Chapter 4. Donna
Doyle stepped into his Capri. It had been out in the sun nearly the whole day, so inside it was even hotter than it had been in the office. He turned the window down and felt sweat breaking out instantly.
'Enjoy your weekend,' Bodie said, pronouncing every word with a smirk. 'Are you sure you don't want me to come over and do Bodie-isms?'
'Nah. Lots of intelligent people about. That's catching, you know. Might be a lethal dose for you.'
'Raymond Doyle, you're mean when you're grumpy,' Bodie grinned. He stepped back from the car and watched Doyle take off. The Capri was a silver flash for a few seconds until it took the corner and disappeared from view.
Warm, a bit weary but pleased with the idea of time off, Bodie strutted to the Grenada he used for the weekend and drove home calmly. He tried to remember how long ago it had been since his weekend had not been interrupted, but he lost track. Four weeks? Maybe it was even longer.
At home, he opened the windows wide to let the warm, still air out of the room, took a beer from the fridge and sat on his window sill for a while, enjoying the early evening and the cold drink.
Actually, it was kind of strange to sit here like this, without company, or the prospect of it. Doyle would often share his R&R, and if it wasn't Doyle, Bodie would be smooching up a pretty girl and get the action he enjoyed during his time off.
He skimmed through his mail. A few bills and a letter from his sister in Tanzania, which he read with a warm smile around his lips. Even though he had the image of a rough guy, Bodie was actually very gentle, compassionate and very intuitive. Killing, as it happened within CI5, was not something he enjoyed. It came with the job and tore him apart, but it still beat the odds: he'd take out ten thugs if he had to, to protect one innocent person from getting killed. Tomorrow he'd write her back a long letter, but for now… time to relax.
Then he noticed the light on his answering machine blinking. It was hardly ever used, and if it had been running on batteries, he would have thrown the thing away a long time ago. There were very few people who knew his phone number.
He pressed the 'rewind'-button, then pressed 'play'.
Hya Bodie, sweetheart, it's me, Shelley. Haven't seen you around for a while. You okay? Listen luv, you asked me to call you if there's ever anyone asking questions about you. Well, someone left a number for ya. You come and pick it up one of these days, alright luv? Bye!
Shelley's voice echoed in Bodie's ears. She didn't sound alarmed, a bit cautious, that was all. That's why Bodie liked her so much. Not one to start panicking, but with good common sense. And she'd call if she thought it was worth mentioning. For a second Bodie stood in thought. He hadn't planned on going out by car, but since he didn't have anything else to do, he might just as well drive up to The Black Cat. It'd be nice to see Shelley again, too.
His finger hovered over the telephone for a second, thinking about giving Doyle a call and ask him to join him at The Black Cat, but then decided against it. Doyle was probably packing and not very amusing company, with the thought of the reunion he had himself lured into.
Not that it really mattered. Bodie managed just fine on his own.
He took a refreshing shower and changed into light linen trousers and a dark blue shirt. This particular set of clothes made him look smart, he knew. And, as Doyle had stated so nicely, he'd probably be picking up a bird anyway, so why not think ahead and put some effort in his appearances? He put on his shoes, and out of habit picked up his gun too. Instead of the arm holster, he stuffed the weapon under his belt, after which he covered it with his shirt. Not that he thought he needed it, but to him it was a natural thing. Bodie didn't leave without clothes, and he didn't leave without a gun. Period.
He would pick up something to eat on the way to The Black Cat. There was great Chinese take-away, not for from Shelley's pub. Since he was going there anyway, he might just kill two birds with one stone.
As he drove through the streets, it suddenly dawned on him that Shelley hadn't spoken of gender. Was he asked to call a he or a she?
'Well look who's here!' exclaimed a delighted Shelley as Bodie came walking in. 'You alone, luv? Where's the other half of the circus act?'
Bodie frowned and smiled at the same time. 'You're not related to a mister George Cowley by any chance, are you Shel?'
She smiled back although she couldn't know that years ago, Bodie's boss had spoken practically the same words, when he and Doyle were teamed up and good to go. 'Don't know that one, sweetheart. You look smart today. Plans?'
Again Bodie smiled. 'Doesn't hurt to be prepared,' he said, a cheeky glee in his eyes. 'How's business? It if only half goes the way you look...'
Shelley beamed. 'Aw, that's sweet Bodie. Thanks, luv. You fancy a beer?'
'Yes please.' He took the pint and looked around. The place was buzzing. He spotted familiar faces, people who were probably hardly aware that their features had been taken in long ago by the casually dressed man at the bar. Bodie, by instinct, took in everything he saw and stored it in an imaginary drawer. If asked another day, he would be able to recall nearly everything and everyone around him right now.
'Did you get my message?' Shelley was back from serving other customers.
'I did,' Bodie nodded. 'You've got a telephone number for me?'
'Sure have,' said Shelley, put her hand in the pocket of her apron and took out the snapshot. She put it down in front of him, the image facing down. 'There you are.'
Bodie read the number.
'Familiar?' asked Shelley.
He shook his head. 'Nope. Doesn't ring a bell.'
'Maybe this does,' the bar lady said softly and turned the image over. 'Is that your son, Bodie?'
Completely taken by surprise, Bodie picked up the photo and studied the boy who smiled at the camera.
'He sure looks like you,' Shelley said when Bodie didn't reply. 'Same hair, same eyes, same smile.'
