False Start

by Halcris

There's a villain that C.I.5 would dearly love to catch,but it is proving difficult and takes a long time.

False Start.

."Is this the right place ?," Doyle asked his team-mate as they parked their car and climbed out. "It looks derelict."

"It is," replied Bodie, "Spider said it was derelict when he arranged to meet us here."

"Then why doesn't he chose somewhere better, somewhere safer ?," complained Doyle, "And somewhere not so far out of town."

"Oh, you know Spider," said Bodie, "He's absolutely paranoid about secrecy. He's got a real phobia about being seen with any of us who might be known."

He patted his mate on the back, as they walked across the road. "But we can forgive him for that, for what he gives us is always good. If he can help us get a lead on Tranter, he can be as secretive as he likes."

"Well, that's true," agreed his partner, "We could do with something useful about him !."

C. I. 5 had been working for months to bring John S Tranter to book, with little success. The man ostensibly ran several different businesses, including a legitimate and lucrative one selling high-powered sports cars. That had been extensively investigated, but there was no sign of anything untoward.

Yet, judging by his life-style, the man clearly had an income well above what this rather exclusive venture provided.

And although they couldn't prove it, both the police and C.I.5 knew very well what engendered that ! They were sure that he somehow brought in quite large quantities of drugs, sold them well, and used the money to import weapons to order, and made thousands selling these to select organizations. So he was a villain on several counts, and one that they could well do to get rid of.

C.I.5 badly wanted to catch him 'red-handed' bringing in a 'drop', but had not as yet managed to discover when and where this happened.

Spider had told Bodie that he might have something useful to tell them, so he had agreed to this rather unusual 'meet'. Following his instructions, they moved along the strong wire fence till they came to a narrow alley, and turned down it. Right at the end of it, in a dark corner, they found the gap where the fence had been pulled apart. Squatters and 'dossers had used this place.

But eventually they had decided it was too unstable, and had moved away to somewhere safer, for once obeying the large signs which said DANGER. KEEP OUT.

The pair squeezed through the gap, and then through a broken-down door, to get into the ground floor of the building. There was very little left of what had once been a busy factory. All they could see now was a bare dusty floor and hefty stone walls.

In one corner there was a huge pile of rubble where the ceiling and part of the floor above had come down. There was even a glimpse of the sky through holes in the roof above.

But there was no sign of the little man who liked to be called Spider !

"He's late," said Bodie, looking at his watch. He moved towards a gaping doorway in the wall which led into the next room.

"Don't go too far in," said Doyle warningly. But he was talking to himself. Bodie had already charged through the hole ! He hurried after him, only to see him disappear through the corresponding gap in the next wall.

"Come back, you idiot," he yelled, trying to catch up with him, "It's not safe !"

As if to prove his words were right, there came noises from above, a loud crack and then a rumbling sound. More cracking noises followed, and in less time than it takes to tell, the interior walls began to crumble and fall down.

As several large slabs fell in front of him, half obscured by a large cloud of thick dust, Doyle instinctively retreated. As more debris cascaded down he turned to go back the way he'd come, knowing that there was a way out that way.

He hated leaving Bodie, but he couldn't go forward. That way was definitely blocked. He might need to get out to get help.

Coughing from the dust beginning to clog his throat, he made for the opening. But he didn't make it. Rubble was falling all around him, and a lump of it caught him on the head, felling him to the ground.

Blackness swept in and he knew no more !

Peter Lang moved slowly along the hospital coidor, one strong arm busy providing support for his mother. He had given up his afternoon off, to drive all the way out here, to bring her to the hospital to see her sister, suddenly taken very ill.

He would take her home now, and then get back towards the centre of London. A C.I. 5 agent, he was due at a night stake-out on a garage that his boss Cowley had grave suspicions about.

As they neared the entrance, a stretcher-trolley was pushed out from a side ward. As he eased his mother out of the way of the busy staff pushing it, he glanced idly at the occupant.

Surprised, he half-turned to look after it, as it was hurried along the corridor. The man lying there had looked remarkably like Ray Doyle, a top colleague.

No, it couldn't be, he told himself.

What would he be doing out in this back-water ?

At that moment, his mother stumbled and almost fell. His quick reflexes saved her, and he swung his full attention back to her. He knew how distressed she was, for a doctor had warned her that her sister's condition was very serious.

Carefully he helped her out to his car and took her home. He made her a cup of tea, and sat with her, until his sister, who still lived at home, came in from work and took over.

