Pro's Big Bang 2011 Broken Trust Part 2

[merentha13]

Chapter 6

Bodie watched as Murphy looked around the bar with a grimace. The air was filled with smoke and the stale smell of the dockworkers coming off their shifts. “You take me to the nicest places Bodie.”

“Nothing but the best for you, sunshine!” Bodie led them to the bar. “What’ll you have?”

“A lager,” looking around, Murphy added, “in a bottle.”

Bodie laughed. “No sense of adventure, mate.” He pushed through the press of bodies at the bar. The music was loud; he had to shout for the bartender to hear him. He felt a slight pressure on his shoulder. A man he recognised as one of Martell’s tipped his head toward a table in the back. Bodie nodded and the man walked away. He and Murphy collected their drinks and made their way through the crowd to the table where Martell sat.

“Marty. Thanks for meeting me,” Bodie grinned.

“Like I really had a choice.” Martell looked Murphy over but asked nothing.

After taking a pull of his lager, Bodie explained what he needed. Martell said nothing for several minutes and then looked into Bodie’s eyes.

“I’m going to have to pull in some pretty big favours to set this up. You’ll owe me for a change, Bodie.” Martell’s smile was predatory.

“Nah, Marty. What are old mates for?”

Martell’s gaze returned to Murphy. “What’s his story?”

“Murphy’s former SAS like me. He’s been in Africa. You can use that to explain our connection to you. Say we’ve severed our SAS connections and have been out of London for a while, working for you in Kenya. That should hold up with you vouching for us.”

“Should do,” Martell agreed. He turned again to Murphy. “What are your specialities?”

Murphy smiled at the euphemism. “Explosives and long-range weaponry.”

Martell grunted. “That will fit with what I have in mind.” He looked at Bodie. “Where’s your curly headed shadow? You don’t usually travel without him.”

Murphy looked surprised at the question, but Bodie wasn’t. He recalled Marty’s unusual interest in Ray the first time they’d met and his partner’s almost immediate dislike of the man. He smiled slightly as he remembered Ray’s thinly veiled comments about Marty’s sexual tendencies. He closed off thoughts of Ray with a shake of his head.

“Things change.” Bodie’s tone invited no further questions.

Martell took pleasure in Bodie’s obvious discomfort. “Too bad. I’ll miss the chance to get up the ratty bastard’s nose.”

The look Bodie gave him brought him back to the business at hand.

“You’re a lucky man, Bodie. It happens that I’ve had word of this particular set up and have been asked for a bit of help. The guns are set to arrive next Tuesday. The transport ship is “The Phantom.” I’ll set you up as weapons expert sent to help unload and inspect them. You’ll then be used to get them to the distribution point. Your contact will be Red Farris. You’ll meet him here tomorrow at noon.”

“Thanks, Marty.”

“No thanks, Bodie. Just remind your boss that he owes me… again.”

Bodie and Murphy rose as one and turned to go, Bodie sending Martell a two-fingered salute on his way out. Martell’s laughter followed them out of the pub.

“You know it might be Ray delivering the money for the gun purchase?” Murphy asked him quietly later that evening. They were discussing their plans as they sat at the bar in the Inn they were staying at.

“Yeah,” he answered, “I hope it is. I want to watch his face as I put the cuffs on him. Might have to rough him up a bit, if he doesn’t come quietly. In fact I’d welcome a little resisting arrest.”

Murphy took in his expressionless face. He had his mask in place, but he knew Murphy saw deeper than that. There was a bit of regret and sadness that still leaked into his eyes. He hadn’t been able to hide it all. He sighed.

“I still don’t understand why he did this, Murph.”

Murphy looked at him with exasperation.

“I know, I know…the photograph, the blackmail…Ray trying to protect me…us. But I can’t sort it all out. What if the photo was a trick too? It’s so unlike the Ray I knew to not talk to me… to keep me in the dark.” Anger replaced the puzzlement in his voice. “I want the chance to get the truth out of him, no matter what it takes.”

“When you get that chance, I hope you’ll listen to what he has to say,” Murphy replied.

Chapter Seven

Sleep hadn’t come easy and what Ray did get was filled with nightmares. He kept seeing the boy he’d killed, and as the visions played over and over in his mind the boy’s face was slowly replaced by Bodie’s. That jarred him awake, shaking and sweating. There was no going back to sleep now, no matter how tired he was. He didn’t want to relive that last image. He got up stiffly, his ribs feeling a bit better than they had yesterday. He dressed. His stomach reminded him that it had been awhile since he’d last acknowledged it. He went downstairs for breakfast.

“Good Morning, Mr Duncan.” Ruth greeted him with a smile that turned into concern. “Didn’t sleep well by the looks of you. Find yourself a seat and I’ll bring out some tea.”

“Thanks.” He dragged out a smile for her. “First night in a new bed, no one ever sleeps well, do they?”

She returned his smile, but he could see that she didn’t believe him.

