Professionals
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- 4 -
That evening, Cowley went over to see Al Parker the CI5 psychiatrist who was in charge of Doyle’s case.
Al Parker raised an eyebrow when he was told that George Cowley was here to see him. It wasn’t often that their chief made personal visits, and this was his second visit in less than twenty four hours.
He went to meet him and took him through to his office.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been back in touch,” he said apologetically, “but we haven’t finished our evaluations yet. I was hoping to be able to give you a report tomorrow.”
“That’s alright.” Cowley dismissed his apology, “I just thought I’d come over to see how things were going.”
Parker sighed. “Well, we held back on any medication until the sedative had worn off, because we wanted to see how he would react once it was out of his system.” He frowned, “He was very belligerent, demanding that we release him from the restraints, becoming violent, when we refused, and kicking one of my men in the stomach, so we had to restrain his legs too, at which point he became extremely agitated and it was impossible to have a rational conversation with him, so we had to sedate him again.”
“It’s been difficult.” Parker continued, “He had so much adrenalin pumping through him it was counteracting the sedative. We managed to calm him eventually, but it took enough medication to knock out an elephant. Now, we’re reducing the strength of the medication until we reach a point where he can talk, rationally, without getting hysterical. Hopefully, that will be later tonight or early tomorrow. Then, we can begin to evaluate his emotional condition.”
Cowley nodded. “I’d like to look in on him, if I may?”
Parker nodded. Cowley knew the rules, he himself had made them – and, as chief, he was also entitled to break them. He led the way to the room Doyle had been allocated and opened the door, standing aside for Cowley to precede him into the room.
Cowley approached the bed and looked worriedly down at Doyle. His wrists and ankles were secured by leather straps, and a needle was taped to the back of his hand, that linked up to a drip which fed a continuous level of medication into his body. He was hooked up to a monitor that displayed his heart rate, blood pressure and respiratory levels. His half closed eyes were glazed and, from the corner of his parted lips, a thread of saliva tricked.
A dark shadow of stubble covered his jaw and Cowley noticed a bruise on his right cheek, which he assumed Doyle had sustained during the struggle to disarm him the previous night.
“Doyle,” Cowley called, “Doyle, can you hear me?”
Cowley’s voice came to Doyle like an echo down a long tunnel. He tried to turn his head in the direction of he sound, but it felt so heavy even turning it a few inches took superhuman effort.
“Doyle?” Cowley called again, putting a hand on his shoulder.
Doyle rolled his head a few inches in Cowley’s direction and blinked, trying to focus, as two overlapping images of a sandy haired man appeared in his line of vision. There was something familiar about the images, but he couldn’t think what. The lips of the twin images were moving, but it was an age before the words floated into his head.
“Doyle, can you hear me?” Each word echoed through his head, over and over, until they all jumbled together in an incomprehensible cacophony of sound that threatened to blow his brain apart. His fists clenched as he tried to lift his hands to cover his ears to block out the sounds as Cowly continued, “If you can understand me, we’re going to take care of everything. You just relax and hang in there.” the jumbled words hitting his drug fuddled brain like a sledgehammer.
He licked his lips and was sure he’d screamed at Cowley to shut up, before his head exploded, but, while his lips moved vaguely, he made no audible sound. The echo of several jumbled voices came to him from a distance as Cowley and Al Parker discussed Doyle’s condition a few feet away.
“Can he understand me?” Cowley asked.
“He can hear you. Whether he can understand you, I’m not sure. With the amount of medication we’ve had to give him, I’d have said it was doubtful, but he did seem to be trying to make a response of some sort when you spoke to him.”
Cowley sighed. “Let me have your evaluation as soon as you can.” he told Parker.
“Yes, sir.”
With a last concerned glance at Doyle, Cowley bid Parker goodnight and went home, tired, from the effects of the gunshot wound and his lack of sleep the previous night, and despite his concern for Doyle, and for Bodie, was asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.
By the next morning, Doyle was lucid enough for Al Parker to begin his evaluation.
He questioned Doyle extensively, about his work with CI5, and previously, with the Met, about his relationships, with Cowley, and Bodie, other colleagues and friends, and a host of other topics, which seemed irrelevant but were designed to reveal a person’s innermost feelings. Feelings that they themselves might be unaware of, or deliberately trying to conceal.
In Doyle’s case, his powers of reasoning had been subdued to such a degree, by the medication he was on, that he was unable to lie even if he wanted to.
Al Parker’s report arrived at Cowley’s office by special courier at six pm that evening.
