Find the Lady.
Bodie came too slowly, fighting the headache that throbbed behind his eyes. For a moment his mind was a complete blank. Then it started to stir as he began trying to work out where he was and how he came to be there.
He was in complete darkness, and appeared to be lying on something quite comfortable. He let his hands roam about him, and came to the conclusion that he might be on a bed.
As he did not appear to be restrained in any way, he moved carefully to sit up, and to swing his legs over the side. Opposite, he saw the faintest glimmer of light shining down towards the floor. He realised he might be looking at a curtained window.
He rose slowly and moved towards it, and found his guess was accurate. Using both hands, he gently swept back both curtains to reveal a window looking down onto a pretty garden.
He turned round and found that he was indeed in a fully furnished bedroom. He walked round the bed, and tried the door, only to find it would not open, and appeared to be locked.
The rather too rapid movements had aggravated his headache, and this brought back to his mind what had happened earlier. He sat down on the side of the bed and started to remember.
He had been on his way to see his partner, Doyle, who was temporarily confined to his flat, recuperating from an injured leg.
He had had to park some distance away, as there was no easy close parking space, and was walking back towards the entrance door to the flats where his friend lived.
Quite suddenly he had been jumped upon by several men. He had fought back instantly, in spite of being so out-numbered. A van had pulled up beside the group, and he had been bundled into it, his resistance being quelled by a severe blow to the head from a wildly wielded baseball bat.
After that he had known no more until his awakening a few moments ago.
He checked his watch. 6.30am. So he had been out all n[ght. As he had only been going to help his incapacitated friend get to bed, he had neither his gun nor his radio-phone with him. They were safely locked away in his own flat.
As he was considering what he might do next, he heard the sound of approaching footsteps. His captors must have heard him stirring, for suddenly the door opened, and two men stepped in. Both were wearing concealing ski-masks, and one held a menacing gun levelled at him. So he decided to play it cool, and did not stir from his seat on the bed.
"We do not wish you harm," began the taller of the two, "We are very sorry that Miguel hit you so hard. He was not meant to do so."
Bodie registered his accent as Latin American. Odd, he thought, we haven't any dealings with them at the moment, at least none that I know of.
"What do you want ?, " he asked quietly.
"Just some information we think you can give us," replied the man. "If you answer our questions we will take you back to where you were."
Bodie made no response, as he couldn't think of anything he knew that they might want.
The speaker pulled out a notepad and pen, presumably to write down his answers, and began his questions.
"Friday last week," he said, "You met a girl in the bar at the Royal in Balfour Street, did you not ?."
Bodie nodded warily. Where was this leading ?
"Did you escort her home ?," asked the man.
"No, I didn't," replied Bodie, "I hoped she would let me, but she said she had a room booked upstairs. I hinted we could go there, but she refused, and left me in the bar."
"But you met her again, didn't you ?," persisted his questioner.
"I phoned the Royal next evening," said Bodie, "but was told she had settled her account and gone that morning."
"But that wasn't the end of I," continued the man
"No," admitted Bodie, "She had left a message, a note, suggesting I meet her, at Di Marco's, a small restaurant I know, on the next Tuesday. I rather liked her, so I kept the appointment, and we had a very good evening, dinner and then a lively disco. I began to feel that my luck was in, for she was very friendly and encouraging."
The man with the gun interrupted roughly.
"We want to find the lady," he exclaimed angrily.
"So do I," retorted Bodie, "for she had just agreed that I could see her home, but first she must visit the 'ladies'."
He scowled at the fast-returning memory.
"She didn't come back," he exclaimed, "the lying bitch walked out on me."
"So you cannot give us an address," said the tall man despondently.
"NO, I can't," snapped Bodie, "and she gave me a false name, Jacinda Morgan, she said."
"I went to enquire at the Royal again, and they denied ever having anyone of that name staying there."
"So it seems we have wasted all our time and effort," grumbled the tall man. "I am very sorry, young man. We felt sure you would know."
"I wish I did," asserted Bodie angrily, "I don't like being given the run around.! "
Then a thought occurred to him.
"Why do you want to find her ?," he demanded.
The tall man hesitated for a moment, as if deciding what to say. "She has relatives anxious about her," he said at last.
Then he appeared to make a decision.
"Come," he ordered, "Miguel will take you back."
As he was led out to the van, Bodie looked about him, trying, but failing, to spot a street name. He was pushed into the front of the vehicle, and sandwiched between the driver, presumably Miguel, and the man with the gun, both wearing their masks.
