Part 03 – Its Foul Play – It Must Be

Cowley rose to the bait for no reason other than he must. To do otherwise and let the man wax lyrical was not his style of leadership. Understandable as Ray Doyles anguish and confusion was, there was no requirement for him to explain his actions to him. There were no ranking officers in CI5 – except for George Cowley. And he had an answer for everything.

"Because I knew you would react this way and be no use to me at all" he barked in response to Doyles outburst, rising as he did so and placing both hands on his desk , leaning over to emphasise the point.

Doyle glared at him in disgust, not wanting to recognise the authority in Cowley's voice and manner. Although deep down the rational voice in his head whispered that the old man had a point. But that did not take away his right to know about what had happened to Bodie.

"I should have been told two weeks ago!" he hissed.

"And what would you have done eh? You'd have jumped on the first plane back, still burnt out, and got yourself a one way ticket to a nervous breakdown and we'd be worse off than we are now!"

"A nervous breakdown? Who told you that? Ross?"

"She didn't need to tell anyone – it was plain for all to see that you were stretched so taut that you were about to snap! Why do you think that I granted you two weeks leave on the eve of a protection duty? You needed the time. The Owen's Case was a tough one Doyle, for both you and Bodie. Even by our standards!" he added the last bit almost as an afterthought.

Doyle rubbed his hands through his hair in frustration, trying to ignore the grit behind his eyes telling him that he needed to sleep.

"Sit down man before you fall down" Cowley's voice was still harsh even as he walked over to his drinks cabinet and poured two glasses of Pure Malt Scotch and passed one over to the younger man. Murphy, standing forgotten at the door shrugged his shoulders and left in his usual quiet way.

Doyle accepted the proffered drink, thinking as he did so that he only every received a malt from Cowley when Bodie was in deep trouble. Must be bad he thought as he sipped down the harsh liquid, savouring the burn as it slipped down his throat and the anticipation of the warmth in his belly that was to follow.

Only then did he sit down, staring at the drink, while George Cowley waited quietly for him to speak.

"Two weeks. He's been gone for two weeks. No leads? Nothing?"

"Not a thing. When it became clear that there was no evidence of his being abducted we began following the line that he left of his own accord."

"Now hang on a min-"

"We had no choice man! Come on you were a copper once Doyle, you know the routine. There was no evidence of break in, no witnesses, no messages, no sign of attack, you must know that we have to assume that he disappeared because he wanted to!"

"Damn right I know the routine, but I also know Bodie. If he was planning to disappear I would know wouldn't I?"

Cowley raised his eyebrows.

"Would you?"

Doyle raised his own in likewise fashion.

"Tell me Doyle, how would you have described your relationship with Bodie of late?"

"What do you mean describe our relationship? Just the same as it ever- " Light dawned on Ray Doyle and he felt the anger at his boss spiking again. "Now just a second! Are you suggesting that Bodie disappearing was because of some fight we had. Well I tell you – you're barking up the wrong tree there. We had an argument, we do that every day. It's who we are. No way did Bodie leave because of that."

Doyle tried to stop the break in his voice as he said those words. The giveaway falsetto in his voice that made his firm declaration sound like a desperate plea. But he couldn't and he found himself doubting the strength of their relationship, which up until now had withstood many trials. Surely to God Bodie had not taken it personally. Had he?

"Consider the timing Doyle. You and Bodie worked on an extremely harrowing case, and you had your differences of opinion on this one. We all know how it affected you, but what about Bodie? How did he cope with what happened?"

"Bodie coped the way he always does. He worked hard and he played hard."

"I see. So in your opinion it's fowl play?"

Doyle looked back over at the CI5 controller who was regarding him with steely blue eyes. Never in all his days would he have believed that this would be his preferred option.

"It must be"

"If that's the case, whoever took him is a professional."

Doyle nodded in response and tried to think about what to do next, but his head would not clear of images of Bodie. Laughing at him, smirking at some joke, holding him up while they faced death together, lying face down in the ground.

"Go home laddie. Get some sleep and report here by 06:00"

He shook his head.

"How can I sleep knowing he is out there somewhere? No give me what you've got so far and I will look it over, grab a shower here or something."

Before he had even finished the sentence Ray Doyle found himself staring at a voluminous folder packed full of information, leads, lines of enquiry, all pertaining to a certain William Bodie, call sign 3:7.

It seemed that Cowley had anticipated him once again.