Remote Control

by Halcris

Someone has a go at first Bodie and then Doyle Why ?

Remote Control.

It was a pleasant sunny morning as Doyle drove into work, wondering just what would be on the agenda today.

His car-phone suddenly 'beeped'. Keeping a careful eye on the traffic around him, he reached for it, and instantly recognised the voice of his boss, Cowley.

"Morning, sir," he said politely.

"Are you in contact with Bodie ?," came the abrupt question.

"Not since yesterday morning," replied Doyle. "I was with the physiotherapist all afternoon."

Doyle had had an extensive session with the expert, a final assessment of a slight weakness in his left wrist, a legacy of a long-ago healed injury.

"Yes, I remember now," said Cowley, "How did that go ?"

"Fine, sir," replied Doyle. "I've got the 'all clear' on it now."

"Good," said Cowley, pleased, as it meant one of his best men was back on active duty. He returned to his first query.

"About Bodie," he continued, "He's not answering any of his phones. I've sent Murphy round to his flat with the key."

"I'm quite near there," said Doyle, fully alert now, "Shall I join him,?"

"Yes," ordered his boss, "and report what you find."

A few minutes later, Doyle pulled his car in behind Murphy's, and found his friend peering into Bodie's car

"Still locked," he reported, "Let's try the flat."

The key gave them access, and they hurried up to the third floor. The front door was still locked. Murphy applied the key, and the pair entered cautiously.

The lounge was empty, and so was the kitchen, but when they pushed open the bedroom door, they had better success.

Bodie was there, sitting on his bed. They hurried to his side. But things were far from all right.

Bodie had evidently started to get dressed, as he had on trousers and a shirt, though that was only half-buttoned. He was awake, for his eyes were open, and he was blinking naturally.

But as both men spoke his name, there was no response. His gaze was blank and un-focussed, staring straight before him.

Doyle grabbed his partner's shoulder, and shook him quite roughly, but it brought no result.

Murphy, on his other side was looking at the half-rolled up sleeve on his left arm. He pushed it up further and found what he suspected, a little red mark indicative of an injection.

"Looks as if he's drugged," he gasped, looking at Doyle. "He's not into that, is he ?,"

"Of course not," snapped Doyle.

He looked round on the bed. "And besides there is no sign of a hypodermic. Someone did it to him."

He was already thumbing his phone, to get through to his boss. He quickly told him what they had found.

Cowley re-acted immediately. "I'll get onto the Clifford Clinic at once and get them to come for him."

This was a special clinic run by his good friend Sir Henry Clifford. He had used it before. It specialised in excellent de-toxification treatment.

Murphy, meanwhile, had investigated further. "I've found where they got in," he said. "The exit to the fire escape has been forced."

While they waited for the promised ambulance, they took it in turns to search the rest of the flat, while keeping a close eye on Bodie, who neither moved nor made any response. When it came, the skilled and practised medics took charge of the patient, handling him firmly but gently.

Murphy went back to base to make a full report to Cowley. Doyle followed the ambulance to the clinic, to wait for the doctor's assessment. It took quite a while, but at last the doctor in charge came to talk to him.

"He has been drugged," he confirmed, "but we are not quite sure what with. We've taken blood samples to do the necessary diagnostic tests. But that will take a little time. Meanwhile we can give him some help to speed up clearing his system. I'll report to Cowley as soon as I have something to tell him."

Doyle had to be content with that, and returned to base, considerably worried about his mate. He found Murphy in with Cowley, and added his report on Bodie's condition. "He will be all right," he said, "But that still leaves us with two questions. Who and why ?."
The others didn't respond, so he went on.

"The 'why' we can speculate about," he said. "I think Bodie evidently has heard about something that somebody doesn't want him to pass on. That somebody is keen to shut him up, but not desperate enough to commit murder."

The others considered this thoughtfully. Doyle asked a question. "What was he working on, sir ?," he queried.

"That's just it," replied Cowley. "Nothing special. He was checking up on the Brunton Gang."

"Protection racket, terrorising small shop-keepers," said Murphy. "But I thought we dealt with them a couple of years ago."

