The story based on an idea of Renate and was plotted together with Susi. Please read also Susi’s version of this story:
“Don't Blame the World”.
Many thanks to Elsa who encouraged me trying to write the story in English and for her tips and correction. Also many thanks to Dinah who did the final correction.Disclaimer: All characters relating to The Professionals belong to Brian Clemens and Mark 1 Productions. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from it.
Wrong Place at the Wrong Time
The place was a mess. Three people cut down by gunshots – two men and a girl, a teenager. I secured the place by checking the two terrorists while Doyle knelt down by the girl and tried desperately to stop the bleeding.
I nodded to him. ”The ambulance is on its way. They will be here soon.”
But before the ambulance could appear, Cowley arrived. He asked me what happened and I told him.
“What about the girl?” he asked.
Doyle looked at Cowley with anger in his face. Or was it resignation that was written in his eyes?
“She is very badly hurt. Lost consciousness now. – What a waste. She’s a really nice girl.”
The words ‘simply in the wrong place at the wrong time’ crossed my mind. But after having seen Doyle's face I stopped myself from saying it. Doyle was obviously shaken by what happened to this girl and silly jokes wouldn’t help him to cope with it.
Cowley wasn’t much interested in the girl. He wanted to know more about how it happened that we weren’t able to handle the – now dead – men.
The ambulance arrived and Doyle seemed quite very relieved to hand the responsibility for the girl over to the paramedics.
“Stick with her, try to get some information form the girl, Doyle. Maybe she knows more about the men.”
“You can’t be serious, she is terribly hurt. How can you ask me to interrogate her in her present state? Besides she’s passed out.” There was that expression in his eyes again.
“Go boy. I don’t like to repeat myself.” And without another word Cowley turned round. Doyle looked very upset but finally he followed the paramedics to the ambulance.
I’ve known Doyle for many years and I thought I could imagine what was going through his mind. As far as I could judge, the girl was really seriously injured and it looked to me as if she wouldn’t make it.
“Bodie!” Cowley’s voice sounded angry. “Are you deaf or what?” Oh, it looked as if he’d called me before. “You come back to HQ with me.”
The drive back to HQ was really quiet. I sat in the back, Cowley in front and Ruth was driving. I was lost in my thoughts again and still had the expression on Doyle's face in my memory as Cowley ordered him to go with the girl to the hospital.
Hours later Doyle arrived at HQ and it seemed that he headed straight to our office where I had tried to write down a report about our ’blown‘ - as Cowley quoted it – mission.
The sadness in Doyle’s eyes was overwhelming. It looked as if he’d been crying.
“She’s dead, Bodie, dead! She died shortly after we arrived at the hospital. There was nothing the doctors could do to save her. She had already lost too much blood and the bullet had hit her spleen. Shortly after she died her mother arrived. The doctor told her but I had to explain how it could happen that her daughter had been killed in a shootout.” – He paused. – “She didn’t blame me. But I am not sure if she really realised what actually happened.” Doyle swallowed hard.
“You like a cup of tea?” I asked him in a very low tone because he looked trapped in his thoughts and I didn’t wanted to irritate him. He only shook his head and replied: “I have to report to Cowley.” I wasn’t sure if he had shaken his head because he didn’t want to have a cuppa or because he wanted to shake the vision of the girl away.
“She looked so innocent,” he muttered when he left our office.
I didn’t know what had driven me to follow Ray about a quarter of an hour later to Cowley’s office. Maybe - no, I really can’t say why. I was half way down the corridor when I heard a bang and Doyle shouting. So I hurried up. Betty’s office was deserted. It was already 6 p.m. and she was probably with her family and enjoying this beautiful summer day. Too beautiful a day to die, Ray would say, I guess. Cowley's office was a mess; Doyle was standing there as if he wanted to hit Cowley at any moment and, oh, it really looked as if he would do it. Cowley saw me entering his office – he looked very angry but also worried – and Doyle was furious. I managed to grab Doyle’s wrist before he could do what he obviously wanted to do and he was really amazed because it looked as if he hadn’t noticed I had entered the office.
