noticeable gesture than a nod as he began to sit down. Townshend smiled fleetingly and asked, “Would you object to sitting here,” indicating a much closer chair. “Save us from shouting at each other in this vast canyon.”
“Yes sir.”
Townsend smiled, cleared his throat as if slightly nervous and said, “Now, unless you have other plans, what do you say to a game of chess, and a discussion after dinner?”
“A discussion, sir?”
“Yes, I have to admit that I have been quite impressed with the way you have handled your assignment thus far, and I would like to discuss a proposition with you, would that be satisfactory?”
Ray Doyle hardly ever admitted to feeling butterflies in his stomach, but Townshend’s words set his stomach fluttering. He wasn’t sure why, but somehow he knew that in the next few minutes, he was going to encounter an event which could change his life forever.
“Mr. Doyle, I believe in bluntness. It seems to eliminate many misunderstandings. After dinner, I’m going to put forth a proposition that may surprise you. If it meets with your approval, fine; if it doesn’t, say so, and that’s all there will be to that. Is that understood?”
Doyle nodded but said nothing.
Townsend smiled one of his most dazzling smiles. “Fine, now let’s do justice to this splendid meal.”
The dinner was delicious as to be expected, but within the hour the two men had adjourned to the beautiful study that Townshend had made the centre for his work while waiting to testify. Townshend chose not to seat himself at the gigantic antique desk much as a schoolmaster talking to a recalcitrant student. He poured both men an after-dinner drink after receiving Doyle’s confirmation, seated himself, and began.
“Mr. Doyle,” Townshend hesitated for a millisecond as if trying to access how to approach the man, but then he smiled because he knew that brief affectation hadn’t fooled Doyle in the least so he continued, “I am a blunt man so I won’t bother with a build up. I have been impressed with your work while guarding me. I have talked to George Cowley, who has informed me that you are nearing your fortieth birthday. George doesn’t want to lose you, but it so happens that my present assistant and bodyguard is moving on to other things. If you are agreeable, I would like to hire you to replace him. I don’t quibble over salary. I pay the value of the person and what he does for me.” Here the handsome man named a figure that Doyle knew more than tripled his CI5 salary.
“I know that this is rather sudden, but I thought I would present the idea to you now and give you the next couple of weeks to think about it, and, perhaps, when I return for the next round of testimony, you and I could discuss whether you are interested?”
Townsend took a breath at this point and seemed to wait for a response from Doyle.
In the few days that Townshend had known Doyle, he thought he had sized the man up pretty well. One had to have that capability to survive in the business world today, and his suspicions were confirmed when he heard Doyle ask, “What about Bodie?”
Pretending a lack of understanding, Townshend queried, “I beg your pardon?”
Townsend could see a faint frown enter those remarkable green eyes as Doyle repeated, “What about Bodie? I mean, you’ve talked to Mr. Cowley, and he’s obviously told you that Bodie and I have been partners for over eight years. I don’t think that Bodie’s ready to leave the streets yet, and while I may be getting near to that age, I’m certainly not decrepit, and quite frankly I’m not prepared to accept the idea of Bodie having a new partner who might not be able to protect his back as I can.”
“I see.” Remarkably those two words revealed a lot about Townshend. He had developed the ability of triple-think as well as George Cowley ever had. It was as if a veil had fallen; now Townshend understood Bodie and Doyle’s working and social relationship. They were partners in more than one way. Townshend had nothing against such closeness, but it certainly threw a spanner in the future that Townshend hoped to have with his new assistant. None of this, however, showed on Townshend’s face as he continued, “Well, could you tell me, if something could be worked out about Mr. Bodie’s future, would you be interested in the position?”
Ray Doyle often jumped in where others feared to tread, but when it came to Bodie and his future, he was cautious to the point of a glacier’s pace. Nevertheless, it was a generous offer and deserved to be considered. “I would like to discuss this matter with Mr. Cowley and Bodie, of course, but I will certainly think about it. That’s all I can say for the moment.” Realizing that this response sounded a bit ungrateful, Doyle gave one of his heart melting smiles and said, “I do appreciate that you thought of me, and that you’ve made the offer.”
Jeremy Townshend, who thought himself immune to almost every kind of charm, felt his heart flutter as that gorgeous, exotic face lit up in a smile. Nodding his satisfaction with Doyle’s response, Townsend felt confident that he could live with the assistant’s position for the moment, but it was a much different position that Townsend wanted from this tall, slender, sensual man.
End of part 1
Part 2 / Part 3
Artist name:norfolkdumpling
Genre:Slash
Characters/Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
World Count: 19,104
Warnings: none
Summary: Bodie and Doyle are assigned to guard Jeremy Townshend,called by some, 'The Most Popular Man in the World.' As a result of the assignment, the two agents have a fight which leads to the end of their partnership. During their separation, Doyle is injured and the two men are forced to deal with their feelings for each other.