Then he shot off back to London. He just had time to change at his flat, before reporting for duty at the all-night stake-out.

Concern for his mother and his aunt had driven the previous incident from his mind.

He joined his colleague in the small flat over-looking the suspect garage. The pair spent a weary, uneventful night, seeing nothing worth reporting. When two other agents turned up in the morning to take over, he began to gather up his things, his jacket and his empty thermos. He was looking forward to getting back to his flat for a shower and a meal, and more important, access to a phone to find out the latest news from his mother, or his sister, if he could catch her before she left for work.

He wasn't really listening to the conversation going on across the room, when suddenly some of the words he was hearing caught his attention.

"Bit of a flap on," Giles was saying, "Bodie and Doyle are missing "

Lang moved quickly across the room. "What's this ?," he demanded curiously.

"Oh, a bit of a problem," reported Giles. "Bodie and Doyle should have reported in this morning. They didn't, and no-one seems to know where they are."

Lang suddenly remembered what had happened the previous afternoon. "I've got to speak to Mr. Cowley," he declared, and shot out of the room. The others stared after him, looking perplexed.

"What's got into him, I wonder ?," said Giles.

Lang made all speed back to base, and not waiting for the lift, dashed upstairs. His first encounter was with Cowley's secretary.

"I need to speak to Mr. Cowley urgently," he told her.

"He's very busy," was her reply. "Can I make you an appointment ?."

"It really is urgent," Lang persisted. "I might know where Doyle is."

That was enough. She jumped up from her desk, tapped on the connecting door, and all but pushed him into Cowley's office.

Cowley had his head down, studying some papers, and was not very pleased at being interrupted. "What is it Lang ?," he demanded crossly.

"It's important, I think," said Lang, and proceeded to tell his boss exactly what had happened the previous afternoon.

"It was only a glimpse, sir," he finished, "but it did look like him."

"Let's check," said Cowley briskly, all attention now. He pressed a buzzer to summon his secretary.

"Get me a phone call to this address," he ordered, and Lang quickly gave her the name and location of the little hospital. It didn't take her long.

Cowley took the call and asked to speak to the doctor in charge. A moment or so later, a Dr. Spence was called to the phone.

Cowley explained as briefly as he could who he was. "I think you may have a patient, one of my men, Raymond Doyle," he said.

"I don't think so," replied the doctor in a doubtful tone. "We are a very small unit, and I know all my patients. But I'll check."

He was back after a few moments. "I thought so," he said. "We have no-one of that name here. I'm afraid I can't help you."

Cowley had put the call on audio so Lang could hear, and they exchanged puzzled looks. Had Lang made a mistake ?

But then the doctor's voice came again. "Wait a minute," he said. "I nearly forgot. We do have an unidentified patient, brought in yesterday afternoon."

"Describe him," demanded Cowley almost rudely, in his concern.

"White, in his thirties I'd say," answered the doctor. "Slim build but very fit, with dark curly hair."

"That sounds like him," said Cowley eagerly. "Can I have a word with him ?."

"I'm afraid not," replied the doctor. "I have him heavily sedated."

"Is he seriously injured then ?," enquired Cowley anxiously.

"He has a nasty head injury," replied the doctor, "I'm concerned he may have severe concussion, so I sedated him, hoping the rest will ease that."

"I'm coming down to check him out," declared Coley and ended the call. He turned to Lang.

"You'd better come too, as you know the area," he said briskly. "Now go and find Murphy and tell him to bring my car to the door."

As usual, his orders were instantly obeyed. A short while later found him driving himself, with Murphy beside him, and Lang in the back, well on his way to the outskirts of London.

With the help of Lang's directions, they were soon pulling up outside the small hospital. Cowley parked the car neatly, and all three headed for the entrance. They were directed to the office, and were met by Dr. Spence, a mature grey-haired man. Cowley explained again who he was.

"Ah, yes," said the doctor, "You've come to see if our unknown patient is one of your men. He's not awake yet, but at least you can see him to confirm if it is him."

He began to lead the three towards the lift at the end of the hall, and explained as they went.

"A policeman found him wandering about in the street. He was unsteady, dazed and incoherent. At first he thought he was drunk, but as soon as he realised his mistake he brought him here. But as he was only wearing jeans and a T-shirt, we had no identification.

He ushered them into the rather ancient lift, took them up two floors, led them into a small ward, and then to the bed at the far end.