Miguel drove swiftly back towards the City. Bodie tried to get an impression of where they were, but he was pushed back in the seat between them and recognized little until they were nearly back to where he had been jumped.
Miguel suddenly jammed on the brakes, jolting them all. The man with the gun jumped out, pulling Bodie with him. He gave him a sudden push which sent him stumbling into a doorway, then leapt back into the revving van, which sped away round the corner before Bodie could recover his balance well enough to try to spot a number-plate.
Bodie pushed out of the doorway, looked around and knew instantly exactly where he was. He spotted his car still parked towards the end of the street and knew he was just round the corner from his partner Doyle's place.
So he turned quickly and made in that direction. He entered and hurried up the stairs. He rang the bell, and waited for Doyle, still hampered with needing a crutch, to make it to the door.
The door swung open, and there was his partner, clad in pyjamas and dressing-gown, glaring at him.
"Where the heck have you been ?," Doyle almost shouted, as he stepped back awkwardly to let his mate enter.
"Give me a coffee, and I'll tell you," replied Bodie, "but you won't believe me, it's a weird story."
It was Bodie that made the coffee, as he persuaded his obviously hurting friend to go and sit down. He brought it in to him, sat down on the sofa, and proceeded to tell his partner, in some detail, exactly what had befallen him. Doyle listened intently, and didn't comment till his mate had come to the end of his tale.
"How very peculiar," he said at last. "Cowley rang twice last evening, wanting to ask you about something, so I had to admit that you hadn't turned up. I don't envy you telling this to him, it doesn't make a lot of sense, does it.?"
"No, I'm not looking forward to that," agreed Bodie. "I'll have to report in as soon as possible, but I'll see you settled first."
He took the coffee cups out to the kitchen and washed them up. Then he helped his mate to wash and dress, and settled him in the big armchair with his leg up on a footstool.
Now," he said grimly, "I'd better go and face the music. Wish me luck."
He hadn't been gone five minutes when the phone rang. As Doyle expected it was his boss. He quickly informed him that Bodie had returned, and was on his way in to explain himself. He wasn't going to be the one to tell Cowley his mate's peculiar story.
Bodie made a brief stop at his own flat to freshen up, and then made his way to Headquarters. He reported to Cowley's office in some trepidation.
To his surprise, his doubts about his reception were not realised. Cowley listened carefully to his story without interruption. Half-way through the recital, a thoughtful expression came over his face. Something in what he was hearing had stirred a memory. Something he had heard or read fairly recently. He was struggling to recall it more strongly, but could not bring it back.
When Bodie had finished his tale, he began to question him thoughtfully.
"A peculiar tale," he commented, "You said they had accents ?."
"Yes, sort of Latin American, I thought," replied Bodie, "though I'm not sure which country."
"And the girl ?," queried Cowley.
"Come to think of it," said Bodie, "she could be from that way too, though she didn't have an accent. But she had very dark hair and eyes, and slightly olive complexion, and she was very lively."
"Hmm," mused Cowley, "have you another date with her ?."
"No, sir," replied Bodie regretfully, "As I told you, she deliberately gave me the slip. I've no idea where to find her again."
"Pity," said Cowley.
He then changed the subject completely, and set about giving his surprised agent details about a couple of men he wanted further investigated.
"Collect Murphy to go with you," he ordered, "Have his help while Doyle is out of commission."
When Bodie had left the room, Cowley sat for a while, and tried to bring back to his mind the memory that was eluding him. But he had no immediate success, so he decided to leave it for the moment, and get on with more pressing work. Hopefully it would suddenly return to him while he was occupied with something else
He was right, though it took longer than he expected. It came to him that it was something that he had read in the folders of foreign news that were regularly up-dated for him. He immediately searched out the most recent of these, and found what he was seeking.
A phone call got him an appointment at a certain foreign embassy. He ordered his car and was driven there, and learnt a great deal.
The following day he put out a call, instructing Bodie to leave the enquiries he was currently working on and to report to his office. He also summoned Doyle, whose leg was greatly improved, which had enabled him to be fetched into Headquarters to do some interesting work in Records.
When both reported together to his office, he waved them to seats and came round to the front of his desk. He felt quite pleased with what he was about to impart, and especially keen to see Bodie's reaction.
"Your mysterious lady-friend, Bodie, "Have you heard from her again ?"
"No, sir," replied Bodie with a frown, "I've made a few enquiries, in my own time, But to no avail."
"Did she give you a name ?," asked his boss.
"Yes, Jacinda Morgan," replied Bodie, "That was what she said "but I bet it was false."
