Chapter 2
Next morning, Bodie woke his partner with a cup of tea. He'd insisted that Doyle spend at least a couple of days with him. Doyle had protested, saying that he wasn't a complete invalid. Bodie had countered that he was, instead, a complete idiot and he'd brook no refusal. Bodie went out for milk and a newspaper while his mate made his acquaintance with the morning. Doyle eventually emerged from the bathroom still looking pale. He settled himself at the kitchen table and, as he watched Bodie put the toast on and the kettle to boil, Doyle thought himself lucky to have someone to care for him and to care about him. Bodie was easy with him now. It hadn't been that way in the beginning, but they'd eventually found an accommodation and looked after each other when the chips were down. Perhaps the birth yesterday had put Doyle in such a mellow and reflective mood. He was confused however by Bodie's grin as he put the tea and toast on the table and settled himself opposite his partner. He had that smug look which suggested to Doyle that Bodie knew something Doyle didn't and was enjoying every moment of his secret knowledge. Doyle refused to rise to the bait. He was tired. It was only his appointment with Cowley - in less than half an hour - that had got him out of bed at all.
"Tell me about Cheryl," Bodie asked casually as he munched on his buttered toast.
Doyle immediately sensed a trap. The question had been too casual. "She was a pregnant female. Around 30, 32. Long, dark hair. Brown eyes. Gave birth to a seemingly healthy baby girl. Her first." Doyle waited to see if that would satisfy his mate. He wasn't sure what information Bodie wanted.
"Cheryl what?"
"Dunno."
Bodie raised an eyebrow, shrugged indifferently, and asked, "What does she do for a living?"
"How the hell should I know?" Doyle was on a short fuse. His mellow mood was quickly evaporating as pain and fatigue set in again. "Look Bodie, labour isn't exactly a moment for a chat-up. Even you should know that. If you don't - well, you do now."
Bodie still grinned, despite his mate's tetchiness. "Was there anything familiar about her? Seen her before; that kind of thing?"
Despite his anger, Doyle was puzzled. He recalled her face. Very pretty, despite the fear in her eyes and pain in her face, but he was sure he hadn't encountered her before.
"She was travelling first class," Bodie prompted.
"So? She was pregnant. I would imagine that she'd want a bit of comfort at that stage in her pregnancy."
Bodie said nothing as he got up and retrieved the newspaper from the shelf by the back door. He slid it across to his partner, never taking his eyes from him or letting his grin slip an inch. Puzzled, Doyle continued to stare at his friend. Getting no further information, he turned his attention to the newspaper, not knowing what article he was meant to be reading. However, it didn't take a trained agent to spot the item. 'Actress gives birth in train smash' screamed the headline. Doyle went cold.
Bodie was chuckling. "No wonder the Old Man wants to see you, Doyle. He might even give you paternity leave!"
"Not funny Bodie. I gave the woman my name."
"What, so she could name the child after you? Raymond's a bit odd for a girl, though isn't it? Rayanne?"
Doyle couldn't see the funny side. He could only see Cowley throwing him off the squad for drawing attention to CI5. True, he hadn't told Cheryl his occupation, but he could think of a dozen people who'd hold their hands up and admit to knowing him - for a small fee from the newspapers of course. Why the hell couldn't Bodie see the danger? Even in Doyle's delicate health, he could see where this could lead. He could never stay in the squad if most of Britain knew who he was and what he looked like. Hell, there may even be a photo of him appearing in the next editions - if there wasn't one already. Doyle tore through the paper, looking for any further column inches. Bodie saw the panic in Doyle's eyes and couldn't understand it. Anger and embarrassment perhaps, but not fear.
"What?" Bodie asked, sobering up quickly.
"You bloody idiot, can't you see the nose on your face?!" Doyle was practically squealing with alarm.