None of them needed a second look to realise that the patient lying in the bed was indeed Doyle !

Pale-faced and motionless with an encircling bandage holding a large dressing on his head, it was indeed their missing colleague.

The doctor gazed at his charge also.

"He wasn't easy to deal with," he declared. "He didn't want to be put to bed, but he was so unsteady and 'out of it', we had to force him to comply. He was muttering a lot, about a building collapsing and a body, but he wasn't making a lot of sense."

Murphy suddenly had an idea.

"Excuse me, sir," he said, "you said he was saying about a body. Could it have been instead, the word Bodie ?."

"How did you know that,?" said the astonished man. "I did wonder at the time, it sounded so odd. I thought maybe he was foreign."

"Bodie is a name," interrupted Cowley, "The name of the man he was working with, who is still missing !."

Lang stepped up to the doctor. "Excuse me, sir," he said, "Can you tell me where he was found ?"

"Yes," replied the doctor instantly, "It was at the top end of Melfort Street."

Lang swung round to address Cowley."Sir," he said urgently. "There is a large area there due for a great deal ofre-development work. There are several old factories, well fenced off, due for demolition. But the project has been going on so long that some of them are beginning to fall down on their own. Could they have been in one of those ?."

"It sounds extremely likely !," snapped Cowley, and spurred by this helpful information, went straight into action.

"Lang," he said, "You know the area. Take me to the nearest police-station."

He turned to Dr. Spence. "I'm going to organize a search for the other man," he explained. "But we'll be back later to see how Doyle is." With one last look at the patient, he hurried out, tailed by Murphy and Lang.

Once in contact with the police, Cowley used his authority to good effect.

The demolition experts, who had been working right at the other end of the extensive area, were summoned to come at once to the Melfort Street end. They arrived quite quickly in a couple of lorries loaded with equipment.

Cowley quickly explained the situation, and the men re-acted well, eager to help, spurred by the possibility that there might be a man trapped in a building collapse.

Well aware that these were qualified men who knew their business, Cowley stood back and let them get on with it. The boss of the gang quickly organized his man into two groups. Murphy and Lang, supplied with spare hard hats and protective clothing were allowed to join them, on condition that they kept in the background, and did only what the men told them.

The smaller group, including Murphy, started at the top end of Melfort Street. They very quickly found the little alleyway, and the gap in the fence at the end of it. They made their way through the broken-down door, and into the first room. A solid wall of rubble and lumps of stone met them.

"We're not going to get far this way !," declared the leader of the group as he surveyed it.

Then Murphy spotted a gap at the bottom of one section of the wall. He pointed it out to the leader and they both moved towards it.

"You're not going to tell me your man squeezed through there !," exclaimed the man incredulously.

"Well, he's quite slim," said Murphy. He bent down to look more closely. "Look, isn't that a trace of blood ? He has lots of grazes and cuts."

The engineer bent down to look. "My," he said, "You could be right !."

"It would explain why he only had a T-shirt," said Murphy. "I bet his jacket is the other side of that hole."

"None of us are slim enough to get through that space," said the man. "He must have been pretty determined, _ and brave," he added.

"Oh, he's both of those," declared Murphy.

"Well, we can't get at it from this side," said the engineer. "Let's go back out, and further round the back, to see if we can gain access there."

The group did just that, and found another broken door. It was a bit blocked on the inside with some rubble, but his men soon shifted that and they were into the second room. Murphy spotted a glimpse of tan amid the pervading grey of the strewn debris and hurried across. What he found proved him right. A neatly folded jacket, and beneath it, a holstered gun. He quickly picked them up and took charge of them.

So if this was where Doyle had escaped from, where was Bodie ? They were never far apart.

He turned to look towards the next room, and his heart sank. Floor to ceiling was a solid mass of stone blocks and rubble. Was Bodie under that lot ?

The engineer was surveying it also. "Well we can't get through that," he declared firmly. "The other group were going to try from the other end. So let's go and see if they are faring any better."

The larger group of men, including Lang, had moved to the far end of the building, which was five large rooms long. They quickly found an old doorway, broke it down, and were into the last room. The near end was still in pretty good shape, but when they looked towards the door leading to the next room, they could see that it was blocked by debris from the ceiling at that end, most of which had come down against the door and the far wall.

But they needed to move towards the other end of the building to continue their search, so they set to to reach the doorway. Experienced men, it didn't take them long. Soon they had the doorway clear, and quickly broke through the rotted wood, and peered into the space beyond.

