Part 1 London, 1987
(2)
Ray Doyle's life had been anything but mundane, and he had seen and experienced many bizarre things. But none as strange as the few minutes spent in a reality other than the one he was born to. And nothing within his experience helped him to understand it.
And if he was confused, then he knew someone else who was even more so. Quietly, he pushed the glass of beer across the table to his partner until it was just under his chin.
"Drink. Beer. Do you good."
Bodie picked the beer up and took a deep, thirsty swig. He wiped his mouth, sighed, and put the glass down. "I must be nuts. Hallucination, that's what it was. Some sort of gas. Must be it. No other answer. Or drugged. The tea." He looked at the beer with suspicion. "You can't trust anyone anymore."
Doyle understood Bodie's feelings very well. "You can trust Whitbread. Straight from the brewery, that one. And it wasn't a drug and it wasn't a gas. It happened."
Bodie scowled and pushed himself backwards in the chair. They'd retired to the pub next door to the lab for a drink and a talk. "Explain it to me, then. You're clever...explain to me what that was and how its possible." His eyes narrowed and Doyle couldn't help laughing.
"Sure, just call me Mr Spock. Dr Potter's amazing fairground ride is beyond even me, mate. And if you believe its a fake, then he's managed to fool Cowley, too."
Bodie drank some more beer and shook his head. "Got me there. It's all very weird, though I do like the bit about us thrashing Germany in the war...."
Doyle jerked upright, spilling some of his own beer, and Bodie froze.
"What!"
"Karl Emmert. Heading for the Institute."
"Jesus! He's supposed to be in Berlin!"
Doyle slid out of his seat and moved quickly towards the front door of the pub, pulling out his walkie talkie as Bodie went to check the window. "45 to Base. Priority One Scramble to Commerce Research Institute, Holland Road. Known SD agent sighted -- "
"Looks like he's with a strike team; five, maybe six men," Bodie added quickly.
" -- probably accompanied by SD Strike Team of five, maybe six. Acknowledge."
"Acknowledging, 45. Location of Alpha One?"
"At the Institute."
"Wait." There was a few seconds silence, while the two men continued to observe the movement in the street. Then the duty operator's calm voice returned. "We're in contact with Alpha One and he confirms a Scramble Priority One. Backup is on the way; ETA ten minutes. Alpha One requires you to hold action unless a direct attack is made. Acknowledge."
Doyle grunted, unhappy. "Acknowledged. 45 out." Aware of the curiosity of the bar patrons but ignoring it, Doyle ducked down and slipped across to where Bodie was peering through the curtains. "What's happening?"
"They're definitely going for the Institute. I count three across the street near the bookshop, two this side. Don't know how many coming from the other way. That backup better hurry - these boys don't seem in a mood to wait."
Doyle scanned the street, his experienced eye sorting the innocent from the suspicious. Happily the street wasn't crowded; there was a scattering of civilians and motor traffic was light. He watched a dark blue unmarked van cruised slowly past them to park on the opposite side of the street ten yards further along. The door swung open and four men leapt down, and each was carrying the latest model Schmeisser submachine guns.
"That's it - let's go." Doyle pulled the pistol from its holster, as did Bodie, and they pushed through the door and out onto the street. There was no time for tactics, only speed and they sprinted for the front door of the Institute. The nearest man, dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase, dropped the case and reached inside his jacket. No sooner had the grip of his gun appeared than Bodie fired and the man was down.
The street erupted into violence. Doyle risked a shot at Karl Emmert but missed as the German ducked behind a group of screaming pedestrians. Doyle knew they couldn't have a firefight in the street, knew that while he and Bodie would hold back their fire around civilians, the Germans would have no such scruples. He ducked as a blast from the nearest machinegunner went over his head and through a glass shop window and then both he and Bodie were inside the building.
As Bodie kicked the door shut Doyle swung around and caught sight of one of the two front security guards lying in a pool of blood on the floor. The other guard was missing, and the security controls at the guardpost were a shattered mess. Even as he turned to warn Bodie he heard the muffled crack of gunfire from further within the building.
I'll handle the door," Bodie said, as he dragged a sofa across to block the entrance. "Go!"
Doyle went. He sprinted down the corridor towards Potter's lab, passing another dead guard - but not the missing guard from the entrance. The fact that the alarms weren't on meant the one dead guard had been taken by surprise, and from within. He turned the last corner, then ducked back as a bullet smacked into the wall above his head. He recognised the shooter at the same moment as he was seen.
"It's me - don't shoot!"
Cowley's voice snapped in anger. "Fool! Get in here - where's Bodie?"
Doyle ducked into the room, nearly tripping over another dead guard. It was the missing front man. Doyle did a quick scan of the lab, caught sight of Dr Potter crouched behind his arm chair, then turned back to Cowley, who was calmly reloading his revolver. "Well?"
"Covering the front door waiting for the cavalry."
"Good. Go and help him. We'll be good enough here now this traitorous lad is out of it. Be off!"
Doyle went. He could hear muffled gunfire as he pelted back down the corridor; he slid around the corner as the main door blew inwards with the recognisable whumping boom of a plastic explosion. The force of the blast threw him backwards - he saw multicoloured lights as his head struck the wall, and he blacked out.
