Achilles' Heel

A weakness, in spite of your strength, can lead to your downfall. But it also takes a lot of strength to allow yourself to be vulnerable.

Set in 1983. Follows 'Reunion'.

Chapter 1

The lads visit a mate of Bodie's. A busman's holiday ensues.

A gravelly voice came from beneath a newspaper. "Will you explain, again, why I agreed to come so far on only a weeks' leave?"

"Because, sunshine, I'm your mate."

Doyle flung the paper away from his face. He sat up and peered out at the morning, all bleary-eyed crankiness. "Yeah, my annoying mate, with more energy than he's a right to from a couple of hours' sleep in a service station!"

"Bought you breakfast, didn't I?"

"At four this morning, I didn't call it 'breakfast'."

"Can't call it a midnight feast."

"Hardly..."

"Pre-breakfast, then. There you are, a new mealtime: 'prekfast'!"

"Bodie!"

"Alright! We're nearly there now. You slept right through the speeding. Good job there were no arrogant coppers around. Cowley would have loved that; us, done for a traffic offence and in his own country, too!"

"Oh no, not 'us'. You. I'm just the passenger!"

Having been lived in for 24 hours, the inside of the car was a tip with cans, sandwich wrappers and blankets strewn around the inside. It hadn't been this bad since a particularly long and pointless stakeout, a while before. The partners were weary, crumpled and unshaven and pleased to be on the home straight, but not at being slowed down by the countryside lanes.

Bodie had happily volunteered to drive this final stretch despite being the driver last night. He was looking forward to seeing an old forces friend who he'd only recently picked up with following years of sporadic phone calls and word of mouth news.

And having heard about him, Doyle was keen to meet Andy Strawbridge and spend a few days relaxing in this unknown part of the country. The recent grind of CI5 had been pretty full on and both partners were tired and in need of a break. So when Bodie had suggested that he come to Scotland, Doyle had jumped at the chance.

"Stop moaning and grab those directions, we're getting pretty close now," Bodie requested. "Andy may not be home yet. His shift ended last night but if the helicopter's delayed by weather, he'll be in later. Said the spare key would be with the neighbour and we're to make ourselves at home."

"Good," Doyle interrupted, rasping a hand across his stubble. "I can catch up on some sleep. Don't want him thinking I always look this rough."

"But you do..." Bodie began, only to have an empty coke can flung at him. He laughingly threw it back, thankful that they'd met no other traffic for miles. "Look, there are no sign posts or road names out here. I need you to direct me."

"They're a bit sketchy, Bodie! 'Pass the letterbox'. 'Turn right by the bendy tree'...?"

"Andy called from the rig. The connection wasn't great, so we just stuck to landmarks."

"Right, this looks like 'the old barn'; go that way," Doyle indicated.

"Anyway," Bodie added as he navigated a fork in the road, "in a place like this, everyone knows everyone. An English rigger who's lived here for the last five years will be known. We can always ask a local."

Doyle looked at him doubtfully. "And what if the natives aren't friendly, Kemo Sabe?"

"I'll slay 'em with my natural charm," the man grinned, not even considering that it wouldn't be successful. "The pub will be the best bet. I could easily sink a pint after this long drive." His face fell as he checked the dashboard clock. "Except the pub won't be open, it's only half eight."

Doyle cheered him up with a sweetener. "Ah, but in 'a place like this' a pub is centre of the community. The lock-ins will be legendary, you mark my words."

-oo0oo-

Eventually the car nosed down a narrow track that gave them glimpses of the sea. Bodie was chewing his lip in concentration and Doyle had woken up properly for the meeting.

He knew that Bodie and Strawbridge had been close during their SAS days. They'd passed the entrance tests together and were in the same patrol for a time. Their specialisations separated them, day to day, but a strong friendship had continued on. Doyle was curious as to why they'd drifted so far apart since Bodie joined CI5 and what this guy, who in reality had been one of his partner's partners before himself, was like.

The lane ended in a long white-painted building and an amazing coastal panorama. Doyle was about to find out.

"Looks like he's in, then," Bodie nodded at a beat up old Land Rover.