To their surprise they heard the sound of coughing, due to the dust they had stirred up, and saw a grey figure stumbling over the odd piles of debris towards them.

Hands reached out to draw the man through to the clearer space of the end room.

"Bodie," exclaimed Lang, recognizing the figure. "Are you all right ?,"

"I'm fine," Bodie replied, but he was looking back. "But Doyle's through there somewhere."

"No, he isn't," said Lang quickly, anxious to re-assure the man worrying about his partner. "He got out back the other way."

The engineers, pleased with their success, were hustling the pair back out into the fresh air. As the emerged back out to the road they were met by the group coming down from the other end.

Murphy greeted Bodie warmly, "Glad to see you are all right," he said. He showed him the bundle he was carrying. "I rescued Doyle's jacket and his gun."

"Lang said he was out," said Bodie. "Is he all right ?," he asked anxiously.

"He will be," came another voice, as Cowley joined the group. "He sustained a head injury, and the doctor thought he might have concussion, so he sedated him to make him rest. We'll go back there now to see if he's awake."

A little later, the four entered the hospital. Cowley led the way to the lift and up to the right floor. They were met at the ward door by Dr. Spence, looking very agitated.

"I am so glad you are back," he said as he greeted Cowley. "He's being very difficult. Demanding his clothes and refusing to stay in bed."

"He doesn't know that Bodie's safe," exclaimed Murphy.

Bodie quickly stepped forward. "Give me a minute," he said. "I'll sort him out."

"The bed at the far end," directed the doctor, and Bodie shot off. He pulled back the shrouding curtain, to see his mate all but wrestling with a couple of nurses who were trying to get him back into bed.

"Hey, sunshine," he said cheerfully, "What's all this. ?"

At the sound of this voice, Doyle stopped all resistance and swung his gaze round. When he saw Bodie standing there, looking quite his usual self, his face brightened, and he let the harassed nurses push him back onto the bed.

"You're all right !," he said, rather stating the obvious.

"A sight better than you, I think," said his mate, as he moved past the two relieved nurses to stick the pillows back behind his friend. He was glad to see him relax back against them.

They were joined by the three other C.I.5 men and the doctor. Cowley looked speculatively at Doyle. He turned to Dr. Spence.

"Is he fit to travel ?," he asked.

"Not to drive !," said the doctor quickly.

"No, he won't be driving," said Cowley firmly, "but it would be a lot more convenient than leaving him here, to be collected in a few days time."

"Please, doctor," said Doyle eagerly.

"Let me have a look at your head," said the doctor doubtfully.

Doyle held his breath as the doctor removed the dressing to peer at his injury. Please say yes, he begged silently.

"Well, it's not too bad," the doctor conceded. "All right, nurse, you can find Mr. Doyle's clothes."

The others moved out of the ward, while Bodie remained behind to give his mate a hand.

Cowley issued his orders. "Lang," he said, "You know the area, so you can take Bodie back to find his car, and come back with him."

He turned to Murphy. "I want you to look after Doyle. When he's ready, take him down to my car. I'll just have a word with ."

Bodie rang the doorbell at Doyle's flat, and was instantly admitted. He found Doyle up and dressed and busy washing up his breakfast dishes.

"You look better, sunshine," he said, pleased with what he was seeing.

"Yes, I'm fine," replied Doyle. "I slept well, and I've had a shower and then a good breakfast, so I'm ready to go."

Bodie drove them in and soon they were reporting to Cowley in his office.

He cast a speculative eye over Doyle. Then he issued his orders for the day.

"Doyle," he said briskly, "You have an appointment in fifteen minutes with Dr. Thornton downstairs."

"I'm quite all right," protested Doyle.

"I'll wait for the doctor to confirm that," replied his boss firmly. The tone of his voice quelled any argument.

He turned to Bodie. "Now, this man of yours, Spider," he said. "There's no possibility that he set you up, is there ?"

"Absolutely not !," protested Bodie. "I know him too well."

"Well, the report from the engineers did say there was absolutely no sign of any interference. The collapse was purely accidental."

"So you know what your next task is," Cowley continued. "Find out why he didn't turn up."

Bodie lightly punched his friend's shoulder. "See you later, mate," he said, and hurried off.

Doyle kept his appointment. In his usual thorough way, their own doctor checked him over carefully. He pronounced him fit enough, provided he took it quietly for a couple of days, and instantly reported any unusual symptoms.