Notes: Thanks to ND for her superb photo manips which add so much to my story.
URL for art: "http://norfolkdumpling.livejournal.com/182827.html"
Raymond Doyle and the Most Popular Man in the World
By lbc
Note: see at end of story - just a note about a character
** Indicates thoughts
Prologue
As befitting a sovereign surveying his realm, Sir Jeremy Townsend sat in his office staring at the material things that reminded him of how far he had come. In this man-made domain the horizon seemed to reach as far as one could see due to the 25 windows that each measured over 20 foot in height.
**This place befits the most popular man in the world, doesn’t it?** The thought barely took place before it left the man’s mind for a more fundamental emotion - fear. Sneering at himself, he wondered again how supposedly the most popular man in the world could truly fear a paid assassin. **Shows you what the title’s worth.**
The title was, of course, arguable by any standards, but he had had his15 minutes of fame when some clever journalist had coined the phrase, proclaimed the title on top of a picture of the handsome, greying middle-aged man on the front of one of those global entrepreneurial magazines, thus making Jeremy Townshend’s life a living hell. He was too suave, too worldly, and too intelligent to let it really bother him, but it had become a roadblock in his efforts to remain in the background and do what he did best, especially now that he was to leave his bastion of thriving energy in Switzerland to venture forth into another one of the hives of modern business - - London.
He made frequent visits to his home country for various reasons, but this occasion was supremely important, especially to the economic peace and security of a world in which he was a master player. He wasn’t a particularly popular man with the denizens of the dark, murky side of business since he felt compelled to go to England to testify about some of those hidden denizens and the dangers that lurked due to their constant machinations.
Sighing, Townshend, who was a realist, knew that that superficial shell of the fantasy title would not protect him from an assassin’s bullet; therefore, decided to play his ace in the hole. Relying on a name from the past to safeguard his future, Townsend picked up the phone and said, “Wells, get me George Cowley.”
Several Miles Away in CI5 HQ
“Hey Doyle, wait up.”
The tall, slender frame of his partner stopped immediately as if moving at Bodie’s beck and call, but that image was quickly smudged when Bodie saw the real reason that his partner had stopped: a long-legged, blonde with blue eyes who was seemed to be enthralled with 4.5’s words of wisdom. She giggled beautifully, but in Bodie’s opinion, she thought seldom.
Of course, that was 3.7’s opinion of every bird that came within 4.5’s radar range. William Bodie had known Ray Doyle for over eight years, but he couldn’t figure him out. He was straight as a die both morally and sexually and yet his scrawny, moody, hot-tempered partner had, almost from day one, flaunted that body; flirted with his partner, and let William Bodie do things that no other living person would be permitted to do. The sheer ecstasy of watching the Doyle backside in motion started a wet dream that tilted on the edge of meltdown. And yet . . . Doyle did it unconsciously, or, at least, that’s what Bodie assumed.
Bodie lived in fear: one day Ray Doyle would find someone that he would truly be attracted to, find what he needed, and leave his lovesick partner in the dust. Bodie was pretty sure it would not be a woman. Ann Holly had taught him that much. Doyle did not need a woman who expected Doyle’s life to revolve around her; he needed someone who was his equal, and who made every effort to understand the complexity of the Golli. In short, 3.7 hoped it would be himself, but Bodie knew that was highly unlikely. After all, Ray had had over eight years to declare himself and never shown a hint that a relationship, other than partnership, was needed or wanted.
While all these profound thoughts were swirling in the ex-merc’s head, the well-known and feared voice of George Cowley echoed through the corridors of CI5.
“Bodie! Doyle!”
“Running all the way, sir.”
Smiling to himself, the phrase reminded Bodie of the same scenario many years before in which Bodie had drawn the conclusion that this was no gentleman; it was only George Cowley. This time, however, Bodie did not voice those thoughts but headed towards Cowley’s door, hoping to camouflage the fact that his partner was still engaged in amazing repartee with the tall blonde.
“You wanted to see us, sir.” Fortunately, by the time Bodie had said this, Doyle was just sliding in the door, the very picture of innocence. As usual, Cowley took his own time to acknowledge the two men, but finally he removed his horn-rimmed glasses and looked at the two agents.
“Jeremy Townshend.”
For a moment Bodie stared at his boss in confusion. This was really a strange way to begin a conversation; this could mean only one thing. “Do you want us to babysit, find, or shoot him, sir?”
Behind Bodie, Doyle snorted then stepped forward, obviously hiding a grin behind the slim fingers of his hand. Since Cowley’s blue eyes were so glacial that they would freeze a two metre piece of steel, Doyle entered the breach, “You mean the Most Popular Man in the World, sir?” Doyle then looked at his moronic partner with a look that bespoke the idea that Bodie’s IQ must certainly be in single digits.
