Professionals
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- 7 -
Doyle made good progress over the next couple of weeks, physically and mentally, almost seeming back to his old self other than for his refusal to talk about CI5 or his plans, if any, for the future.
Then, on Sunday morning, he failed to turn up at the gym where he’d arranged to meet Bodie for a workout before going out for a pub lunch.
Bodie finished his workout and then went round to Doyle’s house to check on him. His car was parked outside, but there was no response to Bodie’s knocks on the door. Bodie walked to the garage and tried to peer through the frosted windows. Doyle kept a motorbike, which he rode on occasion, when he had time, out into the country. Bodie couldn’t be sure, but it looked like the bike was missing.
With a sigh, Bodie got back into his car and drove home, wondering where Doyle had gone. It was only when he got home, and glanced at the date on the Sunday newspaper that he suddenly realised its significance. It was exactly a year, to the day, since Julia had been murdered.
Bodie bit his lip, anxiously, wondering if the memory had sent Doyle off the rails again. He contemplated whether or not to ring Cowley, but he hadn’t spoken to him since the day he’d failed the physical, and felt a bit awkward about calling him. He knew, too, that Cowley would give him hell if he told him he’d been seeing Doyle without telling him. Nor did Bodie want to break his promise to Doyle unless it was unavoidable, so, for an hour or so, Bodie rang Doyle’s house every half an hour, hoping for an answer. Then he had a sudden thought.
Going out to his car, he drove across the city to the cemetery where Julia had been buried.
Parking across the road, he entered the cemetery gates and tried to remember which direction they’d gone in on the day of the funeral.
He set off in what he thought was the right direction, trying to remember which way they’d turned at each path. Presently he spotted a motorbike parked in one of the pathways. As he got closer, he could see Doyle sitting on the grass by the side of Julia’s grave. He was wearing jeans and a leather biking jacket. Bodie noticed, with some irritation, that he didn’t have a crash helmet with him.
Doyle had his back to Bodie and didn’t hear him approach. Laid on top of the grave was a bunch of white lilies with a card from Doyle. In the vase were a bunch of flowers from her parents who had visited the grave earlier in the day.
Bodie walked around in front of Doyle and turned to face him. Doyle was staring blankly at the grave, lost in thought, tears damp on his cheeks.
“I thought I might find you here.” Bodie said quietly.
Doyle jumped, startled.
“Bodie.” he croaked.
“I was worried when you didn’t turn up at at the gym.” said Bodie.
Doyle sniffed. “I’m sorry… I should have called…” He trailed off, his gaze still fixed on the grave.
“No problem. Just as long as you’re O.K.” said Bodie.
Doyle said nothing. Bodie waited. Presently, Doyle drew in a trembling breath.
“I miss her.” he croaked.
Bodie nodded, sympathetically, but said nothing.
“We’d probably have been married by now…” Doyle shook his head, “I can’t believe it’s been a year…” He gave a tremulous sigh.
“Are you still… bitter?” Bodie ventured.
“Bitter?” Doyle grunted, cynically. “Of course I’m bitter… They killed an innocent girl… ruined my life… and her family’s…” he broke off momentarily, his voice shaking with emotion, “… and I’m not sorry I killed Gianni DiCaprio…” he continued presently, “but… I’ve realised that… revenge is… pointless… it doesn’t achieve anything…"He sighed, "I won’t be going after Mottola, you don’t have to worry about that… he got his just desserts.” Mottola had been sentenced to twenty years, with no early release, which would make him almost 60 years old when he got out.
Bodie gave a satisfied nod. Presently, he said, “We should go. It’s almost closing time.”
Doyle looked anguished, and Bodie could tell he didn’t want to leave the grave site.
Bodie stood up and bent to take hold of Doyle’s upper arm in order to encourage him to his feet. “Come on, Ray… you can come again… any time you want to.”
Doyle allowed himself to be pulled to his feet. He stood looking down at the grave, while Bodie waited for him to move. Finally, Doyle closed his eyes, as though in silent prayer, before finally turning away. Bodie followed him back to where his motorbike was parked.
“Want to come back to my place for a couple of beers?” Bodie enquired.