"Not entirely," said Cowley, turning to pick up a folder from his desk, "She has a name, a name a yard long," he added facetiously. He read it out
"Moretta, Jacinda, Juanita, Louella, Morganita de Rodriguez !."
"Wow", exclaimed Doyle, "that's a mouthful. Sounds very foreign. Where is she from ?"
"Who is she ?," added Bodie, sensing a lot from his boss's supressed air of excitement.
"Heiress to one of the wealthiest and most powerful families in Venezuela," replied Cowley, "Her farther has suddenly become seriously ill, and she is wanted to return home at once. But she has been less than co-operative about supplying addresses, and she has been moving about a lot."
"Probably enjoying herself too much to want to return home," suggested Bodie.
"Quite," agreed Cowley, The Embassy have been trying, for political reasons, to keep the news a secret. But they are very anxious to find her
, and have people out looking for her."
"Those I encountered aren't from any Embassy !," declared Bodie firmly. "Not behaving the way they did."
"Agreed," said his boss, "but there is an explanation for that. When news leaked out, as it appears to have done, on how very ill her father was, she instantly became valuable property, a prime target for kidnap Whoever had hold of her could demand an enormous ransom, with exorbitant conditions."
"No wonder she is being so elusive," said Doyle.
Then his shrewd mind had a thought.
"Are we being asked to find her, sir?," he asked.
"Yes," replied Cowley, "but as discretely as possible."
He consulted the paper from his desk
"The Embassy don't have a current photo of her, but they are sending for one from Venezuela, but that is liable to take a little time. So in the meantime, Bodie, you can go to our Identity people, to try to supply a reasonable likeness."
He dismissed them, and the pair went off with a great deal to think about.
This was going to be a difficult assignment.
Bodie went off to the Identikit people, and spent quite a long time trying to produce a good picture of the girl. He found it a lot harder than he had expected.
Dark good looks produced a wide variety of hair styles, and an even wider selection of slightly different variations in facial features. But at last they managed to put together something that he decided was as near as he was going to get.
He re-joined his partner, and showed it to him.
"It's not perfect," he admitted, "but it's the best we could do."
"It's this demand for keeping it as secret as possible," complained Doyle. "We can't put out an APB on her." He added something else he had found out. "They speak Spanish in Venezuela," he said, "and with those dark looks, she could easily pass herself off as Spanish."
"Yes, "agreed Bodie, "she could." A sudden thought came to him. "You know what," he exclaimed, "Because of this secrecy thing, I bet she doesn't know they are seeking her because her father is so ill. I'm sure things would be different if she knew."
"Certainly," agreed Doyle, "but to tell her, we have got to find her.! It's a bit of an impasse, isn't it."
Cowley called a briefing, but only six of his agents. They gathered together and Bodie's picture was shown.
I have spoken to the Embassy again," Cowley began, "Apparently, Miss Rodriguez is a very strong-willed young lady who insisted on being allowed to come to London, much against her parents wishes. It is clear she is very reluctant to return home yet, for she has been very lax in supplying the Embassy with an address to contact her, as she had promised to do.".
He consulted the folder he was holding.
"it appears that she moves from hotel to hotel, only staying a few days at each, and with a strong preference for some of the poshest places. As she has a generous allowance at her disposal, she can afford to indulge herself. So that is where our first enquiries will be directed."
He turned to his desk and picked up a list, which he handed to Bodie.
"You and Murphy will begin with these places. It is going to be evening work, as I suggest that you unobtrusively visit the bars of these hotels, as it seems the lady enjoys the social life there.".
He picked up another list, and handed it to Doyle.
"You and Jax can do the same at these smaller places." he ordered.
He handed a final list to Anton and his partner.
"Different approach for you." he said, "Try these musical shows. She may have a fancy to try to join a chorus line, I'm told."
He then dismissed them all, and the group retired to the rest room, to grab a coffee, and to make their plans to deal with the task before them.
Doyle voiced a grumble.
"Why has he put Murphy with you, Bodie ?." he complained.
"It's obvious, you idiot." retorted Bodie, "You would stick out like a sore thumb in these posh places. Murphy is much suaver."
Taken aback, Doyle could not find the words for a suitable retort.
Sinking back in his chair, he thought about it, and realised that Cowley was perfectly right in this assessment. The sumptuous bars of posh hotels were definitely not his scene. Reluctantly he had to admit to himself that their boss was a clever shrewd old stick.
But he was glad that he was partnered with Jax and not Anton Jax was a friend. Anton was not. His habit of non-stop smoking of the long slim cigarillos that he favoured could become very annoying, particularly to a non-smoker.