Cowley grimaced slightly then said, “Err, yes, Doyle, but I want it understood that Sir Jeremy does not appreciate nor condone that ludicrous title. He will, however, be visiting London for a certain amount of time and CI5 will be giving him protection.”
Bodie‘s IQ digits took a further hit as he muttered, “If he’s so popular, how come he needs protection?”
The silence in the room was truly deafening but once again Doyle came to the rescue. “I would assume it’s because of the testimony he’s supposed to be giving at some goings’ on here in London.”
Cowley looked penetratingly at his two agents and then replied quietly, “Exactly, Doyle, but could you please tell me how you are aware of this testimony?”
Fortunately, Cowley did not hear Bodie’s small quip about it having appeared in The Times, so all of the Controller’s attention was turned to Doyle.
Hesitating slightly, Doyle avoided the blue eyes of the ever-curious Bodie, cleared his throat and began, “Well, sir, you see I’ve been known to go out with this bir . . . lady, Penelope Carter. Her father is big in the foreign office and well, just last week, she invited me as her guest to one of those posh parties that they’re always throwin’ for somebody.”
Doyle heard the undisguised snort in the background. He turned to glare at his soon-to-be thumped partner, but quickly regained his focus when George Cowley commanded him to continue.
“Well, sir as I was saying, we, Miss Carter and me, attended this party and while she went to the . . . powder room, I found myself on my lonesome and being ever vigilant for CI5, I walked around, trying to detect bad guys. I heard this one bloke talking about Sir Jeremy and being an admirer of his work, I listened. The gist of the conversation was that Sir Jeremy had some information about the activities of certain corporations and he was comin’ over here to discuss this with some pretty high-ups.”
“I see.” Cowley continued to glare at Bodie because that young man had started up a whole gymnastic routine with his face as soon as Doyle had said that he had been invited to a posh party. The gyrations ceased quickly, however, as soon as Cowley gave him what was fondly known in CI5 circles as THE GLARE. The worst part about THE GLARE was that it worked well on most mature individuals, but since William Bodie did not measure up in that area sometimes, the effectiveness of those blue eyes was often of short duration.
“Do you know the name of the individual who was divulging this information?”
“Uh, no sir, but I could recognize him, I think.”
That admission turned THE GLARE onto 4.5 and Cowley’s next words matched it in tone and glacial intensity. “I should hope so, 4.5; you DO realize the tremendous amount of money the taxpayers have put forth to help you develop your skills for this job? That, of course, also includes your memory development. I will expect you to spend your afternoon, looking through our photos of government agencies to see if you can locate the person who has been so free with top secret information.”
Not thrilled with spending the afternoon looking at a bunch of stiffs that he cared nothing about, Doyle merely murmured, “Yes sir.” Looking over at his nitwit partner who had backed up almost to the door as if waiting to escape like a bat from hell, Doyle’s head whirled when he heard the most gratifying words of the day, “Don’t go anywhere 3.7., while Doyle is busy, I have a small escort task for you to do. Betty has the paperwork. Return here at 4.00 after completing your assignment, and we’ll make plans for Sir Jeremy’s visit.
Cowley did not wait for an acknowledgement from Bodie; he merely changed gears and informed Doyle that it was time for the young agent to give him a MUCH MORE DETAILED briefing of this “party”.
Hours later, an exhausted Doyle sat in the restroom, claiming to one and all that he was seeing spots in front of his green eyes, due to the need to look through hundreds of “civil service” grade photos before he identified the posh party messenger. As soon as he had said, “That’s the bloke,” a whole bureaucracy set forth like a battering ram against an impregnable castle. Samuel Stephenforth was in for the time of his life, if George Cowley had anything to say about it. The guy would be lucky to come away with his balls intact.
Doyle did not waste one moment of sympathy for the soon-to-be-victim because this big mouth had forced him to waste an entire afternoon, looking at pictures that would fit better in a chamber of horrors; those images would scare even plague rats away. Maybe that’s what the government was keeping ‘em for.
Using his natural charm, Doyle attempted to convince Murphy to get him another cuppa, just as Doyle’s better half arrived in the restroom. Bodie looked even worse than Doyle felt after his go-round with 3,141 photos before the winner appeared.
“What’s up, mate? You have a go with the Dandy Diddly’s Dilletante Dozen or something?”
“Or something.” Looking in Doyle’s empty mug, Bodie frowned at his partner with a face that spoke of Doyle’s negligence in not having a fresh cuppa and biscuit ready.
