Out of the Dark

by Francis Kerst

In the beginning, when CI5 was just a still not well defined project in Cowley's mind, an improbable meeting between the former MI5 officer and a lost soldier of an obscure African war is going to change both men's life for ever. Warning: Preslash B/C .

16. Chapter 16

Later in the afternoon Bodie came back, triumphantly brandishing a small bow.

"See! It's repaired. And I found two arrows in good condition, eventually; that's good, 'cause making them would've needed too much time and, you know, freshly cut rods are not suitable for arrows; these are a little undersized, like the bow, but they should do for a rabbit or a bird. The glue will dry during the night and tomorrow morning I'll go scouting in the woods to see what kind of wild game you have out there."

"I told you it's a toy; it was never used for hunting." Cowley couldn't help but smile at the lad's eagerness. He hated having to dampen his youthful enthusiasm, but what could he do? He sighed. "I am afraid we have little time left for treks though the hills, or fishing parties, or any other kind of sporting entertainment."

Bodie frowned, looking suddenly much older. "No time left? What's happened?"

"Nothing bad," Cowley said hastily, "quite the opposite actually." He sat down at his usual place, an old wicker chair by the hearth. "Go and get us two cans of beer from the fridge."

Bodie returned soon with the requested beers and two glasses, and put them on the floor. Ignoring the nearby stool, he slumped on the rug at Cowley's feet, still frowning. "So, what?"

Grumbling, Cowley picked up his glass and the can, which he moved to the stool in front of him. "Manners, Bodie! Seems like the dog's ways have rubbed off on you." He looked around. "Where's Rover, by the way?"

"Don't know. I took him outside for a walk and he ran away."

"Back to Angus, then. A call of nature, so to speak."

"What?"

"The mighty call of the dog-bowl, I mean. The poor beast had nothing to eat since yesterday morning. Must have been starving."

"I gave him all my left-overs" protested Bodie.

Cowley laughed. "That would be just enough to feed a sparrow."

"There were yours too", Bodie replied, "It's you who eat like a sparrow."

"Well, It's been a while since I stopped growing."

Bodie smiled. The joke had relaxed the mood between them but he wasn't letting go the previous thread of their discussion.

"Why did you say there was no time left? Do you intend to leave soon?"

Cowley eluded. For some obscure reason, he needed to buy time. "Do you want to stay?"

"Well, yes. Why not? I feel as I have just arrived. The place looks very pleasant all around."

"Do you remember it?"

"No, not really. I just told you I went for a walk with the dog after I finished tidying up in the shed but I didn't push on to the loch."

"So you know there is a loch nearby."

"Yes, I know it." Bodie was showing signs of annoyance again. "It's one of the things I remember, with, maybe, a river, but not sure about the river. Besides, you told me I had some sort of accident on a boat. Still waiting for the story, if I may remind you."

"Later," said Cowley, "it's a long story, most of which is not very relevant any more now but you have a right to know it, I reckon. And, yes, there is a river." He chuckled. "We intended to go fishing and we tried, twice, on the loch and on the river but we failed, twice."

"Oh, really? Very clumsy of us, eh? Pity. Seems to me like a good idea." Bodie sounded hopeful. "I am quite ready to try a third time, you know; especially now I've spent hours cleaning and sorting out all your fishing kit."

"Not all; the best of it is still on the boat." Cowley was pondering the suggestion, surprised himself at how much he was tempted. "I had plenty to do in London before I left and I've already wasted two full weeks taking care of an obnoxious brat."

Bodie didn't take offense. "If your affairs have been waiting for two weeks, they may as well wait another two or three days."

It was not unreasonable. After all the deadline of the truce with Willis was not over yet and, had not the MI6 operation been interrupted so abruptly and unexpectedly, he would not have considered leaving for several days. A lot of discussions, or negotiations, that he thought were still necessary to settle the situation right, could be done by phone from Angus' place and, not to be underestimated, with Angus' assistance (this was a case where the use of all the available old boys networks would be especially expedient).

"Wouldn't you like to go fishing with me?"