"Does that thing actually go?"

"If it's Andy's, like a rocket!" Bodie was gleeful. "His bag was advanced mechanics. That probably does a ton. One thing you should know about Andy, don't let first appearances fool you. And I've no doubt the same goes for his Landie."

"I shall be suitably impressed if the heap even moves. Park there, the left is his half. Is the neighbour this 'Mrs McGregor'?"

"Yeah, these were coastguard's cottages until the Sixties. Her husband was one of the last here."

They pulled up beside the Land Rover and hauled themselves out of the car, stretching and crunching their backs. Each retrieved their bags from the boot along with a crate of beer and a box of certain English delicacies that Andy had ordered; among them, brown sauce, Marmite, PG Tips tea and bars and bars of Cadbury's milk chocolate.

Doyle breathed in the crisp salt tang with satisfaction. "Ahh! Now for a nice, peaceful week off."

Knocking louder and louder on the front door brought no reply and Doyle was peering into a window when a voice called out, "Who are ye wantin'?"

Whereas the two arrivals clearly announced themselves to be soft city people by being bundled up in warm jackets, the elderly lady had on a sweater and plaid skirt and was standing in slippered feet in the stiff wind, as if it were high summer. She was weathered and grey but had keen, bright eyes that were assessing the strangers.

Fiona McGregor had lived this tough rural life for all of her eighty years and nothing much unnerved her. Despite knowing her neighbour was expecting visitors she was going to be cautious, all the same.

Bodie effortlessly went into the aforementioned charm mode. "We're looking for Andy Strawbridge. You must be Mrs McGregor," he crooned, offering his hand to the lady.

She regarded the gesture with suspicion. "And who might you be, laddie?" she asked, in a manner that reminded him of Cowley.

"We're friends of Andy's. I'm Bodie and this," he turned to his smiling companion, "is Doyle. Andy said you might meet us if he wasn't home, yet."

The woman's face softened as the visitor's names were recognised. "Aye, Andrew said to expect you. But he's home, y'ken. I heard his truck come in early this mornin'. I expect he's deep asleep. Works so hard, does Andrew," she said, rolling the name with affection.

Mrs McGregor suddenly disappeared back inside her cottage and the men exchanged a look of amusement. "Too late," Doyle commented. "Andy's cast his own charms here. You've got some catching up to do."

She reappeared just as quickly, offering a key. "Tak' the spare and let yourselves in. Nothin' wakes Andrew when he's just returned. But don't you go making a racket. You hear me now?"

The men nodded readily, the fearsome lady making them too meek to object. "If the locals are all like this, then we might have well stayed at home!" Doyle whispered.

As they entered the cottage, their quiet sniggering was abruptly silenced and they put down their loads.

The sight that met them wasn't quite what either had been expecting. As the pair took in the living room, Doyle didn't know what to say but as the seconds became astonished minutes he had to speak up. "Bodie, does your mate always live like this?"

The cottage was in turmoil with pictures hanging askew, drawers and cupboards open, their contents on the floor. Not an inch had been spared.

"Andy? Andy, you here?" Picking his way across the chaos, Bodie was taking it all in. "Kitchen's the same," he reported back.

Doyle had gone into what appeared to be a study. "This one, too."

They reassembled in the main room. "Andy isn't like this. At least the Andy I knew wasn't," Bodie thought aloud. "This doesn't feel right. Are you carrying?"

"Weren't expecting the need to. They're in the case, locked in the boot. You don't think..."

"Something funny's gone on here. I'll check upstairs."

"Right." Doyle started for the hallway.

But Bodie shoved him toward the front door. "No. Get our guns." Doyle didn't have time to argue as the man disappeared upstairs.

Chewing his bottom lip, Doyle took a last glance back and went outside.

Bodie drew a deep breath while scaling the winding stairs. He hoped that Andy hadn't made this mess. Because if he had, it probably meant one thing and if that had happened he wanted to find his old friend by himself. He could explain to Doyle afterwards.

-oo0oo-

"Ray? No one's here. The bedrooms have been gone over and the hatch to the loft is open. Had a chin-up and that has, too."

