Doyle sat at one of the tables in the cooking classroom, assembling a dish from the southwestern United States called a burrito. The instructor had told them to start with a flat thing that looked like a floppy pizza crust and was called a tortilla, and the curly-haired man had shot up his hand. "I don't know where to buy this. I've never seen it in the grocery."

The instructor smiled. "I'll give you the name of the store that carries it, but you don't have to use a tortilla. You can just pile everything on a plate. The base is rice and beans, and you can use any kind of protein you like, ground beef or chicken or even seafood."

"What about vegetables?" asked another student.

"Any kind of vegetables will work," answered the instructor. "This is a traditional burrito with salsa, avocado, sour cream, and cilantro, but you can use your favorite vegetables. I personally like to add corn, but I wouldn't recommend creamed corn."

"Or mushy peas?" asked Doyle with a wide smile.

The instructor chuckled. "Or mushy peas," she said, "although you should use your imagination. Create your own unique recipe."

Unique recipe. Doyle found himself thinking about Bodie's unique recipe for brussel sprouts.

"Bodie?"

"Yes?"

"You said you were going to fix some vegetables." Doyle looked disapprovingly at the platter his partner had just set on the table.

Bodie looked wounded. "This is my brussel sprouts recipe."

Doyle took a deep breath. "Explain how you made this."

His partner sat across from him. "I took a brussel sprout…"

"One brussel sprout?"

"One very large brussel sprout," Bodie nodded. "I cut it up into very small pieces and then I cooked it with a pound of bacon."

Remembering, Doyle laughed out loud so infectiously that a couple of other students laughed with him. Even the instructor was giggling as she was called to the door, then came back to say, "Mr Doyle, there's someone here for you."

Still with a grin on his face, Doyle went out the door to find a tall stranger in the corridor. "You wanted me?"

"Doyle? Ray Doyle, CI5?"

"That's right." The curly-haired man stopped smiling. "How can I help you?"

"It's how I can help you, Mr Doyle." Now the stranger was smiling. "My name is Taggert, and I can return Mr Bodie to you."

Doyle felt a chill. "What about Bodie?"

Taggert went to a phone down the corridor and dialed a number, beckoning to Doyle. The CI5 officer walked over and stood waiting until Taggert's call was answered and he said, "Put him on." He offered the receiver to Doyle. "Talk to your friend."

Doyle took the receiver and heard nothing. "Bodie?" He handed it back. "Nobody's there."

Taggert's jaw tightened and he held the receiver so Doyle could hear as well. "I said put him on!"

"I did," said a male voice at the other end. "He won't talk." There was a sound of blows, a grunt of pain, then the same obstinate silence.

"Hold the receiver for him." Taggert took out a snub-nosed revolver and held it on Doyle. "Mr Bodie? I have a gun. If you do not speak to your friend, I'm going to put a bullet in his head."

Almost immediately Doyle heard Bodie. "Ray? Ray!"

Taggert spoke into the phone. "Thank you, Mr Bodie. You should be released soon." He hung up the phone and put the gun away.

He was a big man and Doyle was on the thin side, so it was a shock when the CI5 officer grabbed him by the throat. "If anything happens to Bodie, you'll never be dead enough."

"We don't want to hurt either of you," Taggert gasped. "We just want you to do something for us."

Doyle slammed Taggert's head into the wall, then dropped his hands and stepped back, watching coldly as the man slid to the floor. "I'm not doing anything for you."

Taggert got shakily to his feet. "Then Mr Bodie will die. It's your choice."