Winter Demons by Bodie4Me and ILWB
Title: Winter Demons
Author: Bodie4Me and ILWB
Pros-Lib / Circuit Archive: Yes please
Pairing and / or characters: Bodie/Doyle
Rating: Adult
Word count: 14063
Summary: Bodie and Doyle get more than they bargained for after an op that leads them to Southern Germany.
Written during a wonderful wintery holiday in Freiburg, this story has a number of shameless cameos/Mary Sues and is very personal to us both. We share it with you as our Christmas present to the Pros world.
If I can suss out rich text I might even add pictures..... :o) This is a two parter because of its size, I hope I've posted it right!
Set in February 1978 in Freiburg, South Germany
Ray Doyle wasn’t a happy man.
Squeezed between the bulk of his partner and a tiny round window, he slowly started to sweat. The engines of the Boeing 737 had rumbled into life more than ten minutes ago, but they still weren’t moving. Glancing out of the window he took in part of a flimsy looking wing, an expanse of wet concrete and the shiny glass facades of Heathrow airport.
Bodie had generously insisted on him taking the window seat because “You’ve got to see London from above, mate, it’s breathtaking! The Thames, Buckingham Palace, the football grounds, you’ll love it!”
Doyle didn’t have the heart to tell him that he would much, much rather sit next to the aisle where you could just jump up and run for the nearest exit when necessary. Though once they were airborne even that wouldn’t be an option anymore, he thought, glumly.
He had fastened his seat-belt the second his bum had touched the seat, which had earned him a smirk and a raised eyebrow from his disgustingly relaxed partner.
Bodie had neatly draped the two black straps over his parted thighs and beamed at the approaching stewardess.
“So sorry love, do you think you could you give me a hand? The clasp just doesn’t seem to work.”
The shapely brunette took a look at Bodie’s lap and then at his smiling face. “Of course, Sir.” she purred leaning down, “Just let me…”
She was obviously very concerned about her passenger’s safety. It took her a long time to buckle him in and she managed to softly brush her fingertips over both his well muscled thighs and his belly in the process.
“Is it too tight?” she breathed at last, her hand still resting lightly on his abdomen.
The grin Bodie bestowed on her was dazzling. “No love…not yet.” He winked at her. “Thank you so much.”
Silently groaning Doyle closed his eyes. Once the smiling, slightly flushed stewardess had floated on, he shook his head.
“Shameless. You’re bloody shameless. Like a tomcat on heat.”
“Tomcat?” Bodie snorted, “That’s surely more your department, mate.”
“At least I’m a bit more…”
The word “subtle” died on his lips as the plane suddenly started to roll. Looking worriedly out of the small window again he instinctively gripped the arms of his seat as the BA machine gathered speed.
“Not too keen on flying, are we, DC Doyle?” his partner observed nudging his shoulder.
He shot him a withering look. “Just shut it, will you!”
“Awww sunshine, want me to hold your hand?”
“Don’t push it, Bodie!” Ray growled and then squeezed his eyes shut as the wheels left the ground and they were pressed back into their seats.
“Yeah…take off!” Bodie cheered right into his ear, and he would gladly have thumped him had he been able to move a muscle. Instead he sat rigid and white knuckled, almost forgetting to breathe as the plane rapidly rose into the air.
“Look, mate! Look down, Ray! It’s beautiful. Open your eyes for God’s sake!”
“Then get the fuck off me, you big berk!” Ray hissed giving his excited partner an annoyed push before he reluctantly peered at London from above. He regretted it instantly. His stomach gave a sickening lurch and he snapped his eyes closed again with a groan.
“You didn’t even look properly!” Bodie complained. “I go and let you have the window seat and you don’t even look properly!”
His pale faced companion took a deep, slightly shuddering breath. “Bodie…I swear to God…one more word and I’ll throw up on you, and don’t think I’m joking.”
“Jesus Doyle, you could have told me you have a full blown phobia.”
Angry green eyes snapped open again. “Just because some of us aren’t as keen as you SAS nutters on being stuck inside a metal box seven miles up in the air, doesn’t mean they have a phobia. Stop behaving like a bloody tourist! In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly flying to the Maldives for a holiday. We’re flying to bloody Germany. To the fucking Black Forest. In the middle of winter!”
“And you hate it,” Bodie observed.
“You bet I hate it, Einstein! I mean, why us, Bodie? Why Germany? Is the Cow off his rocker? Sending us on this stupid mission to bring back that Ashford bloke. There must have been a better way. Why not let the Krauts turn him over? We were supposed to have a whole week off, if you happen to remember. A well deserved and very needed week off.”
Bodie put a soothing hand on his arm. “I know Ray, but you know how it is. The old man never does things the normal way, and he wants to handle things himself. Ashford is one of our own, at least he was for a while. I know Germany a little, been there quite a few times, and we’re Cowley’s best team. He wants us to clean his doorstep, we go and get our brooms.”
“Yeah, but this time the doorstep is in a strange city in the South of Germany. And you love it.”
Bodie nodded. “Oh God yes!” his partner exclaimed, looking like a little boy on Christmas morning, “To get out of the country and the old man having to pay for it? What could be better than that? And Germany isn’t half bad, Doyle. I bet you’ll like it. God, the food, the birds!”
Ray couldn’t help breaking into a wide grin. “Glad to hear you’ve got your priorities right, mate.”
Bodie grinned back at him. “Glad to see you’re still able to smile, sunshine.”
They locked eyes for a moment. “Sorry, eh?” Doyle said.
“That’s ok. You can buy me a beer once we’re there. God, I’m dying for a German beer.
The rest of the flight, which only took about 70 minutes, wasn’t too bad. Bodie munched his way through two bags of peanuts, skimmed through the newspaper he had found in his seat pocket and flirted outrageously with every stewardess that passed down the aisle.
Doyle concentrated very hard on not looking at the eerie expanse of white cloud outside the window and not hearing the disconcerting announcements about the height and speed of their plane. Approaching Basel airport they put their watches forward an hour.
The landing was almost as bad as the take off. Swearing under his breath, Doyle desperately waited for the noise and shaking to stop and for the wheels to finally touch the ground again.
He couldn’t get off the plane fast enough.
At the top of the stairs they were hit by incredibly cold, incredibly fresh air and Ray gave a loud sigh. “Oh God…Terra firma!”
“If you throw yourself down to kiss the ground, I’ll thump you.” Bodie said, in a pleased voice.
Doyle shook his head at him. “Do I look like the Pope?”
“Wouldn’t know, mate, haven’t seen him in jeans yet.”
With their bags slung over their shoulders they slowly made their way into the terminal building.
Compared to Heathrow, Basel was tiny and looked almost like a toy airport. The snow was very real though. There was a thick, heavy coating everywhere, but amazingly enough all the roads and paths had been efficiently cleared and everything seemed to be still functioning perfectly. It was obviously very different from England.
********
“Well how did we end up in Switzerland then?” said Doyle, hand on one hip as he leaned against the doorway.
“I don’t know, do I?”
“You’re supposed to be the experienced International traveller.”
“Yeah, well even International traveller’s make mistakes.”
“So let me get this right. We’re meant to be in France?”
“Correct. But this airport serves France, Switzerland and Germany.”
“And our coach leaves from France.”
“Yep.”
“But we’re in Switzerland.”
“Er, yeah. We’ll have to find our way back across the border somehow. Hey, where are you going?”
“I spy a pretty lady at a desk with ‘Information’ written on it.”
Bodie looked up to where Doyle was pointing. “Ah. Perfect.”
They approached the desk and combined chatting up the young receptionist with the need to obtain information. So busy were they trying to compete for her attention, that they failed to notice that their activities were being watched.
As they thanked the receptionist and made their way through the barrier to French soil, the man at the newspaper kiosk watched them carefully, making note of a careful description of them both, and which bus they boarded. Then he moved towards the public phone booth to pass on what he had seen.
********
Doyle felt much better now he was on solid ground, namely a bus being driven confidently but carefully down a two lane motorway, heading at last for Germany. He and Bodie were two of only a dozen passengers, and they sat in the rear seats, away from all the others.
“Are you going to fill me in on the file Cowley let you read?” Bodie kept his voice low, his head close to Doyle’s.
“I wondered when you’d get around to asking,” Doyle gave a half smile.
“That’s the first time you’ve relaxed since Heathrow,” said Bodie.
“Yeah, well I’m like the French rugby team - I don’t travel well.”
“Get on with it, Doyle.”