Assuming that Bodie had run into some heavy stuff, Doyle was immediately concerned. Getting up, Doyle was immediately replaced by Bodie’s body that plunged itself on the sofa in melodramatic fashion. Doyle got a fresh mug for Bodie and inched in beside him. “Tell us all about it, my son.”
Doyle swore that Bodie blushed, but the mug hid his handsome features so quickly that Doyle wasn’t sure. Bodie - blush? “What is it, Bodie? You can tell me.”
“I had escort duty for . . . 15 relatives of certain higher ups for the afternoon, if you must know.”
“Relatives? You mean like wives or something?”
Bodie dropped his head, trying to shrink into the dilapidated sofa. In a voice barely above a whisper, he said, “No, they were young, and since they were vulnerable, I guess that’s why CI5 was picked. Now, I’m not saying anymore. It’s almost 4.00 so we better get to Cowley’s office.”
Doyle said nothing else, but, as he followed his partner out the door, he was determined to get to the bottom of Bodie’s afternoon adventure.
George Cowley was just putting down the phone as the two men were admitted to the Inner Sanctum. Cowley had just confirmed that Townshend would be on a private flight due at Heathrow in about an hour. Security was extremely tight and the location of the plane once it arrived was on a need-to-know basis.
For a moment, Cowley remembered how he had met Jeremy Townshend so many years before. Korea was a time of much confusion and crisis, something major every hour. Colonel Jeremy Townshend had walked into the Officer’s Mess and with his natural presence stopped the conversation of the gathered crowd. Even George Cowley who prided himself on having “seen it all” noted this remarkable display.
Somehow the two men lurched into each other and from then on a fast friendship developed. The men were remarkably similar in beliefs and outlook on life. Both men were self-made although Townshend had a small amount of money leftover from a munitions family trust which had been squandered by an earlier generation.
Cowley smiled as he remembered those first few moments of knowing Jeremy Townshend; he always counted himself fortunate that he was in the mess that day and not standing on protocol and eating elsewhere.
Remembering that the two men were waiting for him, Cowley broke his reverie and looked at his agents.
“I have just been notified that Sir Jeremy will arrive at Heathrow in a specially prepared area so that there is no need for him to check in the usual way. You will meet him at exactly 18.00 at the location I have designated. At this point Cowley shoved a small map across his desk, staring at the men for a moment than continued with, “You better get on your bikes, boys. When you arrive at the airport you will find a much changed Bentley which you will be driving during the length of Sir Jeremy’s visit. Take good care of it; it’s signed out in your names, and you will pay for it, if it’s damaged.
Bodie’s strangely shaped left eyebrow flew into the air, but he said nothing. **This guy must really be somethin’ to rate all this!**
The two men quickly murmured, “Yes sir, “and headed to Heathrow. Normally the drive would have been much longer, but the usual Bodie School of Driving techniques took over and the pair arrived at Heathrow with time to spare. Bodie let out a sharp whistle when he saw the brand new Bentley gleaming in the watered down sun. It looked like it could take on a tank, but still gleamed in its elegance. Mother Nature certainly seemed to shine on the efforts of Jeremy Townsend.
Bodie whistled at the machine, remembering another limousine, much older and more battered, that had saved his life and Charlie’s during a race to avoid assassins during the supposed Hanish op. **Hope this baby stands up as well as that one did.**
Taking possession of the gorgeous machine, the two men took up position so that they would spot the incoming plane. Sitting silently for a moment or two, Bodie could no longer hold back his curiosity. Subtlety was not always the ex-merc’s middle name and on this occasion, he barged in with nary a concern for delicacy, “Okay, sunshine, let’s hear the story of the extent of your admiration for our soon-to-be-visitor.”
Doyle had been drowsing in the passenger’s seat, hoping against forlorn hope that Bodie had missed this slip of his tongue. He had not meant to mention his admiration of Sir Jeremy, but now it was out and he supposed he would pay the piper. In his eight plus years of knowing William Bodie, very seldom had the man given up on the trail of a juicy story or some titbit about the man who was his friend and partner. Ray Doyle was in for it now. This would surely entertain the tall, dark-haired man for hours if Doyle permitted it; so Doyle went for a rapier thrust.
“I admire his accomplishments, his beliefs, and his dedication to do what he believes is right; nothing too astonishing. I’m sure, even you, can understand that.” While Doyle hoped that that would be enough, he knew deep down that it would never satisfy Bodie who seemed to have the most prurient interest in every nook and cranny of his partner’s life while absolutely refusing to reveal anything but the most essential snippets about himself.
“Of course, sunshine, but why have you never mentioned this paragon to me before, then we both could have ‘admired’ him.”
“Well, I also admire Sir Laurence Olivier but I sincerely doubt if his name would come up in our conversations since the parameters of your practice of English vocabulary seems to be limited to 38 - 24 - 36 and BIG!”