He reported back upstairs. Cowley got the doctor's report quickly, and acted upon it. He handed Doyle a bundle of reports, told him to find a quiet desk somewhere, to read through them and write down his assessment of them, and any helpful comments.

Bodie came back just before mid-day. He made a quick report to Cowley. Then he collected Doyle, who was just completing his task and took him down to the canteen for a spot of lunch. As they sat together and ate, he brought him up to date on his morning's efforts.

"I found Spider !," he said triumphantly. "He's in Vale Hospital. Apparently, on his way to meet us the other evening, the silly idiot lost an argument with a bus. He's got a broken leg and various other injuries, so he's going to be stuck there for a while."

"He won't like that," replied Doyle.

"We're going to see him this afternoon," went on Bodie, "But we'll stick to normal visiting hours so it doesn't look suspicious, you know how edgy he is."

"Then at least we can find out what he wanted to tell us," said Doyle.

So at the correct hour, the pair of them went to Vale Hospital, mingling with the regular visitors. They soon found the ward Spider was in, and strolled down towards his bed, carrying some magazines.

Spider looked a bit wary when he spotted them, but they quickly brought up chairs, and drew the curtain part of the way round.

"Oh, Mr. B.," he said, anxiously, "I didn't mean to let you down the other evening."

"Course, you didn't." replied Bodie, in a friendly tone. "Nobody with any sense jumps in front of a bus on purpose."

Satisfied that Bodie wasn't annoyed with him, Spider relaxed. "I've such a lot to tell you," he went on. "As you know I've been keeping an eye on someone, where he goes, who he meets. I've got a few more names to give you."

"We did know most of the last ones you gave us," said Doyle. "We've got people watching too, you know."

Spider looked a bit disappointed, but then his face brightened. "But I've got something else," he said eagerly.

"Go on, then," encouraged Bodie.

"Well, you know the man talks big," he said, "and he's got the reputation of being a bit racist."

"Yes," agreed Bodie, "His business contacts tend to be white."

"But for the last six months or so, he's met up several times with a coloured gentleman called Chandra.

"We know a bit about him," said Doyle. "Owns quite a few 'curry houses' all over London. Some of them are pretty good."

"He doesn't own them all," said Spider triumphantly. "Half of them are owned by 'you know who'. It's unofficial, but they are partners. He finances them."

"He managed to keep that hidden," commented Bodie. "Crafty !."

"That's useful, Spider," said Doyle. "Good work."

Spider beamed, glad to learn he'd given them something that they didn't already know.

"But there's more," he said, "Something a bit odd."

"Get on with it, then," said Bodie, intrigued, and a bit impatient. But what came next was very interesting.

Spider beckoned them to listen more closely. He rather enjoyed feeling conspiratorial.

"I have a nephew," he began, "Works down the docks, unloading cargoes. He's moved recently and now works with some of the consignments for 'him'. He has a regular order of cheap cotton goods from India. Distributes them round various 'cheapjack' markets, I believe. I expect that's been noticed by your lot already. But Bert has noticed that a crate marked SPICES comes in with the same delivery. Every Friday, Mr. Chandra comes with his van and collects it."

"Sounds like legitimate trading," commented Doyle.

"Probably is," agreed Spider. "But there's one bit more. Once a month, he has company ! Your man comes with him. He supervises the unloading of the crate, and watches it like a hawk. Then they go off together. I went to watch one time and he seems very concerned about that crate. I haven't a car, so I can't follow where they go, but you could. It might be interesting don't you think ?."

"It might indeed," replied Bodie, and Doyle nodded. Their experience was giving them the same suspicions as Spider had. Was this the way Tranter had his drug supplies brought in ?

Doyle had one last question before they left. "You said you watched Tranter at the docks. When was that ?."

"Friday before last," replied Spider promptly.

"Right," said Doyle, "so that means we have to wait a couple of weeks before he's there again."

"Time to give Mr Chandra a discreet further look, I think," said Bodie. "Well, thank you Spider. You've given us a new lead."

"Hurry up and get fit again," added Doyle, as the pair left.

They hurried back to base, and related all they'd learned to their boss. He found it as interesting as they had.

"Very interesting," he began, "but…."
"Suspicion is not proof !," interrupted Doyle.

"Exactly," agreed Cowley.

"But worth investigating," protested Bodie.

