Bodie and Doyle had spent a very frustrating time chasing up reluctant witnesses and trying to find missing ones. It had not been a good day. They finally gave up by early evening. As they got into the car, Doyle adjusted the passenger seat back and closed his eyes. Bodie wanted to do the same, but one of them needed to be awake. After a while of relaxing silence, Doyle half opened his eyes and noticed that they didn't seem to be on their homeward course.
"Where we going?" he slurred sleepily.
"Don't know about you, Ray, but I'm in need of a drink. It might cheer me up a bit."
"I just want to lie down in a dark room."
"Yeah but who with, eh?"
Doyle rolled his head Bodie-ward. "The way I'm feeling, mate, sleep is all I can manage. I've a pounding headache."
"Yeah? Well, a drink will untie some of the knots. You'll feel better for it." He patted Doyle's thigh encouragingly.
Doyle doubted it, but the pub beckoned and Bodie wasn't going to be diverted. They'd downed their first pint and Bodie wound Ray up about the progress – or not – of his team in the Premier League, and it was Doyle's round. He certainly seemed a little more relaxed now. However, as he was getting the drinks in, he glanced over his friend's shoulder and tensed. He was like a gundog that's spotted its first grouse of the season. Bodie was professional enough not to turn back to see what or who had got Doyle's attention, and his friend was now staring into his beer so as not to look too obvious.
"Who?" Bodie asked softly, also on alert now.
"Kennedy. He's eating the face off someone."
Kennedy was one of CI5's operatives.
"Male or female?" Bodie smirked.
Doyle refused to rise to that one. "Well, it's not his wife."
Bodie sighed. "I hope you're not going to get all moralistic on me, mate. We have Cowley for that."
Doyle had stolen a second glance at the couple. They'd come up for air and Doyle got a better look at the woman's face. Bodie saw something pass across his partner's eyes which he couldn't read.
"I think we'd better adjourn to somewhere a bit quieter," was all he said, not looking him in the eye.
Bodie got the message – or at least some of it – and the pair slowly peeled themselves off the bar. Bodie ensured that he got between his partner and the girl's line of sight in case she got bored of her boyfriend and strafed the pub for familiar faces. The men found an empty table in the snug.
"I recognised the woman," Doyle whispered as much as he could against the noise of the jukebox.
Bodie raised an eyebrow and waited.
"She's a tom."
Bodie wasn't going to get on his moral high ground. "So?"
"And I know who runs her stable – John Cougan."
It wasn't often that Doyle could shock his partner. There was anger there too. Bodie didn't ask how he knew. It wasn't something his partner would joke about or mention casually. CI5 and the Cougans had a long history and Doyle in particular had a lasting scar that wouldn't heal courtesy of the Cougans – and it wasn't a physical scar.
"Time we were going," Bodie said indifferently in case anyone was within earshot. There could well be Cougan henchmen eavesdropping. It was better that the men made themselves scarce in case any spotters thought the agents were on their case. Or if their presence put Kennedy in danger. They left the pub on high alert, checked their car before getting in, and made evasive manoeuvres in case they were followed.
"So," Bodie said into the silence after a while, "what do you want to do about it?"
"It depends what the 'it' is," Doyle returned, with his eyes still glued on the side mirror for any tails. He was certainly awake now. "It could be that Kennedy knows who the woman is and he's running an operation with Cowley's blessing. Or it could be that he's playing away from home and has no idea who she is – which is even more dangerous."
"And if he is playing from home," Bodie added, "does she know who he is – which is just as dangerous?"
'Yeah," murmured Doyle thoughtfully.
They pulled up a few streets short of Bodie's address. If they were being followed, he didn't want to lead them straight to his apartment. Before they got out, Bodie turned to his passenger.
"I think – hope – you know that I don't run scared, Ray."
Doyle was surprised. "You're the bravest man I know, Bodie," he replied simply and honestly.
Bodie wasn't expecting that. He shuffled in his seat, embarrassed. Coughing dryly he said. "Yeah well it was just to say that, with the Cougans beginning to stir, I'd prefer for you to stay with me tonight where I can see you."
"I hope you're not suggesting I sleep with you!" Doyle spluttered in mock horror, hoping to lighten the mood.
Bodie grinned, pushed his friend's thigh in rebuke, and got out of the car automatically scanning the area. They took a circuitous route to his flat. Once inside Doyle headed for the bathroom and the aspirin, and Bodie put the kettle on and made sandwiches.
Doyle wandered into the kitchen and leaned on the sink, munching pills. "So," he concluded, taking up the threads of their conversation again, "we either tattle to Cowley that Kennedy's in over his head, or we warn Kennedy off if he's playing around."
"If he is on assignment …"
"Then it should have been us not Kennedy," Doyle growled angrily.