Doyle was at the foot of the stairs, the telephone and torn cable in his hands. "Nothing outside. The Land Rover's cold and whoever it was, didn't want this known about." As he handed over Bodie's pistol, police training came to the fore. "It could be a burglary, but if that's Andy's wagon where is he now?"

Suddenly there was a noise in the main room at which both froze. Guns at the ready, the partners automatically backed against each side of the doorway.

The high pitched scream, as the two armed men burst into the room, would have wakened the dead let alone a startled elderly neighbour who appeared shortly after. For the present, a curvy blonde armed with a large tribal mask was shouting, "Whoever you are, get the hell out of my house!" as she threatened them with the makeshift weapon.

The men, seeing that she was more afraid than a danger to them, held up their guns. Then Bodie stepped further into the room, tucking his away into his waist band. "Rachel! Rachel, it's me, Bodie. Andy's army pal." He held out his empty hands and the woman backed away, lowering the souvenir.

"Oh, for God's sake Bodie, you scared the life out of me!"

"Sorry, love. We've just arrived and Andy's not here."

"When I saw all this, I thought you were..."

"Rachel? Rachel, is that you?" Mrs McGregor was at the front door, trying to peer in.

Bodie shook his head at the younger woman, pointing at the mess and she seemed to understand instantly. She slid around the door, pulling it closed behind her.

Doyle moved alongside his partner, pocketing his gun, a questioning look on his face. "Is there something you're not telling me or am I being paranoid?"

They could hear Rachel explaining her surprise at their appearance and that nothing was wrong. Bodie was more attentive to what was going on outside the door than he was the within. "Bear with us. Explain everything when we've got the old dear out of the way."

"Oh, great!" Doyle turned away, hands on hips. He didn't like being kept in the dark, especially when it was something from Bodie's past. Stuff like this had crept up on them and caused havoc before and he'd hoped there were no more skeletons in his partner's cupboard to be uncovered. It seemed, as they waited for the woman to return, that he was wrong.

-oo0oo-

After the introductions, Rachel looked around while the men cleared a path.

Nothing was missing as far as she could tell, when she suddenly headed for the fireplace. Rachel stepped across the mess and turned back to the men, an empty half bottle of scotch in her hand. "Oh, I had a feeling something was wrong! He usually calls me once he's back."

Sitting in the kitchen, Bodie explained the caginess to his partner with half an eye on Rachel's reaction. "Andy has a few problems, Ray, after the army. Sort of... repercussions. He's told me that he and booze don't get on so well, these days."

"And I left him in the summer because of it."

The men looked uncomfortable, expecting tears, but Rachel was a military girlfriend and it took more than this to upset her.

"Doyle, you know what I mean?" Bodie needed his own reassurance.

Doyle nodded, relieved that it wasn't a ghost of Bodie's they were dealing with and let his partner lead the conversation. Unfortunately, Bodie was now more concerned about Strawbridge. "So couldn't you have stayed, Rache'? Help Andy through it?"

"I tried to. What do you think I've been doing all these years? But I'm his partner, not his mother!" Frustrated at the deep-rooted forces attitude, she got up and away from the carrier of such beliefs.

As Rachel crashed the kettle from the stove to fill a teapot, anger got the better of her. "Oh, of course! We women are supposed to stay at home and pick up the mess when you lot return, aren't we?" She rounded on the man, eyes ablaze. "We're not s'posed to think of ourselves. It got so he was impossible to live with. Do you know how that feels, Bodie? Do you?"

"Actually, I do. A bit." He looked sideways at Doyle who smiled minutely in support.

She softened again. "Not you, too?"

"Only very occasionally and not like this. Rachel, it must be hard, but you still keep an eye on him. You keep coming back."

"I haven't stopped caring for Andy. I still love him... I still love him; just don't like him very much, sometimes."

"He told me he kicks off occasionally, but this..."

"This is new. He's never done anything like this, before."

"That's drink for you," Doyle said, knowingly.