(2)
Ray Doyle's life had been anything but mundane, and he had seen and experienced many bizarre things. But none as strange as the few minutes spent in a reality other than the one he was born to. And nothing within his experience helped him to understand it.
And if he was confused, then he knew someone else who was even more so. Quietly, he pushed the glass of beer across the table to his partner until it was just under his chin.
"Drink. Beer. Do you good."
Bodie picked the beer up and took a deep, thirsty swig. He wiped his mouth, sighed, and put the glass down. "I must be nuts. Hallucination, that's what it was. Some sort of gas. Must be it. No other answer. Or drugged. The tea." He looked at the beer with suspicion. "You can't trust anyone anymore."
Doyle understood Bodie's feelings very well. "You can trust Whitbread. Straight from the brewery, that one. And it wasn't a drug and it wasn't a gas. It happened."
Bodie scowled and pushed himself backwards in the chair. They'd retired to the pub next door to the lab for a drink and a talk. "Explain it to me, then. You're clever...explain to me what that was and how its possible." His eyes narrowed and Doyle couldn't help laughing.
"Sure, just call me Mr Spock. Dr Potter's amazing fairground ride is beyond even me, mate. And if you believe its a fake, then he's managed to fool Cowley, too."
Bodie drank some more beer and shook his head. "Got me there. It's all very weird, though I do like the bit about us thrashing Germany in the war...."
Doyle jerked upright, spilling some of his own beer, and Bodie froze.
"What!"
"Karl Emmert. Heading for the Institute."
"Jesus! He's supposed to be in Berlin!"
Doyle slid out of his seat and moved quickly towards the front door of the pub, pulling out his walkie talkie as Bodie went to check the window. "45 to Base. Priority One Scramble to Commerce Research Institute, Holland Road. Known SD agent sighted -- "
"Looks like he's with a strike team; five, maybe six men," Bodie added quickly.
" -- probably accompanied by SD Strike Team of five, maybe six. Acknowledge."
"Acknowledging, 45. Location of Alpha One?"
"At the Institute."
"Wait." There was a few seconds silence, while the two men continued to observe the movement in the street. Then the duty operator's calm voice returned. "We're in contact with Alpha One and he confirms a Scramble Priority One. Backup is on the way; ETA ten minutes. Alpha One requires you to hold action unless a direct attack is made. Acknowledge."
Doyle grunted, unhappy. "Acknowledged. 45 out." Aware of the curiosity of the bar patrons but ignoring it, Doyle ducked down and slipped across to where Bodie was peering through the curtains. "What's happening?"
"They're definitely going for the Institute. I count three across the street near the bookshop, two this side. Don't know how many coming from the other way. That backup better hurry - these boys don't seem in a mood to wait."
Doyle scanned the street, his experienced eye sorting the innocent from the suspicious. Happily the street wasn't crowded; there was a scattering of civilians and motor traffic was light. He watched a dark blue unmarked van cruised slowly past them to park on the opposite side of the street ten yards further along. The door swung open and four men leapt down, and each was carrying the latest model Schmeisser submachine guns.
"That's it - let's go." Doyle pulled the pistol from its holster, as did Bodie, and they pushed through the door and out onto the street. There was no time for tactics, only speed and they sprinted for the front door of the Institute. The nearest man, dressed in a business suit and carrying a briefcase, dropped the case and reached inside his jacket. No sooner had the grip of his gun appeared than Bodie fired and the man was down.
The street erupted into violence. Doyle risked a shot at Karl Emmert but missed as the German ducked behind a group of screaming pedestrians. Doyle knew they couldn't have a firefight in the street, knew that while he and Bodie would hold back their fire around civilians, the Germans would have no such scruples. He ducked as a blast from the nearest machinegunner went over his head and through a glass shop window and then both he and Bodie were inside the building.
As Bodie kicked the door shut Doyle swung around and caught sight of one of the two front security guards lying in a pool of blood on the floor. The other guard was missing, and the security controls at the guardpost were a shattered mess. Even as he turned to warn Bodie he heard the muffled crack of gunfire from further within the building.
I'll handle the door," Bodie said, as he dragged a sofa across to block the entrance. "Go!"
Doyle went. He sprinted down the corridor towards Potter's lab, passing another dead guard - but not the missing guard from the entrance. The fact that the alarms weren't on meant the one dead guard had been taken by surprise, and from within. He turned the last corner, then ducked back as a bullet smacked into the wall above his head. He recognised the shooter at the same moment as he was seen.
"It's me - don't shoot!"
Cowley's voice snapped in anger. "Fool! Get in here - where's Bodie?"
Doyle ducked into the room, nearly tripping over another dead guard. It was the missing front man. Doyle did a quick scan of the lab, caught sight of Dr Potter crouched behind his arm chair, then turned back to Cowley, who was calmly reloading his revolver. "Well?"
"Covering the front door waiting for the cavalry."
"Good. Go and help him. We'll be good enough here now this traitorous lad is out of it. Be off!"
Doyle went. He could hear muffled gunfire as he pelted back down the corridor; he slid around the corner as the main door blew inwards with the recognisable whumping boom of a plastic explosion. The force of the blast threw him backwards - he saw multicoloured lights as his head struck the wall, and he blacked out.