"Oh, yes," said Cowley, "but very slowly and cautiously. If Tranter were to get the slightest hint that we were looking at Chandra he'd stop that method instantly, and the chance would be lost."

"We can be very discreet," said Bodie, eager for action.

"Oh, definitely not you pair," said Cowley firmly.

"Why not, sir," queried Bodie, a bit disappointed.

"Because Tranter undoubtedly has his spies. He knows we are after him, and so he probably knows exactly what line we are working on. If you go anywhere near Chandra he'll hear about it. No, I'll have to send you off on some other line of enquiry."

As the pair thought about this, they realised once again how shrewd their canny Scottish boss was, undoubtedly the key to his success.

They reported in the next morning to hear what was next on their boss's agenda, and what he said was quite a surprise. "I want you to go and have a look at Tranter's sports car business."

"That's been done !," protested Bodie. "It was cleared."

"I know," continued Cowley, "but I want you to look at it again. And this time you needn't be so secretive about your enquiries. Indeed you might even manage a visit to the showroom.."

"I don't understand, " said Bodie, looking puzzled.

"Whether he's on the premises or not, Tranter will hear about it," continued Cowley. "He'll either be annoyed about it, or he'll be amused that we're wasting our time. But either way, it will be a diversion, away from Chandra."

Understanding now, Bodie hurried his partner out to get on with it. "He's a crafty so-and-so, isn't he ?," he commented, but there was a touch of admiration in his tone at the cleverness of this tactic by their boss.

They spent the morning on some rather obvious enquiries, and ended up just before lunch, paying a visit to the elaborate showroom. Bodie ran a gentle hand smoothly over one of the gleaming vehicles.

He whispered in Doyle's ear. "This is about as near as I shall ever get to one of these beauties," he said enviously. Doyle flashed him a smile. That was true of them both, though perhaps he didn't have the same longing as Bodie did, being more of a realist.

As they left the flashy showroom and walked back towards their car, Bodie resisted the urge to turn and look back.

"Was Tranter there ?," he asked Doyle instead.

"Yes, I think so," said his mate. "There was a figure in the office, standing back a bit from the window. I think it was him."

"Well, let's hope he gets the message Cowley intended then," replied Bodie.

They would have been very pleased if they could have tuned in to Tranter at that moment. It was him, standing back from the office window, with a big smile on his face. He knew those two and where they were from.

"Fools !," he said delightedly, "They keep trying to find something wrong with my car business, and they won't. They won't catch me that way."

So Cowley's astuteness had paid off, as it frequently did.

After that things in the case went along very quietly for a while. Chandra was watched from a distance and did exactly as Spider had told it. His 'curry shops' were looked at for any suggestion of dealing, but nothing was found. Cowley was coming to the conclusion that Chandra's only connection, serious as it was, was allowing Tranter's stuff to come in with his shipment. And that was probably done reluctantly, and under coercion. And as yet they had only suspicion that what Tranter collected was drugs.

They waited for the Friday when Tranter went down to the docks with Chandra, and Cowley put his very best observers onto the task of seeing where the pair went, and what they did next.

And the results proved very interesting !

The ill-assorted pair, left the docks and went straight to one of Chandra's largest shops, which had a private yard at the back and a large store-room with connections into the kitchen.

Men were called from the kitchen to help carry the spice chest into the big store-room, but then they were sent away.

It seemed as if Tranter and Chandra wanted to be alone with the chest.

The watching agent did not dare go any closer to see what they were doing, for fear of being spotted.

But ten minutes later he saw Tranter leave the store-room with a large carrier bag in his hand. He walked quickly across the yard to his own parked car, and drove off.

Chandra locked the van, and the store-room door, and disappeared into the kitchen.

The watching agent, who'd made very sure that he hadn't been observed, hurried back to base to relate all he had learned to Cowley.

Surely this was progress, and much nearer the proof they needed.

But they would have to wait a while longer. The time for action would be the next time Tranter accompanied Chandra, and that was four weeks away. Still it gave Cowley time to work out what he planned to do.

But, if you recall, Cowley had postulated two re-actions from Tranter to the visit of the two agents to his showroom. At first he had been supercilious and amused, but now the other feeling began to kick in.

And the more he thought about it, the stronger it became ! They really had a cheek, coming back to his place again, after they had already investigated and cleared it. It could well be construed as 'harassment'.

Perhaps he should consult his lawyer ? Or could it be classed as 'provocation' ? That thought appealed to him and he thought about it for a while. Then he reached for the phone on his desk, and dialled a number.