Hoping that would distract his smirking partner, Doyle felt crushed when Bodie stared him in the eye and said quietly, “Now, Raymond, just because you think I’m some libidinous, uncouth, priapismic slob does not mean that I didn’t notice when that mug lit up at the mere mention of Sir Jeremy Townshend.”
“What you talkin’ about Bodie? I was merely interested that the man is comin’ here, and we were responsible for his safety; what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, sunshine, but it’s good to see you so enthusiastic about the upcoming op. Of course, I do think it is a bit strange that the gentleman in question is not a bad looker if you prefer them on the older side. Of course, since you are beginning to reach the upper echelons of age as well, maybe that’s the attraction.”
Without really meaning to, Bodie had touched on a very sore spot with the words that he had so carelessly thrown out. Doyle would soon be 40 years old and he had been thinking quite a bit about what lay in his future. He didn’t want to forego the streets and leave Bodie unprotected, but neither did he want to become so decrepit that he could no longer protect the man that he cared about. Bodie’s words were like an open wound to Doyle.
Doyle was about to sharply retaliate when the plane carrying Jeremy Townshend appeared. For the moment, the professionalism of the two men took over and it would only be later that the aftermath of this seemingly innocent conversation would reveal its important and dramatic ramifications.
Using their credentials, the two agents approached the plane, as they did a tall, slender greying man came through the hatchway and began to descend the stairs. The plane was obviously a corporate jet designed with every comfort and that meant wealth. Both men had studied Townshend’s folder and knew every detail about him. His family had once been wealthy; then the fortune had been squandered so Jeremy Townshend had re-made himself into a very rich man indeed.
At the bottom of the stairway, Townshend held out his hand and spoke quietly but firmly to Bodie and said, “Mr. Bodie,” then he turned and started to take Doyle’s hand, but as well done as it was the millisecond hesitation was readily apparent to Bodie if to no one else - - Jeremy Townshend had taken his first full look at Raymond Doyle and the effect had been dramatic.
Bodie understood Townshend’s reaction very well. He often felt that way about his partner, even though he had seen the moody sod almost every day for eight years. It was an effect which never dimmed once you’d seen the slender, auburn-haired figure in person. Bodie suspected that Townshend, being the tactician that he was, had studied both men’s photos before leaving Switzerland, but that still didn’t prepare one for the sheer sensual effect of a nearby Raymond Doyle. Bodie ought to know since he was the founding member of the club.
The two men were now shaking hands, a bit longer than necessary if Bodie were asked, but it quickly broke up and the threesome headed towards the specially prepared area where Sir Jeremy could check in so that they could be cleared immediately.
Bodie had been prepared for a man who stood on form and protocol in all things, but there was none of that seen in the next few minutes so that the procedure was done quietly, efficiently, and with haste. The three men soon found themselves in the Bentley with Bodie driving.
Since the agents already knew that Sir Jeremy would be staying in a private home that had been loaned to CI5 by one of Townshend’s very good and wealthy friends, Bodie headed for the address. Indeed 3.7 and 4.5 had been too busy to spend much time on the arrangements for the “safe house” so they had to rely on other agents’ efforts on Townshend’s behalf. Townshend’s testimony this first visit would only last for approximately a week, but several more visits would be needed so it was felt that this was a wiser set up than one of London’s luxury hotels.
Townshend kept an apartment for his own use when he was in London so this became a “decoy” spot, housing another squad of agents who were the ultimate support if they found themselves needed in any situation. Townshend rode in the backseat. He seemed to relax and had a desire to talk, but Bodie’s rigid demeanour did not seem conducive to conversation. Townshend, however, was comfortable in every situation so he made a few innocuous comments to Doyle which immediately led to a lengthy conversation which lasted the duration of the trip to the country home.
Doyle and Bodie never relaxed, although they knew that they were riding in a vehicle which could practically take a direct hit from a bazooka. They were both relieved when the large car pulled in front of the grand entrance to the beautiful home. Townshend was greeted by his host and introductions were made. Townshend was clearly in his element and within minutes, it was established where the agents would be housed and that they would talk with Townshend after he had had a chance to freshen up.
So began the week whose aftermath would shake the partnership to its foundations.
DBDBDBDBD
Approximately an hour later, all three men gathered in the beautiful library with thousands of books, lining the walls. It was a leisurely meeting, but the two agents were very cognizant of the amount of control that Jeremy Townshend exhibited, even in small ways.
“I’ll only be testifying in the most preliminary way this time. I’m afraid that there is so much material that it will take two or three visits to complete my information. I really appreciate all the help that George has given me, and, of course, you gentlemen being here. I understand that there will be another team of agents as well?”
Bodie’s gaze seemed to be boring into Townshend’s body so Doyle answered, “Yes sir, Agents Murphy and Anson will be on night duty in the house, and, of course, we will have numerous agents assigned to the grounds as long as you are in residence.”