He made his way to a table by the window and casually looked out. He still had his shadow. He wasn’t surprised. He ordered toast and eggs when Ruth brought his tea. He absently flipped through the paper she’d left on the table while he ate. He thought about the next phase of the operation with a bit of trepidation. His meet was set for two this afternoon. He wanted a chance to look over the location of the exchange before the deal was done. He had a bad feeling about the way things were going down and he’d always trusted his instincts.

“Wish I had Bodie to bounce this off…” He choked back a bitter laugh. “Best not think about that, mate,” he rebuked himself. “That option doesn’t exist right now, maybe never again.” He closed his mind to the feeling of loss. It wasn’t going to help to dwell on what was done. He needed to stay focused on the job.

He left the boarding house and made his way to the abandoned shop that was the site of the exchange. He kept an eye on the man following him. Unease settled across the back of his neck. The shop had sold books. He didn’t like the vulnerability he felt looking at the rows and rows of tall empty bookcases that provided too many places to hide, too many places for an ambush. He would not have picked a place like this for a meet, but it hadn’t been left up to him. He looked around, memorising the layout. The front of the shop was large windows, many broken. There was a counter along the far wall and behind it were stairs leading down. He made his way slowly into the basement. It was mostly empty. There were a few cardboard boxes and a broken table, its legs lying on the floor beneath it. There was no place for an ambusher to hide down here.

He walked back up to the main level and checked again for his shadow outside. The man had stayed on the street corner so he couldn’t see Ray inside the shop. Ray knelt down behind the counter and pulled out a small hand-gun. He fixed it to the underside of the counter with tape. It made him feel a bit better to know that it was there. He walked between the rows of bookshelves, memorising their arrangement, knowing he could never be too prepared.

He checked his watch. It was time to meet up with Mullins to get the heroin for the exchange. It was colder today and the wind was stronger. He pulled his coat a bit closer around himself and tightened the scarf around his neck as he walked to the small town park. He sat on a bench and opened the newspaper he had taken from the boarding house. He pretended to read while he listened to the waves strike the beach.

The sound of the water hitting the sand and the salty, brackish smell of the ocean breeze took him back to another beach, another time, months and miles away. He and Bodie had finished up a gruelling operation. While neither one was injured, Cowley had seen that they were at the end of their tether and gave them ten days off. Bodie was like a little kid:

“Where are you taking me then?” Bodie rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation.

“Takin’ you? What makes you think that I want to spend my time off with the likes of you?” He used a smile to soften the words.

“Who better?” The arched eyebrow was raised in lascivious intent.

“Berk.”

“I’m hurt, Raymond. I don’t think I shall quickly forgive you.” The words were capped with the famous Bodie pout.

“Hm, let’s see what I can come up with to beg your highness’s pardon.”

“Don’t think you can,” Bodie’s stare was filled with challenge.

“How about a bit of fishing?”

“Where? Don’t need ten days away to fish.”

“Scotland.”

“Scotland! Why there?”

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

“But...”

“No more questions. Go pack a bag. I’ll pick you up in an hour. Off you go.”

“Running all the way, sir,” Bodie gave him a mock salute.

Several hours drive found them standing in front of a small shepherd’s croft on a windy beach, miles from the nearest town.

“Where did this come from then?” Bodie’s voice held puzzlement and surprise. “Have you been holding out on me, Raymond?”

Ray led Bodie into the main room of the croft. It was divided into a kitchen area and a lounge with a large stone fireplace. Above the main room was a sleeping loft.

“Nice. So tell me the story, Ray.”

Ray felt a twinge of sadness and tried to hide it, but he couldn’t hide from Bodie. Bodie had seen.

“Ray?” The voice was gentle.

“It belonged to my old Met partner, Syd. After he was killed, his wife came up here to live. She passed on about six months ago. They left the place to me. It’s mine now...” He took Bodie’s hands in his own “... or ours...”

Bodie pulled him into a hug, letting him have his moment of sadness and then drew him back to the present. “It’s wonderful, Ray.”

Ray stepped back and punched Bodie lightly on the shoulder, burying thoughts of Syd until later. “Let’s go down to the beach. I have plans for you, old son.”

A short walk had them standing on the shore. There was no one else around. The sky was a cloudless, deep shade of blue. The wind was cool and sea birds played in the thermals.

“You want what?” Bodie’s shocked words echoed down the empty beach.

“You,” Ray smiled at him, “all the tall, dark and beautiful parts of you.” He unbuttoned Bodie’s jacket and started on his shirt. “Let’s have you now.”

“Here?”

Ray laughed the deep, dark, promising laugh that he knew always went straight to Bodies groin. “Shy?”

“No.” Bodie’s voice was indignant. “I don’t want to share all this beauty with the gulls and fish.” He reached out and gently caressed Ray’s cheek. “It’s solely for you.”

“Then let me see it.” Ray moved to continue unbuttoning Bodie’s shirt.

Bodie sighed and grabbed his hands.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, love,” Ray admonished.

“But I’m not a priaprismic exhibitionist like some, now am I?” Bodie’s face lit with amusement.

Undeterred, Ray moved back to the buttons.

“Doyle, I’ll get sand in me....”

A kiss stopped his words while a hand moved to his belt buckle.

“... and sunburn on my...”