Cowley sat reading it with a deepening frown. It stated that, on a subconscious level, Doyle had been storing up grief and bitterness ever since the death of his partner, while still in the Met, for which he still considered himself to blame. Those feelings had been compounded after Marianne’s murder, and, subconsciously, he’d laid the blame for both deaths on CI5, as the focal point for his anger against the legal establishment. Julia’s murder had brought forward all these subconscious feelings, to combine with his conscious feelings of anger, not only at her death, but with CI5 for being, as he saw, the reason she’d been killed which, combined with his grief at losing the woman he loved, had caused a complete emotional breakdown and driven him to seek revenge, not only for Julia, but also for himself, for what doing ‘the job’ had cost him over the years.
He had, the report continued, a lot of hatred stored up for the organisation, even for Cowley himself, as it’s chief, although Doyle himself was not consciously aware of it. But, comments he’d made, about hating the lack of privacy they had to endure, and about being sick of trying to clean up the never ending stream of filth from the streets, only for it all to be back again in a few months, were a conscious reflection of that subconscious hatred.
Al Parker went on to say that it was too soon to speculate on the odds of Doyle making a full recovery, but that any recovery would take a considerable time, months rather than weeks, and because facing up to everything that Parker had uncovered was liable to be an extremely traumatic experience that would, in the early days, totally destroy his belief in everything he thought himself to be, that he should be institutionalised for his own protection.
Cowley finished reading the report and then slumped back in his chair, taking off his glasses and swinging them by one arm as he digested its contents. It wasn’t good news but was no less than he’d expected. The problem was, how to fill his place. They were stretched to the limit as it was, without having to be a man down for months. There weren’t even any new recruits due to come through that they could fall back on.
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* * *
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The next morning, Cowley went over to see Al Parker, to discuss Doyle’s case in more detail.
“It would seem like a long job then?” said Cowley, as Parker poured them some coffee.
Parker nodded. “Basically, we have to take him apart, and put him back together again, hopefully minus all the negative stuff.” He sighed, “It’ll be hard work, for us and for him. He doesn’t consciously realise he’s got all this hatred, and bitterness, and guilt in him, or what it drove him to do, and he’s not going to like himself very much when he does. It will lay his whole existence open to doubt. Everything he thinks he knows and believes will be put into question.”
“It sounds a very risky course of action to take, when someone is already emotionally unbalanced.” said Cowley.
Parker nodded. “Unfortunately, there’s no other way. Unless he learns what’s brought him to this breakdown, he can’t begin to deal with it and make a recovery. Some patients never make a full recovery, they’re just too… damaged… by whatever happened to them. But, in my opinion, Doyle is strong enough to deal with it, although it’ll take some time.”
He eyed Cowley before saying, “If Doyle is to have any chance of getting well enough to stay on the squad, I think we should go ahead. The decision, of course, is yours.”
“Mmm?” Cowley returned from his thoughts.
“Well, Doyle is in no fit state to make the decision, so, as his chief, it’s up to you.”
Cowley nodded, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“What concerns me,” he said presently, “is whose interests we would be acting in. Doyle’s, or ours - CI5’s that is?” He shook his head, “Doyle’s a good man, one of the best on the squad, and I don’t want to lose him, but I don’t want to say yes for that reason alone. We have to consider Doyle too. The treatment you describe sounds like absolute hell. What if Doyle really has had his fill of the job? I would hate to be responsible for putting him through it, if he doesn’t want to continue. He’d hate me even more then than he does already.”
“I don’t think it’s you, personally, that he hates.” said Parker, “It’s your position that he resents, because it’s where all the orders come from. The indications are that he likes and respects you very much, on a personal level.”
Cowley merely nodded.
“Is there no way he’ll recover on his own… if we just keep him on medication and give him some time?” he asked presently.
“How can he recover, when he doesn’t know the reasons that have brought him to this point?” said Parker. He shook his head, “Unless he faces up to the demons that have brought him to this crisis, and deals with them, he’ll never be able to function properly. It’s because he never dealt with his feelings about Bob Peters and Marianne Travers that he’s ended up in this state.” He sighed, “Even with treatment there are no guarantees of a full recovery, but, without it… he has no chance.”
Cowley looked grim.
“If it’s any help, all the indications are that Doyle enjoys the job and gets a great deal of satisfaction when a job reaches a successful conclusion. All this other stuff has got him confused, but I think that, deep down, he still believes in it and would want to continue.”
Cowley sighed. “Very well. We’ll go ahead with it. I’ll have a confirmation sent over to you later on today.”
Parker nodded.
