Pro's Big Bang 2011 Broken Trust Part 1
Title: Broken Trust
Author: merentha13
Artist: bodiecuddle
Genre: Slash
Characters/Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Word count: 25,500
Warnings: None
Link to Art: Art Master Post
Summary: Doyle has betrayed CI5 and Bodie… or has he? Will Bodie set aside his hurt and anger, to find his missing partner?
I bothered many people in the writing of this story. I want to thank you all for the advice, information and encouragement. You all know who you are! Special thanks to Callisto65 for the early beta and grammar lesson, to firlefanzine for being the best cheerleader ever! And piskiedust for a thorough beta, brit check and lots of ideas and support. (Ray wants to send out a thanks to dawnbeth without whose medical advice I’d have had him dead around Chapter 13 (too much “h” in the “h/c” *g*)) And a big “THANKS” and “Well Done, Mate” to my vidder bodiecuddle. The Vid is terrific!
All mistakes herein are my own. And as usual, I'm just borrowing the characters. No copyright infringement intended.
RTF File for E-readers
Fic Master Post on AO3/ Broken Trust
Chapter One
“You’re my partner. You’re supposed to watch my back, not put a knife in it.” The words were spoken softly, making their edge that much sharper.
“That goes both ways, Doyle. Partnership is supposed to be mutual...so is trust”
He winced inwardly at Bodie’s choice of words. “Doyle”. He was only Doyle when Bodie was putting distance between them. The intimacy of being “Ray” was gone. As much as it hurt, that is the way it had to be. “Might as well finish it now, I probably won’t get a better chance.”
One last scene to play out, and then Cowley would let him leave. He looked past Bodie’s outraged eyes to the other agents congregated around the bar at the “Hound and Hare”. Before it had all been rumours and stories, talk with no proof. Now there was evidence. Evidence the old man had shown Bodie this morning. Now it was real.
“That’s a fine line you’re walking, Bodie. Where’s your trust in me? You’re pretty quick to believe all the rot that’s bein’ spread around.”
“Are you denying it then?” Bodie poked him in the chest, pushing him back against the edge of the table.
“I shouldn’t have to.”
“Quit dancing around. What the fuck did you do it for?”
The angry words were followed by Bodie’s fist. The first blow caught him in the stomach, doubling him over. The second in the jaw, lifting him up, and then taking him down. He landed hard on the table; the legs collapsed and he found himself on the floor. He felt something inside him break, something that lay deeper than his bones.
“How the hell can you believe that I did?” Quiet pain filled the words he whispered up at the furious figure towering above him. “Bodie?”
“I don’t know you, Doyle. Turns out I never did.”
For a fleeting moment, he saw a lost look in the beloved blue eyes and it stopped his instinct to retaliate with his own fists. Maybe his own pleading voice, and the blood running down his cheek worked to make Bodie reconsider. But no, Cowley had shown Bodie the proof. Bodie thought his partner had crossed the line, turned traitor. There was no second chance for the betrayer. His was a double crime. He had betrayed not only CI5, but in doing that, his partner. There wasn’t going to be a second chance. Bodie glared down at him as he lay sprawled on the floor.
“You’re on your own, Doyle,” Bodie spat as he walked away.
Doyle found himself bleeding into a puddle of spilled beer and broken glass. He struggled to sit, wincing at the pain in his side. Looking around he caught sight of his lover’s stiff back walking away from him. Ex-lover, ex-partner, it was all over now.
“Bloody hell,” he sighed sadly.
“Damn! Ray!” A surprised voice and a tall, dark shadow startled him. “You alright, mate?”
“Murphy.” He hadn’t realised the other agent was still there. The others had left right after Bodie’s exit. He looked up into sympathetic eyes. “Give us a hand. I think I may have a couple bruised ribs.”
Murphy drove him to his flat and cleaned him up. “Are you going to be alright, Ray? Are you really going to go through with this?”
“Don’t really have a choice now do I?” Ray shrugged.
“There’s always a choice, mate”.
“I’ll be alright, Murph. Go on home. I’ve a few things to do before I go undercover.”
Shaking his head, Murphy said nothing as he left Ray, alone, in the flat.
Ray ran a hand through his dishevelled curls, tugging hard. He poured himself a double scotch. “You’re on your own.” Bodie’s words were bitter in his ears. “Not the first time,” he thought to himself. Memories crept in as he sat down gingerly on the settee, holding his aching ribs. He downed his drink and let his thoughts drift back to...
... a skinny eleven year old waiting in front of the chemist’s for his Mum to finish her shopping. When it turns dark he finally accepts that she isn’t coming back for him. The tears come as the policeman walks him to the station...
... a young hustler, selling his body to others. They are trying to forget their own loneliness for a few hours, and just maybe he is as well; hoping that the indignities he suffers in their sweaty clinches will pay well enough for him to go to night school, finally sit his exams, and maybe get to university where he can make a better life for himself than the one he is living now. He hides his tears with anger; no one can be allowed to see how much this life hurts.
... a naive art student standing behind a curtained window watching as his lover gets into a taxi; the offer of a job more important than the man left shattered in their home. Tears slide silently down a broken cheek...
...an idealistic new policeman, ostracised because he believes in the line that separates the villains from the good guys; alone because no one will work with a copper who grassed on his fellow officers. Tears of anger burn his eyes, but none fall...
He snorted at the poetic bent of his recollections. He could hear Bodie now, “Barbara Cartland couldn’t have done better, mate.”
...the meeting with George Cowley at the Yard. Feeling sure he is going to lose his job on the drug squad, he jumps at Cowley’s offer to join CI5. Maybe he has finally found a home.
His glass empty, he got up to pour another. A rueful smile crossed his lips.
‘Home, eh?’ he said to himself settling back in his seat.
There had been bumps. He and his new partner, ‘W.A.P. Bodie’, had not immediately hit it off. Bodie had made it clear that he did not think Raymond Doyle, ‘DC Plod’, was qualified for the job. It had been dispiriting to learn he wasn’t accepted, that he was on his own again. And it had stung, more than he expected. He had got by on his own for so long he didn’t realise how much he needed to belong somewhere. He had reached a point in his life where he needed an anchor and had foolishly put all his hope in CI5.
But he was nothing if not stubborn and he finally did earn a bit of Bodie’s respect. He had to dig for that acceptance. A smug Bodie had mockingly told him he wasn’t cool the first time he let his temper get the better of him. But Bodie had also offered some praise, ‘a good man to know,’ and some of the pain had disappeared. Despite their differences, Cowley kept them together and they made themselves into the best team on the A Squad.
...Then there was Ann Holly. He had fallen hard, even told Bodie he might ask her to marry him. But Ann wanted things that he didn’t, wanted a person that he wasn’t, and he was left standing alone again. It had hurt, but there were no tears left.
Bodie had surprised him, offering him a shoulder and he accepted. They relied on each other. He wasn’t alone anymore, or he hadn’t been until Cowley had assigned him this solo operation. He knew it was going to be hard. Cowley warned him that losing Bodie’s respect and friendship was a very real possibility. If only Cowley knew the whole of it. He thought Bodie knew him well enough to question the veracity of the charges, to give his partner of eight years the benefit of the doubt. He’d misjudged. Badly. He sported a bruised jaw and an empty flat to show for it. And he was alone again.
But this assignment was bigger than the partnership, bigger than the relationship they’d built so slowly, so carefully. If things went according to plan, he’d be able to bring down a major drug operation, uncover a mole in CI5 and keep a large cache of weapons off the streets of London. This was what he’d signed on to the squad to do: to protect the public, to make a difference. He needed to do this. Once the operation was finished he believed Bodie would accept the reasons for his actions, the reason why Bodie had been left out of things...if Bodie would give him a chance to explain. That was the uncertain part. Would Bodie listen to his explanations?
Cowley’s plan required that Bodie not know, and the plan was working better than either of them thought possible. He still thought he should have pushed harder to have Bodie know the truth.
“I don’t like it...sir,” he scowled at his boss.
Cowley slid his glasses back up his nose and glared back.
“You don’t have to like it, Doyle. I’m not in the habit of asking for your approval.”
Cowley watched as Doyle began his inevitable pacing.
“There’s speculation that MI6 has planted someone in our organisation, someone who is reporting our activities to Willis. They’ve beaten us to the punch too frequently for me to dismiss the speculation as rumour.” Cowley’s eyes studied him as he moved around the room.
“Ach, Doyle, sit.” Cowley pulled a bottle of malt out of his desk and poured two glasses.
“I need a mole of my own to monitor the latest intelligence surrounding MI6 and a drug ring. With your drug squad background, you’re the best placed agent to take that role. And Willis has always been interested in you.”
Ray quickly swallowed his drink.
“What’s the plan then?” he asked with hesitation.
“With a few well placed photographs, a few visits to less than respectable clubs and a few stories from your youth we’ll have people questioning your character, your motives. Your co-workers will distance themselves from you so they’re not tainted by your corruption. You’ll become isolated and disillusioned, a prime target for Willis.”
“No one will believe it.”
“They will if we can make Bodie believe it.”
“Bodie..,” the word was a pain-filled sigh.
He felt the blood leave his face as a frission of disquiet moved through him. He stood and slammed his glass on Cowley’s desk, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing the man flinch. His fingers curled into fists. He turned away from Cowley to look out the window.
“We have to tell Bodie the truth. He has to be involved in this.” The words were quiet, but filled with anger.
“No, Doyle. If this is going to work, Bodie has to accept the deception as true. If your partner isn’t convinced, no one else will be.”
He leaned his forehead against the window. He hardly noticed the cold. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Cowley was right, but the cost of it was almost too much to bear. He knew what Bodie’s reaction would be. Lying was not a forgivable offence. Bodie would be badly hurt by this, he knew that. Honesty is an integral part of their relationship, loyalty too. Bodie would never forgive him for betraying Cowley and CI5 and yet that is exactly the ruse that Cowley was setting up.
And what about the personal side of things...things that Cowley didn’t know about. After many stops and starts, they had finally settled into an exclusive relationship. Cowley’s plans would make it seem to Bodie that Ray had broken that fragile trust.
“I know it will be difficult,” Cowley’s tone softened, “but think of the good you’ll be doing, man. Think of the drugs and guns that won’t be on the streets.”
Ray closed his eyes and nodded. He agreed; the good he’d be doing by going through with this mission should out-weigh his personal loss. But, God, it hurt. He’d just have to believe in Bodie; he’d have to believe that his partner would forgive him once the op was over and he could explain it all. He could only hope that Bodie would still trust him enough to forgive him.
Yeah, Cowley’s plan worked exactly the way the old man intended. Cowley had led Anson to discover some of the details of Doyle’s tearaway youth: run-ins with the police, fights, truancy, drugs. With the help of some staged photographs and Anson accidently spotting him hanging around the cottages on Hampstead Heath, word quickly spread that Doyle was queer. The stories had grown as they spread and Ray had found himself kept on the outside of his squad mates’ activities. He wasn’t quite shunned, but it was made clear that he was no longer trusted and that his company was no longer welcome.
The mission to infiltrate MI6 worked brilliantly. When word leaked out that Doyle was no longer one of Cowley's favorites, Willis made doyle an offer. Ray had put him off for a bit so as not to appear too desperate, and then had given in. He was now Cowley's 'mole' in MI6.
Cowley had discovered that the mole in CI5 was a lowly records clerk. With their man inside uncovered, MI6 was more than happy to take Ray on as a replacement, despite the rumours that were circulating. Ray settled into his role as a spy for both agencies, still officially with CI5 while working covertly for Willis. Cowley pulled some strings with the Ministry and was able to get Doyle involved when MI6, using their own contacts, set up an undercover operation. His role was to infiltrate a group of ex-Met police officers involved in the drugs for guns game. Ray reported all this faithfully to his CI5 boss, who kept the details of the undercover secret.