“Yeah, yeah. Cowley’s looking for a CI5 sleeper, name of Kurt Ashford.” Doyle pulled a photograph from his inside pocket and handed it to Bodie. It showed a tall, slim man with shoulder length black hair and dark blue eyes, accentuated by his pale complexion. “He’s been out of touch for a while now, Cowley thinks he’s changed sides. We find him and bring him back. We’re in Freiburg cos that’s where his Mother was from.”
“And his Father?” Bodie took in the detail of the photo and handed it back to Doyle.
“As English as they come. St Mary Cray, Kent.”
“And where in Freiburg are we supposed to start looking?”
“We’ve got one address to start with, but it can’t be that big a place or so busy we can’t find a CI5 agent, can it?”
********
As it turned out, they couldn’t have been more wrong. As they climbed down the steps of the coach they looked about them in wonder. Freiburg was a bustling, hectically busy city, and every third person was dressed very strangely indeed. Coloured wigs, duck costumes, funny hats, witches, cowboys and devils, all walked about as if they did this every day.
Bodie looked at Doyle, who shrugged and swung his bag over his shoulder. “Where to?” said Doyle.
“Tram to the centre, our hotel is by the Cathedral, about as central as you can get.”
“Lead on, Macduff.”
They took the outdoor escalator up to the level of the Tram stop and tried to work out the timetable. The afternoon sun shone on the snow covered mountains in the distance, drawing their eyes to the blue metal bridge across the railway.
To their right was a large church with two spires, and the sight of it covered in a layer of snow took their breath away.
“It’s really beautiful,” said Doyle.
“Stunning,” agreed Bodie, “but why the hell is everyone dressed like this?”
“God knows.”
At that moment a pretty girl dressed as a scarecrow moved towards them, having overheard their conversation.
“You are English?” she asked, instantly curious.
Doyle smiled at her. “Yes, can you help us?”
“Of course.” Her English was perfect. “Where do you wish to go?”
“Hotel Oberkirch,” said Bodie, checking his notebook.
The scarecrow checked the display board, and pointed to it. “You need Tram number one, it arrives in two minutes. Get off in the centre, at Bertoldsbrunnen, then aim for the spire of the Cathedral. Your hotel is right beside it.”
“Thank you,” said Doyle, the warmth of his smile increasing as he relaxed a little. People here really did seem to like the English. He felt a little stupid by his lack of German, but it didn’t seem that it was going to be an issue.
With predictable efficiency the Tram arrived on time and they crowded aboard with the rest of the passengers. It was very busy, and full of even more people in unusual costumes.
“Blimey,” said Doyle, “it’s like the London Underground.”
“What were you expecting?” asked Bodie, “hay carts and horse drawn carriages?”
“I really don’t know.” Doyle stared out of the window. “I’ve never been to this part of the world before. All I know for sure is I wasn’t expecting this.” As if to illustrate his point the tram halted at a stop and a group of Red Indians got on, cramming into the carriage around them.
Bodie pointed at the display above them. “Next stop, Bertoldsbrunnen. That’s us,” he said. “And then all we’ve got to do is aim for the tallest church spire and we’re there.”
If only things were that easy. When Bodie and Doyle stepped off the tram, overnight bags over their shoulders, they found themselves in the centre of a huge street party, full of families in costumes, food and drink sellers, and loud music. Taking as much care as possible they wound their way through the crowds and down the narrow streets towards the Minster.
The sights and smells captured Bodie’s imagination, and as they finally left the party behind them he couldn’t resist warning Doyle of his intentions. “I’m going straight back there once we’ve checked in,” he said, giving the party a longing look over his shoulder as they walked away.
“I knew you’d say that,” said Doyle, rolling his eyes. “Well I suppose we’ve got to start looking for this Ashford bloke somewhere, we may as well start back there.”
********
Sunday afternoon
Together they trudged on, making their way towards the Minster spire which towered over the surrounding area. As the small street they were walking along opened up into the market place, the site of the Minster right in front of them made them stop in their tracks. The beautiful, ancient Cathedral built in warm, red stone, stood proud and magnificent, surrounded by deep snow.
“Wow,” said Doyle, looking up.
“Yeah,” agreed Bodie.
They stood for a few minutes, taking in the sight before them, until Bodie started stamping his feet. “I’m cold,” he said, with a doleful and somewhat cheeky smile.
“Yeah, okay, come on,” said Doyle, and they made their way across to the quaint hotel opposite the side entrance of the Minster.
Bodie opened the front door and they stamped the snow off their boots before pushing through the heavy, leather lined curtain. They found themselves in a room that could easily have slipped through a time warp. Dark wood panels lined the walls, and a collection of antique plates stood to attention on the plate rack. The tables were set with crisp, white linen table clothes and candles, and comfortable cushions were placed on the benches around the edge of the room.
A pretty woman approached them, wearing a neat uniform and lace lined apron.
“Guten tag, kann ich ihnen helfen?”
Doyle smiled at her, his hopefulness that she would speak English over taking his nervousness of being in a foreign country. “Hi, er, do you speak English?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” she said, smiling, “Can I help you?”
“We have two rooms booked, in the name of Bentley and Layton,” he said.
She led them through the warm, cosy restaurant to the reception desk and looked at a large, red book. “We have one double room booked for you,” she said, looking up at Doyle.
“One room?” Doyle flashed a look at Bodie. “Not a twin?”
“You have the last room in Freiburg,” she said, checking the register again. “It is Fastnacht, Carnival. Every room is taken,” she explained.
“I see,” said Doyle, “and when does Carnival finish?”
“It is the children’s carnival today, and the main parade tomorrow afternoon. People will celebrate until Shrove Tuesday.”
“Like Mardi Gras?” asked Bodie.
“Exactly so,” she said. “It is a very ancient tradition, to drive away evil demons.”
Doyle looked at Bodie again. “So we get to share a room,” he said, the start of a grin on his face.
“Yes,” she said, blushing slightly. “I am sorry. I hope it is okay? It is a very big room.”
“Well in that case I’m sure it will be fine,” said Doyle, not wanting to worry her any more, and wondering secretly if Betty had arranged this on purpose. “Do I sign in here?”
“Er, yes, please, and I will show you upstairs.”
They both signed in the register and then crowded into the small lift up to the first floor.
Producing a big golden key, she ushered them inside a room that left CI5’s finest speechless, as they looked around and took everything in. Elegant wallpaper with cream coloured stripes and hundreds of little pink roses that matched the colour of the curtains and the thick soft carpet. A massive, very old looking bed, made from dark oak like the huge wardrobe next to it. The pillows and quilts were enormous and blindingly white. A beautiful antique table was framed by two matching chairs.
On the wall opposite the bed were two windows facing the side of the Cathedral and overlooking the bustling market square. To their horror the friendly young woman walked over and threw them wide open.
“Is that really necessary?” asked Bodie, a bit shocked by such an act.
“In Germany it is very good to have fresh air,” she said.
Bodie walked over to the window and closed it. “In England you spend a lot of money warming a room, so we wouldn’t want to let the cold in,” he explained.
Doyle rescued her, taking the key from her hand and walking back to the door with her. “Danke, er?”
“Belinda,” she said.
“Danke, Belinda. We’ll be fine now.”
“Please, one thing more.”
“Sure.”
“If you are late from the Carnival then the front door will be locked, you will need to ring at the side entrance.”
“Fine, no problem. Thanks, love.”
And as she left and shut the door behind her, Bodie and Doyle both burst into fits of laughter.
Doyle collapsed back on the huge double bed. “Oh Christ,” he said, “they’ve given us the bloody honeymoon suite.”
Bodie sat in one of the ancient armchairs, still chuckling. “Yeah, I know, and then they want us to freeze to death in here, on top of everything else.”
Doyle rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “What now?” he asked. “Do you want to un-pack?”
“Nah,” said Bodie, looking out of the window like a kid in a toy shop. “Let’s get back down there. I like the sound of a Carnival, and we’re not going to find Ashford sitting around here.”
********
On any other day, walking along the Kaiser-Joseph-Straße would have been more than enough for any tourist. The tall, elegant buildings on either side gave a feeling of security and safety. A feeling that was quickly dispelled by the deep gully running down both sides of the street, which if you weren’t looking where you were going, could easily cause a fall. It was even worse in cold weather, as they filled with snow and were therefore difficult to spot until you tripped down one.
But on this day, this particular Sunday, the street was buzzing and lively and getting livelier by the minute. There were food and drink stalls on both sides, selling anything from sausage to sweets, and everything in between. The smells combined to create a confused mix of sweet and savoury, with such variety it was difficult to know what to choose.
