The next day the weather was favourable and they had their long-awaited fishing party. They started early. Cowley drove the boat to that part of the loch where he knew the catch could be abundant. The wide expanse of water was shining a deep ultramarine blue under a glorious cloudless sky. Bodie seemed to enjoy himself immensely and Cowley enjoyed watching Bodie enjoying himself. Forgetting to watch his own line, he couldn't help staring at the man in front of him, who stood very upright between the water and the skyline with a silver fish wriggling in his raised hand, proud and laughing like a child. As he was thus erect, half-drenched and bathed in the morning light, tall, and strong, and bright, he was stunning. Cowley swallowed dry. Suddenly the weight of his promise to Bodie overwhelmed him. On the road ahead he saw days, weeks (he refused to think months) of forced cohabitation with the man who meant the greatest temptation and the worst danger he had ever met. God help me, what am I to do?
Everything possible to hasten the outcome. Bodie's legal situation had to be put in order, and quickly. He should consult with Angus very soon to start the process. Sure, he himself didn't lack the clout to achieve that purpose but, at least as a first resort, he hesitated to compromise, for a personal favour, the political support he would so vitally need later for a much more important project. Angus, on the other hand, could activate, without risking anything, all the levers of his obscure but efficient network. Whose members, furthermore, could take some interest in the man's various skills and talents.
He turned to his companion: "What have we got, so far?"
Bodie checked in the container: "Two arctic chars, a rainbow trout, a big perch, a small pike and four other fish I don't know."
"Whitefish" said Cowley, "They are only found here." He clicked his tongue in satisfaction. "That's pretty good really, I've never caught half as much in three hours; beginner's luck I guess."
"I'm not a beginner!" protested Bodie.
"Here, you are so. A new fresh face in that place," he quipped; "maybe you should thank the Kelpie for his welcome gift."
"Kelpies? Are they supposed to help fishermen?"
"Frankly, I know very little about these fairy creatures, except their names and their aquatic abodes. You should ask Angus. He's the pagan one in the family."
"I am fairly pagan myself, if anything."
"Fine. You'll soon have plenty of opportunities to share your personal world-views, for we are going to pay him a visit at the farm. We've just enough time for a quick lunch and a shower; our catch will make Martha happy and we'll get a formidable fish pie for dinner in return. Let's go now!"
And so they did. Bodie did not feign not to recognize Angus. He played with Rover and Rascal, petted the cat, flirted with Martha, admired the rose bushes, then in full bloom, and praised the gardener, to Bart's utter delight. Within the hour all but Angus were smitten. To the point that Martha let him into her kitchen and allowed him to help her with the fish.
In the meantime, Cowley and Angus had a talk.
"What's going on with MI6? Any news? Have they closed the file for good?"
"No file is ever closed for good by the services, as you should be the first to know but, yes, they dropped the case for the foreseeable future. I had a few words with Willis in the morning and he confirmed: Mossad has the situation well under control, and that includes the man they so much wanted at the beginning. Actually, they positively asked us to shun all interference from now on."
"I'm surprised Willis was so talkative."
"Well, there is some interpretation on my part but I'm pretty certain I'm not wrong. You see: the man is trying to mask his failure from his masters and he needs our silence."
Cowley had a sharp laugh. "It's fortunate for him that none of his men got anything but bruises from their encounter with Bodie."
"I was indeed impressed." There was a noticeable warming in Angus' voice.
Well, a window of opportunity. "So was I, cousin, so was I. Would be a pity to waste such talents."
"I agree the lad has a high potential. I can think of a few people who would be only too pleased to have him on their team. After a thorough training, of course."
"I was hoping you would say that but there's a problem. Are you aware the man has no identity in the UK?"
"It can be solved."
"Angus, you can be quite irritating when you state the obvious. Yes, it can be done, through weeks of plodding through Westminster corridors, pleading with clerks and hacking tons of paperwork."
"How pessimistic! There are shortcuts."
"Yes, political ones. I won't lie to you; I have them, but to use them now for something that could look to some like serving personal interests would be untimely and highly unsuitable."
Angus had a knowing smile. "I see. So, you're that advanced … Congratulations, cousin!"
In spite of his long acquaintance with the old man's cunning, Cowley was astonished. Angus was informed of his project? He had never said a word about it to him. Well, not explicitly at least. Prudently, he abstained from commenting and got back to topic: "I am curious to know what your shortcuts are, if you have any."