“I’ll keep ‘em safe.” Ray gently covered the area in question with his hand.

Bodie gasped. “Well that’s all right then.”

Ray pushed him down onto the blanket he’d spread on the sand and they finished undressing each other. Kisses and caresses gave way to other more urgent needs. Ray lost himself in the sound of the waves, the warmth of the sun kissed sand and the beloved body beneath him. Bodie, catching his breath, ran his hands down Ray’s back.

“God, this is good Ray.”

He answered Bodie’s words with another promise filled laugh...

He was pulled out of the past by the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked at his watch. He had been sitting for about thirty minutes. Mullins sat down next to him, placing a cloth holdall between them on the bench. They didn’t speak. Ray’s head remained buried in the newspaper. He heard more footsteps approach the bench and Mullins greet the man who had been Ray’s shadow. The two swapped friendly words and walked off together. Mullins had left the bag on the bench. Ray lowered his newspaper and looked around. He was alone. He picked up the bag and made his way back to the book-shop, the feeling of apprehension growing as he got closer.

There were two men waiting for him inside the shop.

“Shop’s closed. Why are you here?” The taller of the two spoke.

“I’ve been looking for a special book, a limited edition.” He saw them relax a bit when he spoke the correct password.

“That what you brought to trade for it?” The second man asked indicating the holdall Ray held.

“Yeah,” he nodded at them, “You have what I’m looking for?”

“Let’s see what’s in the bag.” The taller man brought an envelope out of his jacket pocket. He handed it to Ray.

Ray opened the bag and tossed it towards the men. “Check it out if you like,” he said. They did.

Business concluded, the two men left. He felt the bit of tension he’d carried all morning drain away. It left him a bit shaky. He was disturbed by the reaction. He couldn’t afford to lose his cool. Bodie had always told him he needed to be cool. Bodie… the tension crept back. He quickly recovered his gun from its hiding place and headed back to his room.

Chapter Eight

“Bodie! That really you mate?” A large, muscular blond man walked toward him.

“Oi! Jackson! Good to see you again!” Bodie clasped the man’s hand in a firm grip. He turned toward Murphy.

“Murphy, this is an old mate of mine. Jackson, my new partner, Murphy.”

The two men shook hands and they all sat down on the bonnet of the jeep he and Murphy had been working on.

“I’d heard you were out of the merc business, Bodie.” Jackson’s eyes held questions. “After the Krivas business they said you’d left Africa and came home.”

“Yeah, I did. I did a stint in the army, then SAS and the Paras. There was a bit of a falling out with the brass. Murphy came to me with an opportunity too good to pass up, so here I am. What about you?”

Jackson sighed. “I was wounded shortly after you left. Took about a year to heal up. I wandered around Europe for a while and met up with Martell. I’ve been working for him ever since. I’ve got some of the old lads from Africa with me too; old loyalties are hard to lose. I needed a bit of extra money and Marty got me this job.”

“Full of generosity our Marty!” Bodie laughed and Jackson joined in. “He helped us get on here too.”

“How about a pint later, Bodie?” Jackson slid off the lorry. “I’ve got a meeting now but I’d like to relive some old times.”

Bodie snorted. “Sure. We’ll likely be here most of the afternoon. Come by when you’re free and we’ll grab a pint and some food.”

As they watched Jackson walk away Murphy spoke. “Keep an eye out, Bodie. I don’t think he bought your story.”

“Jackson? He’s all right, Murph.” Bodie shrugged.

“Still, go carefully with him.” Murphy opened the bonnet and went back to work.

They met up with Jackson and two of his men later that evening at the Imperial, a dark and dirty pub on the docks.

“Like old times this is, eh Bodie?” Jackson raised his pint.

Bodie snorted. “This place looks like Claridge’s compared to some of the joints we frequented in the old days!”

Jackson laughed. “Too right, mate. But sometimes I miss those days, the men, and the camaraderie. We knew we could always count on each other back then, trusted with our lives. Not like now. Loyalty doesn’t mean what it used to.”

Bodie felt Murphy’s eyes on him. He looked down at his drink. “No, it doesn’t.” He said it softly. "The difficulty is not so great to die for a friend, as to find a friend worth dying for."

“Ah, there you go spouting that infernal poetry.” Jackson bumped shoulders with him. “Who is it this time, Keats?”

“Nah, that was Homer.” He raised his glass. “To friends and trust.”

“To loyalty.” Jackson’s glass met Bodie’s and everyone drank.

He and Murphy walked back towards their room.

“You all right, mate?” Murphy asked.

“Yeah. Think I’m going to take a bit of a walk. I’m not ready for a kip yet. I’ll catch up with you later.” Without waiting for a reply, Bodie strode off toward the water. A memory drew him toward the shore.

Settling on a rock on the beach he tipped his head back to look at the stars. He was taken back to another night when he had sat under the sky’s arctic fire. He had not been alone that time...

“It’s beautiful, innit?” Ray sighed and huddled closer, while curtains of red, green and blue dropped from the sky. “I’ve always found an odd sense of peace watching the Northern Lights.”

