I do not own the Professionals (mores the pity…). The only reward I get for this (in this story's case anyway) is sadistic pleasure, but no money. So please don't sue.
The Schrödinger Problem
Chapter 1: According to Plan...
The police cars screeched around the corner and pulled up next to the bank. Police officers jumped out of their cars just as the bank raiders exited the building. Both sides pulled out
their guns and started to fire simultaneously. Lead flew everywhere like a swarms of angry bees. Bodie crouched down behind his car, his gun ready and scanned the scene.
Shouting, guns firing, the noise was deafening. One of the raiders broke free and was running into Bodie's line of fire. He fired, the raider ducked, rolled and sheltered behind another
car. His heart was pounding. Although he understood that real bullets and not dummies had to be used, he couldn't hide his uneasiness. It had caused a row between him and
Cowley. The other agents too were not very happy either. But to use false bullets would arouse the raiders suspicions. Bodie gritted his teeth and started firing poorly aimed bullets
in the nearby raider's direction. The raider lay flat on the ground and crept a little forward. The raider then spotted Bodie and looked hard in his direction. As he was wearing a
balaclava, all Bodie could see was his eyes, but it was enough to confirm the suspicion he'd had. The way the raider had moved and had gone for cover seemed all too familiar. The
was a moments hesitation between them, the reluctance showing in their movements as they both raised their guns. Then Bodie and Doyle started firing at each other.
In the beginning, there was the tip off that had started the whole operation. A bank raid to steal safety deposit boxes filled with gold, silver and any valuables and smuggle them
abroad to Switzerland. Quite a lot was already known about the group attempting the raid. The leader, Daniel Miller, came from a family of criminals. His elder brother was currently
serving a life sentence for murder. It was suspected that Danny had actually committed the murder but his brother had taken the wrap for him. The rest of the group followed Danny
like a pack of hounds, doing his orders. They had never attempted to break into something as well protected as the bank. Normally this group specialised in mansions and high class
residences. Therefore it seemed reasonable to assume that the group would be seeking a security expert who could get them into the bank vault, and of course back out again
without setting off the alarms. Doyle had lost a toss of the coin with Bodie and had replaced the expert Nigel Winterbottom. Doyle quietly knew that Bodie would never let him live it
down. Doyle and Bodie had found Nigel before Danny had and had deposited him into the interrogation rooms in CI5. Doyle had information directly from the bank itself about their
security systems and as far as CI5 were aware, this group had never met Nigel before so there had not been much need to get him to talk. So Nigel had been left in the interrogation
room alone. The odd thing was that he seemed happy enough to be there. He had barely struggled as Bodie and Doyle had pushed him through the door. Danny had made contact
with Doyle, thinking he was Nigel. The plan had been to let Danny and his group into the bank, steal the boxes and arrest them as they came out. But Doyle had made contact to say
that it was not Danny that was organising the raid but someone higher up. The plan changed. The raiders would not be allowed to get away with the deposit boxes, the bank and
the minister had been very specific on that point but the raiders would be allowed to escape so they could lead the police and CI5 to the boss. Doyle had been fitted with a secret
radio in case anything should go wrong.
Outside the bank a large van came crashing through the police barrier that sent cars flying and men running for cover. In the moments silence that followed the raiders darted
forward and jumped into the back. The police and CI5 continued to duck as the van roared away, the bullets still flying from the raiders guns.
There was a look in Danny's face Doyle was wary of. That look had been there ever since he had spoken to the boss, who Doyle now knew was called Simon Bartholomew. When he
had spoken to Bartholomew on the phone, Danny thundered shouting and bawling at the foul up. Someone had grassed. Someone had to pay. Doyle and the other two, Gavin and
John had argued among themselves, debating who is was that had known about the plan and exactly who could have given the information to the police. Danny had exited the
phone box looking furious and had told them they were to drive to a house. Doyle had asked where the house was, but Danny had looked at him with a look of cold fury on his face
and had said that Mr Bartholomew told him not to tell any of them. Gavin and John had been puzzled, but not surprised. As they were driving, Doyle had noticed that they were being
followed. He was quietly relieved when he recognised Steve. When they arrived at the house, Steve would radio in and tell them where they were. They drove for sometime before
arriving at a ordinary-looking row of council houses. Doyle noticed that Steve had hung back, so as not to alert the rest of the gang. Danny lead them to one of the houses, first
picking up a key from some hidden place near the door. There was a man waiting for them in the living room as they entered. It had to be the boss. He was a tall thin man with very
light brown hair some of which he combed over his balding head. He wore a long black heavy looking coat which looked somehow strange in summer. He had a strange smile too. It
was as though his mouth was not quite big enough to cover his large, slightly askew teeth. He looked straight at Doyle. He had blue eyes. Ice-cold blue eyes that never blinked.
Bartholomew stood and walked over towards them. He seemed fixed on Doyle and stood in front of him.
"Someone grassed on us..." Danny started from behind Bartholomew.
"It was him." Bartholomew said softly. Before Doyle could react Gavin, who was at least a foot taller and twice as broad, had seized his arms.