"Yes, we did," confirmed Cowley. "Billy Brunton and several of his men went to prison. But they were out last week, and I'd heard rumours from scared shop owners who were afraid they were starting up again. So Bodie went to talk to some of them, that's all."

"This isn't anything to do with the Bruntons," declared Doyle firmly. "They haven't enough brains between the lot of them. No, Bodie must have stumbled onto something else."

The others could see that Doyle was thinking deeply "Whoever this is, is cleverer than that, and knows about drugs."

"Could it be drug-related, I wonder ?," commented Murphy.

"Possibly," agreed Doyle. "But this person knew that Bodie would recover in a few days, so whatever he wants kept secret must be likely to happen in the next few days, mustn't it ?. Some sort of incident, I would guess. But what ?"

"That's a great deal of speculation," said Cowley, but he had listened carefully, for often Doyle's ideas did bear fruit. "But we are really no further forward. However, Bodie was talking to shop-keepers, and that's where to start. You two have the best idea of who he would speak to. So get out there and talk to them. See whether they know if Bodie made any other contacts."

The pair left at once, and spent the rest of the day talking to various small shop-keepers. They confirmed that Bodie had talked to them the previous day, but none of them could give any help as to who else he might have contacted.

Disappointed, they started to make their way back to the car. Then Doyle turned quickly. A little man had silently sidled up to him. He recognised him at once. He was one of Bodie's favourite informants, glorying in the self-chosen name of William Wilberforce.

"You Doyle ?," he asked. Doyle nodded and the little man drew him into the shelter of a nearby doorway.

"Has Mr. Bodie done anything about what I told him," he asked.

"Bodie's been taken ill," said Doyle. "He hasn't told me anything."

Willie eyed Doyle up and down suspiciously.

"You can trust me," said Doyle quickly. "I'm his partner. We work together."

"I know," said Willie, "He told me. Mr. Bodie's ill, you say ?"

"Someone made him ill," responded Doyle, "On purpose."

That seemed to decide Willie, and he started to pour out a torrent of words. Doyle listened intently. When the little man had finished, Doyle eyed him anxiously.

"Someone tried to silence Bodie," he said. "Will you be all right ?"

"I'm taking a holiday," replied Willie. "I'll disappear for a bit."

"Good," replied Doyle, and the little man sidled away and disappeared down an alley.

Murphy, waiting by the car, saw Doyle leave the dark doorway, and start to cross the road towards him. But what he didn't see in time was the big black car, moving at top speed that shot down the road, and knocked Doyle over.

The impact was severe, and as the car sped away, Murphy was appalled to see his friend sprawled unmoving at the side of the road. He hurried towards him, fearing the worst. Doyle was lying still, his eyes closed. Anxiously, Murphy felt for a pulse, and was relieved to find it easily, strong and steady. But Doyle did not stir, even when Murphy shook him gently, calling his name.

So he whipped out his radio-phone, and called the emergency ambulance, quickly giving details of their location. The response was good and the medics were soon on the scene. One crouched beside Doyle, and ran expert hands over the limp form. But he made no comment as he and his mate loaded their patient into the vehicle.

Murphy had taken Doyle's car-keys from his pocket, and followed the ambulance to St. Richard's Hospital, one that C.I. 5 used frequently. He had paused only long enough to report into base, to leave a message for Cowley, who was out, telling him just what had happened.

By the time he had parked the car, and entered the hospital, Doyle had been delivered and whisked away for treatment. He was instructed to go to the nearby waiting-room. He was told that Dr. Fenton would come there as soon as he had anything to report.

He'd only been there a short while when the door opened, and to his surprise, Cowley himself entered.

"I was in the area," explained his boss. "First Bodie and now Doyle ! What is going on ?"

After a few more minutes the door opened again, and Dr. Fenton stood in the doorway. He did not answer their anxious enquiries, but only beckoned to them to follow him. He led them to a small side ward and ushered them in.

Expecting to see a patient in a bed, they were astonished when Doyle turned from the window, fully dressed, apparently un-hurt and alert. He moved towards them.