Doyle thought for a moment and then nodded, climbing onto the bike and kick starting it.
“Give me a lift back to the gate?” asked Bodie. “I’m parked outside.”
“Get on.” said Doyle.
Bodie climbed on the pillion, and Doyle rode back to the front gate before pulling up to let Bodie get off.
“See you there?” said Bodie
“O.K.” replied Doyle.
As he made to ride off, Bodie slapped his shoulder. “Hey!”
“What?” Doyle looked back at him.
“Where’s your helmet?” Bodie said reproachfully.
Doyle shrugged. “I didn’t think.”
Bodie tutted, good humouredly “And you an ex-cop!”
Doyle gave him a weak smile before riding off. Bodie ran across to his car and followed, arriving back at his flat a few minutes after him.
They went inside, and Bodie fetched them two beers. He studied Doyle, momentarily, wondering whether or not to risk saying what he’d been about to say.
Finally, he said, “I know you probably don’t want to discuss this, but, you know you’ve been on sick leave for almost a year. The rules say that Cowley has to pay you off if you’re not fit enough to return to the squad. Have you given any thought to what you’re going to do?”
Doyle sat on the edge of the sofa, his elbows on his knees, both hands clasped around the beer can.
He sighed, heavily. “Oh, Bodie, I don’t know…” he said, sounding anguished and confused, “Sometimes… I think… maybe I’d like to come back… but,” he shook his head, “I don’t know. I don’t know if I’ve… got the heart for it. I’ve had a gutful of killing… I know the law is on our side… but… is it right? Who’s to say that… everyone I’ve lost… isn’t some kind of judgment on me… for the lives I’ve taken in the past...”
“I can see where you’re coming from, but that’s crap.” said Bodie, “We’ve all killed people, but we haven’t all… suffered losses. It was just… coincidence… that it should happen to you like that. Just sheer bad luck. I killed a lot of people while I was in the Congo - which I'm not proud of," he added hastily, "and I’ve never lost anyone I cared about.”
Doyle grunted. “There isn’t anyone you care about.” he said drolly.
“There’s you…” Bodie replied, ignoring Doyle’s flippant remark, eyeing him over the rim of the beer can as he took a swig.
Doyle gave him a startled look, but, before he could say anything, Bodie continued, “…and Cowley… and a couple of others.”
Doyle shifted his gaze back to his can of beer, wiggling it around in a figure-of-eight pattern. Presently, he said, “O.K. Point taken, but… I don’t know if I want to do it any more… or even if I can do it… especially if you’re not there.” he added.
Bodie took a swig of beer and then wagged the can in Doyle’s direction. “Listen… I’m going to get back on the squad if it’s the last thing I do!”
“And if I decide not to?” Doyle raised an eyebrow.
“I hope you do.” said Bodie, “But I’m going to do it anyway. It’s my life. I can’t be a mercenary forever, and I’d die of boredom in any other job… I’d probably end up on the other side of the law.”
“I doubt it.” smiled Doyle.
“I’ve been there before.” Bodie reminded him.
“Yeah, I know, but that was a long time ago.” said Doyle, “You’re not that person any more.”
“You think so?” Bodie raised a questioning eyebrow.
Doyle nodded, firmly. “I know so.” he smiled.
* * *
The following week, Al Parker received a phone call from George Cowley.
“How’s Doyle?” he asked, after exchanging pleasantries.
“He’s doing very well.” said Parker.
“Has he expressed any interest in coming back to the squad?”
“Not to me, although I sense he’s begun mulling his future over this past few weeks.” Parker told him.
“You know it’s been a year.” said Cowley, “If he’s not fit enough to come back, then I have to pay him off.”
“I know.” said Parker.
“How do you think he’d react to a visit from me?” asked Cowley.
“He knows how long it’s been. He’ll probably be half expecting you to contact him.”
“What are his feelings, towards us – CI5 - now?” asked Cowley,
Parker thought for a moment. “He’s over all the hatred now. He accepts that the organisation is a necessary evil in today’s society, and that, without it, things would be a hell of a lot worse than they are, and he realises that there have to be some… sacrifices… on the part of those chosen to help stem the tide of violent crime.”