"No," she leapt to her boyfriend's defence, "He's not a drunk! It's not the problem, drinking's the fall out. He can usually have a social one or two with no worries. It's just when one of his moods comes on him, then he gets drunk to blot it out."

"Sorry. What happens, Rachel?"

"Well, it can be the silliest things. A sudden noise, something on the news, a name that reminds him. Then he gets quiet, moody and eventually just... 'goes'."

"Yeah, it happens." Doyle looked ruefully at his friend.

"He just used to get legless now and again," the woman continued. "But after a few years it got so that, if he started, he couldn't stop until he was out cold." Rachel's voice grew quiet. "He says it's that or he thinks he'd hurt someone."

"He hasn't...?"

"No, not physically anyway. He wouldn't. Bodie knows that."

"Yeah, a regular gentle giant is our Bridgie," he agreed, affectionately.

"He has a lot of self control, still. It's only been during his off time, he wouldn't risk his job. He's too busy or tired at work, it's like an escape. The noise on the rig is constant, so it doesn't bother him and there's no drink allowed," Rachel explained. "I think Andy turns it inward to save the rest of us. Except that no longer worked after a while. But he can't talk about it. You know how you all are."

The pot of tea brought her back to the table and she poured the drinks, sighing, "I'll clear this mess up and have a look for him. But I have to get back to the dog, he usually has her for the time he's home."

"We'll help, love and... Ray?" Bodie thought to ask his partner.

"'Course we will. And we'll look for Andy, save you coming back."

Bodie gave Doyle a grateful glance as Rachel dropped into a chair with relief. "Oh, will you? I know where he might go. Then, if he's not around here, I'll ring his Mum and have a chat. I won't say I'm looking for him; she's got enough on her plate. But if he's in Kent, she'll tell me."

"Right, that's a start, isn't it?" Bodie was trying to lighten the situation even if he didn't feel it himself. "We'll find him Rache', don't worry."

-oo0oo-

As the men lifted furniture upright while Rachel put things back in their proper places, they chatted quietly. "Something's bothering you."

"This definitely isn't a burglary. Too methodical, too thorough. You'd go for the obvious: cupboards, drawers, anything that's locked. But not every single piece of furniture and certainly not the loft."

"So he's trashed the place in a drunken fit."

"Does it look like that?"

"No, I guess not. Nothing's thrown around or broken. More like it's been searched."

"Well done. We'll make a detective of you, yet."

"Go on then, Sherlock."

"They had some time, but possibly didn't find what they were looking for because they went right through the place."

"Or he disturbed them."

"Maybe he went after whoever it was. Does Andy have anything valuable?"

"Not that I know of. Look, I'll find out more from Rachel before she goes. We'll keep up the 'looking for him on a bender' story until we know more ourselves." Bodie looked back. "Are you sure about this?"

"'Course. Haven't come all this way just to turn around and drive back, have we? Besides, Rachel's a nice girl. Can't let a lady down."

Bodie made the punch-to-the-arm gesture which often sealed their deals and went to find her.

-oo0oo-

She was coming out of Mrs McGregor's. "I've said Andy's been called back to the rig but you're staying. She's swallowed it, but I didn't like lying to her. Fiona's been a good friend to both of us, especially to Andy since I left. She didn't make too much of that, either. I think she had an idea. She must have heard our rows."

"Then it's better that she doesn't know, eh?"

They rejoined Doyle inside the cottage and the men began a gentle interrogation. "Did Mrs McG hear what went on to cause this mess?"

"Says she heard Andy draw up when it was still dark, but she's elderly and these walls are pretty thick. Then she went to the bathroom about five. Looked out, saw his Land Rover and there was another car as well."

"Make, colour?"

"Just 'dark, new and shiny'. She assumed it was you because you're 'city gents'." They all smiled slightly at this description.

Doyle looked at his partner. "Well, it wasn't here when we arrived. Was he expecting anyone else, Rachel?"

"Not that I know of. Only me and you. It might've been one of his work mates, I guess. Andy goes into the village but he keeps himself to himself most of the time. That's why I was pleased to hear Bodie was back in touch and coming to see him. Oh, he could have gone to the old bothy he's doing up. We... he grows vegetables there."

