Chapter 6

"Good morning, Milner," Brookie called out across the desk. He reached for a file, "This may be of some interest to you."

Milner came over, wincing as his leg ached him with each step. "Where's Mr Foyle?"

Brookie smirked, "He's not in yet. Second time he's been late this week."

"I wouldn't have said that was any of your business, Sergeant," Milner said with an equally impertinent grin.

"Just making an observation, Sergeant," Brookie replied, grinning. They both turned around quickly as the front doors opened and Foyle and Sam came through.

Milner and Brookie both said in unison, "Good morning, sir."

Foyle stopped in his tracks, giving them a curious look.

"I've just given a file to Mr Milner, sir, that may be of some interest to you. Some developments on the sabotage that's been going on."

"Very good, Sergeant." Foyle nodded his head to indicate Milner should follow him. Milner looked around at Sam as they left, giving her a smile.

Brookie leant across the desk as the two men went into Foyle's office. He wiggled his eyebrows and she laughed. In fact, she couldn't stop smiling.

"I feel positively giddy today, Brookie."

"And you look radiant; if I may say so, Miss."

"Do I? Must be the weather."

"Well, all I can say, is he's a lucky bugger," Brookie said half grudgingly.

"Brookie," Sam hissed, quickly looking around the quiet and empty station, "You mustn't say such things."

"Besides," she added, coming over to lean on the desk, "You don't know what you're talking about."

Brookie leant forward again, this time reaching his hand out tentatively. He tucked a strand of hair that had found its way loose behind her ear, touching her cheek briefly. It was both a tender and revealing movement, and Sam felt herself go red.

"Oh Brookie," Sam breathed.

She caught his gaze and the happiness in her eyes was nearly overwhelming for the sergeant. He looked at her fondly and said, "You can thank me later."

She smiled gaily, "I forgot — you see everything."

He tapped his nose, "My job innit?"

She came around the desk to sit with him at the small table.

"Have you gotten any further with that blasted puzzle?"

Brookie shook his head, lifting a large registration book up to reveal cards laid out in a pattern. They had been trying to solve the puzzle of how to make a swastika shape in the square with only four cards, no sides touching. So far, no one in the station had been successful.

"Keep your ears open, we don't want Mr Foyle to think we are mucking about," Brookie said, looking around him. "Not exactly police work…"

"I'm trying to work out what it means, now; it feels like everything has changed," Sam said, not meaning the puzzle.

"Well it has; but you must go on as before, otherwise someone other than me will notice."

"He knows that you know."

"Ah."

"He said he should thank you." Sam grinned again.

"As he should," Brookie winked.

"Let him decide from here, Sam," Brookie said, suddenly serious. "He likes to keep things in boxes, does our Mr Foyle, and you'll be in quite a separate one, I reckon."

"At work, certainly…"

"Especially then."

Brookie tapped her arm, "He'll let you know when he…wants you."

Sam went red again, "So, I'm just meant to wait around?"

"You'll be used to that, as his driver." Brookie teased. "But you know what I mean, yeah?"

Sam nodded slowly, "Yes, Brookie, I do. Absolutely. I'd thought as much myself, but am finding it rather…difficult."

Brookie nodded, eyes now on the cards in front of him. "Bloody puzzle, it's driving me barmy not being able to figure it out."

It was nearly 6 o'clock before Foyle called out to Sam for her to take him home. The day had been long and full of the Assistant Commissioner breathing down his neck.

"He says he's coming up tomorrow," Foyle said to Milner as he left.

Milner nodded, "Goodnight, sir."

As they walked past the desk, the three saw Brookie chuck down the cards in disgust. He snapped to attention as Foyle came into the reception.

"Still no luck, Sergeant?" Foyle twitched his lips, seeing the younger man's discomfort at having been caught.

"No, sir."

Milner and Sam came to stand with him.

"No, I've not had any luck either," Milner said.

"You all had a go, then?" said Foyle with some amusement.

"Won't you try?" Sam said eagerly.

"Well…"

"You're meant to use just the four cards and make the swastika symbol. It seems impossible."

Foyle stared for a moment, moving a few of the cards around. "Hmm…" he mused.

"Well, maybe look behind the cards…shapes perhaps? No, frankly I don't see it."

"If it has foxed you, then there's no hope for the rest of then," Sam began.

"That's enough from you," Foyle said looking up, "Come on, this is getting us no where." He nodded to the door. "Let's go."

"Goodnight," Sam called out over her shoulder to Milner and Brookie who were still standing over the cards, "Good luck!"

"I'm off too, Brookie," said Milner. "See you tomorrow. Oh, would you put this in Mr Foyle's file tray for the morning?"

"Yes, of course, sir. See you tomorrow."

Brookie sat looking down at the cards for some minutes more, thinking about what Foyle had said…behind the cards. Suddenly, the pattern leapt out at him and he stood up quickly. "I've done it!" he yelled to the empty room. He allowed himself a moment of triumph, before returning his thoughts back to work.

Taking the papers, Brookie went along the corridor and into Foyle's office. On the desk, under some stacked files he saw cards, laid out in the same pattern they had all been trying to figure out. It was solved, quite simply, as Foyle had said, by seeing the symbol behind the cards.

"You crafty old fox," Brookie said out loud with a laugh. "Some blokes have all the bleedin' luck."