Bodie went straight to a Bratwurst stall, his eyes lighting up at the choice. With lots of pointing and cheerful exchanges he bought two, and copying the previous customer he covered them both in mustard.
‘You’re not going to put that in your mouth are you?” said Doyle.
“Worse than that, this one’s for you,” said Bodie, handing him the long red sausage contained in a short, stumpy crusty roll.
“God, that’s gorgeous,” mumbled Bodie, as he devoured it.
Doyle tasted his tentatively, not being a lover of American hotdogs. But this was nothing like an American hotdog, or an English sausage, come to that, and he soon got stuck in, although his enthusiasm didn’t quite match Bodie’s who quickly went back for seconds.
They worked their way through the crowds, sampling deep fried sugar covered treats at every turn.
Every so often the crowd would part to allow a marching band to pass through, playing a strange selection of modern day tunes very badly, and very loudly.
Doyle noticed that the Carnival people took great care to keep warm. Their costumes were made of many layers and covered every limb, and they jumped, marched and danced. All these things helped them to keep warm as they celebrated. Doyle, on the other hand, was frozen.
“You okay?” asked Bodie, noticing his shivering. “Here, get this down you.” He handed over some money to another vendor and took delivery of two small glasses full of hot red liquid.
Doyle looked at him questioningly.
“Gluhwein,” explained Bodie, sipping his carefully.
Doyle sipped at the boiling hot spicy liquid, amazed at how quickly it made its way straight down to his toes. “That’s bloody lovely,” he said, as the warming affect spread through his whole body.
As they stood on the sidelines sipping their drinks, a pretty young woman suddenly ran behind them, hiding from three guys in sailor suits. She shrieked and ran around the two agents, chased by the three lads. They cornered her and grabbed her, then each stole a kiss before running off. She looked as though they had really made her day. She laughed and gabbled something to Doyle who just nodded and smiled, hoping she wouldn’t realise he didn’t have a clue what was going on.
He looked up at Bodie who was laughing. “It’s something to do with fertility,” he chuckled, “lots of people get pregnant during Fastnacht.”
The street was completely packed full of people by now, and there was hardly room for any of the passing bands to get through. But there was no sense of threat, no worries about having your pockets picked like in London. Bodie and Doyle side stepped their way through the crowds, sharing in the body warmth of the mass of people.
Eventually the sun set, the snow started to fall, and the temperature dropped. The crowd slowly dispersed, and the two CI5 agents made their way back to the warmth of their hotel room.
********
Doyle finished washing, and cleaning his teeth, and emerged from the bathroom wearing his pyjama bottoms, a towel draped around his shoulders.
Bodie was already in bed, curled on one side facing the wall.
Doyle sensed all was not well. “You okay?” he asked.
“Hmm? Yeah. Why?”
“You haven’t really said much since we got back.”
“I forgot about the accommodation.”
“Why, what’s wrong with it?”
Bodie rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m not really used to sharing,” he admitted.
“We’ve done it often enough,” said Doyle, sitting on his side of the bed.
“In bunks, and tents and when we’ve crashed out on each other pissed, but not in a honeymoon suite in a five star hotel.”
Doyle laughed, his eyes twinkling. “You’re right there, hadn’t thought about it that way.” He lifted the quilt and got into bed. “You want to put a pillow down the middle, just in case one of us gets ideas?” he said, a smile still on his lips.
Bodie relaxed, realising how daft he was being. “No, I think I can trust myself,” he said.
“Oh yeah, but can you trust me?” said Doyle, winking at him before rolling over to turn out the light.
Monday morning
Bodie and Doyle sat down at the table in the window, looking somewhat out of place in the quaintly traditional room.
A slim, pretty waitress approached. “Guten Morgen,” she said, “may I get breakfast for you?”
“Ja, danke,” said Bodie, “with tea please.”
As she walked away with their order, Doyle looked out of the window at the snow covered Cathedral. “So, where do we start?” he said.
Bodie shrugged. “There must have been something in the file?”
“Only one address, where Ashford’s Mother lived.”
“And where’s that then?”
“Near the hospital.”
“Well we’ll eat first then get over there, yeah?”
The waitress came back with two teapots, cups and saucers, which she arranged on the table before them.
“What’s your name, love?” asked Doyle, smiling up at her.
“Hilke,” she blushed, then dashed away again.
Bodie looked at him from under his eyelashes. “Down, boy,” he said, grinning.
Quickly she came back with another tray, and laid out a huge array of food on the table. Fresh bread rolls, sliced sausage, cream cheese and paper thin sliced cheese. She gave a brief bob, then disappeared again.
“Well what do we do with this lot?” said Doyle, slightly taken aback.
“We eat it,” said Bodie, helping himself to a bread roll and a big chunk of sliced sausage.
Doyle poured the tea and watched as Bodie tucked in. “Come on, mate,” said Bodie with his mouth full, “it’s gorgeous.”
“I might just ask for a piece of toast,” said Doyle. He became aware they were being watched, and he looked up to see Hilke smiling at him from across the room. Shyly, she came back to the table.
“Can I help you?” she said. When Doyle nodded gratefully, she took an oval shaped bread roll covered in black poppy seeds and deftly cut it once across and once in half. Then she spread one of the pieces with cream cheese and delicately draped a thin slice of cheese on top, followed by a slice of sausage. Then she placed the finished creation on Doyle’s plate in front of him.
His wide smile was genuinely warm. “Thank you,” he said.
She blushed again, and left them to it.
It didn’t take them long to clear the plates.
Bodie yawned, not surprising when he realised how much he had just eaten. “I feel like a nap,” he said, stretching his arms out wide.
Doyle stood up and pulled his jacket on. “Tough,” he said, “we’ve got an agent to find.”
Bodie sighed and followed suit, and with a wave at Hilke, they stepped out into the cold, crisp morning.
********
Ashford collected his coffee from the serving window and stood at one of the high tables, leaning against it as he sipped. The brightly lit display of cakes and pastries should have captured his attention, but his mind was firmly fixed on one thing. Getting away from the two CI5 agents who he knew had arrived in town to locate him.
The door opened, letting the cold in momentarily, and a petite young woman with long black hair joined him.
“Kurt,” she said, reaching up to him for a brief kiss. “You sounded so worried on the phone. What is it?”
He looked down, staring into his coffee, bleakly. “Time’s up, Ellen,” he said.
“What has happened?”
“My old boss has sent some people to find me, to take me back.”
Ellen’s heart stepped up a beat. “Can they make you?”
“Yes.”
“But do they know what you’ve been through? How close you came...”
“No,” he said, sharply, stopping her from saying any more. “And they won’t care.”
“Then we have to leave, now,” she grabbed his arm, squeezing it and looking deep into his eyes.
“There’s no time.”
“Why?”
“They’re already here, already on my trail.”
“Then we’ll have to make time,” she said.
Ashford looked up at her, taking in the flushed, excited look on her face, the sparkle in the blue eyes. “What do you have in mind?” he asked with curiosity. He had been with Ellen for two years now, and life with her had not once been dull. He had no idea what she would come up with to get them out of this, but he was sure that somehow, she would.
********
Several frustrating hours later, Bodie and Doyle returned to the centre of Freiburg. They had been on and off trams and buses and got lost three times, only to discover that Ashford’s Mother had died several years ago and nobody had seen her son since then.
The city centre had altered while they had been away. Barriers had been placed down all the streets, marking the route of the parade. Because of the disruption their tram stopped one stop early, and they picked their way through the back streets aiming for the spire of the Cathedral.
As they walked through one street lined with shops Doyle suddenly stopped in his tracks. He was drawn like a magnet to the window of an old shop. There was a metal shutter over the window because the shop was shut, but he could still see through to the display behind. Bodie followed him.
“Oh my God,” said Bodie.
“Yeah.”
The window presented an awe inspiring display of guns, cross bows, hunting knives, pen knives and rifles.
For a moment they both just stared in silence.
“You can just buy this stuff in an ordinary shop?” said Doyle, incredulous.
“Looks like it,” said Bodie. “See anything you fancy?”
“Not half,” said Doyle, with a grin, taking up the line on cue.
“Nice crossbow.”
“Nice,” agreed Doyle, “but a bit impractical. Now that, that’s practical.” He pointed at a red Swiss Army Knife.
“Red suits you.”
“I always thought so.”
“Shame the shop’s shut.”
“It’s probably cos of the carnival. We can come back tomorrow?” said Doyle, looking at Bodie hopefully.
“Anything to keep you happy, mate!”