Cowley swung his glasses by one arm as he pondered Al Parker’s words.
“I don’t want to have to force him into a choice.” he said presently, “But I can’t leave it any longer. If you think it won’t upset him, I’ll go and see him tomorrow.”
“I don’t see why it should.” said parker.
“Very well.” replied Cowley.
​
Cowley knocked on Doyle’s door, the following evening, feeling somewhat apprehensive. The last time he’d spoken to Doyle was the week of the stakeout at the docks, and a lot had happened since then. He’d seen him of course, several times, while he’d been in the psychiatric unit, but Doyle had been so drugged up it was doubtful he would remember.
Doyle answered the door clad only in jeans, having only just got out of the shower.
“Oh!” He looked startled when he saw who his visitor was.
“Hello, Doyle.” Cowley smiled, “Is it an inconvenient time for me to call?” he asked.
“Er… no… come in…” Doyle stepped aside to allow him entry.
“Thank you.” Cowley walked past him into the lounge, unbuttoning his overcoat.
Doyle closed the door and followed him, looking a little flustered.
“I… er… just got out of the shower… have a seat… I’ll… er… just get dressed…”
“Thank you.”
Doyle went upstairs and Cowley sat down on the sofa, thinking back to the last time he’d been here, after Julia’s murder.
Doyle reappeared a few minutes later, having now donned an emerald green sweatshirt, and trainers, his damp hair combed as neatly as his unruly curls ever got.
“Sorry.” he said, apologetically.
“Don’t apologise. I should have let you know I was coming.”
“Can I… get you a coffee, or something?” Doyle ventured.
“Yes, coffee would be fine.”
Doyle disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few minutes later with two cups of coffee. He handed Cowley his and then moved to sit down in an armchair opposite.
“You’re looking well.” Cowley commented as he sipped the coffee.
Doyle smiled, politely. “Thank you.”
“I hate to do this,” said Cowley, “I didn’t want to have to push you, but, you know you’ve been on leave for a year and I need to know if you intend to return to duty, or not.
Doyle nodded, gazing into his cup.
“I was sort of expecting you.” he said.
“I’ve left it as long as I can.” said Cowley, “I was hoping you’d reach a decision without any outside interference, but I can’t leave it any longer.”
Doyle nodded again. “I’ve thought about it a lot these last few weeks.” he said.
“And?” asked Cowley.
Doyle sighed, heavily. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think it’s what I want… sometimes not. I’m not even sure if I can do the job any more. I don’t know if I have the… stomach… for it any longer.”
“It’s understandable you’d feel… nervous.” said Cowley, “It’s been a long time.”
“It’s not just that.” said Doyle, “I’ve seen… done… enough killing. I don’t know if I can… handle it anymore… or if I want to… and then there’s Bodie… I… understand… he’s not been fit enough to return to duty?” He’d been about to say that he knew that, but he didn’t want to tell Cowley he’d been seeing Bodie, “If he’s not coming back… I don’t really want to start again with someone else.”
Cowley’s one eyebrow lifted slightly, wondering how Doyle knew about Bodie still being on sick leave, but supposed he’d learned it from Al Parker.
“That’s true.” he replied now, “Bodie applied to take the physical a few weeks ago, but he failed.” Cowley’s face softened as he remembered that day. He shook his head, “I didn’t believe Bodie was capable of tears until that day.”
Doyle looked at him in astonishment.
“Bodie?” he gasped.
Cowley nodded. “When Slim told me he’d stormed out, after he’d given him the news, I thought he’d be in a temper and so I went to find him and try and talk some sense into him. I found him hunched in the changing rooms, sobbing his heart out. I couldn’t believe it.”
Doyle couldn’t believe it either. He’d seen Bodie for the first time that very day, and he’d given no indication of his feelings, although he recalled, now, that Bodie had seemed uptight when he talked about failing the physical and of his doubts about getting back onto the squad.
“The job means a great deal to him.” Doyle said presently, remembering their conversation about it a few days earlier.
Cowley nodded. “We said he could take it again in a couple of months, but he kept saying he was as fit as he was going to get and that there was no point.” He sighed, “I haven’t seen him since. I’m going to have to pay him a visit too, to see if he wants to give it another go.”