Cowley had even insisted on the public break with Bodie. The messy scene at the “Hound and Hare” had destroyed the partnership, both the professional and personal. A bitter laugh escaped him. Both guilt and sadness filled him as he recalled the final act. They’d been partners for eight years, lovers for two. But Cowley had been ruthless in divulging Ray’s past. Things that even Bodie hadn’t known became public knowledge. Some of it surprised and upset his partner. But Bodie would never ask for an explanation and Ray wasn’t offering one. Their relationship had begun to show the strain. They had both tried to ignore it, so they could keep working together.
The blow-up in the “Hound and Hare” ended everything except the anger. He couldn’t remember how it started. They both had said hateful things to and about each other. He had been sorry afterwards, for both the insults and the public airing of things better left private, but he knew they were both too angry, too proud and too stubborn to offer apologies.
He set his empty glass down and tried to shake off the disquiet that surrounded him. He knew his next move would confirm Bodie’s belief that he’d turned, and that rankled too. He was surprised at the sudden anger he felt over the fact that Bodie did believe it. But that wasn’t fair to Bodie. Hadn’t he set things up so Bodie would believe, had to believe? He’d distanced himself from Bodie to create the doubt in his partner’s mind. He had no right to be angry that Bodie had, albeit unwittingly, followed the plan.
He picked up the phone and called Cowley’s private number.
“It’s on, I’m leaving,” he said quietly. There was silence on the other end of the line and then a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry, 4.5…”
"Don't!" Ray interrupted angrily. "I knew it had to be done. I agreed to this. I'm callling to let you know that I'm heading out, starting the next phase." Both men were silent. The touch of compassion in the Scottish brogue had almost destroyed his will to continue the op and tickled the seed of something like doubt deep inside him.
“Ach, Doyle. We’ve been over this many times. I know you want to tell Bodie. But it will be best if Bodie believes you’ve turned. If your partner believes it, so will everyone else.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand he nodded to himself.
“Yeah, it probably is best that Bodie doesn’t know. That way he’s protected from any fallout if this goes wrong. With our partnership broken, no one will think he had anything to do with it.”
More silence. Then Cowley spoke again.
“I’m assuming that my choice of Murphy as your backup is acceptable.”
Doyle heard the dry sarcasm in the voice and ignored it.
“Yes. I told you I won’t do this as an operation ‘Susie’, not after the Molnar mess.”
Cowley didn’t respond to the accusation in the words.
“I’ll be in contact when I can.” He hung up, oddly pleased with himself for not slamming the handset into place.
Taking a deep breath he pulled his ID out of his wallet and laid it on the desk next to his CI5 issued gun. He had two others in his holdall, two that CI5 knew nothing about. He wanted to write a quick goodbye to Bodie, to explain in case it all went wrong, but he thought better of it. Cowley would have his guts for garters if he found out. But he wasn’t sure he trusted Cowley to explain it all correctly. Cowley would sacrifice anyone for Queen and country. He picked up a photo of the two of them, and read the typed note attached. The words were designed to make his actions seem more real to his partner, to give a reason for the betrayal that Bodie might actually believe. He hoped the old man was right and that it would be enough. He looked down at the photo. He felt an ache grow deep inside himself. He hated doing this, hated the thought of the anguish he was causing. He angrily crumpled the photo and the note and pitched them into the bin in the kitchen. He picked up his battered holdall and left CI5 Agent 4.5 behind.
Chapter Two
Bodie closed and locked the door to his flat and leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the frame. Images raced through his bewildered mind. A bleeding Ray Doyle slumped on the floor of the “Hound and Hare”; Ray, that last morning, wantonly stretching naked in the jumble of sheets in the middle of their bed; Doyle’s face closing as Bodie asked him to deny the charges being brought against him; Ray’s eyes reflecting all the love they felt for each other as he’d kissed him after they had made love that last night. There had been a strange intensity to their lovemaking, almost sadness, almost like a goodbye. He’d felt Ray tremble in his embrace. He had gently lifted the curly head from its resting place on his shoulder and asked what was wrong. Ray had replied “Nothin’” but there had been a hint of sorrow in the green eyes. He remembered the feeling that kept creeping up on him that there was something wrong, the feeling that Ray had been slowly pulling away from him. At the time he’d had no idea why. Had Ray known that this was all going to blow up on him? None of it made sense. There were too many contradicting details. Had the isolation Ray had suffered really caused him enough pain to make him turn? Had he played a part in Ray’s disillusionment? Had his own reaction to what he’d learned of Ray’s past pushed his partner over some unseen edge? He replayed the scenes from earlier in the day...
He was almost to Cowley’s door when he heard the raised voices. Ray was shouting at Cowley, but Bodie hadn’t been able to make out the words. He reached for the door but it was jerked out of his hand. Ray stormed out. Bodie was startled by the look on Ray’s face. It was an odd mixture of anger and fear, not an expression he’d seen on that face before.
“Been suspended,” Ray croaked out as he brushed past Bodie in the outer office. “Cowley wants to see you.”
Bodie was torn between finding out what Cowley wanted and going after Ray. He reached out and caught Ray’s arm.
“Meet me at the “Hound and Hare”, yeah?” He didn’t let go until Ray sullenly nodded his agreement. “Doyle, I...”
“3.7, my office now.” Cowley’s voice was as angry as Ray’s had been.
“Later, mate.” Bodie entered the controller’s office. Thirty minutes later, he wished he hadn’t.
He knew he had to talk to Ray, so he had suggested meeting at the “Hound and Hare”, hoping that if they were able to sit and talk, alone, they could straighten things out, save their partnership. It hadn’t worked out that way. Ray did not deny the charges about to be placed against him, that he was involved in selling drugs with his old colleagues from the Drug Squad. He just sat there listening to Bodie recite all the condemning evidence against him. Evidence that Cowley finally felt was strong enough to warrant an arrest and that was being presented to Scotland Yard and the Minister as the two CI5 agents sat in the pub, the evidence that Cowley had shown Bodie earlier this morning. There were pictures of Ray exchanging packages with Sean Mullins, a known drug dealer. There was a tape taken from the phone of Mullin’s partner. The phone was bugged by the Yard and it had caught Ray unaware. The tape held Ray’s voice setting up a meet to exchange heroin for cash. Bodie was appalled when he heard it. How could he have been so wrong about Ray? His Ray would never do the things that this man was doing. It didn’t make sense.
The scene in the pub and the confrontation that ended with Ray bleeding on the floor followed quickly after...
He shook off the memories and pushed himself away from the door. He went to the drinks cabinet. Anger consumed him. He picked up the glass Ray favoured, a souvenir from a dirty weekend in Wales, and threw it against the wall. It shattered along with his control. His eyes burned. He fought the rage back down. No way he was going to shed a tear over that traitor. He sank down on the settee with the bottle of scotch and tried to make some sense of what he'd learned today and what he knew about his partner.
It seemed impossible that Ray would be involved in the drug trade. He hated the pushers and had even shown sympathy at times to users they’d encountered. Hell, he’d sacrificed his career with the Met to turn in crooked cops. So how could he have joined with them now? But Ray had also admitted having used drugs a few times when he lived on the streets. He’d even sold some to get money for food. Which was the real Doyle? It was said that a person’s character was developed by their early experiences. Bodie laughed at himself. He was starting to think like Ross. But Ray had had a rough childhood, leading him to do things that the grown up Doyle professed to abhor.
His own experiences as a youth had led him to the mercenaries and made him a killer. He was still a killer. So maybe Ray hadn’t changed that much either. He took a deep pull from the bottle and his thoughts turned in a different direction. How had he been fooled by Ray all this time? They’d been so close, shared so many things. But there were secrets still between them, doors they’d never even knocked on, let alone dared to open. He recalled conversations about Ray’s time with the police when Ray had adroitly changed the subject rather than answer Bodie’s questions. And there was Ray’s skill at going undercover. He was very good at living a lie, Ray was. Is that all their partnership had been to Ray? An undercover op…a lie? He shook his head in denial. No, Ray loved him. He was sure of that. He sighed in frustration. He couldn’t come to terms with this. Ray a traitor? Even having seen the evidence he couldn’t believe it. There had to be more to this.
His RT buzzed.
“3.7”
“Bodie, Alpha One wants you to meet him at 4.5’s flat immediately.”
“Something happen to Doyle?” He was surprised by the concern in his own voice.
“Don’t know details 3.7. Cowley wants you there yesterday.”
“Understood. 3.7 out.”
Walking into Ray’s flat, he found himself ensconced in the middle of chaos. There were at least a dozen agents taking the place apart. Ray’s records and books had been pulled off the shelves and were thrown haphazardly around the room. His paintings had been removed from their frames and tossed aside. His model soldiers were knocked off their table and had rolled around on the floor. It upset Bodie to see their destruction. He knew how much they had meant to Ray, a gift from his first partner in the Met, Syd. A cold finger of fear speared down his spine. He headed for Ray’s bedroom. Agents were already there, stripping the bed and pulling clothes out of the cupboards and wardrobes. Bodie went to the bedside cabinet and opened the drawer. He sighed silently in relief. The box of “toys” he and Ray sometimes indulged in was gone. So was the small jewellery box where Ray kept the gifts Bodie had given him: the silver bracelet, the gold chain necklace, the watch with the humorous but incriminating inscription. But where were they? Had Ray taken them and if so why? Was he trying to protect Bodie even as he betrayed him? Things were making even less sense.
“Oi, Anson? You guys take anything out of here yet?” Bodie called to the agent going through Ray’s cupboard.
“No. We just started in here. Cowley’s in the kitchen. He was looking for you.”
“Why are we here? What the hell is going on?”
“Better see the old man. But you should know, Doyle’s done a runner.”
“Doyle’s done a runner.” The words hit him hard, shattering the precious hope that a terrible mistake had been made, that Ray Doyle was still the man that Bodie had believed, no needed, him to be. It raised those doubts again about how well he really knew Ray.
“Bodie!” Cowley’s voice penetrated his thoughts.
He made his way through the detritus of his partner’s life, now spread across the flat’s floor. “Sir?”
“Ach, 3.7, this is bad stuff. How is it you didn’t see it?”
“Doyle’s always been the best at undercover, sir.” Bodie hid behind his mask of indifference. He didn’t want anyone to see the confusion and sorrow he was feeling, but he knew that he couldn’t hide it from Cowley. “I didn’t sense anything that would lead to this.” And this felt so wrong to him. He was missing something, he was sure of it. Doyle was good at undercover work, and Cowley was well known for his propensity for triple think, could this be... He snapped back to attention when Cowley spoke.
“Aye. We’ll talk that over later. Do you see anything here that might be a lead, give us an idea of what the man was planning?”
“No sir. Doyle is too good at his job for that. There won’t be anything to find.”
“Right then,” the Controller turned around. “6.2, you’ll drive 3.7 and I back to headquarters. Bodie is right; we’ll not find anything of use here.” Bodie turned to see Murphy stuffing kitchen rubbish back into the bin and watched him put a crumpled bit of paper in his pocket. Murphy caught his eye but remained silent. Bodie swallowed his questions. The three men made their way to the car.
Chapter Three
Ray Doyle found himself staring at his own image on the cover of the newspaper being read by the man across the aisle. The headline practically screamed at him. “CI5 Agent Accused of Drug Trafficking. Nationwide Search Underway”. He didn’t think he was in danger of being recognised. He’d cut his hair short and coloured the auburn curls a dark brown. A hat covered those changes. Not shaving left him with rough stubble on his chin and a thin moustache. The aviator shades he was wearing hid his sharp green eyes. He no longer wore the skin-tight jeans and t-shirt. They had been replaced with baggy cords and a fisherman’s jumper. Still, the paper left him uneasy.