With one last longing look, they carried on down the street. The nearer they got to the Minster the busier it became, until eventually they found themselves in the main market square, along with hundreds of other people. The barriers cut through the centre of the market place and people were starting to take their places.
“The Parade must be about to start,” said Doyle. “And we can’t get across to the hotel from here.”
But Bodie was already diverting them to a Bratwurst stall.
“You can’t possibly be hungry already,” said Doyle.
“Breakfast was hours ago.”
“True, but there was enough food to keep you going for a week.”
“It might keep you going for a week mate, but not me. You want one?”
“Er, no, thanks,” said Doyle, as Bodie approached the stall with a smile, coming back a few minutes later with a crusty roll containing a long creamy coloured sausage covered in mustard.
Bodie munched one end of the sausage. “It’s a different one to yesterday,” he said, “a different flavour. Very nice though.”
Doyle raised his eyes to the sky and guided them both through the crowd to the barrier in the shadow of the Minster, directly opposite their hotel. “We might as well watch from here,” he said, “nobody’s going anywhere until this parade finishes.” He looked up at the clock tower to check the time; two o’clock.
There was a friendly collection of people all around. A father stood close to them with a little boy and girl, one dressed as a Knight, one as a Princess. The two agents smiled at the children as they tucked into their Bratwurst. Doyle noticed that the Father left the children at the barrier while he went to buy the lunch - something you wouldn’t have risked in London.
Amongst the dense crowds, they failed to notice two people stood opposite them, just outside the Hotel Oberkirch, a tall, pale, dark haired man, with his arm around a petite women with raven hair. The couple watched the two agents for a minute or two, then slowly melted away into the crowd.
********
Monday afternoon
The sound of distant, persistent drumming announced the beginning of the Carnival parade. The sound came closer and closer until at last they got their first view of the participants.
The different tribes paraded proudly down the street, some playing loud and enthusiastic music, some dancing, some doing acrobatics. The colourful costumes were stunning, and worn by everyone in the tribe from tiny babies to adults. And again, as with the day before, everyone wore intense and beautifully carved wooden masks.
A man in bright green came to stand right in front of them, shouting “Narri!” Bodie joined the crowd around them in their shouted reply, “Narro!”
“It’s great, isn’t it?” said Bodie, happily.
“I had no idea German’s were so crazy,” said Doyle.
A huge monster with long claws and pointed fangs skipped elaborately down the road, hitting people with three inflated bladders hanging from a long pole.
Doyle suddenly realised what it reminded him of. “Blimey, they’re like Morris Dancers on heat!” he said, turning to Bodie with a smile, just as the monster hit him on the head with the bladders. “Ouch!” he cried out, laughing.
Before he could recover another monster threw a huge handful of confetti at them both, covering their heads and shoving it down the back of their necks. Unfortunately Doyle was still in the middle of laughing after the previous encounter and managed to inhale a big mouthful of the confetti.
Coughing his heart out, freezing cold and covered in silver glitter, Doyle suddenly wondered what on earth he was doing here.
“Fuck!” he spluttered.
“That’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut,” said Bodie, slapping him on the back, helpfully.
The noise level grew as another out of tune marching band paused just in front of them, blasting out a brassy rendition of Sweet Caroline. Doyle winced.
A wild troupe of Devils careered down the street, leaping and jumping and attacking the viewing public at every step, ruffling hair, stealing hats, and throwing sweets. Bodie stooped down to retrieve some sweets for the little girl standing next to them, and as Doyle turned to watch, he felt himself grabbed from behind, and suddenly he was being heaved over the low barrier. Two of the devils had firm hold of his arms and they danced around in a circle, forcing him to take part. He got a glimpse of Bodie waving and shouting at him, then he felt a sudden sharp pain in his leg, and he lost all sense and feeling as he fell unconscious.
Bodie was amazed to see Doyle apparently suddenly taking part in the Carnival parade, but immediately sensed something was wrong as he saw his partners’ knees give way. A huge group of people dressed as lizards linked together in a conga line and passed in front of him, momentarily obscuring his view. He clambered over the barrier and tried to push through them, but they danced around and around him, refusing to let him out of the circle. Stopping short of actually hitting anyone, he finally forced his way through and stood in the middle of the parade, trying to see where Doyle had gone. But it was too late. He had disappeared.
********
“No, pull that one tighter, that’s it. Then fix that strap.”
Doyle felt himself being manhandled until he was lying on his side on the floor, his arms crossed in front of him. For some reason, he couldn’t move them.
He struggled to open his eyes. It was dark, and he was intensely cold. Suddenly a huge Devil’s face loomed in front of him, holding a syringe. There was a sharp pain in the back of his hand, and he passed out.
********
Monday Evening
Bodie finally made his way back to the Hotel at around 8pm, having been searching the streets for Doyle every minute since his abduction. He sat at the bar and ordered a Schnaps, and then another one, wondering if he had ever felt more desolate and alone.
After a short while the receptionist, Belinda, approached him. “Please sir, telephone,” she said, guiding him back to the reception desk. Bodie jumped up and followed her, picking up the phone with shaking fingers.
“Bodie,” he said.
“I expect you’ll be wanting to meet with me,” said a calm voice.
“Where and when?”
“The Ufer Cafe, on the river Dreisan. Ten minutes. I will be waiting.”
The phone clicked dead.
Bodie looked up at Belinda who had been waiting behind the counter. “Can you get me a taxi, quick?” he said, knowing he didn’t have time to get there on the trams, no matter how efficient they were.
********
The taxi dropped Bodie off at the top of a snow covered slope that led down to a large cafe at the river side. On a warm sunny day it must have been a very popular spot, but now, on a freezing cold February night, it was understandably deserted. Bodie skidded down the slope to the entrance of the cafe. The River Dreisam flowed fast and pure, sparkling in the moonlight. There was no-one in sight but Bodie spotted a slip of white paper sticking out of the letterbox. He opened it and read.
“No tricks. You are being watched. Any false move will result in the instant death of your partner. Go back up to the main road, cross over and make your way up river to the second bridge.”
He screwed the note up and thrust it into his pocket, then made his way back up the slippery slope.
He ran across the road avoiding a tram and several cars, and quickly walked along the row of houses lining the riverside to the second bridge, as instructed.
Standing halfway across the pretty footbridge was a tall man, his hands in his pockets, his hat pulled down low over his eyes.
Bodie stepped onto the bridge.
“Stop right there.”
Bodie stopped. He exhaled, his breath showing up as a cloud of steam around him.
“You are from CI5?”
Bodie nodded.
“If you want your partner back, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
“Is he okay?”
“He is...incapacitated.”
“What does that mean?”
“He is drugged and in a strait jacket, and he will remain so unless you co-operate.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t co-operate.”
“No, but you need to understand that he will not be escaping by himself.”
“I understand.”
There was a pause as both men evaluated each other.
“I need 24 hours. You let me cross the border and once I am free I’ll contact you and tell you where he is.”
“Why can’t you just go now, and tell me where he is?”
“I need a little more time.”
Bodie tensed. “If anything happens to him, I will personally hunt you down and kill you, Ashford.”
“Ah yes, CI5 loyalty. I had forgotten what it was like. It is difficult to feel loyal to an organisation which abandons you when the going gets rough.” Ashford’s voice sounded tired.
“What happens now?” asked Bodie.
“I know where to find you. I will be in touch within 24 hours. Do we have a deal, Bodie?”
“We have a deal.”
“Then start walking back the way you came. Now. “
Bodie reluctantly turned and started to walk back down the little street, and when he turned back a few moments later, Ashford was gone.
********
Doyle’s eyes flickered open slightly, consciousness returning only partially. In the dark, he strained to focus.
The Devil turned its back to him. The thick, woolly costume was unbuttoned and dropped onto the floor, revealing the shape of a woman wearing only a bra and pants. The devils head was pulled off next, and Doyle made out long black hair being shaken forward and then back.
“Bloody thing itches,” she muttered. She pulled on jeans, a t shirt and jumper, but not before he caught a glimpse of a black rose tattoo on her upper arm. She pulled a brush through her hair and tied it into a pony tail then pulled the devil mask back on.
She turned back towards him. “Hello, awake are we? We’ll have to fix that.”
With the skill of an expert, she untied one strap of the strait jacket, revealing his hand. She took the syringe from her bag and filled it, then injected the contents into the back of his hand, before replacing the straps.
“There, there, pet, that should do it.” She patted his cheek lightly, as his eye lids flickered and he slipped under once more.