Anton and his partner had the easiest task. They had a long list of venues where there were musical shows. At each they only had to ask the question, using the latest photo sent on to them "has this girl come here looking for a job ?"
As they proceeded, they found that the answer was invariably "No ", so they were getting through their list pretty quickly.
Bodie and Murphy were enjoying their assignment. They were visiting places that they would never have considered visiting for themselves. Places 'out of our league' was how Bodie put it. To visit and enjoy such places as part of an assignment was an unexpected bonus, and they were making the most of it.
But in the end, after several days of work, it was Doyle and Jax who got the success of a breakthrough.
They were in the bar of a small hotel, in the evening, just as the staff were changing over from daytime workers to night staff.
They showed their picture to the barman. He was so busy setting things up for his evening session, that he was barely interested. He gave the picture a cursory glance.
"We get a lot of girls in here," he said in a disgruntled tone. "I can't be expected to remember all of them."
But a nosy chambermaid, who was just passing through the bar on her way home after her day's work, was interested. She grabbed Doyle's arm and pulled it round so that she could look at the picture.
"That looks a bit like Miss Morgan who is staying here," she said cheerfully.
The barman, hearing her words, took a renewed interest.
"Yes, could be her," he agreed, "hairstyle's a bit different though."
He flashed a smile at the bright girl who was still gazing at the picture. It was clear to Doyle that his interest was more in impressing her, than in helping him.
"She sometimes comes down to the bar later in the evening," he volunteered. "But she often has dinner with Mr. Preston, before he comes on duty."
"Who is Preston,?," enquired Jax eagerly.
"He's on the reception desk all evening," replied the chambermaid, "I hear they have become friends."
"They might be in his office" said the barman, keen to keep the girl talking instead of dashing off as she usually did. "Behind the reception desk.
Doyle thanked them for their help.
The girl continued on her way towards the front door, eager to be off home.
The barman reluctantly retreated to his place behind the bar and continued with his setting-up for the evening ahead.
Doyle moved into the foyer, and up to the reception desk. There was no-one there as yet, so he pressed the bell sitting on the desk. The door to the office, a yard back, opened, and a young fair-haired man stepped out, pulling the door to behind him. He moved forward to the desk.
Doyle, ever observant, noted that he hadn't shut the door completely, and his every instinct told him that that was because there was someone hiding behind the door, ready to listen to all that was said.
"Yes, sir, can I help you?," said Preston politely, adopting his best official manner.
Doyle held out the picture to show him.
"Is this young lady staying here ?", he asked.
Preston took the picture and studied it carefully.
. Then to Doyle's great surprise, he shook his head and handed it back.
"No, sir," he replied firmly. "She looks a little like one of our guests, but it isn't her."
With his years of experience, Doyle knew straight away that the man was lying. But he made no comment.
What he did not know was that Jacinda, as she was now calling herself, had warned her friend that there might be people looking for her. She had told the gullible young man a tall tale about an over-persistent boy-friend, who would not take 'no' for an answer, and had begged him not to expose her. His ego had been flattered, and he was considering himself quite bold and virtuous in lying on her behalf.
But he had not deceived Doyle. Nevertheless, he pretended to be satisfied, and retreated to confer with Jax. But he only backed to the other side of the foyer, so he wouldn't be overheard but could still keep an eye on Preston and that slightly ajar office door.
"I think we've found her," he explained. "but she has found herself an ally. He is ready to lie for her and will help her. And if we give her half a chance, she will try to give us the slip."
Jax nodded in understanding.
"What do you want to do next ?, he asked quietly.
"I think I will get Bodie round here fast," replied Doyle. He can identify her for certain. Give me some cover while I call him He isn't far away."
While Doyle waited for his partner to join them, he kept a careful watch on Preston, standing at the reception desk.
Preston, too, was watching them. He was uneasy. She had told him that someone would be looking for her, but neither of the pair who had enquired looked like the rejected boy-friend type.
A group of guests who had come to the end of their stay diverted his attention. Dealing with their accounts meant he had to slip into the office for some paper-work, which gave him the opportunity to alert Jacinda.
But with Doyle still watching, he told her to stay hidden in the office till he could tell her it was safe to emerge, to return to her room and prepare to move on.
He dealt with the paper-work in his usual efficient manner and the group of satisfied visitors left.
All was quiet again, apart from the bar area, where customers were starting to arrive, and the barman was starting his usual evening trade.
Then everything changed. The outer door opened and two men walked in . They joined Doyle and Jax, and exchanged a few quick words. Then they advanced towards the reception desk.
Seeing them coming purposely towards him, Preston quailed. Compared to the other two, this pair looked very formal and official.