He knew he was doing the right thing. He was doing his job, protecting the innocents from the rotten apples of society. But it upset him to know that his friends and co-workers would see this and believe it. He and Cowley had set it up to be that way. It had to be that way for the operation to work and for Bodie to be protected from the fallout if it didn’t. But he regretted the misery he was leaving in his wake, especially hurting Bodie. There was no doubt that he had done that. The scene at the pub was all the proof he needed. Bodie’s retreating back and hunched shoulders showed all the betrayal he felt without Bodie having to say the words smouldering in those blue eyes. Ray had wounded him deeply. “I hope, when this is all finished, he’ll give me a chance to make things right, to explain,” Ray thought again as he closed his eyes and let the gentle motion of the train on its rails lull him into sleep.
The train pulled into the station at Blackpool. Ray’s contact, Brady, a long-time grass who also had ties to MI6, had set up a meet at the Flamingo for later that evening. That gave him time to settle in his room and look around the town. He’d never been to Blackpool. He walked slowly up Charnley Road looking for his boarding house. The street was quiet this time of year. In summer the beach crowds filled the shops and restaurants, but here in January the streets were mostly empty.
The cold penetrated his jacket and made his bruised ribs ache. He hesitated to take the pain-killers he’d picked-up after his tussle with Bodie. He wanted to be alert now that he was in-place. The meet tonight would determine how successful his and Cowley’s planning had been. Through his undercover work with MI6 he’d learned of this meeting and a few discretely placed words and favours had garnered Ray an invitation. Brady had spread the word that Ray was not what he seemed: that he’d been using his position with CI5 to make contact with gun runners and drug lords and that he was looking for new opportunities.
The stories being told about him grated on his self-worth. He was surprised at how easily people who knew him believed that the charges and rumours were true. If he was honest with himself, it hurt, especially when he thought about Bodie. “Leave off,” he chided himself. There would be time enough later to deal with that. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted now. But there were people who were happy to believe that Raymond Doyle had finally fallen. Several of the men he was meeting tonight had escaped the investigation of the drug squad that he’d instigated. He could only imagine their pleasure at seeing the high and mighty Ray Doyle knocked off his pedestal.
He found his lodgings, a comfortable looking three story dwelling turned into a boarding house. He checked in as Roy Duncan, not taking any chances that the name of the London fugitive, Raymond Doyle, had beat him to town. The middle-aged woman who ran the place, Ruth, took him to his room at the back of the first floor. She made sure he had all the towels and blankets he needed and wished him a pleasant stay. He thanked her and locked the door after she left. He threw off his jacket and trainers and lay down on the bed. His ribs and jaw were aching. He had four hours before the meet and a kip might do him some good. He shut his eyes to sleep, but images of Bodie paraded behind his closed lids. He kept seeing the anger and pain in the face bending over him as he lay on the floor of the “Hound and Hare”, kept watching Bodie walk away from him, kept feeling his own heart break. He sat up quickly, cursing, and threw his pillow across the room. He gave up all thought of sleep and turned to the files Cowley had passed to him detailing the histories of the men he was to meet that evening.
Chapter Four
Cowley was not a happy man. One look at the tense face made Bodie think twice about demanding answers to the questions he still had. He’d let the old man lead this interview.
“What do we know, sir?” Murphy stepped into the uncomfortable silence, surprising both of the other men.
“Raymond Doyle stands accused of using information gathered as a CI5 employee to make contact with and sell guns and information to the IRA. It is believed that he has made contact with several men from his drug squad days who are involved with this group. Questions are being asked about how forthcoming he was with the corruption evidence he provided. The police now think that he purposely gave up several colleagues in order to spare these others and himself. His motives for presenting the evidence may not have been as altruistic as originally believed.”
“But sir,” Murphy interrupted, “are we really going to believe all this? We’ve known and worked with Ray for years. This all seems so unreal, the behaviour so unlike Doyle…”
“He took off,” Bodie interjected, “didn’t stay to defend himself, now did he? When Doyle feels he’s been wronged, he’s not quiet about it. But he didn’t offer up any explanations… he ran.” Bodie’s voice was flat, his face showed no emotion. He was trying hard to cover the confusion and suspicions he felt.
When he had first heard the rumours of Ray's activities he hadn't believed them. But then Ray had started shutting him out, putting distance between them. He had disappeared for hours without offering an explanation. He had turned down invitations for drinks and darts after work. He would claim he wanted an early night and then show up at HQ in the morning tired and short tempered. When Bodie wouls ask what was wrong Ray told him everything was fine. Ray's refusal to explain finally ignited Bodie's temper. There was a brief row in the restroom, pushes both physical and verbal left them both seething and underneath Bodie was in pain and confused by Ray's actions. Cowley had re-teamed Bodie and Ray went solo.
When he’d met Ray in the pub the man had been distant, closed. That wasn’t like Ray. Ray had always been an open book to him, but he couldn’t read the man he had met in the "Hound and Hare". He’d seemed surprised when Bodie had hit him. But the biggest proof of Ray’s guilt was that he had run. Bodie couldn’t forgive that.
“Aye, he did,” Cowley agreed. Was that a note of sadness Bodie heard in the words? Funny that, Cowley wasn’t one to let his emotions show. Anger was expected, Doyle had betrayed CI5 and Cowley personally. But to Bodie, the sadness seemed directed elsewhere… for him maybe? Bodie couldn’t let those kinds of thoughts weaken the walls he was rebuilding around his heart. He’d let Doyle in and look where that had got him. There was no place inside him for softness anymore; the single feeling he had room for was anger. And the outlet for that was paying Ray back; he needed to make Ray suffer too.
“So what’s next, sir?” Bodie wanted to get both their minds back on business.
“We’re going to attack this from the other side. The money from the drugs is purported to be used for the purchase of guns and to finance a Member of Parliament’s re-election campaign. No surprises there. You and Murphy will be checking with your contacts, and Doyle’s as well, to see if you can find the buyers. Then we’ll set up an undercover to get one or both of you into the gang. Your experience as a mercenary should come in handy here, Bodie.”
Spending the day talking to the human rats of London’s streets didn’t improve Bodie’s mood. He tossed his keys on the table in the rest room as Murphy followed him in. At least the day hadn’t been a total waste. They had gathered some good information and he had secured the help of a former contact. Marty Martell was slippery but he’d always dealt honestly with Bodie. Murphy handed him a mug of tea.
“The more I hear about Ray’s part in all this, the harder it is to believe,” he said.
There was a funny catch to Murphy’s voice. Bodie had noticed that Murphy was slow to condemn Doyle, offering up excuses for his aberrant behaviour. Had there been something going on there? He laughed at his own insecurity. He and Ray had been living in each other’s back pockets. There was no room there for anyone else. “Especially not in Doyle’s jeans,” the thought brought with it a wave of affection that he quickly smothered. But that wasn’t true was it? There had been room for betrayal. He grunted a response to Murphy’s comment.
“Right.” Murphy looked at him with something Bodie read as sympathy. He wanted no part of it. Before he could react Murphy said “I’ll fill Cowley in on what we found. Be right back.” Murphy left the rest room as Anson, Jax and Susan came in.
Bodie sat silently drinking his tea remembering previously shared drinks in this room, hoping the guilt he felt at revealing things from Ray’s past didn’t show. He had exposed some of Ray’s secrets and that had been enough to start some of the stories that led to Ray’s being ostracised. He had done it as payback for the hurt Doyle had caused with his unexplained withdrawal from their relationship. He remembered winding Anson up after the wrangle in the restroom...
“So what do you mean you weren’t surprised about Doyle?” Anson pressed. “He was your bloody partner for eight years! You can’t expect us to believe that you worked with a man whose loyalties you questioned all that time.”
“If you knew more about him, you’d understand. There was more to old Raymond than he let on. Quite the tearaway in his younger days, he was.” Bodie shrugged. “Then on to art school, the Met, the Yard; he changes his colours quite easily to fit the role he’s playin’.”
Anson scoffed. “What are you on about Bodie? You make him sound like a sodding chameleon!”
“Well, in fact that’s what he was. A damn good undercover man, right? Only we didn’t know he was playin’ undercover all along.”
“Playing under your covers you mean, don’t you, petal?” Anson fluttered his eyelashes and drew a laugh from the others in the room.
“Not mine, but play he did.” Bodie’s face flushed at the lie. “Our boy has a history of swinging both ways.”
“Bodie.” Murphy had entered the room and put a hand on Bodie's shoulder, shaking his head. “Leave it.”
“No, Murph. Why should I protect him and his reputation, or what’s left of it?” He turned to the rest of the room. “Raymond bloody Doyle was a rent boy before he made it into the Met. Turned tricks in Derby and London. Still frequented a couple places in Soho. He told me one time he had even sold some weed, to feed himself. He’s simply returning to old habits now. Cats don’t change their stripes. I’ll bet…”
“Doyle a prossie, no way!” Anson gasped.
“Oh yeah. Where do you think he got that broken face, hm? An unsatisfied customer, wasn’t it?” Bodie stopped and drew in a sharp breath at the sting of self-reproach his words brought. That story was Ray’s secret and not his to tell. Ray had confided in him after an obbo gone bad, deep in the night, deep in a bottle of scotch. It had left them both shaken.
Murphy had grabbed Bodie by the back of his jacket collar and hauled him out of the rest room. He pushed Bodie up against the wall. “What the hell are you doing?”
Bodie shook himself free. “What do you care, Murphy? After what he’s done, Doyle deserves whatever he gets. I’m not going to sugar-coat his past. It’s relevant here. He’s just reverted to form.”
“You know that’s not true. You’re angry. He hurt you and you’re striking back. Ray Doyle was a good friend to you...more than a friend. Remember that, not the things he had to do to survive. Your past isn’t so pure either, is it old son?” Murphy sneered.
Bodie was confused. “Why are you defending him? You saw the pictures, heard the tapes… how can you defend him?”
Murphy took a step back. “Things aren’t always what they seem Bodie. There are reasons for everything. Think before you throw everything away.” Bodie stood silently while he watched Murphy walk away...
The memory left him feeling remorseful. But why should it bother him now to have revealed Ray’s past. It was true, wasn’t it? And Ray had betrayed him, why should he feel remorse at returning the favour? As far as Bodie was concerned, there was nothing to think about. Doyle had lied to him, probably had been lying for years. And if Ray had lived a lie in his work, what did that say about his real feelings for Bodie? Was that a sham as well? If he was honest with himself, and he really didn’t want to be, he couldn’t convince himself that Ray Doyle didn’t love him. The depth of feeling they had for each other couldn’t be faked.
They lay tangled together while the rain drummed softly on the roof overhead. Ray stretched languidly and nuzzled Bodie’s neck and shoulder.
“This is what heaven must be, Bodie.”
Bodie put a hand behind Ray’s neck, fingers playing with the soft curls. He rested his forehead against Ray’s.
“As close as the two of us are likely to get, sunshine.” He tucked Ray’s head under his chin.
Ray sighed and settled closer.
“Never expected to find this for meself...especially not in your toffee-nosed arms!”
“Find what?” Bodie asked tipping Ray’s face up so he could see his eyes.
“Love, acceptance...all of it.”
“You only had to look, Angelfish. It was always there, waiting for you.”
“Always?”
“Well, maybe not at the beginning,” Bodie poked Ray in the side. “ It took you a bit of time to get used to me...all this perfection put you off a bit at the start.” He tickled exposed ribs.
“Prat.”
Ray settled again, his lips pressed softly against Bodie’s. “I love you Bodie...more than anything...”