Bodie tightened his arm around his lover’s shoulders and pulled the quilt up higher around them. He passed the bottle of scotch back to Doyle. “I used to watch them from the ship’s deck. They always made whatever trouble I was in seem so small.”

“I’ve tried to paint them, but I just can’t capture their essence,” Ray sighed again.

“Old myths say that they’re ancient warriors still battling for what they believe in.”

“So one day it’ll be old George Cowley up there, yeah?” Doyle snorted.

“We’ll know when the colours turn to from red and violet to rose and lavender!” That started a fit of the giggles. Bodie pushed Ray down flat on the quilt and started to tickle the quivering ribs. Ray rolled them over and straddled Bodie’s hips. The laughter faded as they stared at each other.

“I love you, Bodie.” It was the first time either of them had said it out loud. Ray’s eyes were overly bright.

Bodie reached up to caress the damaged cheek. “And I you, Raymond.”

Ray smiled gently and pressed his lips to Bodie’s. The kiss was long and deep, both men aroused.

“Oi! Not here, you daft sod. Not again. You’ve already lived out your “From Here to Eternity” fantasy and I’ve still got sand in me nethers.“ He kissed him again. “This time, if you want me, it will have to be in that big old bed back at the croft.”

“Ah, I’d forgotten about your lordship’s delicate....”

“Doyle!”

Ray cackled as he stood up. He held out a hand. “C’mon then, let’s get your charming self ready for bed...”

A cold feeling crept through him, snapping him out of his memories. The waves had reached his feet.

"Bloody pillock!" He cursed and wasn't sure if it was directed at himself, for wallowing in the past, or at his absent partner, for causing all his confusion. He stood and picked up a stone and hurled it into the surf.

"What the fuck are you playin' at, Ray?" He shouted into the waves. But there was no answer. There was no one there to hear.

Chapter Nine

Over the next few days, Smythe and his crew ran another two sting operations, these outside Blackpool, collecting money and drugs from unsuspecting dealers. Ray had successfully completed two more heroin drops. It was time. The exchange was on, set for tomorrow evening. He waited until well after dark and left the boarding house. He didn’t see his shadow. He took that as proof that Smythe and his crew were satisfied with his commitment. It had helped that Brady and the MI6 operative, Sloan, had spoken for him. His last contact with CI5 had been his call to Cowley the night he went undercover. Up until tonight he had been watched too closely to attempt to contact Murphy to pass on any intel. He needed to risk a call to HQ to let the Controller know what was going on. He found a public phone in a dark corner of a seedy pub and placed an anonymous call to the Blackpool police.

“’ello, luv,” he laid on a thick cockney accent. He told the answering dispatcher about the meet set for tomorrow night and told her to get the information to George Cowley at CI5. Based on her reaction to it he was fairly certain the message would be delivered. He hung up the phone and checked again for a tail. He was still on his own. He knew sleep wasn’t going to visit him that night, so he slid up to the bar and ordered a pint. If all went according to plan the job would be over tomorrow night. He would then be free to try to pick up the pieces of his life, see if they would all fit back together.

Doyle watched the lorries and a jeep pull into the empty warehouse from his spot on the catwalk. The large doors slid shut behind them. It felt like being sealed in. The only illumination came from the emergency lights widely spaced around the ceiling. The lorries parked in a circle of light in the centre of the vacant building. He felt an icy shiver run down his spine as Bodie leapt from the passenger side of the jeep. His eyes, always easy to read according to Bodie, must have shown his dismay. Smythe cuffed him on the shoulder.

“What’s the matter, Doyle? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Ray shrugged and didn’t respond. “How is Bodie going to play this?” he wondered silently to himself. Had Cowley finally given in and told Bodie what was actually going on? Had Murphy spilled the details? Not having made contact with Cowley since he went undercover, he had no idea if changes had been made to the original plan.

“Doyle!” Smythe called. “Wake up, mate. It’s time to move.”

Ray picked up the bag containing the money and followed Smythe down the stairs. He laughed at himself as he wished for his sunglasses, as if he could hide his discomfort from Bodie behind those shades.

Reaching the warehouse floor the two men walked toward the front vehicle. Smythe seemed to know the man they were greeting.

“Jackson, good to see you,” Smythe shook the man’s hand.

“Smythe,” Jackson looked around, “That the money?”

Receiving approval from Smythe, Ray handed the bag over.

Jackson called out. “Unload the goods.” Two men came out of the back of each vehicle. Then he called again. “Bodie!”

Bodie came around the side of the lorry and Ray saw him freeze for a second when their eyes met. Then the indifferent mask was back in place. Bodie’s eyes never left his and he could read the challenge being sent by his ex-partner. No one else would be aware of it, but then no one else knew Bodie as well as he did. He felt sweat breakout on the back of his neck. His loss of equilibrium went unnoticed by the rest of the men around. He’d learned to appear in control, it was why he was so good at undercover work. But there was no fooling Bodie. He knew, and Bodie smiled a predatory smile as he answered Jackson’s call.

“Yeah?”

The smile chilled Ray. He knew then that things were going to go badly. His instincts were screaming a warning. He’d learned the hard way to trust those warnings.