The lad was looking up at him expectantly, mouth half-open to a coy smile. With a brusque move, he leaned forward and his lips came close to the proffered face, close enough to... No! Aghast at what he had been on the point of doing he froze, unthinking and motionless, only able to stare. For a few seconds he had felt aspired in the pit of those dark blue eyes gazing at him through thick lashes. He shuddered; out of their depths, or through his own madness, he had seen what he had tried so hard to banish for years from his clear consciousness: there, were lurking, like soulless ghosts, the faint shadows of loves long past gone, of dead hopes and buried longings.

Cowley sat up straight, averting his gaze, and stood up abruptly. "We might have a try on the loch tomorrow, if the weather allows."

"OK then." Inexplicably Bodie looked disappointed.

They had an early dinner. The rain had stopped and a battling sun had surged through grey sullen clouds. Cowley proposed a walk to the loch, to check the condition of the boat after the morning's downpour, following the night's intermittent but harsh gusts of wind and, last but not least, the fight on the deck the day before, though he dispensed with mentioning this point. Bodie had not reiterated his questions but the suspended answers couldn't be any more delayed and the peaceful surrounding landscape seemed an appropriate location for such a tricky talk.

There was no visible damage to the fishing rods or the boat. They just needed to be secured more solidly than Angus and he had the leisure to do the previous day in all the hassle of their scrambling disembarkation. Bodie undertook to roughly clean the deck before covering it with a tarpaulin they had taken from the boathouse.

"I think I won my reward; pass the booze!" He turned to face Cowley, beaming.

"The booze? How dare you? A vintage Burgundy!" He was hardly joking. It was the second of the two bottles offered by the MacLarens, which he had saved for some ultimate celebration: the ending of their common adventure, Bodie recovering his memory or a not-too-bad outcome of their feud with MI6, whatever was liable to appear like a success. Finally, as it happened, they were celebrating all of those events at the same time but he couldn't tell if any of them was a victory.

"Well, that's booze too in my book." Bodie was still grinning. Cowley affected a severe frown.

"Your book is not The Wine's Bible, obviously."

"Never heard of it; is it your bed-time read? I would have bet you favoured whisky."

"I do, but I make an exception for very good wines, and this one is exceptional."

They were sitting on the same rugged tree-trunk bench as before (was it only two days ago?) watching a similarly spectacular fiery sunset. Cowley was nursing his drink with a feel of mild melancholy. The ardent glow from the sky seemed to reflect itself in the wine's deep crimson hue but this perfect match just conveyed a keener sense of what was missing, though it was hard to define it: a silent communion, a sense of harmony? He raised his glass to his eyes to scan it in the declining light.

"A rare vintage indeed; I was lucky to get two bottles of it, which I liberally allowed you to share and, for the second time, I am here, seated on a dank, mouldy bench, drinking this nectar in a vulgar tumbler with someone who doesn't appreciate it: it deserved better."

"But I do. I mean, I appreciate: both the wine and the honour." Bodie was looking at him with a little smirk. "However I thought we were on a boat the first time?"

Cowley gasped. Bodie's smile broadened. "Yes, yes, before you ask, it's one of the things I remember: having a picnic on a boat, with a beautiful landscape all around, and roaming for a while after that."

"And then?"

"Don't know. Something happened?"

"Yes, I sprained my ankle." No point lying about this. He was at the same time fearing and wishing that Bodie could remember, that they had things to share again: joy, anger, pleasures, emotions, the good and the bad ones alike, anything that could salvage a part of their common experiences, so that their short time of living together should not be lost totally and made a meaningless, gap-ridden puzzle.

"Your bad luck." Bodie didn't sound overly compassionate. "By the way, a boat-seat is not a bench," he stated prosaically, "and if you had made me clean it first, like you did just now, it was surely not mouldy."

Cowley felt stung. "Is that all you have to say? Commenting my choice of words and their semantic appropriateness?"

"And yourself, did you take me to this place only to speak of vintage French wines and to complain about the lack of amenities?"

Touché. He couldn't deny, to himself at least, that he had postponed the promised talk with no sound reason, other than delaying the moment when they would have to consider the future and the inevitability of their parting away. He retorted; "I took you to this place because you asked me to grant you this first and last fishing party and you told me with some insistence the night had been stormy, something I had not noticed."

Bodie laughed. "You were hardly capable of noticing much of anything, I must remind you."

"You were in no better shape, may I point it out." This was dangerous ground, but he couldn't help digging. How far had he been conscious? How much did he remember?