So what had happened to make Ray…? No, he wasn’t going to torture himself this way. Ray had gone over to the other side. The evidence was clear. But somehow, it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t Ray. He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that things were not what they seemed. Ray knew when he made the choice to join with the drug dealers that he’d be leaving Bodie behind. So, in Bodie’s mind, that meant Ray hadn’t valued their relationship. He’d used Bodie. And now he was gone. But Bodie wasn’t done with him yet, no way. He was going to find out what was going on and Ray Doyle was going to pay for the wounds he’d inflicted.Bodie promised himself that.
“3.7,” Cowley’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “My office. Now.”
“Sir.”
Bodie sat down in the chair in front of Cowley’s desk. From the corner of his eye he noted a figure leaning against the file cabinet, Ray’s spot. He started, but realised it was Murphy.
“What’s going on, sir? Is there news?” Bodie tried to maintain a disinterested tone.
“Aye, Bodie, there’s news.” Cowley pushed a file folder toward him. He didn’t move to take it.
“Go on.” Cowley nodded at the file.
He reached over and picked it up. Inside was a photograph. He recognised it as the crumpled bit of paper he’d seen Murphy pull from Doyle’s bin. He drew in a sharp breath. The photo was of him and Ray. Judging by the location, it had been taken after the disastrous Melton case. Ray had been held hostage and most of CI5 had given him up for dead. When Ray had staggered out into the alley behind the pub, Bodie had forgotten all about discretion in his need to reaffirm that they were both still alive and he had wrapped the exhausted man up in his arms. The embrace was fierce, their arms locked tight around each other. A discrete cough from Jax had broken them apart, but not soon enough.Someone else had caught them out.
There was a note with the photo:
“Good looking bloke in your arms, Doyle. They say a picture’s worth a thousand words. What’s he worth to you? We’ll be in touch.”
Bodie dropped the picture back on Cowley’s desk. He head was spinning. Now he had a reason for Ray’s betrayal.
Someone was blackmailing Ray. Ray was protecting… whom? Was he merely trying to protect himself? Bodie was still angry enough to believe the motivation was selfishness. But no, Ray wouldn’t care if people knew about his… tendencies. He almost flaunted his sexuality. His posing, tight jeans and provocative attitude appeared to invite all comers. Even Cowley had used that to advantage in several undercover ops. No, Ray hadn’t given in to the blackmailers for his own sake.
“Why? I don’t…” He hadn’t realised he’d spoken out loud.
“For you and for CI5,” Cowley answered. “He knew what this could do to the organisation if it were made public. Better that he take the fall alone as a traitor than pull you and CI5 down with him.”
Bodie sat stunned. He knew Ray cared for him, but this was too much, it seemed too easy. It didn’t sit right with him. There was more to this.
Chapter Five
It had started to rain at dusk. The wind was cold. Ray made his way through the wet streets dreading the meeting to come. He knew that once he took this step he was committed. ‘Should be committed anyway for takin’ this on.’ He smiled grimly to himself. Cowley wanted him to abandon the undercover after he had names and meeting places. Get the information and get out, he’d ordered. But there was no backing out. The stakes were too high. The chance to bring down the highest level of corruption in the government was not to be missed. The amount of heroin and the number of weapons to be unleashed on the London streets could not be allowed to happen. No matter the cost to him. And the cost was high. He’d seen it clearly in Bodie’s eyes when he’d watched his partner turn away from him. Nothing he could do about that now. He needed to keep himself focused on his job. There’d be plenty of time for regrets later. He allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, his seeing this operation through to the end would mitigate some of Bodie’s anger, would help make Bodie understand why he’d made the decision he had, would allow Bodie to forgive him.
As he approached the pub, he saw two men walking towards the door and thought he heard a voice he vaguely remembered. He stepped into the shadows at the side of the building. He was pretty sure it was Paul Smythe, a man he had occasionally had contact with in the Met. A second voice belonged to Mullins. He had already met him through Brady.
“...how can you be sure of him? He’s betrayed mates before. Hell, he was an under-fuckin’-cover copper!” It was Mullins who voiced the doubts.
“Oi! Watch the copper comments!” Smythe spoke with a hint of amusement. “Brady and Sloan have both vouched for him. You trust them, don’t you?”
Mullins grunted his assent.
“We’ll keep a close watch on him...”
The voices faded as the two men entered the pub.
He waited a few minutes and then pulled open the brass-trimmed door and entered the bar. It felt good to get out of the cold wind. He loosened his scarf. Eyes adjusting to the light, he looked around. The bar was smoke-filled and loud. Brady met him at the bar and took him to a table in the back. Six men sat drinking and playing cards. He wondered, not for the first time, exactly what kind of connections MI6 and Willis in particular, had with this group to get him so readily accepted. He recognised three of them. They were former detectives with the Met. Brady made introductions and Mullins invited him to sit. Ray knew the man introduced as ‘Sloan’ to be the MI6 deep cover operative who had been with Smythe for a long time.
After some small talk, Smythe, one of Ray’s former co-workers, asked bluntly “So why’d you do it, Doyle? I’ve often wondered. Why did you turn your colleagues in?”
Ray shot him an angry look. “Had to save meself, didn’t I? It was getting too close. I figured if I sacrificed some of them, if I told, I’d be clear. And I was.” He thought he’d choke on the falsehoods, but after lying to Bodie, this was easy.
“You’re a cold bastard, Doyle.” Smythe laughed. “Glad you’re on our side this time.”
“Keep up your end of the deal and we won’t have any problems,” he replied tersely.
The guns were already on their way. The ship bringing them in would arrive next Tuesday. That gave him about a week to get things set up. He hadn’t been told the name of the ship. He still needed to earn their trust. His job was to sell the heroin and have the money ready for the guns’ purchase. The heroin was coming from Smythe and his former Met associates. They still had contacts on the force and were getting information on drug busts and beating the police to the score. He was supposed to take part in the raids. In fact, he was informed, there was one on that night and he was expected to go along.
“Are you tooled up?” Smythe asked.
“Yeah, always,” he replied.
“Still holdin’ that lofty moral attitude about using shooters?” There was derision in the tone.
“Not when it’s deserved.” He gave Smythe a narrow eyed glance. “Don’t worry. I’ll do my part.”
The drug sale was to take place in an abandoned warehouse near the docks. He and four of the men from the pub drove in silence to the address supplied by Smythe’s Met squad contact. They would meet a few additional men there. The deal was supposed to go down at midnight. Smythe and his crew arrived at ten thirty. The warehouse was cold and empty. They holed up inside to review their plan and then spread out to cover all the access points. He found himself with Smythe on a scaffold above the main door.
“Not sure of me yet, sunshine?” he scoffed.
Smythe snorted, “Should I be?”
At ten until midnight the two groups set to exchange the drugs for cash arrived separately. The drug runners came in through the door he and Smythe were watching. The money came in through the back. When the two groups met in the centre of the warehouse, Smythe gave the signal to move. He called out from their perch above the warehouse floor.
“Everybody stay still. We’re merely here to relieve you of your ill gotten gains.”
One of the drug gang made a move to draw a weapon. A shot rang out from across the warehouse, barely missing the man’s boot.
“Let’s not try that again, mate,” Smythe called out. “Set your packages down on the floor in front of you and step back. No need for anyone to get hurt here.” Ray could see three of Smythe’s men make their way to the centre of the warehouse. Smythe continued, “We’re actually doin’ ya all a favour. The coppers will be here in about twenty minutes. If you do as you’re told, you’ll all avoid Her Majesty’s hospitality.” Ray scanned the warehouse from his spot on the catwalk. A movement to the left caught his eye. It seemed that several men held themselves back from the main group. No honour among thieves. He spotted a man with a gun trained on Smythe. There was no time to think, and he let a shot go, taking the man down. Smythe turned in surprise. Chaos broke out on the warehouse floor.
“Cover me!” Smythe called out as he ran down the stairs.
The fight didn’t last long. Smythe’s men were well trained and excellent marksmen. Those gang members not taken down by bullets ran. Most of the drugs and money were left behind as they scattered.
Smythe gathered his men. “We need to be gone quickly. The cops will be here soon. Where’s Doyle?”
“Over there.” Mullins tipped his head toward the far corner of the warehouse.
Smythe reached him as he was turning over the body of the man he’d shot. But it wasn’t a man, it was a boy. No more than sixteen. Ray felt his stomach tighten.
“See you haven’t lost your touch, mate,” Smythe patted him on the shoulder. “One shot through the chest. Impressive!” Ray stood suddenly and knocked the other man’s hand away.
“Nothin’ to be proud of, killin’ a kid,” he retorted coldly.
“Was him or me. I’m happy with your choice.” Smythe smiled coldly as he met Ray’s eyes. “I see you still have that conscience of yours. Surprises me, knowing the things you’ve done. Don’t know how you live with yourself as guilty as you feel.” Smythe laughed at him.
“Fuck off,” Ray hissed as he walked away.
They regrouped back at the pub, this time settling in the back room. They took inventory of the drugs and cash they’d acquired.
“You have a buyer for the heroin?” Mullins asked Ray.
“Yeah. The deal is on for tomorrow,” Ray said. It had been Brady who had been instrumental in setting that up.
“Good. Meet me in the park by the beach around one to pick up the goods. You’ll bring the cash back here tomorrow evening. Smythe or I will be here after seven.”
“Fine. If you don’t need me anymore tonight I’m for bed. I’m knackered.”
“Killing takes it out of a man, eh Doyle?” Smythe was still pushing him.
He felt his face redden but bit back on the anger. “You might try sayin’ thank-you. I did save your hide tonight.” He turned his back on the room, raised a hand over his shoulder and muttered goodnight.
He knew that someone would be sent to follow him. He waved off a taxi, deciding he needed to walk off some of the adrenaline still running through his system. He pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket along with his lighter. He frowned at himself. He’d started smoking again when this assignment had got underway. Bodie wouldn’t like him smoking. Bodie. He dropped the cigarette on the ground, crushing it beneath his boots. Maybe he’d stop for a drink. What he really needed, he admitted reluctantly to himself, was Bodie.
Bodie had always been there after a night like tonight, when the guilt of taking a life hammered him flat. It was ironic in a way that Bodie was the one who could settle him after a fiasco like this. Everyone thought he was the moral compass for the pair of them, what with his copper’s background as opposed to Bodie’s mercenary past. But he had learned that Bodie had his own code of honour and he followed it scrupulously. Bodie knew how to calm him, knew what to say, what not to say and when to finally gather him up in strong arms and simply hold him. He missed his partner. He hoped that somehow, when this operation was all over, he’d be able to rest in those strong arms again.
He stopped in a pub near his boarding house. The man following him stayed outside. He recognised him as the MI6 undercover operative. He thought about inviting the man for a drink to see if he could get any information out of him, but decided he’d rather be alone. Two whiskys did nothing to improve his mood so he decided to call it a night. He made his way to the boarding house, moving quietly so as not to wake the other guests. He showered and then peered out the window to see if his shadow was still there. He was.
He turned off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed. Sleep was a long time coming. He kept seeing the face of the young man he’d killed. “Let it go.” He heard his partner’s voice in his head. Bodie always told him he felt things too deeply, but how could he not? How could you blithely dismiss taking a life? Bodie had an answer for that too. The boy had chosen to be in that warehouse. He knew the risks of what he was doing and accepted his fate, whatever it was. Ray told himself that was all well and good for the boy, but how was he supposed to live with the fact that he, Raymond Doyle, had been that fate?
