Macklin was a creature of habit any other time than while fighting. So any agent would have been surprised to find the famous – well, even notorious – CI5 arms- and combat-instructor where he was now: sitting behind his desk, feet up, biting a pencil. Actually, he had been sitting there already for a long while, and even more astonishingly, he had used a lot of that time to write down notes. Now he was reading through them, and although most would have called his face expressionless, those few who had spent time with him, could have sworn there appeared a hint of a frown on his brow.
Finally he tossed his notepad on the desk, dismissing the preliminary summary and its contents, which were safely countable and tangible, and utterly boring for a man of action. But even men of action were sometimes forced to do some paperwork and reporting, to please the ministry penpushers who most probably didn't have a clue on what he even was talking about; or the Controller who certainly did. Maybe that was why he really bothered, as he knew old George did actually read those reports with great interest, even if they also talked on regular basis. And as George allowed him to do his thing, for as long as he stayed in the budget and didn't break bones, that was all right and proper.
After a while Macklin took the pencil, looked at the end which had broken when his thoughts had wandered away from the countable, and threw the pen into a dustbin. He turned on his chair to look out from his windows, leaning on his hand. And now even an ordinary agent could have seen him frown, and gnaw at his lower lip. Gut feeling had overcome the concrete, and that was something Brian Macklin hated. Maybe as it had with his own patched guts to do.
Suddenly the man took his feet down, searched his directory for a certain extension and reached for the phone. "Macklin. Can you talk in ten? Good." He was on his feet already when the receiver slammed on its place. And anyone in the building would have been flabbergasted to see the trainer a few minutes later knocking on the door of Dr Kate Ross, who had spent a minute staring at the receiver in her hand.
Dr Ross finally looked at her watch. "I'm sorry, Macklin, I have an appointment in ten minutes so we can't continue for much longer today. Anyway, I do agree that you may have made a correct assessment." It hurt to admit that, especially as it was Macklin, on whom the psychiarist had kept a wary eye ever since their first meeting years ago. "I haven't been aware of this as there has been next to nothing contact the past couple of months, and it hasn't come up in discussions with the others either. But I'm afraid you are right and there may actually come problems at some point. Have you talked about this with anyone else?"
Macklin, who had thrown himself almost across an armchair shook his head. "A little, but I've needed to be very careful. Besides, you're one of the few here who don't gossip. Me asking around here something 'bout it, or talking so that anyone else could overhear, it could end up in disaster. Might be that even if a wrong ear heard you talking. You know how things are." She nodded, being one of the handful who knew, and sighed. She so hated to be forced to admit Macklin was right about something.
"What I want to know, Doc: is there any quick remedy?"
Dr Ross grimaced. "A quick remedy to something that has probably been brewing for months? Hardly, Macklin. I can't come up with one, anyway. Besides, in a couple of days I'll be off, to my vacation, for the next few weeks. But talking might help, and in this case, really taking the bull by its horns. But I doubt I get a chance to it before I leave. I think you could have a go at it, actually. Or then maybe Doyle or Bodie. But are they aware of the problem?"
The trainer nodded. "I talked with both of them over a week ago for the first time, when the chief told me about his suspicions, but they haven't got anywhere with it." He stood up. "Take the bull by its horns... all right. Might as well try. Take care, Doc." And he was out, leaving the worried psychiarist wonder whether she should be more concerned over what Macklin had told her when coming in, or for whatever the man had in mind when leaving her room.
Anna was in light sweat after the careful warm-up and the first few series of kicks and hits. Macklin allowed her take a breath. "Plans for tonight?"
She shook her head and wiped her face with a towel. "Dinner later, nothing else planned. Rains again, they had promised it for the whole weekend, I can't understand how you Brits can live with it. Maybe that's why you've tried to conquer every sunny place on the earth."
She grinned at Macklin's reply: "Yeah, like Antarctica. Bloody race there with the Norwegians, can't be easy there either." There were not many people with whom Macklin joked. "Ready?"
Anna nodded.
"Now, I want you to use your right arm better." Blond man took the pads which served both as targets and as shields. "Give me series, let's say a kick after every two hits. Or whatever that feels a good rhythm. And I'd like to actually feel some impact, thank you." Soon Anna's ponytail started to sway in a rhythm of a dance accompanied by thuds of her sneakers and fists against the pads.