Angus remained silent for a minute, stroking a non-existent beard. "I might have." He added silkily: "My contacts may not be at the highest political level but probably closer to the filing cabinets."
"Aren't you contacts a little outdated?"
"Cousin, you offend me. I make sure I stay in touch. And I do not allow my contacts to forget me."
At that Cowley laughed frankly. "I trust you entirely for that!"
"You can. The more so since many of them are buyers or users of my herb teas and potions."
"Better for them than for me," Cowley thought.
Angus pursued. "Note that would not exempt us from providing the required documents; everything must be regular, but it will speed up the process greatly."
And, besides, coming from you, the request would not be seen (as much) like a call for a personal favour to me. As so often Angus surprised him by answering a question he had not asked. "By the way, I won't mention your name, though I reckon you've done enough already to be associated with our young guest."
"I'm afraid so, yes." (and more than you can guess, Angus).
"Well, let's hope the communication between services is still as bad as it was when I was on duty."
Cowley's predictions had not been disproved. Martha's fish pie was huge, gorgeous to see and mouth-wateringly odoriferous. Must have been scrumptious too for Bodie refilled his plate three times.
"Maybe you should have used all the fish," Bart said gruffly. He was seated at the table with the guests while his wife was serving.
"I fished it" Bodie protested, "and I helped in the kitchen."
"I take it as a compliment for the cook, " Martha commented serenely.
Cowley seconded her: "Bodie's a big boy; still growing!"
"Save a little room for the cake," Angus advised. And he helped himself a second serving.
As the three of them were sitting in the lounge for the port (which Cowley hated), Angus brought up the topic that everyone was waiting for.
"Now that we are fed, back to business, folks. I've got news for you: before the meal, while you were strolling idly by the stream, I made a few calls; rather positive, I think. However, there are things that cannot be dealt with properly from afar or by phone. Sorry George, but I may have to stay at your place for about a week to make some necessary appointments.
Cowley's gaze shifted to Bodie's face, which showed the same discomfort that he felt himself. "When?" He hoped he wasn't visibly fretting.
"Not tomorrow or the next day; it would have been convenient for me to leave with you in the same car, even if I had to come back by train, but I have things that keep me here at the moment. Next week? We must not dither."
There was no way he could defer the embarrassment. "Well, Angus, I am delighted I have this opportunity to return your kind hospitality but I am afraid we are to be a little, er, cramped together: the fact is, I promised Bodie I would lend him the spare room for the duration of the administrative procedure. To make his moves through London easier. That is, given the cost of renting in the centre and considering the lad has no money available in the U.K.: he has it stashed abroad ..." Did he sound as babbling as he feared he was? Angus, for once, spared him. Almost.
"Oh, yes, I understand. But there's Robbie's flat. You know; he rents it when he's at sea. Of course, if it's to help you it will be free."
"Another one of your innumerable cousins?" Bodie asked.
"My grandson, the third one, Angus replied, and an officer in the Royal Navy, as I was." He turned to Cowley; "I am pretty certain I told you so last time we met in London, remember? It was last year, when I came for the concert season and I was staying with him. Why didn't you think of it first?"
"Yes, indeed, why?" thought Cowley. "Just forgot. And, by the way, isn't he to get married soon?"
"He is. But the wedding is set for September and they are not cohabiting. Let's hope everything will be settled then." He leaned back in his armchair and looked at Cowley curiously. "You're slipping, cousin. I was right, thinking you needed that potion of mine."
"Assuredly not," Cowley prompted hotly. "Your poison made me bloody sick. Anyway, I may use the settee in the living room; I do it sometimes when my leg gives me trouble."
"You're joking. I'll stay at Robbie's flat, of course. No problem. Simply, being in the same place would have been more practical to share information and plan our moves." He flashed a glance to Bodie. "And, speaking of planning ..."
Yes, there were names to be let out, which Bodie didn't need to know. Cowley waved towards the door and Bodie got up.
"OK. I'm out with the dogs; They have no secrets and they like me!"
Angus smiled. "Quick on the uptake, isn't he, eh?"
"And you just noticed today?"
"Why do you think I was so easily convinced to help you in that affair? Out of affection? To honour the family bond?"
"Something of the sort." Cowley's tone was slightly ironical.
"George, George, you know me better than that!" He went on, more seriously: "Well, yes, but not only: I reckon the man has a great potential. Muscle is common, brain is not too rare, but brawn with brain is a precious match, indeed. Must not be wasted."
Cowley frowned. "Angus, what have you in mind exactly? Not have him recruited by your old pals, I hope?"