Fic Master Post/Broken Trust Part 2
Author: merentha13
Artist: bodiecuddle
Genre: Slash
Characters/Pairing: Bodie/Doyle
Word count: 25,500
Warnings: None
Link to Art: Art Master Post
Summary: Doyle has betrayed CI5 and Bodie… or has he? Will Bodie set aside his hurt and anger, to find his missing partner?
I bothered many people in the writing of this story. I want to thank you all for the advice, information and encouragement. You all know who you are! Special thanks to Callisto65 for the early beta and grammar lesson, to firlefanzine for being the best cheerleader ever! And piskiedust for a thorough beta, brit check and lots of ideas and support. (Ray wants to send out a thanks to dawnbeth without whose medical advice I’d have had him dead around Chapter 13 (too much “h” in the “h/c” *g*)) And a big “THANKS” and “Well Done, Mate” to my vidder bodiecuddle. The Vid is terrific!
All mistakes herein are my own. And as usual, I'm just borrowing the characters. No copyright infringement intended.
RTF File for E-readers
Fic Master Post on AO3/ Broken Trust
Chapter One
“You’re my partner. You’re supposed to watch my back, not put a knife in it.” The words were spoken softly, making their edge that much sharper.
“That goes both ways, Doyle. Partnership is supposed to be mutual...so is trust”
He winced inwardly at Bodie’s choice of words. “Doyle”. He was only Doyle when Bodie was putting distance between them. The intimacy of being “Ray” was gone. As much as it hurt, that is the way it had to be. “Might as well finish it now, I probably won’t get a better chance.”
One last scene to play out, and then Cowley would let him leave. He looked past Bodie’s outraged eyes to the other agents congregated around the bar at the “Hound and Hare”. Before it had all been rumours and stories, talk with no proof. Now there was evidence. Evidence the old man had shown Bodie this morning. Now it was real.
“That’s a fine line you’re walking, Bodie. Where’s your trust in me? You’re pretty quick to believe all the rot that’s bein’ spread around.”
“Are you denying it then?” Bodie poked him in the chest, pushing him back against the edge of the table.
“I shouldn’t have to.”
“Quit dancing around. What the fuck did you do it for?”
The angry words were followed by Bodie’s fist. The first blow caught him in the stomach, doubling him over. The second in the jaw, lifting him up, and then taking him down. He landed hard on the table; the legs collapsed and he found himself on the floor. He felt something inside him break, something that lay deeper than his bones.
“How the hell can you believe that I did?” Quiet pain filled the words he whispered up at the furious figure towering above him. “Bodie?”
“I don’t know you, Doyle. Turns out I never did.”
For a fleeting moment, he saw a lost look in the beloved blue eyes and it stopped his instinct to retaliate with his own fists. Maybe his own pleading voice, and the blood running down his cheek worked to make Bodie reconsider. But no, Cowley had shown Bodie the proof. Bodie thought his partner had crossed the line, turned traitor. There was no second chance for the betrayer. His was a double crime. He had betrayed not only CI5, but in doing that, his partner. There wasn’t going to be a second chance. Bodie glared down at him as he lay sprawled on the floor.
“You’re on your own, Doyle,” Bodie spat as he walked away.
Doyle found himself bleeding into a puddle of spilled beer and broken glass. He struggled to sit, wincing at the pain in his side. Looking around he caught sight of his lover’s stiff back walking away from him. Ex-lover, ex-partner, it was all over now.
“Bloody hell,” he sighed sadly.
“Damn! Ray!” A surprised voice and a tall, dark shadow startled him. “You alright, mate?”
“Murphy.” He hadn’t realised the other agent was still there. The others had left right after Bodie’s exit. He looked up into sympathetic eyes. “Give us a hand. I think I may have a couple bruised ribs.”
Murphy drove him to his flat and cleaned him up. “Are you going to be alright, Ray? Are you really going to go through with this?”
“Don’t really have a choice now do I?” Ray shrugged.
“There’s always a choice, mate”.
“I’ll be alright, Murph. Go on home. I’ve a few things to do before I go undercover.”
Shaking his head, Murphy said nothing as he left Ray, alone, in the flat.
Ray ran a hand through his dishevelled curls, tugging hard. He poured himself a double scotch. “You’re on your own.” Bodie’s words were bitter in his ears. “Not the first time,” he thought to himself. Memories crept in as he sat down gingerly on the settee, holding his aching ribs. He downed his drink and let his thoughts drift back to...
... a skinny eleven year old waiting in front of the chemist’s for his Mum to finish her shopping. When it turns dark he finally accepts that she isn’t coming back for him. The tears come as the policeman walks him to the station...
... a young hustler, selling his body to others. They are trying to forget their own loneliness for a few hours, and just maybe he is as well; hoping that the indignities he suffers in their sweaty clinches will pay well enough for him to go to night school, finally sit his exams, and maybe get to university where he can make a better life for himself than the one he is living now. He hides his tears with anger; no one can be allowed to see how much this life hurts.
... a naive art student standing behind a curtained window watching as his lover gets into a taxi; the offer of a job more important than the man left shattered in their home. Tears slide silently down a broken cheek...
...an idealistic new policeman, ostracised because he believes in the line that separates the villains from the good guys; alone because no one will work with a copper who grassed on his fellow officers. Tears of anger burn his eyes, but none fall...
He snorted at the poetic bent of his recollections. He could hear Bodie now, “Barbara Cartland couldn’t have done better, mate.”
...the meeting with George Cowley at the Yard. Feeling sure he is going to lose his job on the drug squad, he jumps at Cowley’s offer to join CI5. Maybe he has finally found a home.
His glass empty, he got up to pour another. A rueful smile crossed his lips.
‘Home, eh?’ he said to himself settling back in his seat.
There had been bumps. He and his new partner, ‘W.A.P. Bodie’, had not immediately hit it off. Bodie had made it clear that he did not think Raymond Doyle, ‘DC Plod’, was qualified for the job. It had been dispiriting to learn he wasn’t accepted, that he was on his own again. And it had stung, more than he expected. He had got by on his own for so long he didn’t realise how much he needed to belong somewhere. He had reached a point in his life where he needed an anchor and had foolishly put all his hope in CI5.
But he was nothing if not stubborn and he finally did earn a bit of Bodie’s respect. He had to dig for that acceptance. A smug Bodie had mockingly told him he wasn’t cool the first time he let his temper get the better of him. But Bodie had also offered some praise, ‘a good man to know,’ and some of the pain had disappeared. Despite their differences, Cowley kept them together and they made themselves into the best team on the A Squad.
...Then there was Ann Holly. He had fallen hard, even told Bodie he might ask her to marry him. But Ann wanted things that he didn’t, wanted a person that he wasn’t, and he was left standing alone again. It had hurt, but there were no tears left.
Bodie had surprised him, offering him a shoulder and he accepted. They relied on each other. He wasn’t alone anymore, or he hadn’t been until Cowley had assigned him this solo operation. He knew it was going to be hard. Cowley warned him that losing Bodie’s respect and friendship was a very real possibility. If only Cowley knew the whole of it. He thought Bodie knew him well enough to question the veracity of the charges, to give his partner of eight years the benefit of the doubt. He’d misjudged. Badly. He sported a bruised jaw and an empty flat to show for it. And he was alone again.
But this assignment was bigger than the partnership, bigger than the relationship they’d built so slowly, so carefully. If things went according to plan, he’d be able to bring down a major drug operation, uncover a mole in CI5 and keep a large cache of weapons off the streets of London. This was what he’d signed on to the squad to do: to protect the public, to make a difference. He needed to do this. Once the operation was finished he believed Bodie would accept the reasons for his actions, the reason why Bodie had been left out of things...if Bodie would give him a chance to explain. That was the uncertain part. Would Bodie listen to his explanations?
Cowley’s plan required that Bodie not know, and the plan was working better than either of them thought possible. He still thought he should have pushed harder to have Bodie know the truth.
“I don’t like it...sir,” he scowled at his boss.
Cowley slid his glasses back up his nose and glared back.
“You don’t have to like it, Doyle. I’m not in the habit of asking for your approval.”
Cowley watched as Doyle began his inevitable pacing.
“There’s speculation that MI6 has planted someone in our organisation, someone who is reporting our activities to Willis. They’ve beaten us to the punch too frequently for me to dismiss the speculation as rumour.” Cowley’s eyes studied him as he moved around the room.
“Ach, Doyle, sit.” Cowley pulled a bottle of malt out of his desk and poured two glasses.
“I need a mole of my own to monitor the latest intelligence surrounding MI6 and a drug ring. With your drug squad background, you’re the best placed agent to take that role. And Willis has always been interested in you.”
Ray quickly swallowed his drink.
“What’s the plan then?” he asked with hesitation.
“With a few well placed photographs, a few visits to less than respectable clubs and a few stories from your youth we’ll have people questioning your character, your motives. Your co-workers will distance themselves from you so they’re not tainted by your corruption. You’ll become isolated and disillusioned, a prime target for Willis.”
“No one will believe it.”
“They will if we can make Bodie believe it.”
“Bodie..,” the word was a pain-filled sigh.
He felt the blood leave his face as a frission of disquiet moved through him. He stood and slammed his glass on Cowley’s desk, taking a bit of pleasure in seeing the man flinch. His fingers curled into fists. He turned away from Cowley to look out the window.
“We have to tell Bodie the truth. He has to be involved in this.” The words were quiet, but filled with anger.
“No, Doyle. If this is going to work, Bodie has to accept the deception as true. If your partner isn’t convinced, no one else will be.”
He leaned his forehead against the window. He hardly noticed the cold. As much as he hated to admit it, he knew Cowley was right, but the cost of it was almost too much to bear. He knew what Bodie’s reaction would be. Lying was not a forgivable offence. Bodie would be badly hurt by this, he knew that. Honesty is an integral part of their relationship, loyalty too. Bodie would never forgive him for betraying Cowley and CI5 and yet that is exactly the ruse that Cowley was setting up.
And what about the personal side of things...things that Cowley didn’t know about. After many stops and starts, they had finally settled into an exclusive relationship. Cowley’s plans would make it seem to Bodie that Ray had broken that fragile trust.
“I know it will be difficult,” Cowley’s tone softened, “but think of the good you’ll be doing, man. Think of the drugs and guns that won’t be on the streets.”
Ray closed his eyes and nodded. He agreed; the good he’d be doing by going through with this mission should out-weigh his personal loss. But, God, it hurt. He’d just have to believe in Bodie; he’d have to believe that his partner would forgive him once the op was over and he could explain it all. He could only hope that Bodie would still trust him enough to forgive him.
Yeah, Cowley’s plan worked exactly the way the old man intended. Cowley had led Anson to discover some of the details of Doyle’s tearaway youth: run-ins with the police, fights, truancy, drugs. With the help of some staged photographs and Anson accidently spotting him hanging around the cottages on Hampstead Heath, word quickly spread that Doyle was queer. The stories had grown as they spread and Ray had found himself kept on the outside of his squad mates’ activities. He wasn’t quite shunned, but it was made clear that he was no longer trusted and that his company was no longer welcome.
The mission to infiltrate MI6 worked brilliantly. When word leaked out that Doyle was no longer one of Cowley's favorites, Willis made doyle an offer. Ray had put him off for a bit so as not to appear too desperate, and then had given in. He was now Cowley's 'mole' in MI6.
Cowley had discovered that the mole in CI5 was a lowly records clerk. With their man inside uncovered, MI6 was more than happy to take Ray on as a replacement, despite the rumours that were circulating. Ray settled into his role as a spy for both agencies, still officially with CI5 while working covertly for Willis. Cowley pulled some strings with the Ministry and was able to get Doyle involved when MI6, using their own contacts, set up an undercover operation. His role was to infiltrate a group of ex-Met police officers involved in the drugs for guns game. Ray reported all this faithfully to his CI5 boss, who kept the details of the undercover secret.