"Bothy?"

"They're the traditional old farms. Most of them are abandoned now, so Andy picked up his for a song and he chips away at it as a project, to keep fit. It's lovely and quiet and I think it helps. Maybe he's going to live in it, instead of here..." There was a catch in Rachel's voice as she looked away from the men and through the window to the Land Rover outside.

"How far away?"

"A couple of miles beyond the village."

"But the truck's still here," Doyle reasoned. "Would he have walked or gone with his mate?"

She was staring at the vehicle and Bodie could see tears beginning to come. He shifted forward, touched her arm and tried a gentle tone which brought her back into the room. "Has he been in any bother, something that might've set him off? I don't mean to pry, love, but it might help us find him."

"Well, there's his dad..." Rachel sniffed, blinking back her distress as she looked his way again.

"Yeah, a stroke?"

"They say it's some kind of brain thing... dementia, and I think he's terrified he might get it, too."

"Oh hell, that's all he needs!"

"I know. He's so tough on the outside, but inside... Oh, now you mention it, something's going on at work that's stirred him up."

"Yeah?"

"He's been pushing for safer drilling equipment. The rigger's job is so dangerous. Andy's higher up now, operations engineer, but you know what he's like, Bodie. Always has been hands on and the guys respect him for still getting his hands dirty. He understands what they do and how risky it is, so he's been designing new equipment, with his background and everything. But when he and the manager pitched it to the company owner, they met nothing but resistance. He was really angry about it, last time I saw him."

"Anyone we could talk to?"

"Yes, I'll write it down." Rachel got up, fetching an address book from her handbag. "The rig manager, Ross Speirs, will be the best person but you'll not let on, will you?"

"'Course not. We'll think of something. I want him back safe and with his job to go to, as much as you do."

-oo0oo-

A while later, when the cottage was put to rights and the CI5 men made at home, their thoughts turned to finding the absent man.

Rachel got ready to call into the village and see if Andy had been there. Bodie decided that he'd go with her and have that private chat. Doyle said he'd stay in case Strawbridge came back but didn't want to be mistaken for a burglar, the way Rachel had done. Luckily, the woman had a photo to prove that they'd met.

-oo0oo-

Rachel and Bodie walked down the hill and into the picturesque village hugging the coastline, about a quarter of a mile away.

"I'll get further with the villagers than you two, alone. You have to be born here or at least be third generation before you're not thought of as an outsider," Rachel smiled.

"The locals took to you and Andy okay, though?"

"They seem to accept us pretty well. We're not weekenders. We work hard, join in with anything that's going on. We just love... loved the place and they know when you're being sincere or not."

The shop had everything a village could need, day to day, without having to go into the nearest town. Andy hadn't been seen, when Rachel made conversation. The weather or pressures of work were agreed on as the likeliest causes for his delay and Bodie was regarded with acceptance as Andy's friend.

Rachel took Bodie to the chandler's where he bought some spare torch batteries. They'd be needed if they had to mount a serious search in this landscape and he noted other useful kit they might use. Andy hadn't been there, either. But the boat man said he'd get word to the electrician about the cottage's phone line and Bodie got the assurance it would be reconnected by the next day.

As they made their way to The Sea Widow, Rachel reopened their conversation. "Sorry I got angry. Andy was okay when he first got out, but things became more and more difficult. It's really upsetting to split from him. We've been together a long time."

Bodie put an arm around her. "1973. I even remember the night you met, Rache'."

"You do? Didn't think you went in for sentimentality."

"Can't forget it easily, we were celebrating our sergeant's stripes in that nightclub. What was it called?"

"'Foxy's'."

"'Foxy's'! What a cattle market that was!"

"Hey, my friends and I liked that place!"

"Your good self excepted, of course. Andy picked you out straightaway as no regular member of the 'herd' that usually went there. I dared him to speak to you, you know."

"He was a bit shy at first, but we never really looked back from then on."

"No, made for each other you were. I was a touch jealous." He grabbed his chest in a dramatic fashion.