"Sorry to deceive you, Murphy," he said, "I was faking. I'm only bruised. When I went down, I had the sudden thought that if they believed they had succeeded in silencing me, I might get away to tell what I've learned."

He turned to his boss. "I didn't expect to see you, sir," he said.

"I was only five minutes away when I got the report," explained Cowley.

"I see," said Doyle, "Still, if anyone was watching it adds to my pretence, doesn't it ? Now I can tell you both what Willie had to tell me."

Cowley commandeered the only chair, so Doyle sat on the bed, with Murphy beside him.

"It's Ralph Mortinelli," he began.

"He's still in prison, isn't he ?," interrupted his boss, "After that business with his uncle selling arms."

"Yes," Doyle confirmed, "But he's worked hard at behaving well, and is confident he'll be out in a year or less."

"How do you know all this ?," demanded Cowley impatiently.

"If you'll let me explain, sir," said Doyle, "Just what Willie told me."

Cowley sat back in his chair and nodded, remembering that Doyle was usually pretty good at explaining things clearly. Doyle went on.

"For the last three months, Mortinelli shared his cell with a man called Bates. Now Bates used to work for Arturo's daughter, and is a nasty piece of work. He's out now and has been following the instructions Mortinelli gave him before he left."

"What instructions ?," asked Murphy, who had been listening intently.

"Well," continued Doyle, "When Pietro Mortinelli , Ralph's father was around, he was the brains and power behind a massive drugs empire."

"Yes, he was," confirmed Cowley, "But we could never pin him down."

"When he retired to Italy through ill-health," went on Doyle," his empire gradually went down. His deputies didn't have the same contacts, and certainly not the same charisma."

"And quite a few gave up when there was that attempted take-over," added Cowley, remembering that incident.

"Yes, they did," agreed Doyle, "But now Ralph Mortinelli is planning to start re-building his father's empire."

"Is he now ?," said Cowley thoughtfully, as Doyle explained further.

"He's got Bates contacting everyone he can recall from Pietro's high days, and the interest is considerable. There's already a strong group, just waiting for Ralph's release. That's how Willie got onto it, and I expect they are the ones who tried to stop Bodie and me passing the information on."

"Willie will be in danger too, won't he ?," commented Murphy.

"Yes," replied Doyle, "but he knows that and he's taking a holiday. He'll disappear for a while. He can look after himself."

He had a puzzled look on his face, as he went on."But it doesn't make sense," he said. "What he told us is interesting, but not urgent. It would have come to light gradually anyway, and the Drugs Squad would have picked it up eventually. I still think there's going to be some sort of incident soon. I believe they thought Willie had found out about that and was going to tell us. That's why they tried to silence Bodie and me."

"What sort of incident ?," asked Murphy curiously.

"I wish I knew," responded Doyle, looking towards his boss. The very concentrated look on Cowley's face showed him that his boss was assimilating all he had heard and was considering the options.

"I think we'd better pick up this man Bates," said Cowley at last, "To see what he can tell us."

"Do you want me to go after him ?," asked Doyle, "I know what he looks like."

"No," said Cowley firmly, "I think you need to lie low for a day or two, so that 'they', whoever 'they' are, think they've succeeded."

"As it happens, that will be easy," responded Doyle. "A friend has given me his key to keep an eye on his flat while he's away. I can camp out there for a day or two. It's a quiet area, so no-one will know me there."

"Good," said Cowley. "Now the next step is to get you there secretly. Murphy and I will leave and head back to base as normal, in case anyone is watching. I'll send Sally to drive round to the rear of the hospital and you can sneak out of the back door."

"You will keep me informed, won't you ?," said Doyle anxiously , "and about Bodie's progress."

"Of course," replied Cowley, getting up to go.

It all worked out as planned. Murphy in Doyle's car, and Cowley in his, left and drove back, obviously alone, looking suitably solemn in case anyone was watching. Doyle slipped quietly into the back of Sally's car, and was safely delivered to his friend's flat.