“Show these gentlemen what they’re buying,” Jackson instructed.

“Robbie, bring me the guns,” Bodie called out.

A young man came forward carrying a long-range rifle and several handguns. Bodie took a Walther and tossed it quickly at Ray. He caught it deftly and saw Bodie raise a hand to an imaginary forelock and give a slight bow. Ray felt like it was an acknowledgment that he was the winner of the first round in a game where he hadn’t been told the rules. He buried his unease and checked the gun. He made sure it was loaded, checked the silencer and then quickly spun and fired into a beam in the ceiling of the warehouse. He turned back to Smythe and nodded approval as he returned the gun to Robbie. Before he was ready, Bodie shoved the rifle at him hitting him hard in the chest. It was déjà vu; it was Willis and Marikka and the gas holder. He took a step back to maintain his balance. Bodie smirked; round two went to Bodie. Ray ignored him. He lifted the rifle to his shoulder and checked the sight. He grunted approval and gave the weapon to Smythe.

“Very nice, this,” Smythe was clearly pleased.

Jackson handed the bag with the cash to Bodie. “Check it,” he ordered.

Bodie set the bag on the bonnet of the jeep and opened it. He quickly picked through the bundled money and smiled at Jackson. “Looks like it’s all here.”

“Lock it up,” Jackson turned to Smythe and Doyle.

“Pleasure doin’ business with you gents.” He offered a mock salute. “Load up,” he told his men. As the words left his mouth the large warehouse doors slid open and CI5 poured in. The Blackpool police followed.

“Bloody hell,” Ray cursed and pulled his own weapon. He looked up at the catwalk where Smythe had left some of his men and saw them get ready to do battle.

“Spread out!” Jackson’s voice sang out.

“Put your weapons down!” George Cowley’s Scottish brogue echoed through the desolate structure.

Ray saw Mullins, who was perched under the roof, take aim at Cowley.

“Down, sir!” Ray yelled and fired a shot toward Mullins, amused at the irony of using the honorific he so sparingly employed now, as it gave away his cover. It was a bad time to show respect.

As Cowley ducked behind a vehicle, more shots rang out. Ray watched as Sloan fell. He wasn’t sure which side fired the shot that took the MI6 man down. He felt a burn in his own shoulder and then a sharp blow to the side of his head. As he tumbled forward to the floor he thought he heard someone call out his name. Bodie. He felt some of the tension he’d been carrying loosen a little as he slid into unconsciousness.

Pain brought him back from the comfort of oblivion. Smythe was dragging him across the warehouse floor. He could still hear gun-shots and shouting but none of it seemed to have anything to do with him. He groaned out loud as Smythe shoved him into the backseat of the car. He passed out again.

Chapter Ten

Hearing shots, Bodie dropped to the warehouse floor, gun drawn. He watched, torn, as a man took Doyle and ran for the back of the building. He had heard Doyle shout a warning to Cowley. Ray had saved the old man from a bullet. Why? Why had Ray done that if he’d turned? When he’d first seen him, Ray had looked rough, stretched thin, like a man who had been alone for far too long. Murphy’s words floated back to him.

“Things aren’t always what they seem Bodie. There are reasons for everything. Think before you throw everything away.”

He was still confused; what the hell was Ray playing at? The picture, the note… was Ray really doing all this to protect CI5 and me… or himself. He still hadn’t figured things out.

“Bodie!” Cowley’s sharp voice forced his attention back to the immediate job.

“Sir?”

“Jackson, Bodie. Round him up.”

Shots still rang out in the warehouse. Several bodies lay where they had fallen from the upper level. Murphy and the rest of the CI5 agents seemed to have things under control. The police officers were moving cuffed men out to the Black Maria. Jackson had to be the only one left unaccounted for.

With one quick look to where Ray had disappeared, he pushed his confusion aside and searched for Jackson. There was movement near the vehicle to his left. He knelt down. Feet were visible from his position under the lorry. He fired. A stifled groan was followed by Jackson dropping to his knees, blood flowing from the bullet wound in his ankle. Bodie made his way slowly around the vehicle until he was directly behind Jackson. He placed the barrel of his gun against the back of Jackson’s neck and cocked it. At the sound, Jackson stiffened.

“Turn around slowly,” Bodie’s voice was cold, empty.

Jackson turned to find Bodie’s gun now pointed at his forehead. “This is a bit of a surprise, mate.” Jackson winced when he moved his feet. “Thought we…”

“Shut it!” Bodie snapped.

“You’ve been playin’ for the other side all along, then?”

Bodie didn’t answer. He gestured for Jackson to drop his weapon. Jackson tried to comply but his injured ankle gave way. Bodie caught him as he fell. Jackson looked up, anger burning in his eyes.

“Never thought to see you turn on a mate, Bodie. Where’s the loyalty now?”