“Ray, please ...” He struggled to get his wrist free and I was astonished that he didn’t try to hit me, that he only tried to free himself from my iron grip with which I held his right wrist. After freeing himself he stormed out of the office.
Cowley relaxed. He didn’t give me any explanation as to what had happened but it was really obvious to me. The death of the girl had upset Doyle and he just freaked out. He had cleared Cowley’s desk and the files were spread all over the floor. And his gun was lying on the floor - this must have been the bang I heard when I was in the corridor.
I asked Cowley: “Sir, are you alright?” but my worries weren’t really about Cowley but about Doyle.
“The damn fool. – Yes, I am alright, Bodie.”
With the word ’fine’ on my lips I turned round and ran after Doyle. I don’t know if Cowley called me back but this had no meaning for me at that point. I was really worried about Doyle because he was very upset and I thought he might be feeling guilty that the girl was dead. When Doyle was in such a mood anything could happen. I had never seen him go on Cowley so obviously before. Never would have imagined that Doyle would raise his hand against Cowley.
Ray was ahead of me and I could just see in which direction he drove. I jumped in my Capri and headed after him, spotting him and following him at a safe distance because I didn’t want him to see me following him.
He didn’t drive to his flat. I wasn’t sure about it but it seemed that he headed to his favourite ‘hiding place’ outside London by the banks of the Thames. I laughed at that thought knowing that there would be a lot of people walking along the banks on an evening like that.
Sure enough he entered the car park, left his car and walked down to the riverbank. It was a really nice evening, sunny and warm, and there were quite a lot of people here. I followed Ray and after a few minutes spotted him sitting on the bank and throwing little pebbles into the river.
Not sure how he would react when he saw me here I made myself noticeable as I approached him. He should have heard me but showed no sign so I settled down near him. Neither of us spoke and I picked up some pebbles myself and threw them into the water. It took me by surprise when Doyle said: “What a nice day to die.”
I swallowed hard, not sure what to answer, so I simply said. “Yes, it is.”
He continued: “But when it’s yourself I don’t think if’s important if it is a nice day or not– it can’t be a nice day when you have to die. Maybe if you are seriously ill and death looks like a relief to you it would be nice if you can die on a day like this. But when you are in the middle of your life, not thinking about death, making plans for tomorrow, next week and suddenly ...” he snapped his fingers “... suddenly there is nothing. Nothing more than darkness.”
“How do you know that, Ray?”
He looked very astonished to me “Well ..., what else?”
“Nobody knows ...”
“Really?” he asked in a very aggressive tone. “The dead know!”
I preferred not to answer this and we fell back in silence. I started to throw pebbles into the water again.
It took a while before Ray started to speak again.
“Maybe she did the right thing.” Not knowing what or who he meant I asked: “Pardon?”
“The girl – her name was Eve Harries by the way.”
Still not sure what he meant I stayed quiet.
“She can rest in peace now. No quarrels any more. No problems getting a proper education and a job …”
“Ray…” I tried to stop him wallowing in these kind of thoughts.
“She was so young, Bodie, had all her life ahead and ... and we couldn’t stop them shooting her. But I think that’s fate. Simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Now I was starting to get concerned. I had expected a violent reaction, an outburst, but not these cynical, sarcastic comments. So I tried to go the same way with my thoughts “Yeah, it’s not a beautiful world any more.”
“Has it ever been?” came the prompt reply.
“Well ...”
“Oh, come on, Bodie. Tell me why you enjoy your job!”
“Well ...” I really was taken by surprise.
“You like to get shot, stabbed, beaten up? You like to have one-night-stands or relationships that break up soon after they have started because of this bloody job? Tell me!”
I started to answer but he cut me off.
“Oh, shit, Bodie, please leave me alone. Let me wallow in my own self-pity.” “Ray?”
“I am alright, Bodie. Don’t do anything stupid, not like I did in Cowley's office. – I need some time to think. Okay?”
His expression was so sad. But I respected his wish for privacy and stood up. “You know where you can find me. And I do have a really good malt Scotch at home.”
He just nodded and I left sitting him there on a beautiful warm summer evening. Sitting there angry with himself and with the world. But I was pretty sure he would follow me soon and come over to my place.