“You said it would be a lengthy process.” said Cowley, “Can you give any indication of just how long?”
Parker shook his head. “Impossible to say, at this stage, but, not less than six months, maybe longer.”
Cowley grimaced. “That’s a long time to be a man short. I don’t know what I’m going to do with his partner.”
“Bodie?”
Cowley nodded. “Do you know him?”
“By reputation only.” replied Parker, “I gather he’s a bit of a character?”
“That’s putting it mildly.” said Cowley, a ghost of a smile touching the corners of his mouth, “Aye, he’s a character alright, a real hothead. He gets up a lot of people’s noses, but he’s a good man, one of the best. He and Doyle are a good team.”
Parker nodded. “Doyle cares about Bodie a good deal. Whatever psychological problems he has, don’t extend to him. Their relationship is one of the things he’s totally secure in. He trusts him implicitly.”
“It works both ways.” replied Cowley, “Bodie’s a real hard case, never cared about anything much, except guns and the army. He and Doyle are like chalk and cheese, but, at some deeper level, they connect. Doyle’s the only one who can control Bodie when he loses it, and I know Bodie would willingly give his life for him, without a moment’s hesitation, which, if you knew Bodie, you’d think was unthinkable. Of all my men, Bodie is a born survivor, a jungle animal. His instinct for self preservation is unrivalled.”
“He sounds a complex personality.”
“Very.” nodded Cowley. He smiled, suddenly, and looked ten years younger, “You’d love trying to analyse him.” he said, chortling to himself.
“Perhaps you should send him to see me?” said Parker, only half joking.
​
“Aye.” Cowley nodded, raising a quizzical eyebrow, “Next time he has a tantrum, I might just do that, although you’d probably need a psychiatrist yourself after trying to fathom out what goes on in that head.” He stood up, “Well, I must be going. You’re going to conduct the first stage of Doyle’s treatment here, right?”
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“Yes. For a month. Then, depending on how he’s progressing, we can decide if, and when, to transfer him to a private facility. I don’t think he should stay here the whole time. He needs to get away from this environment and mix with ordinary people, get his mind off work altogether.”
Cowley nodded. “I’d like regular reports on his progress – say twice a week?”
“Certainly.” said Parker
“And if you have any problems, I want you to contact me immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I suppose you don’t want me to see him?” Cowley asked now.
Parker smiled. “You made the rules.” he said.
“I know, but I’d like to check on him before I leave, since we won’t be seeing him again for a while. I’ll only stay a few minutes.”
“Very well, but don’t expect too much.” said Parker, “He’s too heavily sedated to make a lot of sense.”
They went down the corridor to Doyle’s room. Since Cowley’s last visit, fresh flowers had been placed on a cupboard by the window, and a T.V. set had appeared in the corner of the room. Cowley assumed it was more to give an impression of homeliness than for any practical use. He doubted Doyle would be in any condition for watching television for a while.
Doyle was sitting propped up against several pillows. His wrists were still in restraints, but they’d been lengthened to give him some freedom of movement. The heart monitor had disappeared, but he was still hooked up to the drip that was pumping a continuous flow of medication around his body. Cowley noticed that the lengths of the restraints just prevented him from reaching the needle and pulling it out of his hand. He looked a little more alert than when he’d come to see him previously, but it was obvious that his thought processes and reactions had been greatly subdued by the medication, so that he was only able to respond on the most basic of levels.
He showed no indication of noticing their entrance into the room, as he gazed vacantly out of the window.
They crossed to the bed and Parker put a hand on Doyle’s shoulder.
“Ray?” he said, softly.
After a moment, Doyle shifted his gaze towards him.
“O.K?” smiled Parker. After several seconds Doyle nodded.
“You have a visitor.” Parker indicated Cowley who now stepped forward, “You know who it is, don’t you?”
Doyle looked at Cowley with glazed eyes. Presently he gave a slow nod.
“Hello, Doyle.” smiled Cowley, “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see at the moment, but I jut wanted to tell you that we’re all thinking of you, and to hurry up and get well.”
“Well…” Doyle repeated, several seconds later, “Yes…” It was obvious that he didn’t really understand what Cowley was talking about.
“Bodie sends you his best. said Cowley, for the want of anything else to say.
“Bodie…” Doyle repeated presently. A brief image of himself and Bodie, struggling on the dockside came into his mind, but he had no conscious memory of the events leading up to it and so didn’t know what it meant.
“Is… he… alright?” he asked falteringly.
“He’s fine.” said Cowley, wondering what had prompted him to ask.