Doyle already knew the answer to that question, but all he said was. “He might do, once he’s had time to think about it.”
Cowley nodded. “I’m sorry, Doyle,” he said presently, “but I need a firm answer. Do you want to rejoin the squad, or not?”
“Can I want until you find out what Bodie’s going to do before I give you a decision?”
Cowley nodded, thoughtfully. “I should take you off the payroll, but, if I put you down as ‘in training’ I can keep you on a while longer.”
Doyle nodded. “I appreciate that. Thank you.”
“I’ll let you know about Bodie.” said Cowley, getting to his feet.
Doyle nodded. ‘If only he knew’ he thought, smugly.
Cowley bid him good day and then headed over to Bodie’s flat straight away.
Bodie, too, looked startled to see him, partly because he hadn’t been expecting him and partly from embarrassment after their last meeting when he’d broken down in front of him.
“Come in.” Bodie held the door for him and followed him into the lounge.
“One second.” said Bodie, going over to pick up the telephone, where he’d been engaged when Cowley had rung the doorbell.
“Look, I’m sorry… I’ll have to call you back later.” he said into the receiver. There was a moment’s silence and then Bodie began to smirk before saying, “Yeah, me too.” and then hanging up the phone. Cowley wondered if it was a girl, one of the nurses from the hospital maybe.
“Sorry.” Bodie muttered, sheepishly.
Cowley waved away his apology. “I shouldn’t have called unannounced.”
“It’s O.K.” said Bodie.
“How are you?” asked Cowley.
“I’m fine.” Bodie said, non-commitally.
“You probably know why I’m here?”
Bodie nodded.
“Do you want to have another try at the physical?”
“Otherwise I’m out?” Bodie raised an eyebrow, a petulant look on his face.
Cowley sighed. “I didn’t say that.”
“But that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it?” snapped Bodie, “Either I put in for the physical, or I’m off the squad?”
“Bodie.” said Cowley, reproachfully, “This isn’t a personal thing. You’re welcome back on the squad any time you’re fit enough. But I can’t keep you on the payroll without a commitment from you that you want to do it.”
Bodie sighed. “I know. I’m sorry, sir.”
“So?”
Bodie sighed. “Yes. I’d like to take the physical again.” he said, quietly.
“I take it you’ve been training?” said Cowley.
Bodie nodded, but declined to elaborate further.
“When would you like to do it?” asked Cowley.
Bodie thought for a moment. “In a couple of weeks?”
Cowley nodded. “Fine.”
They were silent for a moment before Cowley said, “What if… you don’t pass?”
Bodie’s lips compressed. He shrugged, not wanting to think about what he would do if he didn’t.
Cowley saw his expression and let the subject drop.
“I’ve just been to see Doyle.” he said presently.
“Oh?” Bodie said, casually. He wondered if Doyle had told him that they’d been seeing each other, but Cowley didn’t seem to know as he said, “He’s looking well. I had to go over and find out if he plans to come back to the squad or not.”
“And?” asked Bodie.
“He’s not sure. I think he thinks he’s lost his nerve.” Cowley decided not to tell Bodie that Doyle had said he wanted to wait and see if he rejoined the squad before making a decision, in case it put too much pressure on him. He could tell Bodie was anxious enough, about the physical, without having to feel responsible for Doyle’s decision also.
Bodie made no comment.
* * *
Cowley arranged Bodie’s physical for Friday of the following week. He wasn’t sure whether or not to go and watch. He didn’t relish dealing with Bodie if he failed it, but it was too important an event for him to be absent, and so he reluctantly drove out to their training camp to monitor the proceedings.
Doyle had phoned Bodie the night before, to wish him luck. Bodie had played it down, but Doyle could tell he was nervous. If he didn’t pass the Physical this time it was unlikely he ever would, and he didn’t know what he would do then.
“Well,” Slim grinned at Bodie as he came out of the changing rooms, “back for more punishment?”
Bodie pulled a face. “Let’s get on with it.” he snapped, tersely.
Slim held up his hands in mock defence.