Cowley had even insisted on the public break with Bodie. The messy scene at the “Hound and Hare” had destroyed the partnership, both the professional and personal. A bitter laugh escaped him. Both guilt and sadness filled him as he recalled the final act. They’d been partners for eight years, lovers for two. But Cowley had been ruthless in divulging Ray’s past. Things that even Bodie hadn’t known became public knowledge. Some of it surprised and upset his partner. But Bodie would never ask for an explanation and Ray wasn’t offering one. Their relationship had begun to show the strain. They had both tried to ignore it, so they could keep working together.
The blow-up in the “Hound and Hare” ended everything except the anger. He couldn’t remember how it started. They both had said hateful things to and about each other. He had been sorry afterwards, for both the insults and the public airing of things better left private, but he knew they were both too angry, too proud and too stubborn to offer apologies.
He set his empty glass down and tried to shake off the disquiet that surrounded him. He knew his next move would confirm Bodie’s belief that he’d turned, and that rankled too. He was surprised at the sudden anger he felt over the fact that Bodie did believe it. But that wasn’t fair to Bodie. Hadn’t he set things up so Bodie would believe, had to believe? He’d distanced himself from Bodie to create the doubt in his partner’s mind. He had no right to be angry that Bodie had, albeit unwittingly, followed the plan.
He picked up the phone and called Cowley’s private number.
“It’s on, I’m leaving,” he said quietly. There was silence on the other end of the line and then a deep sigh.
“I’m sorry, 4.5…”
"Don't!" Ray interrupted angrily. "I knew it had to be done. I agreed to this. I'm callling to let you know that I'm heading out, starting the next phase." Both men were silent. The touch of compassion in the Scottish brogue had almost destroyed his will to continue the op and tickled the seed of something like doubt deep inside him.
“Ach, Doyle. We’ve been over this many times. I know you want to tell Bodie. But it will be best if Bodie believes you’ve turned. If your partner believes it, so will everyone else.”
Pinching the bridge of his nose with one hand he nodded to himself.
“Yeah, it probably is best that Bodie doesn’t know. That way he’s protected from any fallout if this goes wrong. With our partnership broken, no one will think he had anything to do with it.”
More silence. Then Cowley spoke again.
“I’m assuming that my choice of Murphy as your backup is acceptable.”
Doyle heard the dry sarcasm in the voice and ignored it.
“Yes. I told you I won’t do this as an operation ‘Susie’, not after the Molnar mess.”
Cowley didn’t respond to the accusation in the words.
“I’ll be in contact when I can.” He hung up, oddly pleased with himself for not slamming the handset into place.
Taking a deep breath he pulled his ID out of his wallet and laid it on the desk next to his CI5 issued gun. He had two others in his holdall, two that CI5 knew nothing about. He wanted to write a quick goodbye to Bodie, to explain in case it all went wrong, but he thought better of it. Cowley would have his guts for garters if he found out. But he wasn’t sure he trusted Cowley to explain it all correctly. Cowley would sacrifice anyone for Queen and country. He picked up a photo of the two of them, and read the typed note attached. The words were designed to make his actions seem more real to his partner, to give a reason for the betrayal that Bodie might actually believe. He hoped the old man was right and that it would be enough. He looked down at the photo. He felt an ache grow deep inside himself. He hated doing this, hated the thought of the anguish he was causing. He angrily crumpled the photo and the note and pitched them into the bin in the kitchen. He picked up his battered holdall and left CI5 Agent 4.5 behind.
Chapter Two
Bodie closed and locked the door to his flat and leaned his forehead against the cool wood of the frame. Images raced through his bewildered mind. A bleeding Ray Doyle slumped on the floor of the “Hound and Hare”; Ray, that last morning, wantonly stretching naked in the jumble of sheets in the middle of their bed; Doyle’s face closing as Bodie asked him to deny the charges being brought against him; Ray’s eyes reflecting all the love they felt for each other as he’d kissed him after they had made love that last night. There had been a strange intensity to their lovemaking, almost sadness, almost like a goodbye. He’d felt Ray tremble in his embrace. He had gently lifted the curly head from its resting place on his shoulder and asked what was wrong. Ray had replied “Nothin’” but there had been a hint of sorrow in the green eyes. He remembered the feeling that kept creeping up on him that there was something wrong, the feeling that Ray had been slowly pulling away from him. At the time he’d had no idea why. Had Ray known that this was all going to blow up on him? None of it made sense. There were too many contradicting details. Had the isolation Ray had suffered really caused him enough pain to make him turn? Had he played a part in Ray’s disillusionment? Had his own reaction to what he’d learned of Ray’s past pushed his partner over some unseen edge? He replayed the scenes from earlier in the day...
He was almost to Cowley’s door when he heard the raised voices. Ray was shouting at Cowley, but Bodie hadn’t been able to make out the words. He reached for the door but it was jerked out of his hand. Ray stormed out. Bodie was startled by the look on Ray’s face. It was an odd mixture of anger and fear, not an expression he’d seen on that face before.
“Been suspended,” Ray croaked out as he brushed past Bodie in the outer office. “Cowley wants to see you.”
Bodie was torn between finding out what Cowley wanted and going after Ray. He reached out and caught Ray’s arm.
“Meet me at the “Hound and Hare”, yeah?” He didn’t let go until Ray sullenly nodded his agreement. “Doyle, I...”
“3.7, my office now.” Cowley’s voice was as angry as Ray’s had been.
“Later, mate.” Bodie entered the controller’s office. Thirty minutes later, he wished he hadn’t.
He knew he had to talk to Ray, so he had suggested meeting at the “Hound and Hare”, hoping that if they were able to sit and talk, alone, they could straighten things out, save their partnership. It hadn’t worked out that way. Ray did not deny the charges about to be placed against him, that he was involved in selling drugs with his old colleagues from the Drug Squad. He just sat there listening to Bodie recite all the condemning evidence against him. Evidence that Cowley finally felt was strong enough to warrant an arrest and that was being presented to Scotland Yard and the Minister as the two CI5 agents sat in the pub, the evidence that Cowley had shown Bodie earlier this morning. There were pictures of Ray exchanging packages with Sean Mullins, a known drug dealer. There was a tape taken from the phone of Mullin’s partner. The phone was bugged by the Yard and it had caught Ray unaware. The tape held Ray’s voice setting up a meet to exchange heroin for cash. Bodie was appalled when he heard it. How could he have been so wrong about Ray? His Ray would never do the things that this man was doing. It didn’t make sense.
The scene in the pub and the confrontation that ended with Ray bleeding on the floor followed quickly after...
He shook off the memories and pushed himself away from the door. He went to the drinks cabinet. Anger consumed him. He picked up the glass Ray favoured, a souvenir from a dirty weekend in Wales, and threw it against the wall. It shattered along with his control. His eyes burned. He fought the rage back down. No way he was going to shed a tear over that traitor. He sank down on the settee with the bottle of scotch and tried to make some sense of what he'd learned today and what he knew about his partner.
It seemed impossible that Ray would be involved in the drug trade. He hated the pushers and had even shown sympathy at times to users they’d encountered. Hell, he’d sacrificed his career with the Met to turn in crooked cops. So how could he have joined with them now? But Ray had also admitted having used drugs a few times when he lived on the streets. He’d even sold some to get money for food. Which was the real Doyle? It was said that a person’s character was developed by their early experiences. Bodie laughed at himself. He was starting to think like Ross. But Ray had had a rough childhood, leading him to do things that the grown up Doyle professed to abhor.
His own experiences as a youth had led him to the mercenaries and made him a killer. He was still a killer. So maybe Ray hadn’t changed that much either. He took a deep pull from the bottle and his thoughts turned in a different direction. How had he been fooled by Ray all this time? They’d been so close, shared so many things. But there were secrets still between them, doors they’d never even knocked on, let alone dared to open. He recalled conversations about Ray’s time with the police when Ray had adroitly changed the subject rather than answer Bodie’s questions. And there was Ray’s skill at going undercover. He was very good at living a lie, Ray was. Is that all their partnership had been to Ray? An undercover op…a lie? He shook his head in denial. No, Ray loved him. He was sure of that. He sighed in frustration. He couldn’t come to terms with this. Ray a traitor? Even having seen the evidence he couldn’t believe it. There had to be more to this.
His RT buzzed.
“3.7”
“Bodie, Alpha One wants you to meet him at 4.5’s flat immediately.”
“Something happen to Doyle?” He was surprised by the concern in his own voice.
“Don’t know details 3.7. Cowley wants you there yesterday.”
“Understood. 3.7 out.”
Walking into Ray’s flat, he found himself ensconced in the middle of chaos. There were at least a dozen agents taking the place apart. Ray’s records and books had been pulled off the shelves and were thrown haphazardly around the room. His paintings had been removed from their frames and tossed aside. His model soldiers were knocked off their table and had rolled around on the floor. It upset Bodie to see their destruction. He knew how much they had meant to Ray, a gift from his first partner in the Met, Syd. A cold finger of fear speared down his spine. He headed for Ray’s bedroom. Agents were already there, stripping the bed and pulling clothes out of the cupboards and wardrobes. Bodie went to the bedside cabinet and opened the drawer. He sighed silently in relief. The box of “toys” he and Ray sometimes indulged in was gone. So was the small jewellery box where Ray kept the gifts Bodie had given him: the silver bracelet, the gold chain necklace, the watch with the humorous but incriminating inscription. But where were they? Had Ray taken them and if so why? Was he trying to protect Bodie even as he betrayed him? Things were making even less sense.
“Oi, Anson? You guys take anything out of here yet?” Bodie called to the agent going through Ray’s cupboard.
“No. We just started in here. Cowley’s in the kitchen. He was looking for you.”
“Why are we here? What the hell is going on?”
“Better see the old man. But you should know, Doyle’s done a runner.”
“Doyle’s done a runner.” The words hit him hard, shattering the precious hope that a terrible mistake had been made, that Ray Doyle was still the man that Bodie had believed, no needed, him to be. It raised those doubts again about how well he really knew Ray.
“Bodie!” Cowley’s voice penetrated his thoughts.
He made his way through the detritus of his partner’s life, now spread across the flat’s floor. “Sir?”
“Ach, 3.7, this is bad stuff. How is it you didn’t see it?”
“Doyle’s always been the best at undercover, sir.” Bodie hid behind his mask of indifference. He didn’t want anyone to see the confusion and sorrow he was feeling, but he knew that he couldn’t hide it from Cowley. “I didn’t sense anything that would lead to this.” And this felt so wrong to him. He was missing something, he was sure of it. Doyle was good at undercover work, and Cowley was well known for his propensity for triple think, could this be... He snapped back to attention when Cowley spoke.
“Aye. We’ll talk that over later. Do you see anything here that might be a lead, give us an idea of what the man was planning?”
“No sir. Doyle is too good at his job for that. There won’t be anything to find.”
“Right then,” the Controller turned around. “6.2, you’ll drive 3.7 and I back to headquarters. Bodie is right; we’ll not find anything of use here.” Bodie turned to see Murphy stuffing kitchen rubbish back into the bin and watched him put a crumpled bit of paper in his pocket. Murphy caught his eye but remained silent. Bodie swallowed his questions. The three men made their way to the car.
Chapter Three
Ray Doyle found himself staring at his own image on the cover of the newspaper being read by the man across the aisle. The headline practically screamed at him. “CI5 Agent Accused of Drug Trafficking. Nationwide Search Underway”. He didn’t think he was in danger of being recognised. He’d cut his hair short and coloured the auburn curls a dark brown. A hat covered those changes. Not shaving left him with rough stubble on his chin and a thin moustache. The aviator shades he was wearing hid his sharp green eyes. He no longer wore the skin-tight jeans and t-shirt. They had been replaced with baggy cords and a fisherman’s jumper. Still, the paper left him uneasy.