After another 10 minutes Macklin again allowed Anna to catch her breath. Despite the panting she still looked quite comfortable and relaxed.
"Why did you want me here instead of my gym? I'm not supposed to visit HQ during the dismissal, you know that." She took a few swallows from her bottle.
"Wanted to use the video. Easier to follow up progress."
Anna grinned. "Video? Good grief Macklin, are you finally giving in to 80's?"
He chuckled. "No, I'm gathering evidence to use for blackmailing. Would be easier though if it took sound too, half of the agents give death threats. But now Missie, I want to finally check out that shoulder and side of yours. Warm enough to manage with your sleeveless?" And the next 15 minutes the trainer tested the mobility of the shoulder joint which made him scratch his head a little, and muscular strength on the injured half of Anna's upper body.
"Say, why don't you want to teach combat? Oi, take a broader grip. Ten is enough." The trainer let go of Anna's waist when he saw her have a good grip of the high bar. Which, actually, was high, as Macklin hadn't cared to take it down for Anna after his own warm up with some gymnastics. Yes, although Macklin was a few years older than most present field agents, he in praxis was the fittest man in the Squad, sneering at no form or excercise. And he didn't mind lifting his colleague, if truth be told. He even had perfectly valid and sensible reasons for preferring lift, to letting the woman jump, in case someone happened to see.
"I – don't – know – if – I – can – teach – carajo! -" She fell down on her feet. "My hand slipped." She shook her hand and arm.
"Hurt?" She shook her head. Macklin calmly took a grip and lifted her back. "Then finish. Three more to go." The quiet curses made him smile. "It's so cute that you swear in Spanish at me. A couple of sessions more and I can move to train some Latino military." Anna dropped down on the floor and threw Macklin with her towel when she heard the command of doing 20 push-ups.
After that Anna was gasping for breath for a while but didn't seem too exhausted otherwise. The physio had done a good job with her and she had been very persistent in rehabilitating herself once her system had started to work better. "Ten minute break, you can take a lea... eh, use the toilet if you want to." Anna shook her head disapprovingly at him but smiled anyway and got on her feet, disappearing from sight.
Macklin also used the opportunity. After washing his hands he leaned on the sink for a while, trying to decide. If he meant to do it, it was better to do now before Anna was supposed to start the combat-training with those penpushers and some female agents, also from the other end of the scale, five specially handpicked agents. Whatever happened now, he might be able to at least reduce the collateral damage, and there was still a couple of weeks to re-assess and make new plans if things went completely to hell.
Too bad he only had heard a couple of weeks ago from the chief about Anna's reluctance, and only after that he had learned that she refused to play with even Doyle and Bodie, with whom she had had regular karate- and judo-matches before getting shot. Those talks had alerted him that things definitely were not all right – Anna had been only happy to combat before she was wounded, or practise pure martial arts. But, he would soon know. And he had been attentive during this session, as he had needed to assess if it was physically safe to go on with his plan. Safe for the woman.
The trainer left the men's room, and came to think that maybe he should have gone to switch off the monitor and recorder to the gym. But hopefully the attendants wouldn't be paying attention. And for once, Macklin was sincerely hoping that both he, and his chief were being wrong about Anna.
Anna was already inside when he returned, so Macklin calmly turned and locked both doors, putting the key in his pocket. Anna frowned and gave him a surprised glance.
"Now, Missie, we stop talking bullshit as you civilized Americans would say. Tell me what's wrong. Why don't you want to teach combat?" He leaned on the door to the yard, his arms crossed on his chest. "Your mobility is adequate, and your muscle tone also, to manage for the start. And as you know what we want for those penpushers meant to use as reserve for surveillance, you can't claim that's something too hard to manage. And you probably are more than able to beat also the field agents we're offering you, even in your present condition." Anna was chewing on her lip.
Finally she looked the senior trainer in the eye. "I don't want trouble."
Macklin raised his eyebrows, although the only thing that surprised him was that she actually had said it out loud. "Trouble?"
Anna tossed her towel on her bag. "Yeah." She fell silent again.
Although Macklin wasn't much of a talker himself either, this time he didn't take the silence. "Define trouble."