********
Author: Bodie4Me and ILWB
Pros-Lib / Circuit Archive: Yes please
Pairing and / or characters: Bodie/Doyle
Rating: Adult
Word count: 14063
Summary: Bodie and Doyle get more than they bargained for after an op that leads them to Southern Germany.
Written during a wonderful wintery holiday in Freiburg, this story has a number of shameless cameos/Mary Sues and is very personal to us both. We share it with you as our Christmas present to the Pros world.
If I can suss out rich text I might even add pictures..... :o) This is a two parter because of its size, I hope I've posted it right!
Set in February 1978 in Freiburg, South Germany
Ray Doyle wasn’t a happy man.
Squeezed between the bulk of his partner and a tiny round window, he slowly started to sweat. The engines of the Boeing 737 had rumbled into life more than ten minutes ago, but they still weren’t moving. Glancing out of the window he took in part of a flimsy looking wing, an expanse of wet concrete and the shiny glass facades of Heathrow airport.
Bodie had generously insisted on him taking the window seat because “You’ve got to see London from above, mate, it’s breathtaking! The Thames, Buckingham Palace, the football grounds, you’ll love it!”
Doyle didn’t have the heart to tell him that he would much, much rather sit next to the aisle where you could just jump up and run for the nearest exit when necessary. Though once they were airborne even that wouldn’t be an option anymore, he thought, glumly.
He had fastened his seat-belt the second his bum had touched the seat, which had earned him a smirk and a raised eyebrow from his disgustingly relaxed partner.
Bodie had neatly draped the two black straps over his parted thighs and beamed at the approaching stewardess.
“So sorry love, do you think you could you give me a hand? The clasp just doesn’t seem to work.”
The shapely brunette took a look at Bodie’s lap and then at his smiling face. “Of course, Sir.” she purred leaning down, “Just let me…”
She was obviously very concerned about her passenger’s safety. It took her a long time to buckle him in and she managed to softly brush her fingertips over both his well muscled thighs and his belly in the process.
“Is it too tight?” she breathed at last, her hand still resting lightly on his abdomen.
The grin Bodie bestowed on her was dazzling. “No love…not yet.” He winked at her. “Thank you so much.”
Silently groaning Doyle closed his eyes. Once the smiling, slightly flushed stewardess had floated on, he shook his head.
“Shameless. You’re bloody shameless. Like a tomcat on heat.”
“Tomcat?” Bodie snorted, “That’s surely more your department, mate.”
“At least I’m a bit more…”
The word “subtle” died on his lips as the plane suddenly started to roll. Looking worriedly out of the small window again he instinctively gripped the arms of his seat as the BA machine gathered speed.
“Not too keen on flying, are we, DC Doyle?” his partner observed nudging his shoulder.
He shot him a withering look. “Just shut it, will you!”
“Awww sunshine, want me to hold your hand?”
“Don’t push it, Bodie!” Ray growled and then squeezed his eyes shut as the wheels left the ground and they were pressed back into their seats.
“Yeah…take off!” Bodie cheered right into his ear, and he would gladly have thumped him had he been able to move a muscle. Instead he sat rigid and white knuckled, almost forgetting to breathe as the plane rapidly rose into the air.
“Look, mate! Look down, Ray! It’s beautiful. Open your eyes for God’s sake!”
“Then get the fuck off me, you big berk!” Ray hissed giving his excited partner an annoyed push before he reluctantly peered at London from above. He regretted it instantly. His stomach gave a sickening lurch and he snapped his eyes closed again with a groan.
“You didn’t even look properly!” Bodie complained. “I go and let you have the window seat and you don’t even look properly!”
His pale faced companion took a deep, slightly shuddering breath. “Bodie…I swear to God…one more word and I’ll throw up on you, and don’t think I’m joking.”
“Jesus Doyle, you could have told me you have a full blown phobia.”
Angry green eyes snapped open again. “Just because some of us aren’t as keen as you SAS nutters on being stuck inside a metal box seven miles up in the air, doesn’t mean they have a phobia. Stop behaving like a bloody tourist! In case you haven’t noticed, we’re not exactly flying to the Maldives for a holiday. We’re flying to bloody Germany. To the fucking Black Forest. In the middle of winter!”
“And you hate it,” Bodie observed.
“You bet I hate it, Einstein! I mean, why us, Bodie? Why Germany? Is the Cow off his rocker? Sending us on this stupid mission to bring back that Ashford bloke. There must have been a better way. Why not let the Krauts turn him over? We were supposed to have a whole week off, if you happen to remember. A well deserved and very needed week off.”
Bodie put a soothing hand on his arm. “I know Ray, but you know how it is. The old man never does things the normal way, and he wants to handle things himself. Ashford is one of our own, at least he was for a while. I know Germany a little, been there quite a few times, and we’re Cowley’s best team. He wants us to clean his doorstep, we go and get our brooms.”
“Yeah, but this time the doorstep is in a strange city in the South of Germany. And you love it.”
Bodie nodded. “Oh God yes!” his partner exclaimed, looking like a little boy on Christmas morning, “To get out of the country and the old man having to pay for it? What could be better than that? And Germany isn’t half bad, Doyle. I bet you’ll like it. God, the food, the birds!”
Ray couldn’t help breaking into a wide grin. “Glad to hear you’ve got your priorities right, mate.”
Bodie grinned back at him. “Glad to see you’re still able to smile, sunshine.”
They locked eyes for a moment. “Sorry, eh?” Doyle said.
“That’s ok. You can buy me a beer once we’re there. God, I’m dying for a German beer.
The rest of the flight, which only took about 70 minutes, wasn’t too bad. Bodie munched his way through two bags of peanuts, skimmed through the newspaper he had found in his seat pocket and flirted outrageously with every stewardess that passed down the aisle.
Doyle concentrated very hard on not looking at the eerie expanse of white cloud outside the window and not hearing the disconcerting announcements about the height and speed of their plane. Approaching Basel airport they put their watches forward an hour.
The landing was almost as bad as the take off. Swearing under his breath, Doyle desperately waited for the noise and shaking to stop and for the wheels to finally touch the ground again.
He couldn’t get off the plane fast enough.
At the top of the stairs they were hit by incredibly cold, incredibly fresh air and Ray gave a loud sigh. “Oh God…Terra firma!”
“If you throw yourself down to kiss the ground, I’ll thump you.” Bodie said, in a pleased voice.
Doyle shook his head at him. “Do I look like the Pope?”
“Wouldn’t know, mate, haven’t seen him in jeans yet.”
With their bags slung over their shoulders they slowly made their way into the terminal building.
Compared to Heathrow, Basel was tiny and looked almost like a toy airport. The snow was very real though. There was a thick, heavy coating everywhere, but amazingly enough all the roads and paths had been efficiently cleared and everything seemed to be still functioning perfectly. It was obviously very different from England.
********
“Well how did we end up in Switzerland then?” said Doyle, hand on one hip as he leaned against the doorway.
“I don’t know, do I?”
“You’re supposed to be the experienced International traveller.”
“Yeah, well even International traveller’s make mistakes.”
“So let me get this right. We’re meant to be in France?”
“Correct. But this airport serves France, Switzerland and Germany.”
“And our coach leaves from France.”
“Yep.”
“But we’re in Switzerland.”
“Er, yeah. We’ll have to find our way back across the border somehow. Hey, where are you going?”
“I spy a pretty lady at a desk with ‘Information’ written on it.”
Bodie looked up to where Doyle was pointing. “Ah. Perfect.”
They approached the desk and combined chatting up the young receptionist with the need to obtain information. So busy were they trying to compete for her attention, that they failed to notice that their activities were being watched.
As they thanked the receptionist and made their way through the barrier to French soil, the man at the newspaper kiosk watched them carefully, making note of a careful description of them both, and which bus they boarded. Then he moved towards the public phone booth to pass on what he had seen.
********
Doyle felt much better now he was on solid ground, namely a bus being driven confidently but carefully down a two lane motorway, heading at last for Germany. He and Bodie were two of only a dozen passengers, and they sat in the rear seats, away from all the others.
“Are you going to fill me in on the file Cowley let you read?” Bodie kept his voice low, his head close to Doyle’s.
“I wondered when you’d get around to asking,” Doyle gave a half smile.
“That’s the first time you’ve relaxed since Heathrow,” said Bodie.
“Yeah, well I’m like the French rugby team - I don’t travel well.”
“Get on with it, Doyle.”