Angus looked somehow sheepish. "Well, why not? Needless to say, MI6 is totally excluded and MI5 is more your field, but there are other possibilities." He frowned" And, by the way, isn't it what you said you wished, only a few hours ago?"
"But not now! That would be highly premature. The lad is not ready for it; he must learn discipline and needs a time of readjustment."
"So what? Army? Navy?"
"Maybe. We'll see. He has to have his say in it, don't you think? Anyway, the question is not relevant, yet. We have to regularise his legal status in the country first; isn't it what we were meant to discuss?"
They talked. Angus complained that Cowley's objections would make the job harder; if his "old pals" didn't have the prospect of getting a promising young agent in sight, with only some extra training to set up, they would be much less enticed to help with the papers. On the other hand, they would have asked for a thorough investigation of the candidate's past as well as, probably, for a long stage of probation. Eventually, he agreed that resorting to his ordinary acquaintances in the Home Office would be more expedient as a first move. He would then activate what Cowley called, with some admiration, "Angus' little private free-masonry" (which, besides, coincided more or less with the real thing). He still would maintain the appointments he had earlier envisaged, for possible further developments. If Cowley had other projects, he abstained from disclosing them.
Back to the lodge, they packed; meaning, Cowley repacked his suitcase, the one he had had the good fortune to find, forgotten in his car trunk, when he had decided, on the spur of the moment, to take Bodie with him and drive to Scotland. Bodie, who had left Africa naked (barring a loincloth), had nothing of his own, if one excepts the second-hand suit and shirt he had been given by a nice soul in the military hospital. They came from a charity shop and it showed. Cowley eyed them critically.
"Leave these rags here and take some of those old clothes of Angus' you've been wearing the last couple of weeks; they're your size, and in much better condition. Only sportswear though; we'll make sure we buy more suitable ones in London."
Bodie bristled. "I don't want to be still more in debt with you or Angus. Not joking now; your hosting me at your place is good enough, thanks."
"You won't have much choice in that respect, I'm afraid," Cowley stated, "You must look respectable to present yourself to the authorities." He shrugged: "As for these relics, Angus leaves them here for occasional guests from his fishing club, in case they'd need a change. Otherwise, he's no use for them and they're not Bart's size." (Neither mine, he thought sourly; it has never felt good to be the short and scrawny one in a family of tall and strong men).
Bodie didn't insist but promised: "I will repay you as soon as possible."
"I should hope so!" There was no doubt about it. Bodie was the type of man who would always pay his debts whatever the cost, and this reached far beyond the matter of money paybacks. Maybe, maybe, if everything went wrong in the end, if Angus and he both failed and Bodie vanished in the night, this thin bond between them would bear the only chance they would see each other again, somewhere in the world, for a last farewell.
He shook his head, ashamed of this sudden bout of romantic fantasy. Angus is right; I'm really slipping."
"Before this talk of repaying me, think about the means to do so: what kind of job would you look for when you are allowed to?" Then, as Bodie seemed to hesitate: "And, no more 'I'll manage' with me, please."
"I'll take what I'm offered; not much choice in that either."
Cowley scoffed at that. "Humility is a noble Christian virtue but you're a pagan; it doesn't suit you." He added: "As for me, who is not, I'll stick to the parable of talents. You must have heard of it? No? What are your talents?"
"You know what they are."
"Yes; I do know. I was shown a fairly wide range of your skills, some at my expense."
"I should be the one complaining: you hit me twice!"
And Angus once. Cowley noticed but omitted to point out the oddity of the comment. No doubt Bodie would have replied it was one of the things he happened to remember. Anyway, It seemed like a moot point now, at this stage of their relations. Yet, with one exception that Cowley didn't really want to clarify, the more so since he couldn't tell himself if it was about a true memory or a deceivingly vivid dream; he strongly wished it was the latter.
"I had to. You certainly know how to fight. Like a professional, I would say."
"Well, every man has to make a living for himself."
"Tell me: Am I wrong if I surmise you don't especially want to go back to your previous way of life?" He peered through the dusky blue eyes looking at him quizzically.
"Are you making me an offer?"
"Yes and no. Not at this moment. Maybe later; depends on a lot of things."
"I can't live on hope."
"I wouldn't expect it. Have you ever thought of joining the army?"
"What army? The Legion?"
"Good Heavens, no! What could have given you that idea?"
"Well, it's not too hard to be accepted without an ID if you have the physical abilities and are not too much of a mental case."