Anna started to pace around. Finally she halted. "I don't want to fight. Because... because I'm afraid I may lose the grip of myself. When fighting, I mean."
Macklin took a deep breath. Hate, fear and frustration... a killing combination, with someone like you. Yeah. Your fuse isn't the longest one to begin with. "Well, that one is easy to test. Fight me."
Anna shook her head. "No, Mac. I don't want to."
Macklin walked closer. "I didn't ask. That was an order."
Anna still declined. "No."
Macklin frowned. "Listen, Missie. Doors are locked now, and I have the key. And believe me, you won't go through them unless you fight me." He noticed Anna was starting to breathe faster. Good. Yet, a part of his mind felt remorse for what he would make the woman do. But, he wouldn't be who he was, if he had allowed slack. To anyone.
He stopped right in front of Anna. "Come now, woman. Give me a demonstration. You're going to need those when training. You're going to need someone attacking you so that you can show how to defend." He took a firm grip on Anna's shoulders.
"Mac, don't." She refused to move.
He shook her so that she staggered, yet still she didn't do anything. "C'mon... show that temper now. You're not even swearing."
No, she wasn't, but her eyes were changing. "Cut it out, Macklin."
He grinned in a mean way. "What, playing hard to get now?"
Macklin let go of Anna's shoulders but instead pushed her hard to her chest so that she staggered and almost fell, and the man grabbed her arm, and jerked her back against his chest. "Now, trainer, what would you do if some man in a dark back-alley, or, let's say, in a locked room, wanted to play a little with you?" He twisted her arm, not enough to do damage, but enough to cause pain. And although he had expected resistance, he still only barely managed to avert the fingers of the other hand aimed at his eyes, and the simultaneous kick did hit his shin-bone and caused him to curse and push the woman farther off. But the snap had already happened, and another kick he managed to take at his hip instead of the original target, made him stagger, and a she-devil launched at him.
Jax, who was getting involved with personnel-issues in addition to his agent-duties, brought the duty list for the next two weeks, and Harrison, who had just come to start his evening-shift in the surveillance-room, wanted to know his opinion on the next day's football-match. Elridge was already on his feet, ready to head to his locker, when movement in the new monitor grabbed his attention. "Well that's one hell of an excercise, I say."
Both Jax and Harrison turned to watch, in time to see Macklin block a kick aimed at his head, and the female trainer wham face down against floor, bouncing back up in half a second, something dark on her chin, hurling what looked like a bottle, towards the senior trainer's face, yet he blocked it with his arm and the bottle broke on the floor.
"Yeah. Excercise." Jax turned and walked calmly out and the few yards to the nearest empty room he spotted. And once there the dark-skinned agent slammed the door shut and grabbed the phone. "Sir? It's Jax. Trainers are fighting... No, I mean they are bloody fighting!"
They were a little too late. When George Cowley hurried over the yard towards the gym's door, he saw it be open, and two figures were literally steaming as if out from sauna in the cold early June drizzle; one collapsed on the ground, the other kneeling next to the first. The five seconds spent in front of the monitor had been enough for the Controller, he had grabbed Jax by the arm in the corridor and ordered him quietly to find Bodie, Doyle, and Kate Ross. He hadn't stayed waiting for them.
Macklin barely turned his head when his superior approached. As Anna moved, the trainer gently helped her to sit up and then get on her knees. Her wear was smudged and partially dripping wet from lying on the wet asphalt, and her breast and midriff were heaving in an extreme way. "Easy, Missie... don't try to get up yet. Breathe first." Anna leaned on the blond man.
The stunned Scot finally found his tongue. "What the HELL has happened here? Eh? Did you both get a bloody brainstorm?"
Macklin wiped under his nose. Only now the Controller realised that the man's nose was bleeding and blood had stained his T-shirt also. "I tested her combat-ability. Full contact." Gasping Anna still leaned on him.
Anna finally lifted her face and wiped her chin and lower lip with the back of her hand.
"Teeth ok?"
She licked her lip, nodded, still unable to speak.
"Ribs?"
She finally managed to gasp a word. "Ok. Guess." Mr Cowley meant to kneel down but she raised her arm to stop him. "I'm - fine."
Bodie and Doyle were already rushing out from the door on the other side of the yard, and noticing them, Anna wanted up, and Macklin helped her on her feet, still supporting her. Seeing their friend get on her feet, the two agents slowed down, uncertain on what had been actually happening as they hadn't seen the monitor.
