Part 4 – A Strange Sort of Normal
"4:5 all clear – GO!"
The hand held RT crackled with the sound of Murphy's voice and he sprang into action. It took forty seconds to make the distance in the Capri, and it careened to a halt in front of the building with a screech of tyres. Just in time for the fugitive to bolt through the door in a desperate move to escape.
Doyle was out of his car in an instant, handgun already out as he shielded himself behind the door.
"Hold it there sunshine!" he yelled out "or I'll shoot you where you stand!"
Panic stricken the man took off along the pavement, his legs moving in a blur. Doyle stood up and leaned on the doorframe shaking his head.
"Why do they always run?" he muttered to himself as he picked up the RT from the car seat.
"6:2, he's headed your way"
"Roger that!" came the reply, followed swiftly by "got him!"
It was a textbook capture. Procedure had been followed, not a shot had been fired, no-one had been injured and their quarry was now apprehended. But Ray Doyle felt little satisfaction. This hadn't been his case for one thing, he had been called in to assist in the capture of a renegade Eastern Bloc agent who had been selling arms in London. Murphy and Anderson had done most of the leg work on this one and deserved the praise which would no doubt be coming their way from Cowley.
Ray Doyle had his own case to work on. And he knew that his results thus far had been far from satisfactory.
"Thanks for the assist Ray" called Murphy and he waved in response as he drove away from them, heading back to CI5 headquarters. He had to finish his latest report on his missing partner. It was an important document. If he got this wrong, Cowley would pull the plug on the investigation and reassign him. He had to show something for his efforts, something to make the old man believe that to continue was worthwhile.
He shook his head as he drove through the busy Central London streets. Cowley had given him some leeway lately, but it was becoming clear that the Controller's patience was running thin, and it was up to him to convince him to let him carry on until all possible leads were exhausted. A futile effort probably, but he had to try. He couldn't give up on Bodie, not yet.
Even if he had been gone for over two months.
Ray Doyle was beginning to wonder if he would ever see his partner again.
Two months ago he had been so certain that he would find him within a day. He would spot something that had been missed, that vital clue that only he, who knew Bodie so well, could identify as crucial. But the first day had passed and he had found nothing. That night he had gone to Bodie's flat hoping against a vain hope that he would be there all along, grinning, sipping scotch and yelling "gotcha!" But the flat remained eerily silent, scrupulously clean and tidy as always, and no sign that Bodie had left not intending to return. It was as if he had popped out for a newspaper.
He had taken to sleeping there, in case he should return, or some indication of his whereabouts turned up. Not every night, just occasionally, enough to remind him that he was still out there and his life was still waiting for him.
It was during one of those nights that the phone rang.
"Hello?"
Silence
"Who is this?" his heart was pounding as he dared to hope.
Silence
"Bodie? Is that you?"
A click and then a dialling tone as it was cut off. Too short a call to trace but he knew with every fibre of his being that it was him. That night he hadn't slept at all as he waited for the phone to ring again. But it never did.
Cowley had not agreed with him of course. Why should he? He had not been there. But it had given him something to work with. Control had not been able to track down the number but they had narrowed the location down. The call had come from inside the Greater London area somewhere south of the Thames. To Doyle that meant that Bodie was still alive, and that he wanted to be found or else he would not have called.
But Cowley was beginning to think that Bodie was gone for good, and no evidence had turned up to make him think otherwise. He had started assigning Doyle to other duties, to other partners, and life was steadily returning to normal.
He slept most nights at Bodie's now, waiting. It was a strange sort of normal.
-o0o-
His hands knew which numbers to dial even if his head didn't. They moved of their own accord and he watched in fascination as the dial spun clockwise slowly and rapidly anti-clockwise as he released. He heard it ring only once.
"Hello?"
He knew that voice. Where? Struggling to remember he tried to place the voice with a face.
"Who is this?"
Something deep within his mind told him he could trust this voice.
"Bodie? Is that you?"
Who is Bodie? Is it me? He heard the click before he saw the hand on the phone and looked up into cold grey eyes.
He had done something wrong.....