Jackson cried out in surprise when a fist connected with his jaw and sent him down to the floor. Bodie looked down at him, but didn’t see Jackson. He saw Ray, sprawled on the floor of the “Hound and Hare”, the same bloody splatter on Ray’s cheek. Words ran together in Bodie’s brain. “… turn on a mate… loyalty”, “… How the hell can you believe that I did do it?” He heard again Doyle’s yell warning Cowley, saw him take a bullet for the effort of protecting a man he had supposedly betrayed. He saw the photograph of the two of them wrapped in each other’s arms. Loyalty. He felt sick. He knew the answers now. Why had it taken so long for him to see? “How the hell can you believe…?” He didn’t. Murphy’s hints sounded loud in his ears. Then he heard Murphy’s voice, loud and close, and realised it wasn’t all in his head.

“Bodie!” Murphy’s call was followed by gunshots. Jackson’s body jerked. Murphy ran up to him.

“Where was your head, mate. He almost had you!”

Bodie looked down and saw the knife in Jackson’s hand. Murphy looked from the body to Bodie.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Bodie let out a shaky breath, “Yeah. Thanks.”

Murphy clapped him on the shoulder. “We’ve got most of them. Let’s wrap it up.” Murphy bent over to check Jackson. “This one’s dead.”

Bodie nodded. Murphy looked at him. Bodie was sure the unvoiced question was clear in his eyes.

“Doyle’s gone,” Murphy’s voice was apologetic. “They took him away in a car. We couldn’t get a clean shot. Two of them got away. Doyle was with them.”

“No.” Bodie’s voice was hard. “No, Murphy. He’s not with them. I was wrong, wrong to doubt him. He never…” He raised his head and looked around the warehouse, a feral gleam in his eyes. “The old man’s got some explaining to do.” He marched over to where he’d last seen the head of CI5.

Chapter Eleven

A sharp slap to his cheek brought Ray back to consciousness. Smythe stood in front of him. He tried to move but found himself tied to a wooden chair. The ropes holding him in place pulled painfully at his shoulder wound. Looking down, he could see his shirt soaked with blood.

“Haven’t changed at all have you, Doyle?” Smythe backhanded him again. His head snapped back. He had difficulty focusing. “Still grassing on your partners.”

Ray cringed as Smythe’s hand moved to strike again. Smythe laughed but held back the blow.

“Where’s the arrogance now, eh boy?”

Ray didn’t respond. The pain in his head was pulling him under again. He felt nauseous. He couldn’t concentrate. He thought he remembered seeing Bodie watch as Smythe had dragged him away from the bust. He remembered feeling a bit of hope, thinking that Bodie would save him.

“You’ll save me.” Hadn’t he told Bodie that a long time ago? And Bodie had saved him, that time and many after. He’d done the same for his partner. Knowing they could always depend on each other was what had kept them both going in a job that kept getting harder and harder to reconcile, knowing that Bodie was there, ready to save him, no matter what. But that was gone now. He’d lost that backup and support when he took this assignment. Bodie thought he’d turned, thought that he was a traitor. Bodie probably believed Smythe had been saving a mate when he’d seen him being dragged out of the warehouse. Bile rose in his throat. He retched dryly.

Smythe laughed again. “Not so confident now?” The voice was mocking. “Nowhere to hide this time. No tricky manoeuvring. No behind-the-scenes deals. This time it’s just us.”

The menace in the voice chilled him. Smythe was out for revenge for past sins. Ray wondered why he’d let himself in for this. “Damn Cowley and his sodding triple think.”

Chapter Twelve

Bodie eyed Cowley with suspicion. They were back at HQ. The prisoners were locked in the basement cells, awaiting their turn for interrogation.

“Sit down, laddie.” Cowley pointed to a chair, drink already poured and sitting on the desk. “I’ve something to explain.”

“About Doyle?”

“Yes 3.7, about your partner.”

“Ex-partner,” Bodie’s voice was cold. He wasn’t going to let the old man off the hook, wasn’t going to let him know he had figured out that Ray was no traitor, that Ray had been acting under Cowley’s orders. He wanted the bastard to admit that Ray had been set up.

“That may well be, Bodie, but I hope not.” Cowley’s sigh sounded sad.

Bodie waited, letting the tension build, before asking. “What’s going on, sir? I want to know all of it.”

“After we got Doyle inserted in MI6 he was made part of an undercover operation to break a drugs for guns plot. I sent Doyle into the drug group. He was not guilty of any of the acts he was accused of. He never betrayed any real information to MI6. The blackmail was never real. The photo was planted to give you a reason you’d understand, one that you would accept as an explanation for Doyle’s betrayal.”

Bodie started out of the chair. Cowley waved him back.

“Doyle went in willingly. He thought the job was worth the risks.”

“Why wasn’t I told?” His voice was hard and he felt the heat of his anger climb up his neck. “Why wasn’t I trusted with this?”

“That was my decision, Bodie and I’m not required to justify my decisions to you,” Cowley’s voice was cold.

They sat staring at each other. Cowley spoke first.

“Ach, Bodie. We had to make the cover perfect. Doyle was going to need to convince everyone in CI5 and the other agencies that he’d turned, and especially you.” Cowley looked at him and Bodie could see anger building in the cool grey eyes. “But your partner is nothing if not stubborn. He was supposed to pull out once we had names and a meeting place. CI5 and MI6 were going to cooperate to bring the various parties down. Cooperation with MI6 was the price we had to pay for the whole Doyle charade. Willis is fuming, but he agreed in the end that the plot worked. There was a rumour that the KGB might be involved. That sweetened the pot.” Cowley shook his head. “Insubordinate, that lad is. He stayed in, directly disobeying orders. And he got himself caught.”

