Sometimes agents need a little help.
It was Doyle who'd worked out 2+2. It wasn't as easy as that of course, but his keen mind had figured out where the girl may have been hidden. It was a kidnap gone wrong. No doubt there'd be a post mortem to work out who had fallen over whose feet - CID, CI5 or the regular bobbies - but that was something for the future. Their concern now was to find 7-year old Susan, granddaughter of a gangland boss. It was believed that she'd been snatched by a rival gang. Doyle had driven his boss and partner over in haste to a river, swollen by the recent rains. It had been him who had persuaded them that there was a derelict boat shed on the river that the abductors may know about. It was an ideal hiding place to move the child - not too far from the area where she had been held until the coppers had arrived mob-handed and scared off kidnapper and kidnapped.
It was dark and sleety, the river flowing fast, when they turned up. CI5 hadn't told the coppers of their theory. They didn't want another cock up - or to be seen chasing phantoms, though Doyle's leaps of imagination had brought results before. To their dismay the boatshed had half toppled into the water as the riverbank gave way, its door hanging off as though wondering whether to go for a dip or not. Doyle waded in without hesitation, calling out for the girl. Bodie was hot - or cold - on his wet heels. The current was very fast and it took all their concentration to keep upright.
"You'd better be right, Doyle," Bodie called into the darkness as he began to lose feeling in his legs, his suit already ruined as the mud and muck sucked at his ankles. Not for the first time, Bodie was thinking dark thoughts about his daft partner.
Then they heard it. Faint but there all the same. The men kept calling. The call was sometimes returned, sometimes not, but it gave them a direction to head for. The water was getting so deep that they had to swim to an outcrop where she seemed to be. Bodie reached her first, then he lost his footing and he and Susan were pulled out and under into the centre of the river by the undercurrent. Doyle renewed his efforts at a front crawl as he watched them disappear. Then he saw Bodie's head bob to the surface briefly. As he reached them, Bodie made a superhuman effort of pushing the girl back towards his partner. Doyle reached out for her automatically as Bodie disappeared under the water for a second time. Doyle cried out, but kept hold of Susan in any case and made for the shore with her. For a small child, she was very heavy in his arms. He felt his energy draining from him as the cold seeped into his core. He was taking in water and fighting for all his worth against the current. Fortunately Cowley was there, knee-deep in the river, yelling encouragement. He noticed, even in the dark, that his agent was making little progress with her. He waded in further, still shouting support. His man was close enough now that Cowley could hear an ominous gurgling as Doyle tried to breathe with his head under water. The Controller lashed out, nearly losing his balance, but managed to latch on to Doyle's collar. He hauled backwards. As he approached the shore with both of them, Doyle managed to turn on his belly, pushing the child towards his boss.
"Bodie," he gasped, thrusting the girl into the Controller's arms. Then Doyle too was gone before Cowley could stop him. His conscience, and perhaps something more, decreed that he find his partner or die in the attempt. Swimming and yelling out for him, Doyle thrashed about in the darkness while Cowley quickly examined the coughing child for breakages. Finding her just drenched and frightened he took off his jacket and wrapped her in it, placing her gently on the ground. He then turned his attention back to his operatives. He called out in the gloom but heard no reply.
Doyle more or less fell over his friend jammed up against a fallen tree. He was unconscious and face down, the water tugging urgently at his jacket. Doyle didn't have much energy left to drag his partner free and he cried out for Cowley's help. Unfortunately he was too far away to see or hear. Doyle was on his own. He couldn't feel any ground under his feet, just the icy water sucking him under. He felt his meagre energy supply was being spent on calling forlornly for help, so turned instead to his most immediate concern. Not being able to drag Bodie off the debris, he was at least able to keep his friend's face above water. He then thought laterally and deliberately dragged them both under. It freed them from the tree, and he let the current take them a little further down stream before he forced himself and his burden to the surface. He'd no idea where he was or where Cowley was but he struck off directly across the current. His limbs felt like lead and Bodie was a dead weight in a life-saver's grip. Just as Doyle felt that his lungs could no longer take in any more water, he was encouraged to feel ground under his feet. He called out again more desperately as he dragged himself and Bodie up the shore. Fortunately Cowley had seen them and Doyle was heading towards the right side. He'd more or less gone full circle and wasn't too far from where they'd started. Cowley anxiously hauled his agents onto the riverbank.
"I don't think he's breathing," Doyle gasped urgently, trying to clear his own lungs.
Cowley had turned Bodie onto his belly and was frantically and rhythmically pumping. It did no good. Doyle's hands were too numb to feel for a pulse, but one thing was for sure - their casualty was giving no signs of life. As of one thought, they turned him onto his back. Doyle rummaged around Bodie's mouth for any obstructions. Finding none, he prepared mouth-to-mouth, though he could barely breathe for himself. Cowley saw what he intended and between them they began to resuscitate. Cowley noticed how Doyle was struggling, but with a fierce determination to keep going. Only the adrenalin borne of fear was keeping him breathing for two. As he worked, Cowley's pragmatic mind was bracing himself to lose one agent, but he wasn't prepared to stand by and lose a second. He eventually stopped his massage and leaned towards Doyle to tell him 'enough'; they'd done all they could - and then Bodie suddenly started retching. They turned him onto his side and allowed him to vomit as much river water as he needed as Cowley thumped him between the shoulder blades in fierce encouragement. That it was going all over Doyle was neither here nor there. He was breathing; that was all they wanted from him. Doyle laughed into his boss's eyes with relief. His beaming smile could outdo a lighthouse. Cowley's relieved smile was returned. The Cow looked back at the little girl and saw a pair of frightened and bemused eyes staring back at him from under the jacket. Doyle had forgotten all about her.
"It's all right, lassie," he assured her as he reached for his radio.
At last an ambulance siren was heard in the distance and Cowley, muttering oaths, scrambled to his feet to meet it, squeezing Doyle's shoulder in silent thanks on the way. But Doyle was unresponsive. He had slipped into unconsciousness. Cowley could do nothing for either of them, and Susan had retreated under his jacket like a frightened tortoise. He marched quickly towards the fuzzy image of blue lights oscillating in the driving rain, and anxiously helped the medics to get his unconscious agents onto the stretchers. He drove behind the ambulance with Susan at his side on the front seat, the heating turned up to full. His teeth were chattering with cold.
"I'm getting too old for this," he muttered to himself.
Aware that he'd voiced his thoughts, he looked in embarrassment at the little girl. She smiled in return. Cowley smiled back, his dark mood lifted, the anxiety for his men put back in perspective.
"Och, may be there's life in the old dog yet."
Susan sneezed in reply and snuggled deeper into Cowley's jacket. It smelt of warmth and security.