I was right. I’d just finished my sandwich when the doorbell rang. I pushed the buzzer and expected Doyle at the door. He looked very pale and vulnerable. Without a word he entered my flat and settled at the couch. Not sure what he wanted I returned to the kitchen and put the kettle on. A few minutes later I returned to the living room with two steaming cups of tea. I put one in front of him and settled myself at the other end of the couch. His ‘thanks’ was just a whisper.
We sat in silence for about half an hour. Then Ray rose up and went over to the cupboard, taking out the whisky bottle and two glasses.
“Do you mind?” he asked politely.
“Help yourself.” I replied.
He put a good measure to the glasses handed one over to me and put the bottle in the middle of the table. With a sigh he lowered himself on the couch again. We both roused from our thoughts as the phone rang. I nearly refused to answer it but finally I picked up the cradle and regretted it at once. “Cowley” I mouthed to Doyle but he didn’t respond.
“No, sir, I am sorry, sir. I don’t know where Doyle is.” I answered his question and I didn’t struggle to lie to Cowley. Doyle was shaken up and it was also Cowley's fault. He should know Doyle and the last thing he should have done was to send Doyle with the dying girl to the hospital. As much as I respected Cowley's authority I doubted sometimes his ability to cope with his agents’ moods. “Good night, sir, and I’ll call you if I get a message from Doyle.” I hung up and took a deep breath. But I stifled a comment about the phone call from Cowley.
Ray was very quiet and although he seemed relaxed, the way he sat on my couch with the glass of whisky in his hand, I knew he was really tense.
We sat there in silence. It was getting late and I became sleepy. I yawned and said to Ray. “I’m going to settle down for the night. You can stay on my couch if you like, I’ll bring you some blankets.”
“Please.” His voice was very shaken. “Don’t leave me alone,“ he begged. He looked at me. He reminded me on a hush puppy, his eyes looked so sad.
“Alright, calm down. I stay here if you like,” I said, and realised that this would become a strange night with not much sleep.
He had already had a huge amount of whisky but he poured himself another one and drunk it rapidly. He was not drunk, not really. I know he could take much more before getting drunk but I was sure he hadn’t eaten since lunch and there we had only a lousy sandwich before we were called over and ...
“Bodie, I can’t stand this any more.” he whispered.
“Ray. It is alright. It wasn’t your fault.”
“That easy, Bodie? Wrong place at the wrong time? – No. She shouldn’t have died. She was so young, so innocent, yeah, and she looked so nice. She was just a bud who was on its way to become a beautiful rose. And one bullet and all was over. Her life was over, the life of her mother – I don’t even know if her father is alive or if she has brothers and sisters – has changed for ever.” He swallowed hard and I thought I saw tears in his eyes. Maybe he was aware that tears were forming or maybe it was only a gesture of sheer despair but he covered his face with his hands. “I’ve resigned, Bodie, I’ve bloody resigned.”
Now it was my part to swallow hard. But what had I expected? The quarrel in Cowley's office was quite obvious. Either Cowley has suspended him or Doyle has resigned. No other way that he would have thrown his gun away.
“I didn’t want to give the old bastard the satisfaction of suspending me or throwing me out of the squad. I resigned, I bloody did. – He hadn’t even made an attempt to say ‘You can’t resign, Doyle, because I suspended you 30 seconds ago’ like he did when we worked on the Holly-case. I didn’t give him the satisfaction this time.”
I didn’t know what to answer but it looked as though Doyle didn’t expect an answer. He just didn’t want to stay alone and needed to let his thoughts out.
“I can hardly remember their names. They are all gone. There are only faces but no names. There were so many. I have seen so many people die, terrorists, villains and other bad guys, yeah, but also innocent people and mates dying in the line of duty. For what? For nothing. – We live in a democracy and the bad guys should be behind bars. But sometimes I think they have more rights than the others, they were made victims by solicitors like Geraldine Mather. That’s all so ridiculous. And we have to defend ourselves when we do our job.”
I tried to intervene. “Yeah, but think about all the people we, you saved. We helped to make this a better world by cleaning up a little.”