He knew he was doing the right thing. He was doing his job, protecting the innocents from the rotten apples of society. But it upset him to know that his friends and co-workers would see this and believe it. He and Cowley had set it up to be that way. It had to be that way for the operation to work and for Bodie to be protected from the fallout if it didn’t. But he regretted the misery he was leaving in his wake, especially hurting Bodie. There was no doubt that he had done that. The scene at the pub was all the proof he needed. Bodie’s retreating back and hunched shoulders showed all the betrayal he felt without Bodie having to say the words smouldering in those blue eyes. Ray had wounded him deeply. “I hope, when this is all finished, he’ll give me a chance to make things right, to explain,” Ray thought again as he closed his eyes and let the gentle motion of the train on its rails lull him into sleep.
The train pulled into the station at Blackpool. Ray’s contact, Brady, a long-time grass who also had ties to MI6, had set up a meet at the Flamingo for later that evening. That gave him time to settle in his room and look around the town. He’d never been to Blackpool. He walked slowly up Charnley Road looking for his boarding house. The street was quiet this time of year. In summer the beach crowds filled the shops and restaurants, but here in January the streets were mostly empty.
The cold penetrated his jacket and made his bruised ribs ache. He hesitated to take the pain-killers he’d picked-up after his tussle with Bodie. He wanted to be alert now that he was in-place. The meet tonight would determine how successful his and Cowley’s planning had been. Through his undercover work with MI6 he’d learned of this meeting and a few discretely placed words and favours had garnered Ray an invitation. Brady had spread the word that Ray was not what he seemed: that he’d been using his position with CI5 to make contact with gun runners and drug lords and that he was looking for new opportunities.
The stories being told about him grated on his self-worth. He was surprised at how easily people who knew him believed that the charges and rumours were true. If he was honest with himself, it hurt, especially when he thought about Bodie. “Leave off,” he chided himself. There would be time enough later to deal with that. He couldn’t allow himself to be distracted now. But there were people who were happy to believe that Raymond Doyle had finally fallen. Several of the men he was meeting tonight had escaped the investigation of the drug squad that he’d instigated. He could only imagine their pleasure at seeing the high and mighty Ray Doyle knocked off his pedestal.
He found his lodgings, a comfortable looking three story dwelling turned into a boarding house. He checked in as Roy Duncan, not taking any chances that the name of the London fugitive, Raymond Doyle, had beat him to town. The middle-aged woman who ran the place, Ruth, took him to his room at the back of the first floor. She made sure he had all the towels and blankets he needed and wished him a pleasant stay. He thanked her and locked the door after she left. He threw off his jacket and trainers and lay down on the bed. His ribs and jaw were aching. He had four hours before the meet and a kip might do him some good. He shut his eyes to sleep, but images of Bodie paraded behind his closed lids. He kept seeing the anger and pain in the face bending over him as he lay on the floor of the “Hound and Hare”, kept watching Bodie walk away from him, kept feeling his own heart break. He sat up quickly, cursing, and threw his pillow across the room. He gave up all thought of sleep and turned to the files Cowley had passed to him detailing the histories of the men he was to meet that evening.
Chapter Four
Cowley was not a happy man. One look at the tense face made Bodie think twice about demanding answers to the questions he still had. He’d let the old man lead this interview.
“What do we know, sir?” Murphy stepped into the uncomfortable silence, surprising both of the other men.
“Raymond Doyle stands accused of using information gathered as a CI5 employee to make contact with and sell guns and information to the IRA. It is believed that he has made contact with several men from his drug squad days who are involved with this group. Questions are being asked about how forthcoming he was with the corruption evidence he provided. The police now think that he purposely gave up several colleagues in order to spare these others and himself. His motives for presenting the evidence may not have been as altruistic as originally believed.”
“But sir,” Murphy interrupted, “are we really going to believe all this? We’ve known and worked with Ray for years. This all seems so unreal, the behaviour so unlike Doyle…”
“He took off,” Bodie interjected, “didn’t stay to defend himself, now did he? When Doyle feels he’s been wronged, he’s not quiet about it. But he didn’t offer up any explanations… he ran.” Bodie’s voice was flat, his face showed no emotion. He was trying hard to cover the confusion and suspicions he felt.
When he had first heard the rumours of Ray's activities he hadn't believed them. But then Ray had started shutting him out, putting distance between them. He had disappeared for hours without offering an explanation. He had turned down invitations for drinks and darts after work. He would claim he wanted an early night and then show up at HQ in the morning tired and short tempered. When Bodie wouls ask what was wrong Ray told him everything was fine. Ray's refusal to explain finally ignited Bodie's temper. There was a brief row in the restroom, pushes both physical and verbal left them both seething and underneath Bodie was in pain and confused by Ray's actions. Cowley had re-teamed Bodie and Ray went solo.
When he’d met Ray in the pub the man had been distant, closed. That wasn’t like Ray. Ray had always been an open book to him, but he couldn’t read the man he had met in the "Hound and Hare". He’d seemed surprised when Bodie had hit him. But the biggest proof of Ray’s guilt was that he had run. Bodie couldn’t forgive that.
“Aye, he did,” Cowley agreed. Was that a note of sadness Bodie heard in the words? Funny that, Cowley wasn’t one to let his emotions show. Anger was expected, Doyle had betrayed CI5 and Cowley personally. But to Bodie, the sadness seemed directed elsewhere… for him maybe? Bodie couldn’t let those kinds of thoughts weaken the walls he was rebuilding around his heart. He’d let Doyle in and look where that had got him. There was no place inside him for softness anymore; the single feeling he had room for was anger. And the outlet for that was paying Ray back; he needed to make Ray suffer too.
“So what’s next, sir?” Bodie wanted to get both their minds back on business.
“We’re going to attack this from the other side. The money from the drugs is purported to be used for the purchase of guns and to finance a Member of Parliament’s re-election campaign. No surprises there. You and Murphy will be checking with your contacts, and Doyle’s as well, to see if you can find the buyers. Then we’ll set up an undercover to get one or both of you into the gang. Your experience as a mercenary should come in handy here, Bodie.”
Spending the day talking to the human rats of London’s streets didn’t improve Bodie’s mood. He tossed his keys on the table in the rest room as Murphy followed him in. At least the day hadn’t been a total waste. They had gathered some good information and he had secured the help of a former contact. Marty Martell was slippery but he’d always dealt honestly with Bodie. Murphy handed him a mug of tea.
“The more I hear about Ray’s part in all this, the harder it is to believe,” he said.
There was a funny catch to Murphy’s voice. Bodie had noticed that Murphy was slow to condemn Doyle, offering up excuses for his aberrant behaviour. Had there been something going on there? He laughed at his own insecurity. He and Ray had been living in each other’s back pockets. There was no room there for anyone else. “Especially not in Doyle’s jeans,” the thought brought with it a wave of affection that he quickly smothered. But that wasn’t true was it? There had been room for betrayal. He grunted a response to Murphy’s comment.
“Right.” Murphy looked at him with something Bodie read as sympathy. He wanted no part of it. Before he could react Murphy said “I’ll fill Cowley in on what we found. Be right back.” Murphy left the rest room as Anson, Jax and Susan came in.
Bodie sat silently drinking his tea remembering previously shared drinks in this room, hoping the guilt he felt at revealing things from Ray’s past didn’t show. He had exposed some of Ray’s secrets and that had been enough to start some of the stories that led to Ray’s being ostracised. He had done it as payback for the hurt Doyle had caused with his unexplained withdrawal from their relationship. He remembered winding Anson up after the wrangle in the restroom...
“So what do you mean you weren’t surprised about Doyle?” Anson pressed. “He was your bloody partner for eight years! You can’t expect us to believe that you worked with a man whose loyalties you questioned all that time.”
“If you knew more about him, you’d understand. There was more to old Raymond than he let on. Quite the tearaway in his younger days, he was.” Bodie shrugged. “Then on to art school, the Met, the Yard; he changes his colours quite easily to fit the role he’s playin’.”
Anson scoffed. “What are you on about Bodie? You make him sound like a sodding chameleon!”
“Well, in fact that’s what he was. A damn good undercover man, right? Only we didn’t know he was playin’ undercover all along.”
“Playing under your covers you mean, don’t you, petal?” Anson fluttered his eyelashes and drew a laugh from the others in the room.
“Not mine, but play he did.” Bodie’s face flushed at the lie. “Our boy has a history of swinging both ways.”
“Bodie.” Murphy had entered the room and put a hand on Bodie's shoulder, shaking his head. “Leave it.”
“No, Murph. Why should I protect him and his reputation, or what’s left of it?” He turned to the rest of the room. “Raymond bloody Doyle was a rent boy before he made it into the Met. Turned tricks in Derby and London. Still frequented a couple places in Soho. He told me one time he had even sold some weed, to feed himself. He’s simply returning to old habits now. Cats don’t change their stripes. I’ll bet…”
“Doyle a prossie, no way!” Anson gasped.
“Oh yeah. Where do you think he got that broken face, hm? An unsatisfied customer, wasn’t it?” Bodie stopped and drew in a sharp breath at the sting of self-reproach his words brought. That story was Ray’s secret and not his to tell. Ray had confided in him after an obbo gone bad, deep in the night, deep in a bottle of scotch. It had left them both shaken.
Murphy had grabbed Bodie by the back of his jacket collar and hauled him out of the rest room. He pushed Bodie up against the wall. “What the hell are you doing?”
Bodie shook himself free. “What do you care, Murphy? After what he’s done, Doyle deserves whatever he gets. I’m not going to sugar-coat his past. It’s relevant here. He’s just reverted to form.”
“You know that’s not true. You’re angry. He hurt you and you’re striking back. Ray Doyle was a good friend to you...more than a friend. Remember that, not the things he had to do to survive. Your past isn’t so pure either, is it old son?” Murphy sneered.
Bodie was confused. “Why are you defending him? You saw the pictures, heard the tapes… how can you defend him?”
Murphy took a step back. “Things aren’t always what they seem Bodie. There are reasons for everything. Think before you throw everything away.” Bodie stood silently while he watched Murphy walk away...
The memory left him feeling remorseful. But why should it bother him now to have revealed Ray’s past. It was true, wasn’t it? And Ray had betrayed him, why should he feel remorse at returning the favour? As far as Bodie was concerned, there was nothing to think about. Doyle had lied to him, probably had been lying for years. And if Ray had lived a lie in his work, what did that say about his real feelings for Bodie? Was that a sham as well? If he was honest with himself, and he really didn’t want to be, he couldn’t convince himself that Ray Doyle didn’t love him. The depth of feeling they had for each other couldn’t be faked.
They lay tangled together while the rain drummed softly on the roof overhead. Ray stretched languidly and nuzzled Bodie’s neck and shoulder.
“This is what heaven must be, Bodie.”
Bodie put a hand behind Ray’s neck, fingers playing with the soft curls. He rested his forehead against Ray’s.
“As close as the two of us are likely to get, sunshine.” He tucked Ray’s head under his chin.
Ray sighed and settled closer.
“Never expected to find this for meself...especially not in your toffee-nosed arms!”
“Find what?” Bodie asked tipping Ray’s face up so he could see his eyes.
“Love, acceptance...all of it.”
“You only had to look, Angelfish. It was always there, waiting for you.”
“Always?”
“Well, maybe not at the beginning,” Bodie poked Ray in the side. “ It took you a bit of time to get used to me...all this perfection put you off a bit at the start.” He tickled exposed ribs.
“Prat.”
Ray settled again, his lips pressed softly against Bodie’s. “I love you Bodie...more than anything...”