It was a very comfortable, if a little old-fashioned, place and he quickly made himself at home.

He had been a bit economical with the truth when he had said he was only bruised. In fact he was stiff and sore in several places. So he allowed himself the luxury of a warm relaxing bath, and felt a lot better.

During the evening, he had a call on his radio-phone. It was Murphy, bringing him up to date.

"We haven't found Bates yet," he reported. "He's being a bit elusive. Let's hope we're luckier tomorrow. But one bit of good news. Bodie's doing extremely well. 'Constitution like an ox ', one nurse said. He'll be out in a day or two."

"That's great," said Doyle, "Thanks, Murphy."

"You all right ?," asked his friend.

"Yes, fine," said Doyle, heartened by the news about his partner.

He spent the next couple of days quietly indoors, investigating his friend's taste in music and literature, not quite like his own, but interesting.

The bed, though softer than his own, was comfortable, and he slept well in spite of his bruises.

He'd just finished breakfast the next day, when his radio-phone 'beeped' shrilly. It was his boss, and he sounded pleased.

"I think we've got your 'incident'," he began. "You've heard of the Torton brothers ?"

"Yes," replied Doyle instantly, "Believed to be dealers, but clever at covering their tracks. The Drugs Squad keep tabs on them."

"Well, last night," continued Cowley, "When the brothers were out together for the evening, their place was broken into. Neighbours heard breaking glass and called the police. When the brothers got home, they found their place swarming with police."

"That wouldn't please them," commented Doyle.

"No," agreed Cowley, "But both brothers swore blindly that nothing had been taken, though they looked pretty grim about it."

"They're bound to have had a stash of drugs somewhere, surely," said Doyle, "and they couldn't tell the police that that was what had gone, could they ?"

"Exactly," said Cowley. He paused for a second, and then went on.

"I've just had a report handed to me that Bates has been picked up. He's at the Interrogation Centre. I need you there to talk to him. Your car's in the yard here, so I'll send Sally for you as she knows the address."

Some while later, Doyle was hurrying down the steps in the Interrogation Centre. A familiar voice called his name, and he swung round to see Bodie following him down the steep stairs. Both had grins on their faces, glad to see the other recovered. Doyle dodged away though, as his mate's over-enthusiastic greeting seriously endangered his bruises.

Cowley met them in the lower corridor, and they followed him into the room where Bates was being held. Cowley slipped into the seat opposite the man, who glared at him in a surly manner. The other two stood in the dark shadows by the door, ready to listen, and act if required.

Cowley began in a friendly manner. "Well, Bates," he said, "and what have you been up to ?. Just a month out of prison, but I hear you've been a busy man."

Bates didn't reply. He just scowled. He'd met C.I.5 before, and didn't intend to be co-operative.

Cowley continued. "We hear you've been working for your friend Ralph Mortinelli."

Bates couldn't repress a start. How much did this man know ? He'd thought the group he'd got going had silenced the two that grass Willie had spoken to.

And then two men stepped out of the shadows, and came closer. Bates quailed visibly. Bodie and Doyle ! And looking perfectly fit and well.

He remembered his last personal encounter with them, when he and his partner had ill-treated Doyle. He recalled the mad car chase as Bodie had pursued him all over London.

Bodie was remembering it too, and although he said nothing as he neared the table, the expression on his face struck terror into Bates.

"I haven't done anything," he protested wildly.

"No," agreed Bodie, "but you've been a busy little messenger-boy, haven't you ? For Mortinelli."

"And we're rather interested to hear who you've been talking to," put in Doyle.

"And what you said to them," added Cowley.

Bates looked from one face to another. How had C.I.5 managed to find out so much so quickly ? Then he remembered having seen the little man talking to them. "Wilberforce !," he exclaimed, "That nosy little weasel !"

"A very observant helpful man," contradicted Bodie.

Bates sank back in his chair, pondering over what he should do now. He was correct when he said he hadn't done anything wrong. They couldn't arrest someone for just talking to people, could they ?.

The stern-looking man in charge suddenly addressed him. "What do you know about the robbery ?," he demanded.