This time the smile on his face could only be described as malicious !

Bodie and Doyle were working on an exercise in conjunction with Barton and Jax. The two cars were in adjacent boroughs. They had been given a set of questions to ask, and were instructed to report the answers straight in to Murphy, who was comparing and collating them. He was very good at this kind of work, and much was being learned from these exercises, although the agents involved were often inclined to think them tedious and boring.

Bodie and Barton both hated it when they were assigned to this task, for they were essentially 'action men'.

Jax and Doyle had a little more patience than they did, and just got steadily on with it

After a long arduous day, they finished at last, and were free to go, looking forward to a rest, a meal and a shower, not necessarily in that order. Doyle called through to Jax, who confirmed that he and Barton were almost finished as well.

Bodie and Doyle strolled back to where they had parked their car, in a quiet street beside the canal. But as they turned the corner and it came into sight, they were instantly alert .

Three or four youths were hovering around it, rough aggressive-looking youngsters !

As Doyle had not long finished having a word with the other car, he quickly re-established the contact, and got through to Barton. "We've got trouble," he whispered into the speaker, and told his colleague what was happening. Barton wasted no words.

"We're coming," he said and rang off.

The pair neared the car warily.

A big chap, maybe a little older than the rest, was lolling on the bonnet of the car, grinning widely.

"I'm afraid your pretty car won't go," he announced gleefully, opening his hand to reveal a small object. "It needs this bit, you see." Then with a swift jerk he threw the bit back over his head, to drop in the canal with a slight splash. "Oops, I seem to have dropped it," he added insolently.

Doyle threw a quick glance at Bodie's expression, but in spite of the blatant provocation, Bodie was trying hard to control his temper, and was walking forward with calm determination. The two of them could take on this little lot easily.

But all of a sudden things changed !

At least half a dozen more bodies emerged from nearby dark shadows. And at a signal from the ring-leader, all of them charged upon the two agents, wielding various weapons, sticks, bicycle chains, and baseball bats.

Bodie and Doyle gave a good account of themselves against this fierce onslaught, but weight of numbers was proving a bit much for them

Doyle was felled to the ground by a baseball bat, but managed to scramble up again, just in time to intercept a bicycle-chain, aimed at Bodie's head. It coiled round his hand, and he gave it a sharp tug, which pulled the wild wielder very satisfyingly into a quick punch, which sent him reeling away. But with such odds, and the ferocity of the attackers, the C.I.5 men were not doing too well.

But help was at hand.

A car turned the far end of the street, and roared down towards the action.

Barton and Jax jumped out. Jax gave a gasp as he saw Barton drawing his gun. What was he thinking ? C.I.5 couldn't go shooting 'muggers', especially not adolescent ones. There would be hell to pay if he did.

But Barton wasn't a fool. He knew that. He fired one shot only, straight into the muddy waters of the canal !

But the fierce crack of that shot was enough. It halted the thugs in their tracks. For a moment there was stillness and silence. Then with one accord the group turned and fled, most shedding their weapons as they went.

In a few moments there wasn't one in sight !

Barton and Jax hurried up to their colleagues, who both looked rather the worse for wear. They had all the usual outward signs of a fight, cuts and bruises, but undoubtedly they had other unseen injuries too, the attack had been violent and ferocious.

But the outcome could have been even worse, if the 'cavalry' hadn't turned up, as they all knew.

Jax fished the First Aid box out of the car, and attempted to clean them up a bit, in spite of their protests.

Bodie explained to Barton why his car was out of action, and together they contacted base, and through them, Tommy, the head mechanic at the car pool. They explained and told him where to find them, and he promised to be out to them with spares as fast as he could.

Barton decided to take charge. "There's no point in all of us hanging about here," he said. "Jax, I suggest you take these two back to base and get them properly checked over and cleaned up. I'll stay with Bodie's car, and bring it into base as soon as Tommy comes and sorts it out."

Bodie was inclined to protest at this, until he looked at his partner. He was pale, and bleeding from several cuts, and one arm was clutching his side as if he was in pain. He looked as if he might pass out at any moment, so Bodie gave in and agreed to the plan. He eased him into the back of Jax's car, and they were off.

When they reached base, they went straight in to see Dr. Thornton. He gave them a thorough going-over. He took a little time over Doyle's rib-cage, as it seemed to be paining him, but decided there was nothing broken, just severe bruising. Their injuries were mainly superficial, and would heal in a few days. He doled out several bits of sticking-plaster, and some pain-killers, and sent them on their way.

