"I think you know Chief Superintendent Gavish," Cowley said to his agents. It had been years since Doyle had seen her. From her soft smile and the light in her eyes, it was clear that she remembered him too. He was pleased at her promotion to CS. Bodie was just amazed. He knew that there were women now in the senior ranks but he'd never come across one. Doyle shook hands with her formally and tried to focus on their assignment together. This was to be a joint op – with Cowley of course in the driver's seat. It was only after the briefing that Doyle peeled away for an hour's quiet contemplation. Fortunately Murphy had diverted Bodie and the pair had gone off to the pub, leaving Doyle with his thoughts.
Doyle's mind went back over the years. His thoughts settled on Preston. That's where it all began. Corruption had stained the air around Doyle to such an extent that he couldn't breathe. He'd taken his troubles to the Chief Inspector – having to go over his boss's head, as he was one of the ringleaders. The CI had warned Doyle to keep his head down and his mouth shut. No good would come of blowing the whistle on his colleagues. Doyle felt then that perhaps the CI was in on it too. So he'd gathered more facts, with the only colleague he felt he could trust, DS Richards, until the case against Preston and others had become undeniable. But where did he turn? Who could he trust with their precious information? He headed north. A queer thing to do, but one which was so unexpected as not to be foreseen by those under Doyle's secret investigation. He knew the Detective Inspector there. He'd kept in touch and the DI was keen to see how Doyle's career was progressing. He'd seen (as Cowley had done years later) the potential in this bright young man.
Doyle had laid all the facts before DI Winton. The DI had grilled Doyle, playing devil's advocate. Doyle was able to counter all Winton's arguments. Not for the first time, Winton was impressed. This material would indeed stand up to legal scrutiny. Doyle left everything with him, confident that he would know what to do. It was a few months later that the DI played his hand and Doyle was required to testify against his brother officers. A very large house of cards fell on the strength of that evidence. Doyle would never be forgiven or forgotten by his comrades. Winton suggested that Doyle return up north and work back with him, but he wasn't one to run from a bad situation (a martyrdom which Winton had seen in him before) and he had friends and a life now in London. The trial was in camera and Doyle's name kept out of it. He was only referred to as "D1". However, and inevitably, Doyle's name bubbled to the surface as he knew it would. His new DI took early retirement after only a few months into promotion, even though he wasn't implicated in the scandal. Doyle had been expected to be promoted into his shoes. But not now, and not ever. Instead he was moved sideways to the Drug Squad. He had every right to be bitter, but he wasn't. The Drug Squad hadn't been in Doyle's spotlight, but they kept him at arm's-length like a bad smell. He hadn't expected it to be otherwise. The underworld had rejoiced and laughed as the trial moved on and more and more bobbies got done for corruption. It was a shame though, from the criminals' point of view, as they now had less cops to give them juicy bits of interesting information, or to turn a blind eye now and then. And it did mean, when they found Doyle in the Drug Squad, that they had a unique animal on their patch – an incorruptible copper. Everyone has an Achilles heel, but they were buggered if they could find Doyle's.
It was then that Chief Inspector Gavish came on the scene. She'd been assigned to the Met under the "accelerated promotion" scheme. There'd been rumblings throughout the ranks about a woman getting above her station in life, and even deeper rumblings from those who thought that they should have got the job. Doyle kept his opinions to himself.
A nasty case came Doyle's way. A girl of around 14 had been brutally murdered. It became clear that she had been used as a prostitute and probably wasn't English. Then a second girl of around the same age was discovered about a month later. The pathologist suggested that she was probably from the same country – Eastern European he thought – and killed by the same hand. All resources were thrown at the killings - Drugs, Vice, CID... The Press were hungry for news. CI Gavish took a personal interest in the case. She hadn't been in her job long and she didn't want any bad press about incompetence or, worse, be accused of racism for not looking hard enough for the perpetrators. The DI who should've been in charge of the case was off sick with pneumonia so Doyle, being next in line, had been put in charge. Gavish was aware of his background – who wasn't? – and had called him in when the second body had been discovered. She hadn't known what to expect and wondered if he was too young and untested at the moment to take on such a responsibility as this. The case was high profile, and becoming very political. He had wide experience, but did he have the confidence of those under him in view of his background? He was keen (still) and sharp but was that enough? She kept an open mind, however, as the young man presented himself in her office that morning. As the interview progressed she warmed to this shrewd copper. He spoke to her as an equal – in gender at least – and there were no undercurrents of resentment or sexism. If she could drive this investigation to its conclusion, that was enough for Doyle; sex or rank didn't come into it. She found herself talking to Doyle as an equal and was impressed at his meticulous detail and grasp of the cases. He wasn't afraid to put forward practical suggestions or to challenge her on some detail. She told him that she wanted regular reports. "Of course, Ma'm," he'd said. There was no resentment there of a senior officer looking over his shoulder. He got on with the job and gave her the regular reports as requested, and took orders directly from her as and when. She noticed that he gave praise to his colleagues where it was due, and didn't take the credit for other officers' work. He ignored the sexist jokes in the Messroom and kept his head down and his mouth shut. Gavish felt a kinship with Doyle – they were both outsiders and would never fit in but they got on with the job because they loved it and felt that they could make a difference.
And they did. Between them, with the others too working flat out under Doyle's direction, they rounded up the pimps and traffickers and eventually got to the main man. A large trafficking ring had been smashed. It had been a wild success and it did Gavish a lot of good – not only promotion later on, but also the grudging respect of the men she commanded. Not that she needed it from Doyle; she had that from day one. So when George Cowley started up his agency, Gavish knew whom she'd put forward. She knew that Doyle had no career in the Met. He'd burned his boats when he'd blown the whistle on Preston and his gang, but still he plodded on because he thought he could make a difference to the lives out there who are plagued by fear and menace. He'd earned the respect of his colleagues in the Drug Squad (though grudgingly given) and they were slowly thawing. But Gavish felt that Doyle's undoubted talents were still being undermined and underused and that he could make a greater difference, and a new start, under the very formidable Major Cowley. He took some persuading (which surprised her), but she'd won her argument – one of the rare occasions when she'd bested Doyle. Seeing him today, she knew that she – and he – had made the right decision. Under Major Cowley, he had blossomed into a mature and sensitive young man with no need to prove himself or to look over his shoulder. He had both protection and respect here. She felt a warm glow of pride that she had had some part in that.