"Robbery ! What robbery ?," gasped Bates, and his astonishment was so great that those watching could see it was genuine.

Cowley didn't enlighten him, but tried another tack."You talked to lots of people," he said, "The Torton Brothers. ?"

"I saw Paul Torton," admitted Bates reluctantly, "but he didn't want to know. Said he and his brother were doing all right on their own."

"Hold on a minute," Doyle suddenly exclaimed as an idea struck him. "Mortinelli gave you a list of people to speak to. You must have reported their response to someone. Not Ralph himself, you didn't visit him. So who did you tell what they said ?," he demanded fiercely.

"I daren't tell you," muttered Bates. "They'd kill me !."

Bodie towered over the man and leaned closer, raising a menacing fist. "We might kill you if you don't," he hissed. "or worse."

It was bluff, of course, but it was too much for Bates He was absolutely terrified of the big dark-haired man looming over him.

"It was Rico Mazzone," he said in a broken whisper.

"Mazzone !," exclaimed Cowley. "He was Pietro's right hand man. They were very close. In fact when Pietro went back to Italy, he went with him and stayed six months. And now he 's come back, he still visits him quite often, although he keeps a low profile otherwise."

"The raid on the Tortons sounds more like his style," put in Bodie.

Cowley turned to Bates again. "Did you tell Mazzone what the Torton brothers said ?,"

Bates nodded. "I told him what each one I spoke to said."

"Right" said Cowley, "So now you're going to do the same for us. Every name and every response."

He called his office, and arranged for Murphy to come to the Centre with a secretary, so that it could all be written down. Plus some other men to make sure Bates complied.

Then he led the other two back to his office, so that he could consider what the next move might be. All were thinking hard about what they had heard.

Doyle voiced the first comment."If Bates has been reporting to Mazzone," he said, "and he's in touch with Pietro Mortinelli, perhaps Ralph has his father's backing."

"And that's not good," added Bodie.

"I agree," said Cowley emphatically, "and it's something we must put a stop to, as quickly as possible."

"But how ?," commented Bodie.

Doyle was looking thoughtful. "Mazzone was mostly likely behind the raid on the Tortons," he mused. "I wonder if anyone else said 'No' to Bates."

"You mean there might be another raid ?, queried Bodie.

"We must see Bates list as soon as possible," declared Cowley.

"You wouldn't warn them, surely ?," asked Bodie, incredulously

"No, you idiot," snapped Doyle. "So we can be on watch, and maybe catch them in the act."

"Yes," agreed Cowley. "If we can take out Mazzone, Ralph's scheme will have less chance of success."

He went to the phone to order that the list Bates was preparing should be rushed to him as soon as it was ready. When it came all three of them studied it closely.

"There's a likely name !," exclaimed Cowley, pointing half way down the list.

"Meunier. He was never happy with Pietro's dominance, but was too afraid of his power, to do anything about it. But he doesn't like Ralph at all, and would be very unlikely to support him."

"According to Bates, he said he wasn't interested," said Doyle, "So he's a 'possible'."

Scanning the list produced three further names of men unlikely to respond to Ralph's wish to resuscitate his father's empire. One had said he was considering retiring through ill-health, and the other two had delayed, asking for time to think about it.

"We'll set up observation on all four of them," declared Cowley, "and wait to see if anything happens."

This was soon put in hand, with teams of agents on shifts, keeping an eye on all the four premises of the men they had picked out from the list.

Taking their turn, Bodie and Doyle were sitting in their car next afternoon. Suddenly the car-phone 'beeped'. Doyle answered it promptly, and found it was their friend Jax, on duty at another of the sites,

"Do you remember a man called Rocco ?," asked Jax.

"Yes," replied Doyle instantly. "Leo Rocco, one of Mazzone's men."

"I thought I was right," exclaimed Jax in a satisfied tone.

"What about him ?," queried Doyle.

"He's here," explained Jax. "He's using the cover of a very old slow-moving dog to stroll up the road past Meunier's place. Now he's turned and is coming back."
"Casing the joint," commented Bodie, who had been listening carefully to the conversation.