He chuckled and walked out again, closing the door. As he walked back to his post he wondered how Sam was getting on - difficult, that's what she'd said. Well, Brookie knew just what she meant. And somehow, he thought to himself as he put the cards away in a drawer, she wouldn't be the only one.

He smirked, closing the drawer. Yes, some have all the luck.

"Busy day, sir?" Sam said, trying to find a neutral topic of conversation as they pulled away from the station.

"Yes, quite. The new Commissioner is making it twice as hard, but there we are."

"Why is he coming tomorrow? He isn't checking up on you, surely?"

"No, he's visiting all the constabularies along the coast here. We just happen to be first. Unfortunately."

Foyle took his gaze away from the scenes flashing past, to rest it on Sam. She felt him looking at her and she turned to smile at him.

"I must be honest with you," she began softly, "It is so very difficult not to touch you or be near you all the time." She smiled nervously, "I hope you don't mind me saying that."

"Not at all."

Turning towards her with a half smile, Foyle rubbed his forehead and pushed up his hat, settling himself in comfortably. "In fact, I feel the same."

Sam looked over sharply, "Do you?" She sounded thrilled.

"Yes. Keep your eyes on the road, Sam."

"Of course." She grinned happily. "I'm so glad it isn't just me. I'm trying my best to be good, you know, sir, and I only hope I don't let you down."

"Let me down? You never have in the past, why should you now?"

"I just…" Sam broke off, not entirely sure what she did mean. "I just don't want to make things difficult for you, especially now with the Assistant Commissioner coming down."

"Yes, well, we will all have to be on our best behaviour." He paused thoughtfully, "But we are alone at the moment, so we can talk freely; I'm glad you spoke up." He smiled at her.

Sam reached out her hand, finding his. He held it on his knee, enjoying the warmth of it and thinking pleasant thoughts.

Seemingly reading his mind, Sam asked, "Home?"

"Why not drive up to the overlook? It's a fine evening."

Sam smiled, "Lovely idea."

She took her hand back to change gear, before replacing it on his knee.

The sun was just setting, painting long streaks of pink and wisps of red across the sky. Sam turned off the Wolseley and they sat in silence for a minute looking out at the evening. She took off her hat, tossing it behind her and smoothing her hair.

Foyle cleared his throat, and loosened his tie. "Sam? May I kiss you?"

"You never need to ask," she said with a laugh, eyes dancing in expectation.

"Jolly good," he murmured, whipping off his hat and leaning over to capture her lips. As before it was electric; so shockingly wonderful that Sam gasped unconsciously, causing Foyle to smile against her lips. She pulled back to look at him after a moment. Taking the man's face tenderly in her hands, she stroked the lines around his eyes, tracing the curve of his cheek down to his lips. He kissed her finger lightly.

Sliding over, Sam burrowed into him, seeking upwards to find his lips. This time Foyle too gave a little gasp, as she tentatively flicked her tongue inside, wondering and curious. His hands were in her golden hair, pulling at pins, wishing it were down and flowing around her shoulders. Their breaths came in shallow union.

Foyle let his hands wander freely; Sam helped by undoing the buttons of her jacket, and he immediately slipped his hand inside. Sam gave a small shudder of pleasure at his touch and he left her lips to trail downwards along her chin, to her neck and to her breasts.

Darkness had settled heavily around them, and in that cocoon, Foyle felt emboldened.

He whispered, "Sam, please know I respect you, and I will always take care to cherish you."

Sam gave a sigh, "Cherish me all you like…" Her fingers were in his hair, pulling him closer and further downwards.

Foyle smiled, pushing her gently back across the seat so she leaned against the driver side door, being mindful of the steering wheel. He followed her, pressing himself along the length of her, feeling her with his own body.

Murmuring a soft, "Sam," he kissed her ardently, hands finding the place he sought. She came up against him with a gasp of delight, throwing her arms around his neck and locking him in her embrace. He moved his hands expertly, feeling her writhe beneath him. She whimpered in his ear and he felt his own desire getting the better of him. He worked his hand upward, along her stomach, up inside her shirt to her soft breasts, before pulling out his hand to touch her cheek. He gave her one last kiss, before pulling away, sitting up to look at her.

"I only stop because I must, Sam," he said, voice husky.

Her eyes were closed, a dreamy smile playing about her lips. "But don't stop…"

He placed a hand on her knee, "But I must, my dear girl, otherwise I don't know what I might do."

Sam opened one eye, "I'm open to suggestions."

Foyle laughed, "Come on, my darling Sam; let's step outside for a moment."

They came out to stand in front of the car, marvelling at how black the night was. No lights came from the town below, no fishing ships on the horizon, and only one early star twinkling. It was like being underground.

Restoring her clothing to its former places, and tucking up her hair, Sam slid beneath his arm, nestling close. She loved the smell of him, and she had to stop herself taking possession of his lips again. The fresh breeze helped cool their glowing cheeks, and only when Sam shivered did they turn away from the blackness.

As she started the car and pulled away carefully, Sam stated, "I'm hungry."

Foyle grinned, "I'd best take you to dinner then."

"That's jolly nice of you."

Foyle noticed she had dropped the sir, and he felt pleased. "Well, can't let you starve on my watch."

He jammed his hat back on his head, looking at her fondly, "Now can I?"

She smiled cheekily, "I wouldn't be up to much if I wasted away."

Foyle twitched his lips, "I'll be sure to keep you well fed, then."