Clearly Bodie couldn't see the threat and Doyle explained, hammering home the points one by one. "No wonder Cowley wants to see me. He wants to give me the boot and I haven't a bloody leg to stand on. I'm done for, mate. Thanks for your bloody understanding." Doyle was breathing hard.
"Ray let's not panic, mate."
Bodie tried his best to sooth his friend but he kept getting accused of not understanding the gravity of the situation. It was time, in any case, for them to be going. As Doyle had said before, thinking about it was worse than doing it. And Doyle was never one to hide from a bad situation.
The men entered Cowley's office as though entering a lion's den. Doyle knew this was the end. It was like being back on the train - except this time he knew it was going to crash. The pair stood to attention in front of the boss's desk like naughty children found out. They stared rigidly ahead.
"You'll have read the papers," Cowley stated, knowing why his men were looking more than a little apprehensive.
He shook his head. He had thought, while reading the newspaper over breakfast, that he would make capital of this, string it out a bit, and let Doyle's top lip sweat over it. A bit of a fright now and then kept an agent on his toes. But now that he had the man in front of him, all such thought vanished. Doyle looked like a man in front of a firing squad trying hard to be a brave soldier in his final moments. If Cowley whispered 'boo' he believed that he'd have to scrape Doyle off the ceiling. He needed to lance the boil quickly.
"You did well both of you. I've had reports from the different services and they say that you took charge of the situation and helped to keep everyone calm - as well as giving excellent first aid." He looked at Doyle as he came to the end of his assessment. "It was rather unfortunate that you gave your name, Doyle - and to a famous actress, too."
"Doyle didn't recognise her."
Doyle wasn't sure if Bodie were being loyal, or sending him up. He kept quiet as he knew he was on the edge.
"Really?"
"It wasn't her face I was concentrating on!" Doyle finally exploded.
"Understandable," Cowley said rapidly. "Fortunately word got to me quite quickly that it was you two on the train." Cowley had in fact known that they were on that service as Doyle had dutifully reported in what train they were going to catch, and the police descriptions matched their men. Thank God dutiful Doyle had followed procedure for once! "One of the policemen recognised you, Doyle, and word got sent up the line. I got on to the press and threw a 'D Notice' to the editors that your name wasn't to be mentioned or any photographs published. I take it that you didn't tell her what you did?"
Doyle felt anger flare. His rational side said that Cowley had to ask the question. It wasn't personal.
"No sir. I just told her that I was a first aider and had delivered a baby before. I needed her to have confidence in me. She was scared. It was her first baby and …"
"It's all right Doyle. You don't need to justify yourself. You conducted yourself admirably. It'll be recorded on your reports." Cowley included Bodie in this last remark.
Just to be sure of the ground - Doyle being too upset, in Bodie's view, to think clearly at the moment - he asked, "You're not going to sack him, are you, sir, just because he got involved with an actress?"
"I can speak for myself, Bodie," Doyle retorted angrily.
"And I'll speak for myself," Cowley cut across their argument. "You're not being sacked or reprimanded, Doyle. I hope that's clear to both of you. Now go home and rest. You should have been admitted for a blood transfusion yesterday. Bucking the system, as usual?"
"They were just fussing sir."
"Home, Doyle. Rest. You too, Bodie. You have a concussion and shock. I don't want to see either of you till next week. Now get out."
Cowley returned to his paperwork and the men knew they'd been dismissed. In the car Doyle closed his eyes and let out the breath he'd been holding. Bodie noticed but said nothing. He patted Doyle's thigh supportively. Doyle looked out of the window. He didn't want Bodie to see how close he was to tears. Bodie checked the side mirror and saw his mate's face reflected there. If Doyle hadn't let the Cow know their travel plans; if the copper hadn't recognised Doyle; if he hadn't sent word up the chain of command; if Cowley hadn't been quick to see the danger (as Doyle had once he'd seen the newspaper)... Doyle's career had all hung on a thin paper chain of 'ifs'. No wonder he was shaky. It had been a close call.