"Do you want me to pick him up ?," asked Jax.

"No way !," exclaimed Doyle. "Leave him. Don't let him see you. It could well mean that Meunier's place is being set up for a raid. I'll pass it on to Cowley, and we'll take it from there." He thought for a moment and then added an order.

"What you can do, is wait till he's gone. Then, very discretely, have a look at the layout of the place. See what the access is like round the back. Then put in a report to Cowley."

"Right," replied Jax, "We'll do that, and we'll be careful about it," he said , and rang off.

Doyle immediately called into base and told it all to Cowley. He found it as interesting as they had.

"It could mean a raid there tonight," he said. "Return to base and we'll make arrangements."

There was no guarantee that there would be a raid, or that it would be this night, but everything was planned out carefully in case it did happen.

Jax submitted a very good report on the house and its surroundings, drawing attention to the easy access from the back, through a small wood at the end of the garden. He'd also told them about a vacant property with a large FOR SALE board, which was almost opposite Meunier's place.

C.I.5 had taken advantage of this useful piece of information. Nightfall found Bodie and Doyle reversing their car into the driveway of the empty house. Their lights were switched off. They now had a commanding view of the house opposite, and were keeping careful watch.

They were listening to reports as various other members of their large team moved into position near the house, some secreting themselves among the trees of the little wood.

All were waiting patiently, hoping that something would happen and it wouldn't be a wasted night.

Bodie, sitting with Doyle in the dark, relieved only by the faint indirect glow from the nearest street lamp, produced a sandwich and started munching happily.

Doyle glared at him. "Didn't you think to eat before you came on duty ?," he demanded crossly.

"Course I did," replied Bodie, "But that was hours ago."

Time dragged on with nothing happening. Midnight passed and they were beginning to think that nothing was going to go on that night, when a small sound disturbed the silence.

It was a call on Doyle's radio-phone, muffled because he'd tucked it inside his jacket, in case it sounded too loud in the quiet of the night.

The call was from Jax, who was in charge of the group round the back in the wood. He also was being careful, keeping his voice to a whisper.

"We're in business !," he said. "Three men have just come through the wood into the back garden, and are moving up to the back of the house."

At the same time, Bodie nudged Doyle's arm, and pointed, indicating a big black car that had pulled up silently about ten yards back from the entrance to Meunier's place. Two men emerged from it and moved stealthily along the road, into the front garden and towards the house.

Bodie and Doyle were out of the car, and quickly across the road. Using the cover of a neighbour's high hedge, they watched the men move into the porch. After a few moments, someone holding a torch opened the door, and the two men slipped inside.

Then came another whispered message from Jax. "They're in," he said, "Do want us to move in now ?."

"No, not yet," replied Doyle swiftly. "Move just close enough to block any getaway, but don't go in yet. We'll do the same at the front."

He'd had specific orders from Cowley, who as usual, had thought ahead.

"If we wait a while," he explained, "maybe they'll find Meunier's stash of drugs, then we'll have him too. Give them time."

So Jax's team moved carefully out of the wood into the garden, and nearer the back door, while at the front, Bodie and Doyle crept through the bushes towards the front porch.

They froze as a light suddenly came on in the front room, shining dimly through the drawn curtains. As they crouched warily in the dark, they were close enough to hear the faint sounds of a raised voice. Clearly someone was being shouted at.

Then Doyle gave Jax the word to move in cautiously. He and Bodie moved into the front porch. They were in luck. The man who had drawn the bolts to let the others in, had not re-shot them.

The simple remaining lock responded easily to Bodie's skeleton key and a plastic card. The pair slipped silently into the empty hallway.

At the back, Jax and his team were equally lucky. The back door had been forced, the lock broken. It opened freely. Four men moved quietly through the dark kitchen and out into the other end of the hall to meet up with their colleagues.

Now that they were in, the sound of shouting was much louder, coming through the closed door of the front room.

At Doyle's signal, the door was quickly kicked open, and the six C.I.5 men were in. They quickly spread round the room, guns at the ready, to cover all the occupants. Startled faces turned towards them, as they assessed what they had found.