"Bodie! You had plenty of girlfriends. No doubt you still do," she grinned, elbowing him in the side.

"Not like you and Andy. Don't give up on him yet, Rache'. Me? Plenty of women but no one..." Bodie sighed, squinting out to sea for a moment.

"Except..."

Bodie cut her short, focusing on the pub entrance. "Yeah, but a lot of water under the proverbial since then. And talking of bridges, this isn't finding the one that's missing, is it?"

The pub was the expected heart of the village but gave the pair no more clues and Rachel began to worry all the more. Bodie convinced her to go back to Aberdeen and let them go to the bothy. They agreed they'd speak that night when Bodie would call her from the pub.

-oo0oo-

Back at the cottage, Doyle had been busy but didn't report his findings until Rachel was being waved off. "Had a look in the Land Rover. Bags and life jacket still in it," he said through a farewell smile as the woman's car disappeared up the lane.

"So, a car was already here and he went to investigate."

"Assuming it was ours. Perhaps it was someone he knew."

"In the early hours? Either way, something made him go straight inside and not take his gear."

"Exactly. And look here. I steered you both away from this spot. It's where the other vehicle was parked. See?" Doyle was indicating some tracks. "Heavy vehicle, good tyres. We've trampled a lot of the footprints; two or three sets?"

Bodie followed the vehicle and human trails methodically then returned to Doyle. "At least two with serious treads. Work boots? Could be 'issue'."

"And one in ordinary shoes. They walked to the cottage; Andy's come from his truck. But all of them came back this way and one wasn't walking well. Look, drag marks." Doyle let his partner absorb this for a moment. "Andy could've been taken somewhere," he concluded before adding what Bodie might not want to hear, "Or he's in bad company."

Bodie shook his head. "No. It doesn't add up. A friend would've told Rache' where he is. Plus Andy's no mug and I don't buy him going on a total bender. He knows we're coming."

"If something's got him angry..."

"No."

"Bodie," The warning in Doyle's voice drew his partner back down to a crouch. Doyle's fingertips were sticky with dark goo. As he smeared his thumb across them, they turned rust red. "This isn't motor oil. It's blood."

Bodie's face hardened and he was suddenly up and away.

"Where're you going? Oi!" Doyle had to follow if he wanted a reply.

-oo0oo-

He found him back in the kitchen, a loaf of bread already on the worktop and the kettle set to boil. Bodie looked up. "Lunch," he explained. Feeding himself apparently more important than the signs they'd just found.

"Aren't you even a bit interested? It looks as if your mate is involved in something dodgy. Willing, or not!"

"Think better on a full stomach. You know that."

Doyle could hear the shutters coming down on Bodie's thoughts and knew that if he pushed, there'd be no way in until his partner unlocked again. This wasn't unusual. Better to let it go and see where the day took them, he decided. He elbowed Bodie aside from his massacre of the freshly baked loaf Rachel had brought. "Give me that. There'll be none left at this rate!" Doyle nodded at the whistling kettle. "Do what you're slightly less bad at."

And the deal was done.

As they ate, Doyle studied the photograph that Rachel had left behind. It pictured her sat at a dining table, laughing openly as she was bear hugged by a muscular man who had gingery blond hair and a degree of stubble that was almost a beard.

Smartly dressed in a shirt and boldly patterned tie, Andy Strawbridge looked to be around the same age as himself and Bodie. The massive shoulders and arms easily led Doyle to imagine him in a flak jacket and holding an SMG, instead of the woman they'd met that day. Grinning at the camera, Andy looked like he was a good laugh, a bloke who had a lot going for him and clearly adored his girlfriend.

There was a sigh from across the table and Bodie turned the snap toward himself. "Look happy, don't they?" he said, through a mouthful of sandwich.

"D'you take the picture?"

"No. Hadn't seen Andy in years, 'til the reunion. Apparently, this was another mate's wedding bash."

"You didn't go. Weren't you invited?"

Bodie instantly got up, clearing their plates. "Not seen the others since leaving. C'mon, let's see what that Landie can do."

Bang. Down came those shutters again. Subject over. Shut up, Doyle.

-oo0oo-