So what had happened to make Ray…? No, he wasn’t going to torture himself this way. Ray had gone over to the other side. The evidence was clear. But somehow, it didn’t feel right. It wasn’t Ray. He couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that things were not what they seemed. Ray knew when he made the choice to join with the drug dealers that he’d be leaving Bodie behind. So, in Bodie’s mind, that meant Ray hadn’t valued their relationship. He’d used Bodie. And now he was gone. But Bodie wasn’t done with him yet, no way. He was going to find out what was going on and Ray Doyle was going to pay for the wounds he’d inflicted.Bodie promised himself that.
“3.7,” Cowley’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “My office. Now.”
“Sir.”
Bodie sat down in the chair in front of Cowley’s desk. From the corner of his eye he noted a figure leaning against the file cabinet, Ray’s spot. He started, but realised it was Murphy.
“What’s going on, sir? Is there news?” Bodie tried to maintain a disinterested tone.
“Aye, Bodie, there’s news.” Cowley pushed a file folder toward him. He didn’t move to take it.
“Go on.” Cowley nodded at the file.
He reached over and picked it up. Inside was a photograph. He recognised it as the crumpled bit of paper he’d seen Murphy pull from Doyle’s bin. He drew in a sharp breath. The photo was of him and Ray. Judging by the location, it had been taken after the disastrous Melton case. Ray had been held hostage and most of CI5 had given him up for dead. When Ray had staggered out into the alley behind the pub, Bodie had forgotten all about discretion in his need to reaffirm that they were both still alive and he had wrapped the exhausted man up in his arms. The embrace was fierce, their arms locked tight around each other. A discrete cough from Jax had broken them apart, but not soon enough.Someone else had caught them out.
There was a note with the photo:
“Good looking bloke in your arms, Doyle. They say a picture’s worth a thousand words. What’s he worth to you? We’ll be in touch.”
Bodie dropped the picture back on Cowley’s desk. He head was spinning. Now he had a reason for Ray’s betrayal.
Someone was blackmailing Ray. Ray was protecting… whom? Was he merely trying to protect himself? Bodie was still angry enough to believe the motivation was selfishness. But no, Ray wouldn’t care if people knew about his… tendencies. He almost flaunted his sexuality. His posing, tight jeans and provocative attitude appeared to invite all comers. Even Cowley had used that to advantage in several undercover ops. No, Ray hadn’t given in to the blackmailers for his own sake.
“Why? I don’t…” He hadn’t realised he’d spoken out loud.
“For you and for CI5,” Cowley answered. “He knew what this could do to the organisation if it were made public. Better that he take the fall alone as a traitor than pull you and CI5 down with him.”
Bodie sat stunned. He knew Ray cared for him, but this was too much, it seemed too easy. It didn’t sit right with him. There was more to this.
Chapter Five
It had started to rain at dusk. The wind was cold. Ray made his way through the wet streets dreading the meeting to come. He knew that once he took this step he was committed. ‘Should be committed anyway for takin’ this on.’ He smiled grimly to himself. Cowley wanted him to abandon the undercover after he had names and meeting places. Get the information and get out, he’d ordered. But there was no backing out. The stakes were too high. The chance to bring down the highest level of corruption in the government was not to be missed. The amount of heroin and the number of weapons to be unleashed on the London streets could not be allowed to happen. No matter the cost to him. And the cost was high. He’d seen it clearly in Bodie’s eyes when he’d watched his partner turn away from him. Nothing he could do about that now. He needed to keep himself focused on his job. There’d be plenty of time for regrets later. He allowed himself to hope that maybe, just maybe, his seeing this operation through to the end would mitigate some of Bodie’s anger, would help make Bodie understand why he’d made the decision he had, would allow Bodie to forgive him.
As he approached the pub, he saw two men walking towards the door and thought he heard a voice he vaguely remembered. He stepped into the shadows at the side of the building. He was pretty sure it was Paul Smythe, a man he had occasionally had contact with in the Met. A second voice belonged to Mullins. He had already met him through Brady.
“...how can you be sure of him? He’s betrayed mates before. Hell, he was an under-fuckin’-cover copper!” It was Mullins who voiced the doubts.
“Oi! Watch the copper comments!” Smythe spoke with a hint of amusement. “Brady and Sloan have both vouched for him. You trust them, don’t you?”
Mullins grunted his assent.
“We’ll keep a close watch on him...”
The voices faded as the two men entered the pub.
He waited a few minutes and then pulled open the brass-trimmed door and entered the bar. It felt good to get out of the cold wind. He loosened his scarf. Eyes adjusting to the light, he looked around. The bar was smoke-filled and loud. Brady met him at the bar and took him to a table in the back. Six men sat drinking and playing cards. He wondered, not for the first time, exactly what kind of connections MI6 and Willis in particular, had with this group to get him so readily accepted. He recognised three of them. They were former detectives with the Met. Brady made introductions and Mullins invited him to sit. Ray knew the man introduced as ‘Sloan’ to be the MI6 deep cover operative who had been with Smythe for a long time.
After some small talk, Smythe, one of Ray’s former co-workers, asked bluntly “So why’d you do it, Doyle? I’ve often wondered. Why did you turn your colleagues in?”
Ray shot him an angry look. “Had to save meself, didn’t I? It was getting too close. I figured if I sacrificed some of them, if I told, I’d be clear. And I was.” He thought he’d choke on the falsehoods, but after lying to Bodie, this was easy.
“You’re a cold bastard, Doyle.” Smythe laughed. “Glad you’re on our side this time.”
“Keep up your end of the deal and we won’t have any problems,” he replied tersely.
The guns were already on their way. The ship bringing them in would arrive next Tuesday. That gave him about a week to get things set up. He hadn’t been told the name of the ship. He still needed to earn their trust. His job was to sell the heroin and have the money ready for the guns’ purchase. The heroin was coming from Smythe and his former Met associates. They still had contacts on the force and were getting information on drug busts and beating the police to the score. He was supposed to take part in the raids. In fact, he was informed, there was one on that night and he was expected to go along.
“Are you tooled up?” Smythe asked.
“Yeah, always,” he replied.
“Still holdin’ that lofty moral attitude about using shooters?” There was derision in the tone.
“Not when it’s deserved.” He gave Smythe a narrow eyed glance. “Don’t worry. I’ll do my part.”
The drug sale was to take place in an abandoned warehouse near the docks. He and four of the men from the pub drove in silence to the address supplied by Smythe’s Met squad contact. They would meet a few additional men there. The deal was supposed to go down at midnight. Smythe and his crew arrived at ten thirty. The warehouse was cold and empty. They holed up inside to review their plan and then spread out to cover all the access points. He found himself with Smythe on a scaffold above the main door.
“Not sure of me yet, sunshine?” he scoffed.
Smythe snorted, “Should I be?”
At ten until midnight the two groups set to exchange the drugs for cash arrived separately. The drug runners came in through the door he and Smythe were watching. The money came in through the back. When the two groups met in the centre of the warehouse, Smythe gave the signal to move. He called out from their perch above the warehouse floor.
“Everybody stay still. We’re merely here to relieve you of your ill gotten gains.”
One of the drug gang made a move to draw a weapon. A shot rang out from across the warehouse, barely missing the man’s boot.
“Let’s not try that again, mate,” Smythe called out. “Set your packages down on the floor in front of you and step back. No need for anyone to get hurt here.” Ray could see three of Smythe’s men make their way to the centre of the warehouse. Smythe continued, “We’re actually doin’ ya all a favour. The coppers will be here in about twenty minutes. If you do as you’re told, you’ll all avoid Her Majesty’s hospitality.” Ray scanned the warehouse from his spot on the catwalk. A movement to the left caught his eye. It seemed that several men held themselves back from the main group. No honour among thieves. He spotted a man with a gun trained on Smythe. There was no time to think, and he let a shot go, taking the man down. Smythe turned in surprise. Chaos broke out on the warehouse floor.
“Cover me!” Smythe called out as he ran down the stairs.
The fight didn’t last long. Smythe’s men were well trained and excellent marksmen. Those gang members not taken down by bullets ran. Most of the drugs and money were left behind as they scattered.
Smythe gathered his men. “We need to be gone quickly. The cops will be here soon. Where’s Doyle?”
“Over there.” Mullins tipped his head toward the far corner of the warehouse.
Smythe reached him as he was turning over the body of the man he’d shot. But it wasn’t a man, it was a boy. No more than sixteen. Ray felt his stomach tighten.
“See you haven’t lost your touch, mate,” Smythe patted him on the shoulder. “One shot through the chest. Impressive!” Ray stood suddenly and knocked the other man’s hand away.
“Nothin’ to be proud of, killin’ a kid,” he retorted coldly.
“Was him or me. I’m happy with your choice.” Smythe smiled coldly as he met Ray’s eyes. “I see you still have that conscience of yours. Surprises me, knowing the things you’ve done. Don’t know how you live with yourself as guilty as you feel.” Smythe laughed at him.
“Fuck off,” Ray hissed as he walked away.
They regrouped back at the pub, this time settling in the back room. They took inventory of the drugs and cash they’d acquired.
“You have a buyer for the heroin?” Mullins asked Ray.
“Yeah. The deal is on for tomorrow,” Ray said. It had been Brady who had been instrumental in setting that up.
“Good. Meet me in the park by the beach around one to pick up the goods. You’ll bring the cash back here tomorrow evening. Smythe or I will be here after seven.”
“Fine. If you don’t need me anymore tonight I’m for bed. I’m knackered.”
“Killing takes it out of a man, eh Doyle?” Smythe was still pushing him.
He felt his face redden but bit back on the anger. “You might try sayin’ thank-you. I did save your hide tonight.” He turned his back on the room, raised a hand over his shoulder and muttered goodnight.
He knew that someone would be sent to follow him. He waved off a taxi, deciding he needed to walk off some of the adrenaline still running through his system. He pulled a cigarette from his jacket pocket along with his lighter. He frowned at himself. He’d started smoking again when this assignment had got underway. Bodie wouldn’t like him smoking. Bodie. He dropped the cigarette on the ground, crushing it beneath his boots. Maybe he’d stop for a drink. What he really needed, he admitted reluctantly to himself, was Bodie.
Bodie had always been there after a night like tonight, when the guilt of taking a life hammered him flat. It was ironic in a way that Bodie was the one who could settle him after a fiasco like this. Everyone thought he was the moral compass for the pair of them, what with his copper’s background as opposed to Bodie’s mercenary past. But he had learned that Bodie had his own code of honour and he followed it scrupulously. Bodie knew how to calm him, knew what to say, what not to say and when to finally gather him up in strong arms and simply hold him. He missed his partner. He hoped that somehow, when this operation was all over, he’d be able to rest in those strong arms again.
He stopped in a pub near his boarding house. The man following him stayed outside. He recognised him as the MI6 undercover operative. He thought about inviting the man for a drink to see if he could get any information out of him, but decided he’d rather be alone. Two whiskys did nothing to improve his mood so he decided to call it a night. He made his way to the boarding house, moving quietly so as not to wake the other guests. He showered and then peered out the window to see if his shadow was still there. He was.
He turned off the bedside lamp and crawled into bed. Sleep was a long time coming. He kept seeing the face of the young man he’d killed. “Let it go.” He heard his partner’s voice in his head. Bodie always told him he felt things too deeply, but how could he not? How could you blithely dismiss taking a life? Bodie had an answer for that too. The boy had chosen to be in that warehouse. He knew the risks of what he was doing and accepted his fate, whatever it was. Ray told himself that was all well and good for the boy, but how was he supposed to live with the fact that he, Raymond Doyle, had been that fate?
Fic Master Post/Broken Trust Part 2