“Very good. I know George is the best, but then he always was.” Looking speculatively at Bodie, assessing him and putting two and two together, Townshend realized that he did not have a friend in Bodie, but he knew a military man when he saw one, even if he had already read that in Bodie’s file.
Looking directly at Bodie and with a carefully measured voice, he queried, “Are you aware of the events of Hill 282, Mr. Bodie?”
For a minute Bodie didn’t react, but if possible, he set up even straighter, took on a more military demeanour and stared into the older man’s face. Nodding briefly, he replied, “Yes sir, I do. Anyone who knows the British Army knows the action that took place there.”
“Yes, I thought you would. George Cowley, well he was a Major then, and I got to know each other . . . rather well during that little event. Things like that build trust in a man.”
“Yes sir,” was all that Bodie said, but there was a different light in his blue eyes.
Turning to Doyle, Townshend smiled and said, “I don’t stand on ceremony. After all you’re risking your life for me. I usually dine by 7.30, and I would enjoy having you two for company at the meal, but I certainly won’t coerce you. I have a lot of material to go over for tomorrow so I will call it an evening after that.” If you are interested, fine. I’ll see you later.” Although the words were directed at both men, Townshend’s devastating blue-grey eyes were looking directly at Raymond Doyle.
The two agents watched the older man leave the room. They couldn’t help but feel the cosy atmosphere had somehow been diminished by the exit of this tremendous presence.
As the two men walked towards the exit, Doyle turned to Bodie and asked, “Hill 282?”
“Yeah, it was an early action in Korea. Bunch of our guys had taken Hill 282, but they didn’t have any artillery so when they found themselves under fire from a more elevated position nearby, they called in aerial support. Instead of hitting Hill 388, the P-51s hit Hill 282 with napalm. The lucky ones were the ones who died immediately because the napalm left a lot of injured and burned men.”
Neither man spoke as they stared at each other briefly. Each man’s previous career had delivered some heartrending trauma, but to be killed or maimed by friendly fire was a truly devastating thought, revealing how vulnerable they could be if something went wrong in one of their ops, but thinking about the possibility could drive a man crazy so, once again, they put it aside.
The two agents spent the remainder of the day going over security measures. When Murphy and Anson reported, they coordinated routine and procedure with them, making sure that the outside men had been properly rotated.
Jeremy Townshend made himself popular with every shift of agents by making sure that they could partake of the food that was available, but only Bodie and Doyle sat down to dinner with him. The quality of the food was of the highest level as was expected, but it was neither outlandish nor exotic. It was good and hearty and the conversation was interesting as well.
“I won’t pretend that I haven’t read both of your files. George Cowley has been my friend for thirty years, and, as you would expect he has, from time to time, bent the rules for me.” Townshend gave a mischievous smile to incorporate both men in the feeling of intimacy, but only Doyle took him up on that intimacy.
“I believe you were in the police, Mr. Doyle?”
“Yes, but I wasn’t too popular with some individuals so here I am in CI5.”
“Yes, you seem to fit in George Cowley’s concept of right and wrong. I first met him in the aftermath of Hill 282. He was working with Military Intelligence, I believe, and took the grave injustice done to those men on the hill personally.”
“Bet, not as personally as the injured did.” The sarcasm from Bodie’s lips filtered throughout the room. Bodie stared at Townshend and Doyle in defiance, but only Doyle seemed to be upset at Bodie’s rudeness.
“You’re perfectly right, Mr. Bodie. The first time I met George Cowley I thought that he would be the perfect sword of justice for mistakes and other wrongs, but not even he could totally understand what those men felt. Those are days long past, not forgot, but now reside in a different perspective. Now, you and George fight a different kind of war, and I want you to know I do appreciate your efforts. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I just go over my files for my testimony tomorrow.”
As Townsend gracefully walked out of the room, the agents stood and watched his exit; then Doyle turned to Bodie and asked, “What’s got up your hooter?”
Bodie stared at him silently. How could he tell Doyle that what was bothering him was the obvious admiration that Townsend was lavishing on his partner? Ray Doyle could be so obtusely blind sometimes. Of course, the bionic golli had never noticed the stares of both men and women as he paraded down the street with those open shirts, and that gorgeous arse on display, but Bodie had . . . oh most definitely Bodie had and practically since the beginning of their partnership, Bodie had had a goal, but now that rich, charming man seemed to be ready to move in on Doyle.
It would have surprised William Bodie to have recognized jealousy in himself. Never in his life had he admitted to such a feeling. Bodie accepted that he was attractive and he accepted that people looked at him twice due to his appearance, but this time the tables were turned and he, most certainly, was attracted to the most moody, cantankerous, and lovable human being on planet earth.