Meunier was there. Clad only in pyjamas and a dressing-gown, he was pinioned in a high-backed armchair, held down by two hefty men.

Mazzone, looking furious, was standing over him menacingly. His other men were standing at the back, and all showed total surprise at this sudden intrusion.

Meunier recovered first, pulling himself free of his captors. He raised a loud protest. "These men have broken into my house, and are threatening me !," he exclaimed loudly.

"Threatening you ?," queried Bodie in a bantering tone. "Now I wonder why ? Maybe they want an answer to the question, 'Where is it hidden ?'"

"We'd like that answer too," said Doyle.

For a moment their attention was totally on Meunier. Thinking that the time had come for a little talking, they had holstered their weapons, relying for back-up on the rest of the watching team who had not.

And in that moment, Mazzone, angry at being frustrated, took a chance, and made a terrible error of judgement. He drew a gun and pointed it at Bodie.

Re-acting quickly, Doyle pushed his partner out of the line of fire.

But as Bodie, off balance, staggered sideways, a badly-place footstool tripped him up, causing him to fall over, right into a large bookcase. He collided with it heavily, and the free-standing top section of shelves fell over, hitting him hard and showering him with lots of books.

Behind them there had been a burst of gunfire. C.I.5 men were well trained to act swiftly when faced with a weapon, and Jax and his team had responded instantly. Mazzone paid dearly for his temerity, for they were all trained to kill. He fell to the floor and lay still. None of his men had been so bold, and were all holding their hands high, with shocked and frightened faces.

Doyle lifted the shelves off his mate, and helped him to his feet. But then he looked beyond him at the exposed stretch of wall. Right in the middle of it was the door of a small safe. Concealed by the rows of books, it would have only been accessed by removing one particular section of books.

"Well done, Bodie," Doyle said cheerfully, "I think you've found what we were looking for."

He turned to Meunier, who was now slumped back in his chair. The beaten expression on the man's face showed that he knew the game was over. And he'd suddenly realised that the intruders weren't the police he'd first taken them for. This was confirmed to him as Doyle pushed his I.D card almost under his nose.

"You'd better open it, Meunier," he said, pointing to the safe, "If you don't, we have experts who soon will."

Meunier gave in. He got wearily to his feet, walked across to the safe, twiddled the knob and opened it. Bodie hurried to examine the contents, and found what he expected, several large packets of white powder, Meunier's stash of heroin and cocaine, without a doubt.

Meanwhile Doyle was on his phone, rapidly putting in his report to Cowley, who hadn't gone home, but had been waiting in his office, hoping there would be some action. He was delighted with what he heard. His men had done well. Not only had they succeeded in finding Meunier's haul, so that at last they could get him arrested, but they also had effectively put an end to Ralph's aspirations. With Mazzone dead, and some of his men, plus Bates, in custody, his plans were finished.

For a moment he felt a sudden urge to go to the prison, to personally tell Ralph Mortinelli that his scheme had been thwarted. But on second thoughts, he resisted the idea. Let him find out on the prison 'grape vine'.

Instead, Cowley quickly went in to action, calling the Drugs Squad to deal with Meunier, and the police to collect Mazzone and his men. As it was now the small hours of the morning, this all took some time, and it was quite a while before Bodie and Doyle got 'off-duty', and were allowed to go.

They made their way back to their car, well pleased with their night's work.

"I think we might treat ourselves to a nice leisurely breakfast," said Doyle, knowing this would go down well with his always hungry partner.

"Good idea," agreed Bodie.

But as he climbed into the car, he began to feel the discomfort of his bruises.

Doyle was laughing at his moans.

"It's all right for you," grumbled Bodie, "but some of those books were heavy, and had sharp corners."

Doyle's chuckle filled the car.

"You know what," he quipped, "my bruises are colouring up nicely, and yours will too in a day or two. I reckon if we stripped off together we would present a GloriousTechnicolor picture."

"Not funny," complained Bodie.

But then he imagined the picture his mate had painted and began to smile at the thought.