As they made their way upstairs, Bodie cast a look at his mate, and was relieved to see that he looked a lot better than before.

They tapped on Cowley's door and were summoned in. Jax was already in there, so their boss was up to date on what had been going on. He gave them a searching look.

"We're all right, sir," said Bodie cheerfully.

"I'm afraid we annoyed Tranter a bit too much," added Doyle.

"Oh, you think he was behind it ?," queried Cowley.

"Yes," replied Doyle, "the lads were just tear-aways co-opted to join in, but the ring-leader wasn't. I don't know his name, but I'm sure I've seen him during our enquiries into Tranter's activities."

"Jax tells me he thinks he and Barton could round up some of the lads, if that's what you want," said their boss.

"I don't think so," said Doyle. "It wouldn't achieve anything much, would it ? And in a couple of week's time, we'll be having a go at Tranter himself, won't we ?"

"Yes," said Cowley, "But I haven't finalised the plans for that yet."

Although there was plenty for Bodie and Doyle to get on with, the thought of finally nailing Tranter was always at the back of their minds, and the next two weeks seemed to drag on forever. But at last the important Friday came, and they knew precisely what Cowley's orders were, and were eager to implement them.

Tranter swung his big car out of Chandra's yard, and onto the road. He was heading for home, very pleased with himself. He glanced sideways at the large Harrods carrier bag sitting on the seat beside him. Once again he'd collected his supply of hard drugs so easily. He had dealers waiting for these, and they'd pay his price. He also had parties waiting to order the armaments that money would buy. He would soon be 'rolling in it', and would be able to take a trip to Italy to look for some more cars.

He turned into the drive of his big house and pulled up in front of the porch.

He reached for the bag, pulled it out, and locked the car. He started up the steps, fiddling for his door key. It was his manservant's night off, so the house was empty.

Suddenly two men stepped out of the dark corners of the porch and confronted him. He retreated, stepping back in surprise. Almost magically fast, a gun appeared in the hand of the dark curly-haired one, though it was the other one that spoke.

"Not thinking of running away were you, Mr. Tranter ?" said Bodie in a mocking tone. "But then my partner would have to shoot you, and he never misses !."

Tranter stood perfectly still. C.I.5 men were trained to kill, he knew.

"Mind you, it wouldn't be a bad thing," Bodie continued. "It would save the tax-payers a lot of money, and the courts a lot of time."

The pair came down a further step, and the tall dark-haired man took the carrier from Tranter's hand.

"Been shopping, have we, sir ?," he said, "Posh bag, Harrods, eh. And what have we been buying ?" He peered ostentatiously into the bag. "Looks like flour. Are you going in for cake-making ?"

Then his teasing tone went, and his voice was hard and cold. "But we all know this isn't flour, don't we ?. Something much nastier, stuff that ruins lives, and kills," he snarled.

Bodie's banter had given him a bit of pleasure, knocking the arrogance out of this unpleasant villain.

But really he had been waiting for the car that now roared up the drive, and parked behind Tranter's. Two men had discretely followed from the yard, keeping sufficiently far behind to avoid arousing suspicion.

But a third person emerged from the back of the car !

Cowley had come himself to see this denouement. He looked pleased as he walked up to Tranter.

"We've waited quite a while for this moment," he said.

Tranter had recovered a bit from his initial shock and began to bluster. "My lawyers," he protested

"Won't get you out of this," declared Cowley. "Too much evidence and too many witnesses."

He turned to the men behind him. "We'll take back to base," he said. The two stepped forward and hustled the man into the car.

Cowley walked up to Bodie and Doyle. "The Forensic team will be here shortly," he said. "You can help them have a look round Tranter's place. You may find evidence about some of his other activities. It will all help to get him sent down for as long as he deserves."

He returned to his car, got in beside the driver, and the big red car reversed and drove out of the drive.

Almost at once a large van swept in and pulled up before the porch. The forensic experts began to unload their equipment.

Bodie turned to Doyle. "I've got a flask of coffee in the car," he said, "We'll have a break before we join in."

They strolled back towards their previously well-concealed car.

"Well," said Doyle, "It's good to have that case over and done with. It's taken such a long time."

"Yes," agreed Bodie, "But we did have a bit of a false start didn't we ? We didn't anticipate that building falling down on us."