Bodie was serious again. "When I woke up? I was stoned, I told you; even thought I had been drugged. And I guess it was the last link in a chain of events I am very curious to know about."

Cowley sighed. "There we go, sonny. First, refill my glass. I'm going to need it."

"Glad to oblige. Looks like I might need it too."

They drank, and the content of the bottle decreased fast, along with the waning light around them, while Cowley narrated a heavily sanitised version of the last two weeks' chronicle. Thinking back to it later, he was quite pleased with his creative adaptation. He had, of course, skipped most of the embarrassing episode of his accident in the woods and especially of its aftermath, glossed over the details of the odd "cure" done by Angus, carefully ignored the fights they had got through on the hills and ascribed the cause of the "incident on the boat" to the dog's exuberance. He shamelessly blamed the poor animal, bearing in mind that, if he could likely be confident in the canine witness' dumb cooperation, he had not the same certainty regarding Angus' silence.

Bodie listened to it attentively, not interrupting, not commenting much. All his scarce and fragmented memories were, it seemed, related to pleasant, harmless and not very significant events of their shared time in and around the lodge. Unconsciously (or was it willingly?) he had chosen to retain only the lighter and brighter sides of his Scottish sojourn. To Cowley's utter relief, even the hours that had elapsed since he had first regained consciousness on the small beach shortly before boarding, to his second awakening at some point in the night, remained, thankfully, either wrapped in mist or deeply sunk in a pit of oblivion (at which point the latter had occurred was still a source of worry though).

Meanwhile, there was a part of the story that couldn't be omitted, abridged or altered: the MI6 expedition. Cowley's report was accurate and thorough, barring its conclusion.

Bodie scoffed at his telling of the MI6 team's misaventures. "Poor blokes! Well, at least it's comforting to know I haven't got too soft while staying with you, under your debilitating influence."

Cowley scowled. "That's no joking matter, Bodie."

"Well, you just explained you had reached some sort of agreement with their chief officer."

"For a time only; it's a mere truce and we are getting close to the deadline." He didn't want to disclose the final outcome. Not yet.

"What's the deal?"

"Easy to guess: your freedom, under my protection, against true and valuable intelligence."

"So, back to Repton."

"In no way. You were alone in Repton; I am here and I'll stand by you, as I promised, but for that I need some bargaining chips."

"I see."

Bodie was staring at the dark spot where the empty bottle was lying on the ground. Dusk had given way to a starless night, erasing the last glimmer of sunset; Cowley could hardly see the young man's face in the clouded moonlight.

"I have no information to give."

"Come on! You don't even know what I'm going to ask; it's not necessarily about your last mission. Or anything recent."

"It wasn't in Repton either and you know that," Bodie cut, "You are Government, aren't you? And the British Government has certainly nothing to learn about the events in Katanga."

"Alright. It's not about Katanga. You worked, once, for the PLF, don't deny it. We have information enough on the main organisation, which is not that covert, but it's thought you were for a while in touch with a special unit, loosely connected to it and much more secret and efficient." Bodie remained silent. Cowley pursued. "There are still things to learn about them, especially about their supporters and providers in the UK."

"Sorry; it was long ago; I don't remember."

"Bodie! If you're trying to fool me ..."

"I'm not but I've nothing to say. I forgot." He snickered. "I forget all my past missions as soon as they're over. Forgetting is part of the deal, one of the main clauses of the contract."

"A clause that might get you more losses than gains."

"Yeah, that's called playing the game by the rules."

"Is the loss of your freedom counted among the stakes you take on?"

"My freedom, my life, ..." he shrugged.

Cowley wished he could see his eyes. "I bet freedom is a more crucial issue for the kind of man I think you are."

"Maybe. Does it matter? I have no choice."

"Good Lord! You have all the choices in the world! If only you would consider my offer."

"You don't understand."

"I can understand you wouldn't let down a friend, a partner, a fellow British man, but what on earth do you owe to foreign militants fighting for a cause that is totally alien to you ?"

"They paid me. I took their money."

Cowley kept silent for a while. Then he laughed softly. "Seems I have met a man of his word. How refreshing!"

Bodie made a move to get up. Cowley stopped him by laying a hand on his shoulder. "Quiet, laddie, don't be upset. There is no reason, really."