“And Murphy knew about the undercover.” It was not a question and yet it demanded an answer.

“Murphy was to be Doyle’s contact. He knew the truth.”

“That plan went bollocks up though, didn’t it?” The derision in Bodie’s tone was not lost on his boss. “Murphy never had a chance to help.”

“Yes, that is true. Doyle didn’t know how many men Smythe had in addition to the six that he met. He was kept isolated from anyone else. We underestimated. That’s why they were able to take Doyle.” Cowley took off his glasses and rubbed his nose.

“If it’s any consolation Bodie, Doyle’s biggest concern was you.”

“Me?”

“He didn’t know how you’d react to his purported betrayal. He wasn’t sure you would believe it. If you started trying to convince everyone he was innocent his cover might not have held; MI6 might have gotten suspicious.”

“That’s why the blackmail scheme.”

“Yes.”

“Joke’s on him then, isn’t it? He was the one who was betrayed. I believed all that crap about him.” He shook his head and sighed. “Why couldn’t I know the truth, I could have…”

“You’re not that good an actor Bodie,” Cowley interrupted, “Especially where your feelings for Doyle are concerned.” There was a strange look in the old man’s eyes, quickly there and gone.

Bodie felt himself go cold. “What are you saying… sir?”

Cowley looked at him over his glasses. “You know exactly what I’m NOT saying Bodie. Let’s leave it at that.”

“So what happens now?” Bodie took the escape offered him, but there was more to this, another reason he’d been left out; he was sure of it.

“Go on out and find your partner. I’ve got Jax and Murphy on the streets already.” He handed Bodie a slip of paper. “This is the boarding house Doyle stayed in. See if he left any information in his room. Talk to the people staying there. See if they saw or know anything. Ach, you know the drill.”

Chapter Thirteen

He’d been left tied to the chair for a round of questions he hadn’t answered. Frustrated, they’d released him and shoved him down a steep set of wooden stairs and then cuffed him to a narrow bed. No one had been down to see him for what felt like a long time. He could hear them walking on the floor above, so he knew he hadn’t been left. There had been extra footsteps, was it last night? He wasn’t sure when. It was after they’d let him use the toilet. Then he’d been given a plate of cold toast and a luke-warm cup of tea. His wrist was handcuffed to the bed frame and he’d been left alone. He’d heard voices upstairs. He thought there were five men up there. There had been arguing but he couldn’t make out the words through the constant ringing in his ears. He thought he must be concussed. But he kept trying. Old habits died hard. He’d drifted into a restless sleep. When he woke it was quiet again upstairs. He floated for a while and came to awareness when he heard the sound of someone coming down the stairs. He recognised the rhythm of the footsteps as Mullins and Smythe. He struggled into a sitting position.

Smythe tossed a newspaper in his lap.

“Read it,” Smythe snarled.

Ray looked at the headlines. He couldn’t focus his eyes well enough to read any further. “CI5 Breaks IRA Gun Scheme.”

Smythe reached down and grabbed him by the hair and forced his head up. “You’ve got some questions to answer, Doyle.”

Smythe released his grip on his hair and backhanded him across the face.

“Don’t know anything, mate.” He tried to shake off the pain behind his eyes and keep his voice steady. They knew what he was now. His chances of talking his way out were gone.

Mullins uncuffed him and pulled him off the cot. He stripped him of what remained of his shirt and then used the handcuffs to bind his hands together. He was too weak to stand. Mullins half carried him to the centre of the room, stretched his bound arms over his head and hooked them to a ceiling beam. It was agony. They left him that way while they talked quietly in the opposite corner of the room. He fainted and was woken when a bucket of cold water was thrown over him. Chilled skin pebbled and he began to shake, long deep tremors racking him. Mullins came closer and removed his belt. Mullins laughed when he saw the shocked look on his face.

“No need to worry about that, petal.” He camped it up for his audience. “While you’re certainly pretty, we’re none of us so inclined.” He mockingly ran a gentle finger from Ray’s cheek to his navel. Ray shuddered in response, drawing more laughter. The belt was wrapped around his ankles.

Smythe stood in front of him shaking the newspaper in his face. “Your CI5 boys took down a Member of Parliament and two Detective Sergeants at the Met. Locked ‘em right up.”

Ray closed his eyes feeling a bit of relief. CI5 had found the notes he’d left in his room at the boarding house.

“That means we don’t need you for information anymore. You’ve become useless.” Smythe moved in very close, putting a hand in Ray’s curls and jerking his head back hard.

“Does that mean you’re going to let me go?” He tried to sneer, but he didn’t think he’d pulled it off.