“O.K, O.K.” He gave Bodie his instructions. “Bodie.” he called, as Bodie moved away.
Bodie turned to look at him.
“Good luck, man.” Slim gave him an encouraging smile.
“Thanks.” Bodie’s voice was gruff.
Slim clapped his hands in a businesslike manner. “Right. Let’s get to it.”
​
​
When Bodie had finished the tests, the muscles in his left leg were twitching crazily, but he wasn’t as exhausted as last time and, indeed, felt as though he still had a little left in reserve.
He went off to shower while Slim compiled his results.
Cowley joined him a few minutes later.
“What do you think?” he asked Slim.
Slim gave a cautious nod. “He did well. You’d hardly know he’d been so badly hurt.”
“But, is it enough?” asked Cowley.
“We’ll know in a minute.”
They waited while the printer ran off the figures. Slim looked at them and then handed the printout to Cowley who looked at them and then compared them to the results of the last physical Bodie had taken a few months before the crash. In all but a couple of areas, the figures were almost what they had been before, and in the others they were only a fraction down.
“You think that leg’ll hold up?” asked Cowley.
“As well as anyone else’s.” said Slim, “He’ll probably suffer a lot of aches and pains in it, and he’s going to have to train more regularly to maintain fitness and mobility, but, otherwise, he’s as fit as any of the other men.”
Cowley heaved a mental sigh of relief. “I’ll go and tell him.” said Cowley.
He left the room and went in search of Bodie, who he found in the cafeteria, gazing pensively out of the window, a cup of coffee in one hand.
“Bodie.”
Bodie turned, sharply, at the sound of Cowley’s voice, his expression both anxious and fearful. Cowley could see the nerve in his jaw twitching as he walked over to him, the printout in his hand.
Bodie held his breath as he waited for the verdict.
Cowley waited just long enough, until he thought Bodie would explode with tension, before saying, in a deliberately authoritative manner, “You’re in. Just!” slapping the printout into his hand.
As Bodie stood there, stunned, Cowley broke into a grin. “Well done, lad!” he said, in his Scottish burr.
Bodie breathed out, letting the tension go with it.
He looked at the printout, too choked to speak. He’d done it! Against all the odds, he’d done it.
“I think this calls for a good vintage malt, don’t you?” said Cowley.
Bodie nodded, his eyes bright with emotion.
“Meet me in the Black Lion at six o’clock. I’m paying – just this once.” grinned Cowley.
Bodie cleared his throat. “Thank you.” he croaked.
As Cowley made to leave, Bodie said, “Sir?”
“Yes, Bodie?”
Bodie looked uncomfortable. “Er… can I bring Doyle?”
“Doyle?” Cowley looked confused.
“I… er… have a confession to make.” Bodie continued, “I’ve been in contact with Doyle for a few weeks now.”
“Oh?” Cowley’s eyebrows rose.
“Yes. I know I should have told you, but… Doyle asked me not to.”
“Did he now?” said Cowley.
Bodie nodded. “He wasn’t ready to think about CI5 when he first contacted me, and I didn’t want to rock the boat.” He sighed, “I’m sorry.” He squirmed under Cowley’s penetrating gaze, waiting for him to tear him off a strip for keeping him in the dark.
Finally, Cowley said, “He’s welcome to come along.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Cowley gave a curt nod. His expression was disapproving, but Bodie was sure he could see a spark of amusement in his eyes as he turned to leave.
Bodie went home and phoned Doyle.
“I passed.” he told him.
“Great! What did Cowley say?”
“He wants me to meet him for drinks tonight. His treat”
Doyle laughed. “The pub’ll be full of moths when he opens his wallet.
“Ray.” said Bodie, as Doyle’s laughter died away.
“Yeah?”
“I told him we’ve been seeing each other. I asked him if I could bring you along too.”
Silence.
“Ray?”
“What did he say?” Doyle asked presently.
“He said you’re welcome.”
Doyle was silent for several moments. Finally he said, “Well, I can’t pass up the opportunity of a free drink from the old man can I?”
“Are you sure?” asked Bodie.
Doyle sighed. “Yeah.”
​
Bodie grinned. “I’ll pick you up at five thirty then.”
​
* * *
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