Bodie & Doyle had teamed up with Mackie for what turned out to be a close call moving in on the gang in the disused hangar. Bodie had managed to blow out their tyre while Doyle drove in hot pursuit along the runway which the gang had used for drug drops by light aircraft. Doyle practically turned their car over in swerving to avoid a smash. The gunmen had thrown themselves out of the car with CI5 right behind. There was a volley of fire and of fire returned. The CI5 men had split up by silent agreement and CI5 training tactics and were homing in. The goons seemed to have an inexhaustible supply of fire power. Doyle could see Bodie from where he was but not Mackie. The opposition was good. Grit and shrapnel flew up from the concrete floor, bullets pinged off every surface. CI5 had to keep their heads down and their bodies moving like lightning to avoid getting hit. They did all they could to stay alive, let alone actually hit the opposition. Doyle heard a yelp over to his left. He saw Bodie flat on the floor with his arms round his head. He wasn't moving any more. Doyle was too exposed to reach his partner. He didn't call out as he didn't want the gunmen to suspect that they'd hit anyone. He had to block off his anxiety and concentrate on the matter in hand – staying alive. He hid behind an oil drum – which he hoped wasn't full – while he reloaded his gun with the last of his magazines. He popped from behind the drum to have another go at the gang. He managed to fell one. He wasn't sure how many of them there were to start with. Encouraged, he moved back from the drum and worked his way around some packing crates and picked off another. He heard an exchange of fire from the other end of the hangar. Mackie. Then silence. After a few heartbeats Doyle cautiously stood up, protected a little by the tailfin of the small aircraft. Still silence. He moved round, exposing himself but drawing out any opposition there still may be. It was a risky strategy; they could be lying in wait anywhere. However, no-one attempted to gun him down. Encouraged, he moved away from the plane. He risked looking towards the far end of the hangar. Mackie was also trying to draw out any remaining gunmen. Doyle moved towards where he'd last seen Bodie. He almost tripped over a body. Fortunately, it was one of the snipers. Mackie joined Doyle.
"Check the plane," Doyle ordered, still on high alert.
Mackie did as he was told while Doyle covered him. He returned moments later to say the craft was clear of goons. They'd seal off the hangar and check for booty later. The agents both sighed with pent-up emotions and shouldered their weapons. Doyle's next priority was his partner. He was relieved to see that Bodie had managed to get to a kneeling position, but that was as far as he seemed ready to go. Doyle raced over to him. He crouched next to his friend trying to assess his condition while Mackie watched his back.
"What's up, Ace?"
Bodie snorted. "Just got grit in my eyes," he said apologetically.
"It's ok, Bodie. You don't have to get shot every time, you know!" Doyle knelt in front of his partner and lifted Bodie's dirty face. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and he continued to rub his eyes. Doyle pushed his hands away.
"Hey, we'll have less of that. You'll make it worse."
Doyle lifted Bodie's lids and saw bloodshot eyes peering myopically back at him. Both eyes seemed to have been affected. Doyle got Bodie to his feet and guided him out of the hangar. Mackie was at his shoulder looking on anxiously. The agents remembered a rain butt near the building and led Bodie there. Doyle explained to him where they were going. He put Bodie's hands in the water and let him splash about by himself. After a while, and his friends still on alert, Bodie emerged snorting, water pouring down his chin, and said that it seemed to have made little difference. He still felt that he'd got a sack of grit in there. Doyle looked again into Bodie's eyes and said that the corneas were probably scratched which was why they still felt grainy. Doyle got into the back of the car with him while Mackie radioed in their position and drove to the hospital.
After an initial examination an optic surgeon was called for his expertise and Bodie was admitted for treatment. They wanted to make sure that he got specialist drops every two hours over the next 12 without fail. They assured him that, afterwards, he'd be back to 20:20. Bodie didn't seem reassured, even with Doyle's encouragement.
Doyle was pleased and relieved to be picking Bodie up next afternoon after the hospital confirmed that Bodie's eyesight was as good as new. Doyle eased himself into the private side room. He found Bodie sprawled on the bed in his 'civvies' with headphones on. Whatever he was listening to was obviously amusing him. Like most people, Bodie was very nervous of hospitals so it was good to see him so relaxed. Eyes closed, he was chuckling away and totally unaware that he had a visitor. To get his attention, Doyle squeezed a stockened foot. Bodie opened his eyes and smiled at his visitor. The eyes were still bloodshot but he was plainly able to focus. He took his headphones off and began fiddling with them.
"The Goon Show," he said smiling and nodding towards a chair.
"God, it's years since I've heard them," said Doyle settling on the chair expectantly.
Bodie had managed to separate the two earpieces, oblivious to whether they were designed to be separated or not. He handed one over to Doyle. The lead wasn't very long so Doyle had to drag the chair closer to listen to this classic comedy radio show.
Unknown to the pair, Cowley had arrived at the hospital a few minutes behind Doyle. He'd been unexpectedly called there by the local police who felt that Cowley should know about a certain party who'd arrived there with gunshot wounds. Cowley could of course have sent an operative to interview the man, but he liked to keep his hand in (and his agents on their toes) so came himself. He knew that Bodie and Doyle should be leaving about now but dropped in on them in case of delay or complications. He entered the room to find Bodie, eyes closed, lounging on the bed laughing heartily. Doyle had his legs at right angles across Bodie's, the chair he was sitting on tipped back at a dangerous angle. He too was in stitches over something heard. They were quite oblivious to their visitor. Cowley smiled at them. It was good to see them so relaxed. He left them to it. It wasn't often that one wanted to stay at hospital.