Doyle nodded vaguely.
“Well, I must go. You take care now, do you hear?” said Cowley.
Several seconds later, Doyle nodded. “Yeah.”
Cowley and Parker left the room.
“I’ll send you progress reports, as you requested.” Parker said, as they reached the front door.
“Thank you.” Cowley bid him farewell and left.
* * *
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It was two days before Cowley managed to give Bodie an update on Doyle’s progress – since the morning he’d yelled at him and his colleagues for arguing, and accused Bodie of letting Doyle down, Bodie had deliberately avoided any contact with him, still smarting over Cowley’s words even moreso because he knew they were true. But Cowley saw him and Taylor drive into the car pool on Wednesday evening and went downstairs to find him, before he disappeared.
“Bodie” he called, as he saw him heading towards the Operations Room.
“Sir?” Bodie stopped walking and looked at Cowley with a mixture of resentment, suspicion and curiosity.
“I’d like a word, in private.” said Cowley.
“Sir.” muttered Bodie, reluctantly following Cowley back to his office.
“How’s it going with Taylor?” Cowley asked, as he sat down behind his desk.
“Alright.” Bodie replied, non-commitally.
Working on the information they’d obtained from Mottola’s men, they were trying to track down, and smash, several drug rings. Six of CI5’s men were tailing some of the men that Mottola’s sidekicks had named as buyers, trying to find out who they were supplying the drugs to.
Cowley didn’t press further, but waved his hand to the chair on the opposite side of his desk.
“Sit down.” he told him, opening a file and taking out a sheet of paper. Bodie sat.
“This is the psychiatric report on Doyle’s condition.” Cowley handed him the report across the desk. Bodie took it.
Cowley sat, in silence, while he read it. As Bodie lowered the report Cowley said, “After a discussion with Al Parker, I’ve given permission for him to begin treatment on Doyle. It’s going to take at least six months, but there’s no guarantee that he’ll be fit enough to come back to the squad even then.”
Bodie looked shocked, but said nothing.
“I was a bit unsure about allowing the treatment.” Cowley continued, “Whether I would be acting in Doyle’s best interests, or ours? The treatment will be very traumatic and I don’t want to be responsible for putting him through it if he doesn’t want to stay with the squad.” He sighed, “But Al Parker thinks that, deep down, he would want to stay, and that we should proceed, not only to give him a chance of coming back to CI5, but for his own benefit. Without it, Parker says he’ll never completely get over what’s happened and it’ll hang over him for the rest of his life.” He looked at Bodie now, “What do you think?”
Bodie gave a deep sigh. “I think,” he began, thoughtfully, “if it’ll get rid of all his bitterness and anger… then… yes, he should go ahead.”
“Even though it’s going to tear him apart, destroy all his beliefs?”
Bodie thought for a moment.
“Yes.” he said, finally, “He couldn’t’ function with all that stuff in his head. Not just on the squad, but in her personal life too. However tough it might be, I think he has to do it.”
Cowley nodded, thoughtfully. It was what Parker had said.
“Have you seen him?” Bodie asked, suspecting that, despite the no visitors rule, Cowley would have insisted on seeing him.
Cowley nodded. “I saw him briefly on Monday morning, but he was too heavily sedated to make much sense.” He told Bodie of how he’d lashed out at the medics and had become so agitated that they’d had to pump a huge quantity of drugs into him in order to calm him down.
“He could barely put two words together when I saw him, but they’re planning to ease back on the medication over the next few days to a point where he can respond without getting agitated. Then they’ll start to confront him with their findings and try to work through his problems.”
Bodie nodded, his gaze somewhere beyond Cowley’s shoulder as he contemplated his words.
Cowley studied him momentarily, before saying, “Of course, it leaves a problem of where to assign you.”
Bodie’s gaze shifted back to Cowley’s face.
“Gaffney will be back in a few weeks.” said Cowley, “I don’t want you stuck in the office, but at the moment, I can’t see any other option.”
Bodie’s face said that he didn’t want to be stuck in the office either, but he said nothing.
“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” sighed Cowley, “In the meantime, carry on as you are.”
“Yes, sir.” said Bodie, getting to his feet. At the door he paused, “Thanks for showing me that.” he said, knowing that Doyle’s psychiatric report was classified and shouldn’t have been discussed with anyone except Cowley and Al Parker.
“I just wanted to keep you in the picture.” said Cowley, “Naturally, it’s just between us.”
Bodie’s expression softened slightly. He nodded.
“Thank you.” he said quietly, “Goodnight sir.”
“Goodnight.”
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