“Ha,” he laughed out loud. “Cleaning up a little! That’s nice. But for what, for whom and at what price?”
“Doyle, I think you should lie down and try to sleep a little. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”
He either didn’t hear me or just refused to go to sleep, I didn’t know which it was. He continued: “Have you ever seen a heroin addicted baby, Bodie? No? Such a small kid showing all the symptoms a junkie shows when he is on withdrawal. It is cruel. It entered a world full of pain because it had chosen the wrong mother. A mother who is a drug addict. And what can we do against it? Nothing. – What are we, Bodie, what are we? I don’t know any longer. – We couldn’t protect her – I couldn’t protect her and couldn’t help her. I watched her bleeding to death and there was nothing I could have done. Not a bloody thing.” He slammed his fist in the cushions on the couch. “Nothing,” he repeated with a nearly soundless voice. “Nothing.” He went silent again and I started - again – to worry about him. I knew him for sure, we were partners, mates, friends, and I was aware of the fact that he was on one of his guilt trips. The bitterness, the cynicism and sarcasm was gone and sheer despair took its place.
I went through the day again and had to admit it was hard. Not shooting the two guys, no, that was part of our job, but seeing this young girl lying on the pavement and bleeding. Oh Jesus, and Cowley had the nerve to order Doyle to go with her to hospital and try to get some information out of her. Damn Cowley! The face of my partner showed so much astonishment at such a stupid order. Cowley should have known better then to send Doyle there. What was his intention or was he only thoughtless? Before I could think that over the doorbell rang. Doyle showed no reaction at all and I struggled again, as I did when the phone rang, over whether to answer the door. My worst fear came true when I asked who it was through the intercom.
“Cowley”.
I nearly told him I wouldn’t open the door, that he should piss off, but ... Cowley wouldn’t go away that easily. So I pushed the buzzer and stepped outside in the stairwell. There was no way I would let Cowley into my flat. Not with Doyle in this bad a way on my couch.
Cowley looked really annoyed as I wouldn’t let him enter my flat. So I lied again “I was just about to call you. Doyle arrived a couple of minutes ago. He’s sleeping on my couch.”
I don’t know if Cowley bought this but it didn’t matter to me.
“Okay, Bodie, bring him to my office first thing in the morning.”
“I will try, sir,” I replied, not sure if Doyle would come along. I couldn’t make out Cowley’s feelings. He looked a little relieved that I’d told him Doyle was with me. Was he concerned about Doyle? Did he regret what he’d done today?
I wished him a good night and returned to Doyle. He looked at me in a way that nearly made my heart miss a beat. He looked so hurt. I hadn’t the slightest idea how to comfort him. It was entirely true what he had said but in a strange way I would say I like my job and really enjoy it. I wouldn’t know what to answer if I was asked this question. But what else could I do? I don’t know. And Ray? Oh, he was such an idealist. But he was a damn good agent. Was? No, is! I was sure he only resigned because he was under emotional stress. But Cowley? Ray really made a mess at his office. It would take Betty hours to sort all the files again and the fact that Doyle had thrown his gun with such a force to the wall that both the wall and the gun were surely damaged didn’t make things look any better. And also I wasn’t entirely sure but I think he was nearly about to beat Cowley. Would Cowley forgive him?
“Was it Cowley?”
“Yes, it was Cowley. He asked me to bring you to his office first thing in the morning.” “I resigned, you remember? I don’t take orders from Cowley anymore.”
“Maybe he want to present you the bill for ...” I tried to joke but failed.
“Whatever the old man wants, there is no way I would ever set foot in his office.”
“Fine, fine, let’s let tomorrow take care of tomorrow. Come on, settle down and try to sleep. You really need it, Doyle.”
A faint smile was his answer and he slipped out of his shoes while I fetched some blankets from my bedroom.
It was late in the morning when I entered the living room. Ray was still asleep. It looked like the events of the day and the alcohol had taken their toll and he finally fell into an exhausted sleep. It was Saturday and as far as I remembered it was supposed to be our weekend off. Cowley had said ’first thing in the morning‘ but he hadn’t said exactly when so I was in no hurry to wake Doyle.