But Kate Ross who also had got there, could guess.
"Macklin, to bloody hell with you!" The agents and their chief had never heard her lose her temper that way, it looked like she was ready to hit the trainer.
But Anna straightened up and raised her finger in a warning gesture. "Don't." Dr Ross was stunned.
Anna still was panting heavily, but was able to stand straight and Macklin finally took his arm away from around her. She wiped and licked her bleeding lip again and looked at her colleague's face. "Could use - hankies." They both were given handkerchiefs, and Macklin got to press his nostrils.
"You ok? Nose? Bvoken?"
Macklin gave Anna a glare from behind his hankie. "Don'd fladder yourseff. Dot widh your buscle." He took the hankie away but instantly new trickle emerged and he continued to press. "Good efferd dhough." He looked at the two mute agents. "Bedder dan deirs." He looked back at Anna. "Dext dimbe you bust rebember dake indhaler or sumding. You drobbed for lack ob oxygen. Ask 'bout id fromb dat docdor ob yours."
Anna gave him an ugly glare. "Nest time - you have some bloody - futons, tatamis, whateva - mattvesses on that - fucking floov. Vill be lisping - for days."
Macklin would have snorted if he could. "Shouldn'd have ladded on dat boddle ob yours. Served you righd."
Anna noticed a dark red bruised marking in the arm of the trainer where the same bottle had hit. "Sorvy 'bout that. Good thing you weve - quick enough." She vaguely remembered aiming at the man's head.
"Get your stubb. Dere's ice id by office." Macklin pushed Anna towards the open door. "Bodie, dake her hobe." He took the handkerchief away again. "Home, I meant." He still sounded blocked. "Check that lip first. If it doesn't need stitches, more ice on it as soon as you are home, quick snack asap, and fluids, help to check her bruises, she knows herself what to do with 'em. And later a good dinner. She'll need energy." Anna was inside the gym. "Take care of her. TLC and so forth."
Bodie could never have believed hearing a word like that from Macklin and blinked.
Dr Ross was still enraged. "Didn't you think at all?"
Macklin was trying to wipe away the clotting blood. "I wanted to see what would happen. Before and especially after. Didn't dare to leave it after you getting back, doc. And all I did was to use a simple demonstration on what she should teach her group." He gave a calm look at both the doctor and his chief. "And to be honest, I thought, and have now even greater reason to think that I was and am at the moment just about the only one in this agency, able to handle her reaction. Even though she's still not in her full form."
That didn't take any away of the edge and sarcasm in the doctor's voice. "Oh. So you thought you would break her like a horse? Beat her into submittance or something like that?"
Returning with her bag and clothes, Anna heard that. "Dat's enough, doctor." It was hard to speak with her swollen lip. "He made me snap, tvue. But after dat, he only blocked my attacks. Allowed me to wave... rave till it vas buv... burned out, though he could have beaten me. Mac, you'll call me 'bout Monday, right?"
The trainer gave her a little smile which to the bystanders seemed even warm. "Will do. Go home now."
Anna turned at the Controller. "Sir, is Bodie fvee... free to give me a lift?"
Stunned, Controller could only nod. "Aye... aye, take her home, Bodie. I maybe call later."
The two set off to the parking-area, Anna pressing a bag of ice against her face, and Macklin saw the three left at place stare at him. "I go and tidy the gym, there's blood and drink and glass on the floor. You can go and watch the video if you want. But after that, take it away and keep safe. More than enough commotion already." And without waiting for any comment or reaction, the trainer turned and walked in.
While turning to go back over the yard, Kate Ross couldn't help herself. "Those two... I just can't fucking believe she can be in the same building with him after this! Let alone train with him!"
The two men were more struck by her language than the idea expressed with it. Finally Doyle shook his head. "They understand each other on a level we maybe have hard time with. And a few punches won't change that."
His chief nodded. "Aye. I agree with Doyle. I was the first one there, Kate, and you didn't see them the way they were before you emerged. Whatever Macklin did there, it was to heal, not to harm. To let out the bad blood. And Anna knows that. She definitely knows that."
I've known saner patients in Bedlam. Doctor Kate Ross shook her head for a long time.