Preston began to have doubts about the story Jacinda had told him. Was she hiding for some other reason ? Was she being sought for something more important ?
Bodie put on his sternest expression, as he held Jacinda's picture in front of Preston.
"We are looking for this girl," he said firmly. "We think you lied and you do know her Then Bodie produced his I.D. and Preston was suddenly frightened.
"Why do you want her ?," he exclaimed in a trembling voice. "What has she done ?"
"Nothing, " replied Bodie, "Her relatives are trying to find her because she is needed at home. Her father is very ill."
The door of the office flew open and a white-faced girl rushed out.
"Mi padre," she exclaimed in an agitated tone
"Miss Morgan ?," queried Bodie, though he had recognised her, and was sure of her identity. She nodded, recognizing him.
"Calm down, Miss Morgan," put in Murphy, "We are here to help you."
By that time Doyle and Jax had joined the others, and as she looked round the formidable group before her, she felt a sudden sense of re-assurance.
"We'll get you to the Embassy," explained Doyle, "And they will arrange to get you home."
Things moved fairly quickly after that. Murphy, Doyle and Jax escorted the agitated girl up to her room. While she quickly changed her skimpy evening dress for more sensible day wear, they busied themselves re-packing her belongings. This was not difficult, as she had accustomed herself to living out of a suitcase because she liked moving on. So she had un-packed very little.
Meanwhile, Bodie, having instructed Preston to make up Jacinda's account, found a quiet corner and reported in, telling Cowley that they had indeed found the missing girl.
As he had expected, his next orders were to convey the girl, as quickly as possible to the Venezualan Embassy
Cowley had already alerted them and they were busy arranging her flight home .
The group had now come back down. Jacinda quickly settled her bill with Preston
She was still very agitated and anxious to be on her way to the Embassy. Quickly the four men surrounded the girl and moved towards the hotel entrance.
Bodie was leading the way, as his car was closest.
But, as he stepped out, to everyone's shock, a shot rand out from across the street !
Bodie reeled back, clutching his arm. He bumped into Jacinda, who would have fallen, but for Murphy's ready arm that steadied her. Jax grabbed hold of Bodie as they retreated back into the foyer.
Doyle, gun in hand, shot into the porch, using the shelter of its wall, but all that he could see was a small dark van shooting away up the street,
Inside the van, the leader of the group was berating the impulsive gunman.
Torrents of fierce Spanish invective were being thrown at him, calling him all sorts of fool and idiot.
Truth was, the culprit was a simple man, and coming from Caracas, designated the most lawless and violent capital in the world, he did not understand that a shot fired in the street, a commonplace thing in his home town, was not so in the streets of London !
Doyle hurried back into the hotel. Murphy was busy, trying to calm down an almost hysterical girl. Bodie seated on a hall chair, was being tended to by Jax, who was easing off the sleeve of his jacket. Bodie was complaining bitterly.
"I liked this suit," he grumbled, "and now it's ruined, "and this was my favourite shirt."
Jax threw a quick look to Doyle.
"It's not bad," he said assuringly, "Just a flesh wound at the top of his arm."
People were appearing from all parts of the hotel, including the manager, who very quickly and sensibly found a first-aid box which he handed to Jax
Doyle moved to a quiet corner away from the hub-bub of curious conversation and called into base, to report what had just happened.
In a few minutes he re-joined the group, and relayed Cowley's orders, which were exactly the same as before. Get Miss Morgan to her Embassy safely and quickly. And in a few moments the team moved into action.
Doyle went quickly to the hotel entrance. He took a cautious look round, but there was nothing untoward to be seen, He ran to where his car was parked, shot into it, and expertly turned it and brought it right up to the hotel door, keeping the engine running
Shielded by the close proximity of three alert men, Jacinda was rapidly hustled into the back seat. Jax shot in beside her, and the car began to move off.
As soon as she was safely in, Bodie and Murphy had shot away to climb into their car, which Bodie immediately swung round into position, ready to 'ride shotgun' , close behind Doyle's.
And both cars moved away at speed, taking the missing girl, that they had at last successfully found, back to where others would take charge of her.
And at least one member of the group was very thankful to be free of the responsibility.
True, C.I 5 had successfully completed the task assigned to them, but he was the one who had lost out.
As well as considerable irritation, caused by the way she had deceived him, he had collected a sore arm and a ruined suit.
Still it was now over. He would soon recover, and then he and Doyle would be ready for their next assignment.
Once again, C.I.5 had dealt with a difficult assignment, and had completed it successfully.
.
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