"I have been told it has become a little more difficult lately, but no; just drop it!"
He considered the young man thoughtfully. As unusual and awkward it was for him to disclose his intentions, some explanation was required. "Since we met, I assured you several times I had the capacity to reintegrate you into mainstream society with a clean record and I did not lie to you; I do have it. However, I am currently working on a project that makes any request of favour on my part as untimely as it is improper. So I can't do it now. But Angus can and will do it.
Bodie pulled a face: "There is no love lost between me and the Navy; honestly, I'd rather not go back to sea, although my experience of it is old and related to the Merchant Navy.
Cowley smiled: "Angus is Navy, yes, but his personal network of influence reaches far beyond, including the Army and the Home Office bureaucracy. We can rely on him in that regard: He'll manage to find you the right job in the right place." Perhaps he was as much encouraging himself as Bodie by saying this but he felt deeply in his guts that at the moment it was what the other needed to hear.
Bodie's mood seemed to be improving by the second. "Even the Air Force?" he asked, hopefully.
"Why not? We'll see."
The lad was now beaming, like a child who had just been promised his most coveted toy for Christmas. "I always dreamed of flying," he said.
Later that night, they were sitting for the last time in front of the fireplace, enjoying a quiet pause while talking about the next day's trip and the arrangements for their planned cohabitation.
"I don't intend to make stops tomorrow, or no more than one or two short ones for the usual reasons. I reckon the sandwiches you've made will be enough for the journey."
"More than enough. We have a lot of leftovers."
"Speaking of leftovers, what happened to the two remaining beer cans that were in the fridge?"
Bodie's look bore a striking resemblance with the mien of a guilty pup.
"Gone."
"Gone? Where?"
"Don't ask. It was hot this morning after fishing."
Obviously, scowling and growling had no power to magically conjure up a glass of nicely cooled beer, so Cowley contented himself with a frown and a scolding.
"I only hope you'll behave in a notably better manner in London as my guest than you do here!"
"Yes Sir, sorry Sir."
"Enough with the cheek, Bodie. I am thirsty. A cup of tea will do. Make yourself useful."
A few minutes later, Bodie came back with two steaming cups of tea or, at least, what Cowley thought was tea. Bodie's grin should have alerted him but he was distracted by his thoughts about the prospect of the plights awaiting him in the near future. And also, maybe, the strong smell of green pine needles crackling and fuming in the hearth had somehow masked the unusual scent of the beverage. But, after a wait to let the hot liquid cool down, he swallowed a large gulp from his cup. And startled. He shouted:
"Bodie! What is this?"
"Eh? The herb tea, of course."
"How dare you? I asked you for tea: the ordinary stuff! Do you speak English? Should I have said it in Latin: 'Camelia Sinensis'?"
"I don't speak Latin; you asked for tea, yes, but there was none. I told you yesterday morning we had only one or two spoonfuls left. We drank all of it since."
"And this was a reason for bringing me this poison?"
"There was nothing else and it's not a poison; I even like it; the taste is rather pleasant when you're used to it and it makes me feel good."
"It makes me feel sick and it disturbs my sleep."
"I didn't notice."
"What! What are you talking about?"
"Well, about the night we slept together, remember? You were drunk and I was stoned but it was quite nice. Don't you think so?"
A heavy silence fell. Cowley sensed that the slightest uncautious move or word could break the fragile bond they had managed to build, with no repair. Bodie might have sensed it too for he went on innocently. "You weren't sick or restless; I'd have noticed as we shared the same bed. We both slept well."
Cowley chose not to dwell on this deadly pitfall. Some things cannot be unseen or unheard but at least should remain unvoiced, unacknowledged and consigned to oblivion in the uncharted territories of the mind.
He then realised that in his confusion he had unthinkingly swallowed another gulp of the damned potion, the familiar gesture a simple way to maintain composure and to keep his hands busy as he was contemplating the abyss open at his feet. As a matter of fact, it wasn't that bad though tangy and excessively spicy.
"So, you see; I wasn't trying to poison you!" Bodie was sipping his "tea" with obvious relish. The tension between them was quickly abating. "I meant no harm."
"Mmm, I want to believe you," Cowley smiled, intentionally speaking in a light tone, "but can I trust you?" He sought the eyes of his companion, looking for a glimmer of understanding.
Suddenly he no longer wanted to pretend. Bodie was staring back at him, with utter gravity. "You must. Because I always trusted you."
The End