"Being threatened with prison, and laughed at in addition, sounds like a very good reason to me."

"Sorry for the quip, I couldn't help it, after hearing your solemn utterance, but I never intended to threaten you."

"No? So, what were you doing?"

"Having a little fun, I must admit."

"Fun? And what about that MI6 operation, which was "no joke?"

"It's over, Bodie; it's all over! Our clever Israeli friends and allies managed to find out the information they needed all on their own. MI6 cancelled the op."

Bodie stood up, looming over him. "You knew it the whole time!"

"Well, yes, of course I did, though not for a long time; Angus told me so early this morning. Remember Angus?"

"No. And I don't care. What game are you playing?"

Cowley sighed."I'm not playing."

"No you aren't, I agree: you are testing me." Bodie's voice was vibrating with anger.

Cowley got up briskly. He stood in front of him, close enough to see the flaring nose and the jet black pupils, made wider by grief and darkness. "Yes", he answered, "and you passed the test with flying colours."

"That was a dangerous move," Bodie hissed, "I could have knocked you out and escaped with your car and your gun, not to mention your money."

"Assuming you found them. Seriously, Bodie, I know what I'm doing."

"Making a stupid gamble?"

He withstood the defiant gaze. "If I hadn't been able to assess men rightly, in much worse circumstances, I wouldn't be speaking to you at this moment."

The man's bearing had imperceptibly drifted from threatening to wary."What are you expecting from me?"

"More than you could guess, Bodie."

"Still?"

"You'll know in time. Sit down."

Bodie chortled derisively but obeyed. "You are so sure you'll keep me at heel, ready to run at your whistle!"

"No. But I take you for a smart lad, able to discern his best interests, that is, my protection and my support, which are not to be disdained."

"And what if I choose to be free?"

"You are free from me, Bodie, as free as you want, but still in a difficult position; You won't be arrested tomorrow, at least not for the charges you were investigated about (unless our MI6 pals change their mind, which is in no way inconceivable) but your legal status is uncertain, to say the least, and you have no steady source of income any more."

"I'll manage, as I always have."

"I have a hunch you don't wish to go back to your former way of living, am I wrong?"

Bodie didn't reply but Cowley wasn't really expecting an answer. They remained both silent for a while. An owl hooted softly in the nearby woods. He lit his flashlight.

"Let's go, it's very dark now." &

Later, at night, they were sitting in front of the fireplace, watching the merry dance of flames in the hearth. Leaping and hopping desultorily through the intertwined dried twigs disposed over the logs, they created in the dim space a vivid show of strange moving forms and reddish glowing shades. The scent of burning heather and fern filled the room, bringing with it memories of so many faces and voices of days gone by.

"Am I really free?" Bodie asked abruptly, drawing Cowley from his reverie.

"You are," he asserted, with more certainty than he felt.

"Can I leave?"

"Do you want to?"

"Not before we had our fishing party!"

"Good! Now I recognize my Bodie."

The near-endearment, which had surprised himself as he uttered it, was lost on the young man.

"However, at the moment, I am still totally dependent on you, am I not?"

"In a way, yes, but ..."

"In all possible ways, I reckon." Bodie corrected: "I'm totally penniless, I couldn't even buy you a cup of coffee; all the money I own is abroad and I can't get it without my passport, which must be now in the ebony hands of my charming hostess in Kolwezi." He smiled ; "Though she probably has sold it already to cover my bills. Good for her. It didn't bear my real name anyway."

Cowley sighed. "No doubt we'll have first to settle your legal status in this country; it won't be that easy but I think I can do it."

"Yes, you told me so: in exchange of valuable intelligence."

"Bodie, don't use my own words against me, please; you don't need to fight me: I am the only one who is willing and able to help you."

"With nothing in return?"

He was stung and fought anger. "Don't make me regret my goodwill, I could still change my mind!".

Actually no, he thought bitterly, I can't. The simple fact that I have rescued you from MI6, given you a shelter for more than two weeks and defended you against a perfectly legit operation has already compromised me to such a point that I can't completely sever my interests from yours. But he didn't say anything of it.

Bodie's tone mellowed somehow. "So, you won't request information from me anymore, right?"

