The Seven Ages of Bodie.
1. Refusal.
I hear the horn sounding on Bodie's car beneath my window and glance down to see him waiting. Grabbing my jacket I head out to meet him but he barely acknowledges my existence as I open the car door and get in beside him. We drive in silence to the training ground at C.I.5's headquarters. Following my pairing with him we, along with all the other agents, have a further week of training. It is a week in which we are expected to get to know each other, work as a team putting into practise all that we have learnt in the previous two weeks and, above all, to 'bond'. Except that in our case Bodie has chosen to omit the bonding part. He seems interested in nothing more than getting through the various exercises with as little contact, verbal or otherwise, as possible.
I am fully competent in all the physical aspects of our instruction and am now familiar with the handling of the detailed array of guns and weaponry but can't deny I feel an added pressure to do well and prove to Bodie that if he has to have a partner then at least he has one that can take care of himself and doesn't need 'babysitting' as he put it on the day he learnt that George Cowley had put us together. Still, there are times when a bit of support and encouragement wouldn't have gone amiss. He is doing little to endear himself to me and this hasn't gone unnoticed by our mentors. I feel conscious of Cowley's watchful gaze and hushed whisperings to Macklin and Dr. Ross.
At lunchtime Bodie doesn't wait for me and by the time I have made my food selection he has already seated himself at a vacant table in the busy canteen. I hesitate for a moment and then set my tray down opposite him. I gaze in wonder at the enormous pile of food on his plate and use this to try to start a conversation.
"You hungry then?" I ask brightly.
"Yeah." He doesn't look at me and that one word is said begrudgingly.
"So," I begin undaunted, pushing a fork into my food. "How are you finding the training?"
"Fine." His whole body language tells me he doesn't want me here, nor does he want to talk to me. I refuse to be put off.
"I expect you've done all this before, you know….Army and S.A.S."
There's no response from him this time and I don't persue it. We eat in silence for a while and I am all too aware of the cheerful chatter from the other recruits in the hall as they exchange tales and laughter with their respective partners.
"Where are you from originally? What part of the country?" I have another go at conversation to avoid stress induced indigestion at the awkward long silence that hovers over our table. There must be some subject I can engage him in. Bodie lifts his face slowly and regards me menacingly with black thunderous eyes. But behind them I am momentarily held hostage by an unexpected glimpse of something surprising. There is a tangible ribbon of anguish, of a pain running deep within him. For a second he has unknowingly let his guard down but it's long enough for me to bear witness to his torment. He looks away suddenly and I leave him to finish his meal in silence.
The rest of the weeks training sessions fare no better than those of that first day but the pain behind Bodie's eyes stays with me and with it brings at least some kind of understanding of the man. His complaint isn't with me, I had never thought it was but he needs to accept that I am a member of this enforced relationship whether he likes it or not.
Bodie picks me up on our last day which consists of meetings, lectures, mental agility testing and psychological evaluations. He doesn't take me up on my offer to come up to the flat for a coffee while he waits for me and on the rare occasions when he has to use my name it's always Doyle and never Ray. Our week together had failed to bring about the slightest thawing in him towards me.
I settle in the car seat and don't bother to make conversation anymore. As the week had drawn on I had begun to feel very alone and left out of what should have been an enjoyable learning experience. My patience with him is slowly evaporating. At break times I had gravitated towards my fellow agents listening to their good natured banter just to feel included. Dave Hanson,also an ex-cop like myself, had asked how things were with Bodie and I had replied "Grim" and then felt shamefully disloyal.
As we near the C.I.5 offices I have one last try at establishing some kind of relationship with him.
"Listen Bodie, I'd like us to be friends but….."
"I'm not in the market for a friend." He glares at me stone faced.
"Yeah but if we can't be friends then…."
"Shut up Doyle, you know nothing about me!"
He pulls sharply into the carpark that's full of other agents emptying out of cars on this our final day.
"And whose fault is that?" I shout at him, getting out of the car as the suppressed frustration of the week begins to spill over.
"Go to Hell!"
"I'm already there,mate, I have been all week thanks to you!"
In a flash Bodie rounds on me grabbing me by the neck throwing me like a limp rag doll against the car.
"Yeah?" he growls. "What are you going to do about it?"
I feel the immense power of the man as he pins me down pressing his forearm across my throat and raising a fist threatening to strike me. If he hits me his career in C.I.5 is over before it has begun. Most of the other operatives have dispersed and headed inside but several hang around unsure of how to deal with the situation hoping their intervention won't be needed.
"Let…..go of me." I gasp, catching sight of a movement over Bodie's shoulder at the window of the offices. "Cowley's watching."
Bodie freezes and then loosens his grip on me slightly but it's enough for me to pull myself free of him.
"If you ever lay a finger on me again…" I warn, shaking with rage. I had barely got inside the building when Cowley's voice booms down the stairs.
"Doyle! My office! Now!"
I lean against the wall for a moment and close my eyes, my heart still racing.
"Alright, Ray?" Dave Hanson touches my arm.
"Yeah."
"You want to get rid of him, mate. He's a bloody liability. I don't know what Cowley thinks he's doing employing a maniac like that."
"He wants to see me now. Cowley." We head up the stairs together.
"Then ask for a change of partner. Now's the time to do it before we are all too comfortable with who we have. No one would blame you."
I nod half heartedly in agreement and knock on the door of George Cowley, the controller of C.I.5.
"Would you mind telling me what I have just witnessed, Doyle?" he motions me to take a seat.
"It was nothing, Sir, just a bit of horse play." I can hardly believe what I'm saying.
"Horse play? It didn't look like that to me. You are doing yourself no favours by covering for him."
"I'm not, Sir, it was nothing."
"Whilst I admire your loyalty, Doyle, your stupidity leaves a lot to be desired. I will not tolerate violence of any sort in my organisation and especially not amongst my own men."
"Yes, Sir, but there was no violence. He didn't hit me and well….." I look pleadingly into the eyes of my new boss. "…..he's my partner." I add as if that explained everything. Although I barely know the Scot I can't let him sack Bodie if that is indeed his intention.
Cowley stares back at me thoughtfully for a few seconds. "Find Bodie and send him to me." He says eventually, his words brooking no argument but their tone softening slightly.
I don't know what was said in the office between Cowley and Bodie except that Bodie attended all the remaining training sessions that day leaving me to conclude that he was not to be dismissed. It did occur to me that maybe Bodie would take the opportunity to leave of his own accord, he clearly wasn't happy with the present situation but the very nature of the days structured events did not bring us into contact and I made no effort to do so. The ball was now very firmly in Bodie's court.