“Yeah, yeah. Cowley’s looking for a CI5 sleeper, name of Kurt Ashford.” Doyle pulled a photograph from his inside pocket and handed it to Bodie. It showed a tall, slim man with shoulder length black hair and dark blue eyes, accentuated by his pale complexion. “He’s been out of touch for a while now, Cowley thinks he’s changed sides. We find him and bring him back. We’re in Freiburg cos that’s where his Mother was from.”
“And his Father?” Bodie took in the detail of the photo and handed it back to Doyle.
“As English as they come. St Mary Cray, Kent.”
“And where in Freiburg are we supposed to start looking?”
“We’ve got one address to start with, but it can’t be that big a place or so busy we can’t find a CI5 agent, can it?”
********
As it turned out, they couldn’t have been more wrong. As they climbed down the steps of the coach they looked about them in wonder. Freiburg was a bustling, hectically busy city, and every third person was dressed very strangely indeed. Coloured wigs, duck costumes, funny hats, witches, cowboys and devils, all walked about as if they did this every day.
Bodie looked at Doyle, who shrugged and swung his bag over his shoulder. “Where to?” said Doyle.
“Tram to the centre, our hotel is by the Cathedral, about as central as you can get.”
“Lead on, Macduff.”
They took the outdoor escalator up to the level of the Tram stop and tried to work out the timetable. The afternoon sun shone on the snow covered mountains in the distance, drawing their eyes to the blue metal bridge across the railway.
To their right was a large church with two spires, and the sight of it covered in a layer of snow took their breath away.
“It’s really beautiful,” said Doyle.
“Stunning,” agreed Bodie, “but why the hell is everyone dressed like this?”
“God knows.”
At that moment a pretty girl dressed as a scarecrow moved towards them, having overheard their conversation.
“You are English?” she asked, instantly curious.
Doyle smiled at her. “Yes, can you help us?”
“Of course.” Her English was perfect. “Where do you wish to go?”
“Hotel Oberkirch,” said Bodie, checking his notebook.
The scarecrow checked the display board, and pointed to it. “You need Tram number one, it arrives in two minutes. Get off in the centre, at Bertoldsbrunnen, then aim for the spire of the Cathedral. Your hotel is right beside it.”
“Thank you,” said Doyle, the warmth of his smile increasing as he relaxed a little. People here really did seem to like the English. He felt a little stupid by his lack of German, but it didn’t seem that it was going to be an issue.
With predictable efficiency the Tram arrived on time and they crowded aboard with the rest of the passengers. It was very busy, and full of even more people in unusual costumes.
“Blimey,” said Doyle, “it’s like the London Underground.”
“What were you expecting?” asked Bodie, “hay carts and horse drawn carriages?”
“I really don’t know.” Doyle stared out of the window. “I’ve never been to this part of the world before. All I know for sure is I wasn’t expecting this.” As if to illustrate his point the tram halted at a stop and a group of Red Indians got on, cramming into the carriage around them.
Bodie pointed at the display above them. “Next stop, Bertoldsbrunnen. That’s us,” he said. “And then all we’ve got to do is aim for the tallest church spire and we’re there.”
If only things were that easy. When Bodie and Doyle stepped off the tram, overnight bags over their shoulders, they found themselves in the centre of a huge street party, full of families in costumes, food and drink sellers, and loud music. Taking as much care as possible they wound their way through the crowds and down the narrow streets towards the Minster.
The sights and smells captured Bodie’s imagination, and as they finally left the party behind them he couldn’t resist warning Doyle of his intentions. “I’m going straight back there once we’ve checked in,” he said, giving the party a longing look over his shoulder as they walked away.
“I knew you’d say that,” said Doyle, rolling his eyes. “Well I suppose we’ve got to start looking for this Ashford bloke somewhere, we may as well start back there.”
********
Sunday afternoon
Together they trudged on, making their way towards the Minster spire which towered over the surrounding area. As the small street they were walking along opened up into the market place, the site of the Minster right in front of them made them stop in their tracks. The beautiful, ancient Cathedral built in warm, red stone, stood proud and magnificent, surrounded by deep snow.
“Wow,” said Doyle, looking up.
“Yeah,” agreed Bodie.
They stood for a few minutes, taking in the sight before them, until Bodie started stamping his feet. “I’m cold,” he said, with a doleful and somewhat cheeky smile.
“Yeah, okay, come on,” said Doyle, and they made their way across to the quaint hotel opposite the side entrance of the Minster.
Bodie opened the front door and they stamped the snow off their boots before pushing through the heavy, leather lined curtain. They found themselves in a room that could easily have slipped through a time warp. Dark wood panels lined the walls, and a collection of antique plates stood to attention on the plate rack. The tables were set with crisp, white linen table clothes and candles, and comfortable cushions were placed on the benches around the edge of the room.
A pretty woman approached them, wearing a neat uniform and lace lined apron.
“Guten tag, kann ich ihnen helfen?”
Doyle smiled at her, his hopefulness that she would speak English over taking his nervousness of being in a foreign country. “Hi, er, do you speak English?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” she said, smiling, “Can I help you?”
“We have two rooms booked, in the name of Bentley and Layton,” he said.
She led them through the warm, cosy restaurant to the reception desk and looked at a large, red book. “We have one double room booked for you,” she said, looking up at Doyle.
“One room?” Doyle flashed a look at Bodie. “Not a twin?”
“You have the last room in Freiburg,” she said, checking the register again. “It is Fastnacht, Carnival. Every room is taken,” she explained.
“I see,” said Doyle, “and when does Carnival finish?”
“It is the children’s carnival today, and the main parade tomorrow afternoon. People will celebrate until Shrove Tuesday.”
“Like Mardi Gras?” asked Bodie.
“Exactly so,” she said. “It is a very ancient tradition, to drive away evil demons.”
Doyle looked at Bodie again. “So we get to share a room,” he said, the start of a grin on his face.
“Yes,” she said, blushing slightly. “I am sorry. I hope it is okay? It is a very big room.”
“Well in that case I’m sure it will be fine,” said Doyle, not wanting to worry her any more, and wondering secretly if Betty had arranged this on purpose. “Do I sign in here?”
“Er, yes, please, and I will show you upstairs.”
They both signed in the register and then crowded into the small lift up to the first floor.
Producing a big golden key, she ushered them inside a room that left CI5’s finest speechless, as they looked around and took everything in. Elegant wallpaper with cream coloured stripes and hundreds of little pink roses that matched the colour of the curtains and the thick soft carpet. A massive, very old looking bed, made from dark oak like the huge wardrobe next to it. The pillows and quilts were enormous and blindingly white. A beautiful antique table was framed by two matching chairs.
On the wall opposite the bed were two windows facing the side of the Cathedral and overlooking the bustling market square. To their horror the friendly young woman walked over and threw them wide open.
“Is that really necessary?” asked Bodie, a bit shocked by such an act.
“In Germany it is very good to have fresh air,” she said.
Bodie walked over to the window and closed it. “In England you spend a lot of money warming a room, so we wouldn’t want to let the cold in,” he explained.
Doyle rescued her, taking the key from her hand and walking back to the door with her. “Danke, er?”
“Belinda,” she said.
“Danke, Belinda. We’ll be fine now.”
“Please, one thing more.”
“Sure.”
“If you are late from the Carnival then the front door will be locked, you will need to ring at the side entrance.”
“Fine, no problem. Thanks, love.”
And as she left and shut the door behind her, Bodie and Doyle both burst into fits of laughter.
Doyle collapsed back on the huge double bed. “Oh Christ,” he said, “they’ve given us the bloody honeymoon suite.”
Bodie sat in one of the ancient armchairs, still chuckling. “Yeah, I know, and then they want us to freeze to death in here, on top of everything else.”
Doyle rolled onto his side and propped himself up on his elbow. “What now?” he asked. “Do you want to un-pack?”
“Nah,” said Bodie, looking out of the window like a kid in a toy shop. “Let’s get back down there. I like the sound of a Carnival, and we’re not going to find Ashford sitting around here.”
********
On any other day, walking along the Kaiser-Joseph-Straße would have been more than enough for any tourist. The tall, elegant buildings on either side gave a feeling of security and safety. A feeling that was quickly dispelled by the deep gully running down both sides of the street, which if you weren’t looking where you were going, could easily cause a fall. It was even worse in cold weather, as they filled with snow and were therefore difficult to spot until you tripped down one.
But on this day, this particular Sunday, the street was buzzing and lively and getting livelier by the minute. There were food and drink stalls on both sides, selling anything from sausage to sweets, and everything in between. The smells combined to create a confused mix of sweet and savoury, with such variety it was difficult to know what to choose.