“You’re a funny one aren’t you?” Smythe pulled a bit harder on his hair. “No Ray, it’s time now for revenge. I’m not happy with the way you treated my mates at the Met. Shouldn’t have grassed on them like you did. S’not right, that. And I may have been able to forgive you for that, but then you went and lied to me. Made me believe your story about being bent. I don’t like to be made a fool of. Especially not twice by the same sodding prick.” Smythe let loose the grip on his hair and the questions began in earnest.

Time passed. He had no idea how much. The basement door opened and he heard the same two sets of footsteps descend. He groaned quietly. “Will it never end?”

They’d been on him for what felt like days. The routine was always the same. Mullins released him from the cot and then the handcuffs were used to bind him to the beam overhead. Smythe asked the questions. Silence or answers didn’t matter, fists quickly followed.

“Good day, Raymond.” Smythe was all sunshine and cheer this time. Ray was too tired and too sore to respond. He ignored the man.

“Hope you’re going to be a bit more cooperative this morning?”

Again, there was no response.

“Let’s start with how your mob found us.” Smythe grabbed his face, squeezing his cheeks hard enough to leave bruises.

“Loose lips everywhere, mate.” He decided to answer this time. “You boys weren’t very circumspect.”

“Who?” Smythe demanded, shaking the head held in his hand.

Nausea cramped his stomach and he retched. The small amount of water and bile that came up and out landed on Smythe’s shoes. He gave his captor a satisfied grin. “Sorry,” he choked out, his tone of voice anything but.

A blow to the stomach had him retching again. This time there was nothing to bring up but bile and it burned his throat. He hung miserably by his aching arms, spinning slightly from the blow.

“Look,” he gasped in a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter anymore. By now Cowley will have extracted all the information he needs from the men he captured at the warehouse. He’ll know your set up and your plans.” He sucked in another breath, fighting to stay conscious. “It’s only a matter of time before the rest of your accomplices in the Met or Ministry are discovered and arrested.”

Smythe didn’t look pleased with the information. Blows rained down on Doyle’s back and sides. He let himself pass out. Cold water brought him back.

“Let’s try a different topic.” Smythe placed a knife under his chin. “Tell me about CI5.”

“Protocols... will change...” He could barely get the words out.

“Go on.” The knife moved away.

“When an agent is taken... things change. Any information I had will be out of date.”

“So you’re telling us you’re useless.”

He wearily shook his head.

“I don’t believe that for a minute, Doyle!” He saw Smythe nod at Mullins and a blow to the kidneys sent him spiralling into darkness.

A cramp in his leg pulled him up out of unconsciousness. He was back on the cot. He shuddered, pulling the thin blanket further up over his chilled frame. He knew he was in a bad way. The gunshot wound, although initially tended, still hurt. His shoulder wasn’t bad, just a very deep graze. It was the lack of food and water and real sleep that were starting to take a toll on him. He was given barely enough water to keep him alive. He was dizzy and nauseous and frighteningly weak. He ached everywhere from the beatings. He didn’t think there were any internal injuries. They did take care to make sure none of their punches were too severe. They beat him just enough to keep him uncomfortable, to make sleep impossible. He knew they weren’t done with him. Despite all the training he’d undergone to handle situations like this one, he wasn’t sure he could hold on much longer. He tried to push his fear deep inside. He didn’t want his captors to know they were close to breaking him.

Chapter Fourteen

Bodie’s searches had revealed nothing. It was as if Doyle had vanished, had never existed. Except for the hole he’d left in Bodie’s life. Bodie knew Ray had existed. The longer Doyle remained missing, the more remorse he felt. If Doyle had gone to his grave believing that his lover thought him a traitor, Bodie would never forgive himself. Ray’s name had been cleared, for all the good that did him now. Bodie’s every free moment was spent tracking down information. No one knew anything. The MI6 agent that had been undercover with Ray remained unconscious in Guy’s and wasn’t expected to live. Cowley had scaled back the search when it became clear there was nothing to find. Bodie was sent out on surveillance jobs solo. No one wanted to be partnered with him. He was impatient and angry and he didn’t hide it. Cowley had called him in to his office this morning. Cowley hadn’t said why. He stood like a dark shadow in front of the Controller’s desk.

“I’m sorry lad, there is nothing more we can do,” Cowley closed the file on his desk.

“We can’t forget about him. How can you accept this, write him off, after all he’s given?” Bodie’s eyes blazed with anger.

“It’s been over three weeks Bodie, with no clues, no sightings, and no word.” The head of CI5 sighed in what sounded to Bodie like resignation. “You have to let it go.” His expression let Cowley know he’d made a mistake as soon as the words left his lips.

“I’m never going to make that mistake again, sir.” Bodie assumed his parade rest stance, signaling his unacknowledged defiance. An uncomfortable silence followed.

There was a knock on the door. Murphy entered.

“Ah, Murphy,” Cowley ignored Bodie’s glare. “Let me brief you two on your next assignment. We received a tip that the KGB is planning to pick up a ‘package’. We believe it is drugs to finance covert operations in Britain. Here are the names of a few people willing to talk to us. Check them out, report back.”

“Sir,” as he turned to leave the room he heard Cowley tell Murphy, “Keep an eye on him.”

Part 3 / Fic Master Post/Broken Trust Part 3