Bodie's confusion was eminent. He had no idea who this boy was, he had never seen him before.
'Come on, Bodie. Surely you see the resemblance too,' Shelley said softly, without even the slightest disapproval in voice. She sounded curious rather than reproachful.
'Who gave you this?' Bodie asked, sounding a wee bit harsher than he intended to. 'A woman, a man?'
The bar lady was slightly startled by Bodie's sudden reaction and hurried to say: 'A woman. Donna. She said her name was Donna.'
What? A stone, harder than a diamond and colder that ice, pierced him in the stomach. 'You talked to her?' he asked.
Shelley nodded. 'For a while. Nice woman.'
'What did she look like?'
'Rather short. Petite. Not very pretty, but a nice face. As someone who cares, d'you know what I mean, Bodie? Dark blonde hair, a bit like my own, but a lot shorter. Brown eyes, I think. She seemed well educated. Spoke with a slight accent.' She paused her resumé when a customer called her for something to drink. 'Hang on minute, I'll be right with you,' she told him.
Bodie had to swallow before he could continue. 'What kind of accent?'
'Dunno, luv. I don't know much about that.'
'Did she say anything else?'
'Not much. Just that she wanted to contact you. If you are that little boy's father, then that's not surprising, is it?' She pointed at the photo Bodie still held in his hand. 'I mean, I'm not saying you are, but well… it's possible. Anyway, I could tell she knew you. Tipped me quite generously too. Say, I did alright in calling you, didn't I?' Shelley suddenly looked a bit anxious, and waved impatiently at the customer who called out again. 'It's not like she's trouble or anything? I'm coming! I'm coming!'
'No, no, you did fine,' Bodie mumbled, not noticing Shelley, the bar or the customers any longer.
Donna.
Could it be…?
No. That was impossible.
Donna was dead, wasn't she?
But…
He didn't know any other Donna's.
Bodie could feel the blood pumping in his ears when Shelley uttered the name, and it was as if he was thrown back in time. The fear, the biting smell by cordite, the billowing smoke, the screaming, the panic, the gunfire echoing over the wide open space, feet drumming on the dry ground, the sand that crept in the tiniest of openings and clogged the weapons, the searing heat, the rat-ta-tat of the machine gun hammering against his shoulder, the captain shouting, the huge explosion that send the truck to pieces…
Angola. The war. The nastiest of all. The Angolan army. The homebred guerilla's. Soldiers, some of them children, spreading death without mercy. Bodie's fingers on the trigger. No hesitation. Dead eyes, staring up. Pain and fatigue fighting him. Donna shouting his name. Screaming again, more screaming. The dead silence before the attack. The air, shimmering with heat over the vast landscape. Bodie's guts between his fingers. The shock. The pain. The cold. The certainty of death.
'Bodie? Bodie, luv, are you alright?' Concerned, Shelley put her warm hand for a brief moment on his arm and with that gentle gesture she brought him back to the present. 'You look like you've seen a ghost.'
'It's… it's alright, I'm fine,' Bodie said, but even to his own ears, his voice had a rasping tone to it. What about the kid? He and Donna had had sex, but… a child? Could that be his? Sure enough, Shelley was right: the boy had his features. What was going on? Why had Donna left him this? A message? If that was his son, was there something wrong with him? But Donna was dead, wasn't she? A zillion possibilities zapped through his mind. It was his son. He had been taken hostage. Donna had given someone orders to find the daddy. Donna was not dead. The boy was dead.
Anything could have happened. Angola was one gruesome kaleidoscope that was only filled with the most horrific images, enlarged and multiplied by the immensity of it.
He quickly took a swig. 'Brought back memories, that's all.'
'Well, nasty as they come, I can tell. You know what - there's a phone in the office in the back. You can use that one, if you like,' she offered him kindly. 'Bit more private.'
Bodie tried to hide his uneasiness and touched her chin with his index finger. 'You're the best, Shelley,' he said fondly, appreciating her gesture. 'Thanks, doll.'
'I'll make sure you won't be disturbed,' she promised him as she pointed to the back. 'Second door on the right. You can lock the door, if you like.'
'Cheers.'
Bodie took the chosen door, turned the lock behind him, saw the telephone sitting on the desk and picked up the receiver. He took a deep breath, and then dialled the number that was written on the back of the photo.
Traces of sweat formed rapidly in his palms. Listening to the phone ringing lasted for hours. In truth, it was answered even before the third ring had died away.
'Hello?'
For a second, Bodie's throat closed up. He would have recognised that voice from a thousands others, for a thousand more years to come.
'Hello, who's there, please?'
'It's me,' he said curtly.
A sharp intake of breath and then: 'Bodie?'
'Yes.'
'We have to talk. It's urgent,' he heard her say.
He hesitated. 'I thought you were dead,' he said slowly.
'I'm not,' she said, stating the obvious, but making it sound like an apology and an explanation in the same sentence. 'We must talk. Where can we meet?'
'Is that kid mine?' Bodie couldn't stop himself from asking.
'Bodie… not over the phone.'
'Answer me!'
'Where can we meet?' she repeated her question, more urgently now.
'Who says I want to meet you?' Bodie replied menacingly. The chill in his voice was enough to make the other one flinch, but her words were steady and spoken clearly.
'Because your life is in danger.'
(tbc)