Bodie went straight to a Bratwurst stall, his eyes lighting up at the choice. With lots of pointing and cheerful exchanges he bought two, and copying the previous customer he covered them both in mustard.
‘You’re not going to put that in your mouth are you?” said Doyle.
“Worse than that, this one’s for you,” said Bodie, handing him the long red sausage contained in a short, stumpy crusty roll.
“God, that’s gorgeous,” mumbled Bodie, as he devoured it.
Doyle tasted his tentatively, not being a lover of American hotdogs. But this was nothing like an American hotdog, or an English sausage, come to that, and he soon got stuck in, although his enthusiasm didn’t quite match Bodie’s who quickly went back for seconds.
They worked their way through the crowds, sampling deep fried sugar covered treats at every turn.
Every so often the crowd would part to allow a marching band to pass through, playing a strange selection of modern day tunes very badly, and very loudly.
Doyle noticed that the Carnival people took great care to keep warm. Their costumes were made of many layers and covered every limb, and they jumped, marched and danced. All these things helped them to keep warm as they celebrated. Doyle, on the other hand, was frozen.
“You okay?” asked Bodie, noticing his shivering. “Here, get this down you.” He handed over some money to another vendor and took delivery of two small glasses full of hot red liquid.
Doyle looked at him questioningly.
“Gluhwein,” explained Bodie, sipping his carefully.
Doyle sipped at the boiling hot spicy liquid, amazed at how quickly it made its way straight down to his toes. “That’s bloody lovely,” he said, as the warming affect spread through his whole body.
As they stood on the sidelines sipping their drinks, a pretty young woman suddenly ran behind them, hiding from three guys in sailor suits. She shrieked and ran around the two agents, chased by the three lads. They cornered her and grabbed her, then each stole a kiss before running off. She looked as though they had really made her day. She laughed and gabbled something to Doyle who just nodded and smiled, hoping she wouldn’t realise he didn’t have a clue what was going on.
He looked up at Bodie who was laughing. “It’s something to do with fertility,” he chuckled, “lots of people get pregnant during Fastnacht.”
The street was completely packed full of people by now, and there was hardly room for any of the passing bands to get through. But there was no sense of threat, no worries about having your pockets picked like in London. Bodie and Doyle side stepped their way through the crowds, sharing in the body warmth of the mass of people.
Eventually the sun set, the snow started to fall, and the temperature dropped. The crowd slowly dispersed, and the two CI5 agents made their way back to the warmth of their hotel room.
********
Doyle finished washing, and cleaning his teeth, and emerged from the bathroom wearing his pyjama bottoms, a towel draped around his shoulders.
Bodie was already in bed, curled on one side facing the wall.
Doyle sensed all was not well. “You okay?” he asked.
“Hmm? Yeah. Why?”
“You haven’t really said much since we got back.”
“I forgot about the accommodation.”
“Why, what’s wrong with it?”
Bodie rolled over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “I’m not really used to sharing,” he admitted.
“We’ve done it often enough,” said Doyle, sitting on his side of the bed.
“In bunks, and tents and when we’ve crashed out on each other pissed, but not in a honeymoon suite in a five star hotel.”
Doyle laughed, his eyes twinkling. “You’re right there, hadn’t thought about it that way.” He lifted the quilt and got into bed. “You want to put a pillow down the middle, just in case one of us gets ideas?” he said, a smile still on his lips.
Bodie relaxed, realising how daft he was being. “No, I think I can trust myself,” he said.
“Oh yeah, but can you trust me?” said Doyle, winking at him before rolling over to turn out the light.
Monday morning
Bodie and Doyle sat down at the table in the window, looking somewhat out of place in the quaintly traditional room.
A slim, pretty waitress approached. “Guten Morgen,” she said, “may I get breakfast for you?”
“Ja, danke,” said Bodie, “with tea please.”
As she walked away with their order, Doyle looked out of the window at the snow covered Cathedral. “So, where do we start?” he said.
Bodie shrugged. “There must have been something in the file?”
“Only one address, where Ashford’s Mother lived.”
“And where’s that then?”
“Near the hospital.”
“Well we’ll eat first then get over there, yeah?”
The waitress came back with two teapots, cups and saucers, which she arranged on the table before them.
“What’s your name, love?” asked Doyle, smiling up at her.
“Hilke,” she blushed, then dashed away again.
Bodie looked at him from under his eyelashes. “Down, boy,” he said, grinning.
Quickly she came back with another tray, and laid out a huge array of food on the table. Fresh bread rolls, sliced sausage, cream cheese and paper thin sliced cheese. She gave a brief bob, then disappeared again.
“Well what do we do with this lot?” said Doyle, slightly taken aback.
“We eat it,” said Bodie, helping himself to a bread roll and a big chunk of sliced sausage.
Doyle poured the tea and watched as Bodie tucked in. “Come on, mate,” said Bodie with his mouth full, “it’s gorgeous.”
“I might just ask for a piece of toast,” said Doyle. He became aware they were being watched, and he looked up to see Hilke smiling at him from across the room. Shyly, she came back to the table.
“Can I help you?” she said. When Doyle nodded gratefully, she took an oval shaped bread roll covered in black poppy seeds and deftly cut it once across and once in half. Then she spread one of the pieces with cream cheese and delicately draped a thin slice of cheese on top, followed by a slice of sausage. Then she placed the finished creation on Doyle’s plate in front of him.
His wide smile was genuinely warm. “Thank you,” he said.
She blushed again, and left them to it.
It didn’t take them long to clear the plates.
Bodie yawned, not surprising when he realised how much he had just eaten. “I feel like a nap,” he said, stretching his arms out wide.
Doyle stood up and pulled his jacket on. “Tough,” he said, “we’ve got an agent to find.”
Bodie sighed and followed suit, and with a wave at Hilke, they stepped out into the cold, crisp morning.
********
Ashford collected his coffee from the serving window and stood at one of the high tables, leaning against it as he sipped. The brightly lit display of cakes and pastries should have captured his attention, but his mind was firmly fixed on one thing. Getting away from the two CI5 agents who he knew had arrived in town to locate him.
The door opened, letting the cold in momentarily, and a petite young woman with long black hair joined him.
“Kurt,” she said, reaching up to him for a brief kiss. “You sounded so worried on the phone. What is it?”
He looked down, staring into his coffee, bleakly. “Time’s up, Ellen,” he said.
“What has happened?”
“My old boss has sent some people to find me, to take me back.”
Ellen’s heart stepped up a beat. “Can they make you?”
“Yes.”
“But do they know what you’ve been through? How close you came...”
“No,” he said, sharply, stopping her from saying any more. “And they won’t care.”
“Then we have to leave, now,” she grabbed his arm, squeezing it and looking deep into his eyes.
“There’s no time.”
“Why?”
“They’re already here, already on my trail.”
“Then we’ll have to make time,” she said.
Ashford looked up at her, taking in the flushed, excited look on her face, the sparkle in the blue eyes. “What do you have in mind?” he asked with curiosity. He had been with Ellen for two years now, and life with her had not once been dull. He had no idea what she would come up with to get them out of this, but he was sure that somehow, she would.
********
Several frustrating hours later, Bodie and Doyle returned to the centre of Freiburg. They had been on and off trams and buses and got lost three times, only to discover that Ashford’s Mother had died several years ago and nobody had seen her son since then.
The city centre had altered while they had been away. Barriers had been placed down all the streets, marking the route of the parade. Because of the disruption their tram stopped one stop early, and they picked their way through the back streets aiming for the spire of the Cathedral.
As they walked through one street lined with shops Doyle suddenly stopped in his tracks. He was drawn like a magnet to the window of an old shop. There was a metal shutter over the window because the shop was shut, but he could still see through to the display behind. Bodie followed him.
“Oh my God,” said Bodie.
“Yeah.”
The window presented an awe inspiring display of guns, cross bows, hunting knives, pen knives and rifles.
For a moment they both just stared in silence.
“You can just buy this stuff in an ordinary shop?” said Doyle, incredulous.
“Looks like it,” said Bodie. “See anything you fancy?”
“Not half,” said Doyle, with a grin, taking up the line on cue.
“Nice crossbow.”
“Nice,” agreed Doyle, “but a bit impractical. Now that, that’s practical.” He pointed at a red Swiss Army Knife.
“Red suits you.”
“I always thought so.”
“Shame the shop’s shut.”
“It’s probably cos of the carnival. We can come back tomorrow?” said Doyle, looking at Bodie hopefully.
“Anything to keep you happy, mate!”