Cowley breathed deeply. "If you mean basic information about your identity, family background and past occupations, yes, I confirm it's necessary you'd provide it if you wish to retrieve your passport, the real one, that is, and to be granted a clean sheet for a new start, whatever it will be."

Bodie rose abruptly and went to the window, where he stood for a minute, leaning against the dark panels. Then he came back to his chair but did not sit down.

"It might be done, if I don't have to answer questions about anybody else but me."

"That will be a good starting point for, if I have been able to gather some information about the dubious activities of a certain Bodie-just-Bodie abroad, I still don't know who this Bodie is, so far.

"I will provide a birth certificate, no problem."

"There will be a problem to get it if you can't prove your identity first. Have you still living relatives to vouch for you?"

"I don't know." The room temperature seemed to have dropped several degrees. Cowley didn't insist.

"We'll find a way." He scolded: "Bodie, sit down! You make me dizzy looking up at you like that."

Bodie obeyed as he had done earlier. Cowley repressed a smile. There was an unsubtle but deep satisfaction to be found at watching the young man unthinkingly yielding to his ascendancy. But Bodie's compliance had its limits.

"I want to make very clear I won't disclose any name or whereabouts concerning my former fellowmen or associates."

"This I've figured already," Cowley stated with a mild irony. "As it happens, none of your, er, acolytes, seems to be of any interest to the powers that be any longer."

Bodie looked surprised. " Regarding the Katanga op, yes, I understand; I was hardly questioned about it anyway and they seemed to know more than I did myself, but what about that PLF business you mentioned?"

"The same. The current case was solved by Mossad without our contribution. And your old partner has nothing to fear; he was not involved this time."

Bodie corrected: "My associate. What do you know about him?"

"Nothing but his existence. And I won't ask more from you."

"For the moment."

"No. You have my word." He bore his gaze in Bodie's eyes with a piercing intensity. "It's him you tried to protect, isn't it?

Bodie squirmed a bit. "Among others. Well, yes, mostly." He explained "I owed him one."

"Indeed, that's loyalty!" Seeing Bodie cringe, he hasted to add: "I wasn't ironic; it's not a thing I would dismiss in a man, not even an enemy and you are not one." Though I would be hard pressed to tell what you are to me exactly, he thought.

Bodie answered the question that hadn't been voiced. "Not a friend either, since we're not on equal terms, but you rescued me, I'm your guest, so I'm certainly in your debt, as for now."

Cowley's smiled: "Then, it appears you've traded a debt for another one eventually."

"Seems so." Bodie smiled back: "How do you intend to make me pay it off?"

"I don't know yet precisely. It's too soon. But have no doubt: the time will come!"

"I don't see how I can be useful to you."

"Not at the moment, but once your situation is cleared … We'll see."

"Meanwhile, I am more a burden to you than any help; and I'm afraid I'm going to become still more in debt with you very soon."

"Uh?"

"Well, as I said, I haven't two ha'pennies to rub together in my pocket and that pocket is not even mine. As long as I haven't got a passport and a plane ticket to Geneva, I am very sorry, but I will be obliged to borrow some cash from you."

"Oh, that? I can lend you some, of course. And, please, spare me those bad jokes about mean Scots with tight purses, it's getting old."

"I wouldn't dare, but it might be more than you imagine: The whole process to recover valid documents may be long and what am I supposed to do in the meantime: sleep in the streets?"

Indeed. Cowley had not thought of it before and he cursed himself for this lack of common sense, his only excuse being the continuous onset of more immediate and serious threats amid his latter preoccupations.

"I assumed you wouldn't ask for the Ritz and would content yourself with some cheap lodging."

"In London? Not in the far away suburbs, which would be most inconvenient to follow the necessary procedures? Nothing is cheap in the centre, aside from filthy hovels in the docks, where no decent bloke would lay a foot. No; I had another idea, that would not come at too big a cost to you."

"Which is?"

"Well, I thought, maybe you could accept to have me at your place for a while; I guess you must have a spare room?"

Nooooh! An inner voice shouted. No way. Out of the question!

"Yes" he said.

Bodie's eyes lit up. "Wonderful! You're really an old darling!" Ignoring the shocked look on Cowley's face, he continued: "Now I see there is something I really must tell you."

"What?"

"Thanks!" And he hugged him.