I took a shower and afterwards went to the kitchen to make some coffee. Obviously woken by the smell of coffee Doyle walked into the kitchen. He looked miserable. “Come on, take a shower and in the meantime I‘ll make you a nice cup of fresh coffee. Okay?”
“Fine with me, thank you, Bodie.”
At least he talked to me and I was really optimistic that he was on his way climbing out of the dark hole.
He looked a little better when he came back from the shower. Now it was my turn to persuade him that he had to face Cowley and that he had to apologise.
“No way, Bodie, no way at all!” he nearly shouted at me but sank down again and hid his face in his hands. Then he said in a very strange way: “If the old man does want something from me he has to come to me. – Thanks Bodie, but I’ll go home now. Pack my stuff. See you.”
He stood up and left without another word.
I felt my stomach crumble. There he goes, my partner, my mate. How would it be to work without him? I rejected this thought. I was certain that Ray would ... what? No, not Ray. He never would go to Cowley for apologising and begging to take him back. He was a really stubborn bastard sometimes. So what should I do? Deciding to face the lion I drove to HQ.
Betty was there – Cowley must have called her in even if she didn’t usually work on weekends – and was sorting out Cowley’s office.
“Where is Doyle?” I heard the voice of my ‘master’.
“He left my flat in the morning and said he was going home. Probably to pack his stuff and move out because he is well aware he can’t stay any longer in that flat because it belongs to CI5.”
“Well, then he really means what he said?”
“I am not sure. Sir. Yeah, I think this time he is really serious. He can’t face the job any more. I never ever thought about our partnership ending this way ...”
“Come on, Bodie, let’s go to Doyle.”
“What, Sir?”
“Is there something wrong with your hearing, Bodie?”
“No, Sir.”
“Then let’s go.”
“For what, Sir? You want to give him the final kick?”
Cowley started an angry remark but then changed his mind and said “No. I want to apologise.”
I nearly choked. I thought at that moment there was really something wrong with my hearing. The old man must be going soft in his old age. Cowley noticed my astonishment and said: “Yes, Bodie, I admit I made a big mistake by pushing Doyle so hard. I should have known better. And as I said to you a long time ago: ‘Cowley, the cow, looks after its young.”
With a slight smile on his face he pushed me towards the entrance.
“I am not sure if he’ll listen to you, Sir.”
“He will. Eventually he will, Bodie.”
I wasn’t able to share Cowley's optimism.
It took a while before Doyle answered the doorbell. As Cowley announced himself Doyle replied very aggressively: “I am nearly ready here. It won’t take longer than ten minutes and the flat is all yours.” He refused to push the buzzer. Cowley used his spare key and let himself into the flat.
Doyle had already packed. He looked very angrily at Cowley and I thought he would run off leaving his stuff behind without facing him. “Bloody ten minutes – is this too long for you?”
“No, Doyle, but I want to talk to you before you ...”
“Before I what, Cowley?” He didn’t say ‘sir’ or ‘Mister Cowley’ and I thought he did it on purpose because he wanted to show the old man that he was absolutely finished with CI5.
“Well Doyle, would you at least give me a minute?”
“You can reach me at my mother’s when you have the bill ready and you can send the rest of my stuff to her.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Doyle. Calm down, son, and let’s talk. – Bodie, would you please make some tea?”
I was irritated because Ray had already packed his stuff. The pottery belongs to the flat but tea? From the look Cowley gave me I recognised he wanted to speak in private with Doyle. So I played the nice guy and left the living room.
Doyle never told me exactly what he discussed with Cowley. He told me that Cowley pushed him hard and offered him a chance to sign back on. He gave him about 60 seconds to decide if he wanted to agree or not. Doyle also told me that he thought he was in the better position to deal with Cowley but Cowley made it clear that he had no other option. And his final comment - “And the decisive point that made me accept his offer was when he mentioned that he had to find a new partner for you” - made me smile.
This time I kept my partner but when will fate will not be so friendly and make a final and absolute decision for us?
I couldn’t resist hugging him and said. “Welcome back, sunshine.”
End
by Gitti
(written on the flight from Aberdeen to Munich at 08.01.2001)
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