With one last longing look, they carried on down the street. The nearer they got to the Minster the busier it became, until eventually they found themselves in the main market square, along with hundreds of other people. The barriers cut through the centre of the market place and people were starting to take their places.
“The Parade must be about to start,” said Doyle. “And we can’t get across to the hotel from here.”
But Bodie was already diverting them to a Bratwurst stall.
“You can’t possibly be hungry already,” said Doyle.
“Breakfast was hours ago.”
“True, but there was enough food to keep you going for a week.”
“It might keep you going for a week mate, but not me. You want one?”
“Er, no, thanks,” said Doyle, as Bodie approached the stall with a smile, coming back a few minutes later with a crusty roll containing a long creamy coloured sausage covered in mustard.
Bodie munched one end of the sausage. “It’s a different one to yesterday,” he said, “a different flavour. Very nice though.”
Doyle raised his eyes to the sky and guided them both through the crowd to the barrier in the shadow of the Minster, directly opposite their hotel. “We might as well watch from here,” he said, “nobody’s going anywhere until this parade finishes.” He looked up at the clock tower to check the time; two o’clock.
There was a friendly collection of people all around. A father stood close to them with a little boy and girl, one dressed as a Knight, one as a Princess. The two agents smiled at the children as they tucked into their Bratwurst. Doyle noticed that the Father left the children at the barrier while he went to buy the lunch - something you wouldn’t have risked in London.
Amongst the dense crowds, they failed to notice two people stood opposite them, just outside the Hotel Oberkirch, a tall, pale, dark haired man, with his arm around a petite women with raven hair. The couple watched the two agents for a minute or two, then slowly melted away into the crowd.
********
Monday afternoon
The sound of distant, persistent drumming announced the beginning of the Carnival parade. The sound came closer and closer until at last they got their first view of the participants.
The different tribes paraded proudly down the street, some playing loud and enthusiastic music, some dancing, some doing acrobatics. The colourful costumes were stunning, and worn by everyone in the tribe from tiny babies to adults. And again, as with the day before, everyone wore intense and beautifully carved wooden masks.
A man in bright green came to stand right in front of them, shouting “Narri!” Bodie joined the crowd around them in their shouted reply, “Narro!”
“It’s great, isn’t it?” said Bodie, happily.
“I had no idea German’s were so crazy,” said Doyle.
A huge monster with long claws and pointed fangs skipped elaborately down the road, hitting people with three inflated bladders hanging from a long pole.
Doyle suddenly realised what it reminded him of. “Blimey, they’re like Morris Dancers on heat!” he said, turning to Bodie with a smile, just as the monster hit him on the head with the bladders. “Ouch!” he cried out, laughing.
Before he could recover another monster threw a huge handful of confetti at them both, covering their heads and shoving it down the back of their necks. Unfortunately Doyle was still in the middle of laughing after the previous encounter and managed to inhale a big mouthful of the confetti.
Coughing his heart out, freezing cold and covered in silver glitter, Doyle suddenly wondered what on earth he was doing here.
“Fuck!” he spluttered.
“That’ll teach you to keep your mouth shut,” said Bodie, slapping him on the back, helpfully.
The noise level grew as another out of tune marching band paused just in front of them, blasting out a brassy rendition of Sweet Caroline. Doyle winced.
A wild troupe of Devils careered down the street, leaping and jumping and attacking the viewing public at every step, ruffling hair, stealing hats, and throwing sweets. Bodie stooped down to retrieve some sweets for the little girl standing next to them, and as Doyle turned to watch, he felt himself grabbed from behind, and suddenly he was being heaved over the low barrier. Two of the devils had firm hold of his arms and they danced around in a circle, forcing him to take part. He got a glimpse of Bodie waving and shouting at him, then he felt a sudden sharp pain in his leg, and he lost all sense and feeling as he fell unconscious.
Bodie was amazed to see Doyle apparently suddenly taking part in the Carnival parade, but immediately sensed something was wrong as he saw his partners’ knees give way. A huge group of people dressed as lizards linked together in a conga line and passed in front of him, momentarily obscuring his view. He clambered over the barrier and tried to push through them, but they danced around and around him, refusing to let him out of the circle. Stopping short of actually hitting anyone, he finally forced his way through and stood in the middle of the parade, trying to see where Doyle had gone. But it was too late. He had disappeared.
********
“No, pull that one tighter, that’s it. Then fix that strap.”
Doyle felt himself being manhandled until he was lying on his side on the floor, his arms crossed in front of him. For some reason, he couldn’t move them.
He struggled to open his eyes. It was dark, and he was intensely cold. Suddenly a huge Devil’s face loomed in front of him, holding a syringe. There was a sharp pain in the back of his hand, and he passed out.
********
Monday Evening
Bodie finally made his way back to the Hotel at around 8pm, having been searching the streets for Doyle every minute since his abduction. He sat at the bar and ordered a Schnaps, and then another one, wondering if he had ever felt more desolate and alone.
After a short while the receptionist, Belinda, approached him. “Please sir, telephone,” she said, guiding him back to the reception desk. Bodie jumped up and followed her, picking up the phone with shaking fingers.
“Bodie,” he said.
“I expect you’ll be wanting to meet with me,” said a calm voice.
“Where and when?”
“The Ufer Cafe, on the river Dreisan. Ten minutes. I will be waiting.”
The phone clicked dead.
Bodie looked up at Belinda who had been waiting behind the counter. “Can you get me a taxi, quick?” he said, knowing he didn’t have time to get there on the trams, no matter how efficient they were.
********
The taxi dropped Bodie off at the top of a snow covered slope that led down to a large cafe at the river side. On a warm sunny day it must have been a very popular spot, but now, on a freezing cold February night, it was understandably deserted. Bodie skidded down the slope to the entrance of the cafe. The River Dreisam flowed fast and pure, sparkling in the moonlight. There was no-one in sight but Bodie spotted a slip of white paper sticking out of the letterbox. He opened it and read.
“No tricks. You are being watched. Any false move will result in the instant death of your partner. Go back up to the main road, cross over and make your way up river to the second bridge.”
He screwed the note up and thrust it into his pocket, then made his way back up the slippery slope.
He ran across the road avoiding a tram and several cars, and quickly walked along the row of houses lining the riverside to the second bridge, as instructed.
Standing halfway across the pretty footbridge was a tall man, his hands in his pockets, his hat pulled down low over his eyes.
Bodie stepped onto the bridge.
“Stop right there.”
Bodie stopped. He exhaled, his breath showing up as a cloud of steam around him.
“You are from CI5?”
Bodie nodded.
“If you want your partner back, you’ll do exactly as I say.”
“Is he okay?”
“He is...incapacitated.”
“What does that mean?”
“He is drugged and in a strait jacket, and he will remain so unless you co-operate.”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t co-operate.”
“No, but you need to understand that he will not be escaping by himself.”
“I understand.”
There was a pause as both men evaluated each other.
“I need 24 hours. You let me cross the border and once I am free I’ll contact you and tell you where he is.”
“Why can’t you just go now, and tell me where he is?”
“I need a little more time.”
Bodie tensed. “If anything happens to him, I will personally hunt you down and kill you, Ashford.”
“Ah yes, CI5 loyalty. I had forgotten what it was like. It is difficult to feel loyal to an organisation which abandons you when the going gets rough.” Ashford’s voice sounded tired.
“What happens now?” asked Bodie.
“I know where to find you. I will be in touch within 24 hours. Do we have a deal, Bodie?”
“We have a deal.”
“Then start walking back the way you came. Now. “
Bodie reluctantly turned and started to walk back down the little street, and when he turned back a few moments later, Ashford was gone.
********
Doyle’s eyes flickered open slightly, consciousness returning only partially. In the dark, he strained to focus.
The Devil turned its back to him. The thick, woolly costume was unbuttoned and dropped onto the floor, revealing the shape of a woman wearing only a bra and pants. The devils head was pulled off next, and Doyle made out long black hair being shaken forward and then back.
“Bloody thing itches,” she muttered. She pulled on jeans, a t shirt and jumper, but not before he caught a glimpse of a black rose tattoo on her upper arm. She pulled a brush through her hair and tied it into a pony tail then pulled the devil mask back on.
She turned back towards him. “Hello, awake are we? We’ll have to fix that.”
With the skill of an expert, she untied one strap of the strait jacket, revealing his hand. She took the syringe from her bag and filled it, then injected the contents into the back of his hand, before replacing the straps.
“There, there, pet, that should do it.” She patted his cheek lightly, as his eye lids flickered and he slipped under once more.
********