"How many of those things are you taking?" Bodie asked, taking the bottle from his partner. "Anyway, there's a good reason why Cowley's not letting us near the Cougans. We're too close emotionally – plus the Cougans know what we look like. They probably – and hopefully – don't know Kennedy from the milkman."
Doyle sighed. It was the nearest he could get to admitting that Bodie was right – maybe. "So, I think we should warn Kennedy. He could tell us to mind our own business and bugger off, but at least he'd know." Doyle was relieved that Bodie agreed with his plan.
"We can't say anything too obvious on an open phone line," Bodie commented. Doyle shot him an angry glance. It was Bodie who phoned Base to be put through to Kennedy as a matter of urgency. After a long pause Adams, the night man, said that he couldn't raise him on the radio. He'd phone back after he'd tried him at home. Mrs Kennedy said he wasn't there and had assumed that her husband was still out on assignment. Adams didn't like to disabuse her. Bodie and Doyle were getting worried.
"Well he's probably in some whorehouse with her," Bodie said to Doyle as they set about the sandwiches. Doyle said nothing. It was more effective sometimes than arguing. Bodie sighed. "I know what you want to do, Doyle, and your conscience has got you in a headlock."
"Stop reading me, Bodie," Doyle countered irritably. "If we press the alarm button and Kennedy is simply knocking around, then he's going to be none too pleased with us getting Cowley involved – to say nothing of how the dear Mrs Kennedy would react to knowing her beloved and faithless husband is whoring in his spare time."
"If, on the other hand," Bodie challenged, "he's after a Cougan and he's disappeared …"
"We don't know he is after a Cougan. And Cowley wouldn't send an agent alone after one of those. I didn't see any other agents in the pub to watch his back. Did you?"
"Well, we didn't stop to check every nook and cranny did we for CI5 men? They don't advertise themselves. If we don't tell Cowley and something happens to Kennedy your conscience is going to give you hell – which means that you give me hell in return."
"You have a conscience too Bodie," Doyle snapped.
Bodie sighed. They were going round in circles, trying to avoid the centre – tattling to Father. Doyle broke first. He got up and asked Adams to patch him through to Cowley. He looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight. The Cow would not be pleased. He wasn't. A sleepy boss answered the phone.
"Sir," began Doyle, "sorry to disturb you, but we wondered if we could see you urgently tonight. It's not something that we can say over the phone."
"As you're using the plural, Doyle, can I assume that I shall look forward to a nocturnal visit from Bodie too?"
Doyle smiled looking at his friend and said, yes, Bodie was also in on it.
"I take it the Old Man wasn't full of warmth and overflowing with good will?" Bodie asked as Doyle put the phone down. His friend shook his head, picked up his jacket and headed for the door. They checked the car again before starting off.
Cowley met them at the door of his flat in his dressing gown looking elegant as always. He invited them in, but only as far as the hallway. Doyle started off.
"We finished up for the day, sir, and went for a quick pint. We noticed Kennedy was there with a woman – Samantha Thos. I know she works for the Cougans and Bodie and I were worried about it. We obviously didn't want to talk to him there and then so went home and tried raising him from there. He's not answering his R/T and he hasn't returned home yet either. We're not fishing, sir, but if Kennedy is on a Cougan assignment then he seems to have gone missing." Doyle turned to Bodie to see if he had anything to add. His partner was finding the pattern on the carpet of great interest. No help there then. Cowley's expression, as usual, was one of granite.
"He's not on a Cougan assignment," Cowley said slowly and wandered into the living room where, at last, the men were invited to sit. He demanded more details. Although Bodie felt that Doyle was taking most of the strain, it was he who had most of the answers such as who the woman was and how he knew her or of her. Cowley listened attentively. After he had got all he could from his operatives he leaned back, eyes half closed, and ruminated for a while. His agents knew better than to interrupt his thought processes. While they waited, the men mentally reviewed what had been said to see if they'd missed any detail. They didn't think so. Eventually Cowley rose. They followed. "Leave it with me," was all he said. As they reached the door he thanked them for coming to him with it, hard though the decision must have been. The men were surprised at such empathy from their boss but didn't push it. They wished him good night and inspected the car again before heading back to Bodie's flat.
Next morning they checked in first with Cowley before heading off for another fruitless day's toil of rounding up reluctant witnesses. He wasn't in his office, so Bodie poked his head round the adjoining door to Betty's office.
"Hello, guardian of my heart," Bodie started, grinning broadly.
"What do you want, Bodie?" she retorted. She seemed tetchy and not in the mood for games.
"Well Kennedy's whereabouts would be nice, but Cowley would do for starters."
"You haven't heard yet?"
Doyle was overhearing the conversation in Cowley's empty office. He joined the party. "Heard what?" he asked before Bodie.
"Kennedy was found dead at Camden Lock a few hours ago."