"What Nigel?!" Danny exclaimed.
"I do not know who he is, but he certainly is not Nigel."
The last thing that Bodie would admit to as he walked through the corridors of the office was the small knot of worry that had made it way into his gut. The stupid thing was that he
couldn't put his finger on what it was. When Bodie returned from the raid he had gone to Nigel to try and get some information from him. To his surprise, instead of the relaxed Nigel
that had been happy to stay in the interrogation room, there was a jumpy, nervous Nigel who refused point blank to say anything at all. He suspected he could offer the man a million
pounds and a first class ticket to south America and he still wouldn't talk. It wasn't bravery, bravado or pride. It was fear. It flowed from him. All you had to do was lay a hand on him
and he would jump. He twitched constantly and bit nails. He seemed to be looking at the dark corners of the room either as a potential hiding place or as though something dark and
terrible lurked in them. He jumped when Bodie opened the door and he and Cowley walked in. Bodie could see the puzzlement in Cowley's manner. Bodie also knew that there was a
certain degree or irritation there too. Cowley hadn't been able to find any leverage in Nigel's background. He couldn't even use family. His mother and father had died a few years
ago, and there were no other member's of his family he was close to. All-in-all he was doing an incredible impression of an oyster. But they needed to get at the pearl. Cowley looked
at the man for a long moment, before asking softly.
"Who are you frightened of?" The man's eye's flickered in his direction, but otherwise he made no move and continued to nervously bite his nails.
"Ah, so you are frightened of someone." Cowley said with a note of confirmation and satisfaction in his voice. It was then Bodie realised that Cowley was a lot better at reading the
small changes in a person's body language than anyone. Cowley could probably hold a full conversation with Nigel by reading his body language alone.
"Is it your partners?" Cowley had moved round to sit opposite the man to study his reactions closely. No reaction.
"The boss?" A flicker. Cowley smiled. There was silence, and Bodie could tell, his boss's mind was turning. Suddenly Bodie realised what it was that had been bothering him. They
knew that the team that had been recruited to do the job had never met Nigel, what they hadn't checked, or more accurately, what they had not found out was whether Nigel was
known to the boss.
"You know the boss?" Bodie tried. "You've actually met him?" Cowley shot him a look, then turned back to Nigel, watching the reaction. The nail biting stopped and he looked at
Cowley with a steady gaze. Cowley stood up.
"Right, Bodie try and raise Doyle..."
"You mean we've left Doyle out there...!"
"You are wasting time Bodie!" Cowley snapped back, Bodie rushed from the room.
Doyle had expected to be beaten up. Certainly Danny wanted to, Gavin flexed his muscles and looked at him gleefully, but Bartholomew had said no, he had something else in mind.
So he had been tied to a chair in the kitchen with one of his arms free. Danny was holding him down. Gavin stood in front of him looking expectant. He could hear Bartholomew
rustling in a drawer behind him. He glanced at John in the doorway. John looked sick.
"Look, can't we just tie him up and leave him here?"
"Nah." Danny said, breathing in Doyle ear. "If you're going to be squeamish John, leave now." Danny's voice lowered darkly. Doyle's imagination started to work overtime. He'd know
Danny now for about 4 days. Danny was the pull-the-wings-of-a-fly-then-watch-it-struggle type. Gavin was the muscle, it was easy to assume that he was a thick as two short
planks, but he was brighter than he looked. He did however have a depressing tendency to follow any orders given to him. Doyle actually quite liked John. John was a cat burglar, and
a very good one. He could pick locks and open any door you wanted. It had been John that had opened the bank vault in a surprising short time. Doyle had replaced the man hired to
overcome security so they had been working fairly closely together. Bartholomew finished rustling in the drawers and appeared in front of Doyle. He smiled faintly. Doyle could see
that he had something behind his back.
"I want one piece of information. Just one piece. I am not interested in what the police know about us, or me. I don't care how you managed to replace poor Nigel. All I want is your
name. Just your name." He stood back, and Gavin grabbed his free arm and held it firmly on the table in front of them. His heart started to beat faster. Judging from the look on John's
face, it wouldn't be pleasant. A meat cleaver appeared in front of him, held by Bartholomew. The sun glinted on the blade. He looked at Bartholomew who placed the blade on Doyle's
wrist. He looked into his cold blue eyes. There was a look of cold purpose in his face. I could probably put up with pain, Doyle thought. Then Cowley's voice came into his mind. "You're
no use if you can't hold a gun." No hand, no gun, no CI5.
The meat cleaver came striking down.
"Doyle!" He shouted. It stopped a hair's breath from his wrist. There was a pause which seemed to last for a lifetime.
"Enough." Bartholomew said lightly. "Find some rope. Tie him up."
"But he's a grass. We should kill him now." Danny had appeared with a gun now pointed at Doyle head. He looked up he saw the boss's face and started to feel sick. There was a
glint in his eye and that smile had a more twisted air to it. His voice lowered darkly.
"Oh he shall. But he will suffer first."