Sighing, Bodie signalled to Doyle that he was going to walk the perimeter once again and check up on the outside patrols. He knew that Murphy and Anson were already in place in the interior, but it never hurt to be cautious, especially when a crazy golli was wandering around who Bodie was not prepared to lose to some wealthy, older man.
The next day Sir Jeremy’s testimony began. To accommodate Townshend and George Cowley, the testimony was taken in highly secure quarters with a limited audience of only those with the need-to-know. This was a foreshortened day since Townsend only presented background material, but tomorrow promised to develop into much more detailed information.
Both Bodie and Doyle were nervous about the vulnerability of Townshend in spreading the testimony over days and weeks, but it could not be helped. Each tiny detail had to be checked out for its veracity. No one really doubted Townshend’s word, but to build a case against some of the largest corporations and entrepreneurs in the world called for the utmost caution and effort. No loopholes could be permitted in the government’s case and since Townshend was the linchpin of the case, everything was being done to insure both the safety of the testimony and the key witness.
The overriding factor, however, was that George Cowley was a personal friend of Sir Jeremy Townshend. Cowley would never have admitted that Townshend would receive specialized treatment due to that friendship, but Cowley had always had a special place in his tough Scots’ heart for the man whom he had met almost thirty years before. They had kept in touch over the years, and while Cowley became legendary in one way and Townshend in another that bond continued to be forged year in and year out.
Cowley had even felt comfortable enough with his friend to discuss Annie with him. He had met the young lass after the war as he tried to continue his education. It was a wonderful and unhappy time as Annie and he seemed to want different things and finally went their separate ways; then Korea hit the headlines and Cowley met Jeremy Townshend near a hell hole called Hill 282.
In many ways that meeting with Annie was more prophetic and telling than even the second time so many years later. Jeremy Townshend had begun to make a name for himself in the business world, but had chosen to return to the military when he was needed. The two men understood each other well. Both utterly dedicated to what they believed was right, many would have said that they had taken on more windmills than two sane men could ever defeat. But, each in his own way had succeeded.
Even in women, they understood each other. Cowley had expressed his feelings about Annie to his friend, and Townshend, who had made a marriage of convenience to ease his family’s squandered fortune, talked about his growing affection for the “model” wife. Cowley had loved and lost; Townshend had not loved, but had seemed content. It was an indelible link, and now Jeremy Townshend’s life was in danger.
BDBDBDBDBD
Lying in the luxurious bed in the separate suite that had been provided for each agent, Ray Doyle lay under the duvet, thinking; he was not thinking great thoughts or even ones that a person would pay a penny for, but he felt unease and couldn’t quite pin it down. Putting his arms under his curly head, his green eyes stared at the beautifully detailed ceiling. He knew it was not the job that was causing the unease. Of course, it was a lot of responsibility to guard a man as famous as Sir Jeremy, but he and Bodie had done it hundreds of times, and George Cowley had trained them well.
No, it was Bodie himself that was causing his partner to be nervous. What was wrong with Bodie? Sir Jeremy had testified for the last three days and tomorrow would be the last day for the first session. Townshend would return to his Swiss domain and disappear from view until the next time that the government called or invited the man to risk life and limb for his country.
Doyle had grown to like the man very much and even more importantly to trust him. They had spent the last few evenings playing chess and discussing their eclectic taste in books. As Doyle seemed to grow closer to the older man, Bodie seemed to grow more frigid and standoffish. What was going on with Bodie?
In the eight years he had known the ex-merc, Doyle had realized that Bodie had an almost unlimited capacity for understanding and forgiveness - - especially of his moody, sharp-tongued partner, but this was a Bodie that Doyle had only seen more recently. Bodie had already built a shell around himself before Doyle had met him, but over the years, Doyle had thought he had seen that casing begin to dissolve; now his skin was so thick that not even the shell from a Tiger tank could penetrate it.
Looking at his watch, he knew that he had a few minutes before their expected dinner with Townshend. The meals over the last three days had been nothing short of gourmet. Townshend had made every effort to accommodate both agents in their tastes. He had even gone to the trouble to see that there were vegetarian choices available. Strangely, Bodie did not seem to appreciate the food or the quality as he would normally do so.
Doyle certainly did, but to himself, he also admitted that he would have preferred to be in his flat with Bodie, eating takeaway and watching some good movie or a match. What was wrong with Bodie?
Getting up from his bed, Doyle freshened up and went down to the huge dining room that dominated the ground level of the home. Sir Jeremy was already seated, but there was no sign of Bodie. Bodie’s behaviour recently had bordered on insolence and rudeness, but he had never missed a meal.
“Ah, Mr. Doyle, it seems you have to put up with only me this evening. Mr. Bodie has been sent for by George so he asked me to let you know.”
Townshend stared at Doyle for a moment, but was too polite to remark on the surprise which clearly showed in the green eyes. Doyle felt like he was floundering. Why hadn’t Bodie told him? Why had he made Townshend his messenger boy?
Doyle was too well trained, however, to make a more noticeable gesture than a nod as he began to sit down. Townshend smiled fleetingly and asked, “Would you object to sitting here,” indicating a much closer chair. “Save us from shouting at each other in this vast canyon.”
“Yes sir.”
Townsend smiled, cleared his throat as if slightly nervous and said, “Now, unless you have other plans, what do you say to a game of chess, and a discussion after dinner?”
“A discussion, sir?”
“Yes, I have to admit that I have been quite impressed with the way you have handled your assignment thus far, and I would like to discuss a proposition with you, would that be satisfactory?”
Ray Doyle hardly ever admitted to feeling butterflies in his stomach, but Townshend’s words set his stomach fluttering. He wasn’t sure why, but somehow he knew that in the next few minutes, he was going to encounter an event which could change his life forever.
“Mr. Doyle, I believe in bluntness. It seems to eliminate many misunderstandings. After dinner, I’m going to put forth a proposition that may surprise you. If it meets with your approval, fine; if it doesn’t, say so, and that’s all there will be to that. Is that understood?”
Doyle nodded but said nothing.
Townsend smiled one of his most dazzling smiles. “Fine, now let’s do justice to this splendid meal.”
The dinner was delicious as to be expected, but within the hour the two men had adjourned to the beautiful study that Townshend had made the centre for his work while waiting to testify. Townshend chose not to seat himself at the gigantic antique desk much as a schoolmaster talking to a recalcitrant student. He poured both men an after-dinner drink after receiving Doyle’s confirmation, seated himself, and began.
“Mr. Doyle,” Townshend hesitated for a millisecond as if trying to access how to approach the man, but then he smiled because he knew that brief affectation hadn’t fooled Doyle in the least so he continued, “I am a blunt man so I won’t bother with a build up. I have been impressed with your work while guarding me. I have talked to George Cowley, who has informed me that you are nearing your fortieth birthday. George doesn’t want to lose you, but it so happens that my present assistant and bodyguard is moving on to other things. If you are agreeable, I would like to hire you to replace him. I don’t quibble over salary. I pay the value of the person and what he does for me.” Here the handsome man named a figure that Doyle knew more than tripled his CI5 salary.
“I know that this is rather sudden, but I thought I would present the idea to you now and give you the next couple of weeks to think about it, and, perhaps, when I return for the next round of testimony, you and I could discuss whether you are interested?”
Townsend took a breath at this point and seemed to wait for a response from Doyle.
In the few days that Townshend had known Doyle, he thought he had sized the man up pretty well. One had to have that capability to survive in the business world today, and his suspicions were confirmed when he heard Doyle ask, “What about Bodie?”
Pretending a lack of understanding, Townshend queried, “I beg your pardon?”
Townsend could see a faint frown enter those remarkable green eyes as Doyle repeated, “What about Bodie? I mean, you’ve talked to Mr. Cowley, and he’s obviously told you that Bodie and I have been partners for over eight years. I don’t think that Bodie’s ready to leave the streets yet, and while I may be getting near to that age, I’m certainly not decrepit, and quite frankly I’m not prepared to accept the idea of Bodie having a new partner who might not be able to protect his back as I can.”
“I see.” Remarkably those two words revealed a lot about Townshend. He had developed the ability of triple-think as well as George Cowley ever had. It was as if a veil had fallen; now Townshend understood Bodie and Doyle’s working and social relationship. They were partners in more than one way. Townshend had nothing against such closeness, but it certainly threw a spanner in the future that Townshend hoped to have with his new assistant. None of this, however, showed on Townshend’s face as he continued, “Well, could you tell me, if something could be worked out about Mr. Bodie’s future, would you be interested in the position?”
Ray Doyle often jumped in where others feared to tread, but when it came to Bodie and his future, he was cautious to the point of a glacier’s pace. Nevertheless, it was a generous offer and deserved to be considered. “I would like to discuss this matter with Mr. Cowley and Bodie, of course, but I will certainly think about it. That’s all I can say for the moment.” Realizing that this response sounded a bit ungrateful, Doyle gave one of his heart melting smiles and said, “I do appreciate that you thought of me, and that you’ve made the offer.”
Jeremy Townshend, who thought himself immune to almost every kind of charm, felt his heart flutter as that gorgeous, exotic face lit up in a smile. Nodding his satisfaction with Doyle’s response, Townsend felt confident that he could live with the assistant’s position for the moment, but it was a much different position that Townsend wanted from this tall, slender, sensual man.
End of part 1
Part 2 / Part 3