The idea for this story is from Renate. The plot was created by Gitti and me. We both made a story about the same topic – please enjoy both! Gittis Story is "Wrong Place at the Wrong Time".
Many thanks to Gitti and Renate for their support and Di for her friendly beta.
Small print:
The Professional’s characters belong to Brian Clemens and Mark1 Production. Writing this story was fun and nothing else was intended.
Don’t blame the world
He was sitting there, holding her hand. Again and again his thoughts were turning in circles around what had happened. She hadn’t been involved. An innocent passer-by, to tell the truth.
‘Why did she have to come under that bloke’s line of fire?’, he asked himself.
Doyle sighed and looked around the hospital-room. It was almost empty and for that it seemed much more sterile. A shudder ran down his back.
‘Those rooms in a hospitals are supposed to be the last station of a patient.’
She will die. The doctors knew that and he knew it, too. They had done all that had been possible to help her, but after her operation it had been clear that she had no chance. Her mother had a nervous breakdown and wasn’t able to be with her when she died.
His gaze lay on her face now. She was only a teenager.
‘So young and innocent.- truly innocent. Her whole life would’ve lain before her, if she hadn’t walked this street today.- Now death was coming up instead. I must’ve seen her crossing the street. Then I should’ve been able to yell something to her… somehow I should have to protected her!’
Doyle’s concern slowly changed. Again he looked around in the room. He watched the respirator, the monitor, the infusions, the girl.
A little later he felt the girl’s hand releasing and he heard a monotonous sound from the monitor.
Doyle looked into the girl’s face; she was lying there just the same, but somehow she seemed much more peaceful. Tears filled his eyes.
When the doctor came in Doyle left the room without a word and went straight to the car park. He got into in his car and remained sitting there very quietly.
‘No! Damn! Why? !’
The strangling feelings in his stomach prevented him from crying these words out loud. With a powerful punch on the steering wheel, followed by many other powerful punches, he gave vent to his rage. Tears ran down his face when he started the engine and went on ahead with squealing tires.
---
At CI5-HQ Betty was making tea for her boss, when he, equipped with a stack of files, entered the office - followed by Bodie who was equipped just the same.
“Thank you, Bodie. I will get through those files this night.- Betty, you may go home!”
“Mr. Cowley, do you want to spend a night in your office again?”, Betty was asking incredulously.
“No, Betty. I won’t ‘spend’ the night, I will work!”
Cowley’s response wasn’t meant to be funny, which could be seen by his sharp tone. The day’s events didn’t contribute to make him feel in a better mood.
“Sure, Mr. Cowley. Good night, Sir.”
“Good night.- Bodie, you can go also, when you’re ready with your report.”
“Thank you, Sir.”
Bodie was relieved not to be ordered to support Cowley at his nightly file-snuffling. As fast as he could manage he left the office of the CI5-controller.
---
When Doyle halted his Capri in front of HQ he didn’t bother to place it in a parking spot. Without locking his car he ran into the building and sprinted upstairs. He forced Cowleys office-door open so hard that it struck the cupboard with a loud noise.
Startled Cowley looked up from the files and took off his glasses.
“ Oh, it’s you, Doyle. Close the door, will you?”
This cool reaction of Cowley’s was simply an attempt to calm down his seemingly angry agent. But Doyle didn’t seem to have heard that. Breathing heavily he fished for his ID from his back hip pocket and threw it on the desk.
“Here you are, Mr. Cowley.”, Doyle hissed angrily, but lost control then and shouted:
“I’m off! Go and try to find another idiot who will be stupid enough to believe in your unreal ideas!”
Doyle took his gun out and weighed it in his hand.
“They kill teenagers with those things on London’s streets nowadays! – I don’t want to have such an object!”
With suddenly released energy he threw his gun right through the room, so that it hit against the wall, near to Cowley.
Cowley was really scared by Doyle’s outburst of rage, but before he could manage to say something, a chair came flying and landed onto his desk. Files thudded heavily to the ground and single sheets were slowly sailing down.
“Stop it, Doyle!”, Cowley ordered.
But Doyle had freaked out completely now. He approached to Cowley and swung his right hand on purpose to meet Cowley’s chin.
At this moment Doyle’s fist was stopped.
Neither man had noticed Bodie enter the room. Startled by the noise coming from his boss’ office, who was supposed to be working through the immense amount of files, he had immediately checked in.
When Doyle recognized his partner holding his forearm with a hard grip, he at first indicated an attack against Bodie. But then he looked in his eyes, groaned and got free from that grip by a sulky movement. Then he hasted out of the office.
Through the window Bodie was watching Doyle, who speeded away in his Capri. Then he threw a concerned glance towards Cowley:
“What happened?”
“The girl died because of her injuries.”, Cowley replied quietly.
“Shit.”
Cowley nodded his agreement and began to collect his files. Without another word Bodie went out of the devastated office to follow Doyle.
---
Bodie knew Doyle far too well – he knew the places where he would hide when he was in a mood like that. Which was why it didn’t take him too long to find Doyle’s car near the Thames.
Bodie climbed out of his car and recognized the slight breeze coming from the waterside.
“A nice, starry bright summer night like this one should be used for some kind of romantic walk.”, Bodie said when he found Doyle.
Doyle sat on the riverbank and threw little pebbles into the water.
“Oh, shut up and leave me alone!”, Doyle snarled, without looking at Bodie.
Bodie stood still and didn’t come closer. In a distance he sat down on the riverbank, too.
“What’s wrong with you, Ray?” Bodies voice sounded anxious.
“Nothing is wrong with me. There is something wrong with the world around me!”
“Really?”
Bodie’s nearly contemptuous question just stirred up Doyle’s rage again.
“You want to maintain that it’s okay, when a young girl is shot down in a public street in daytime? ! Do you claim it to be much more important to hunt down two little villains than to prevent some innocent passers-by from being killed? ! Do you think, that CI5 has the competence to decide what’s wrong or right? !”
Desperately Bodie shook his head:
“You didn’t understand anything, Doyle. These two little villains are quite dangerous. It is our bloody duty to hunt them down! Do you want to see them free on our streets?”
“Where’s the sense in offering innocent victims for getting these criminal elements hunted down ? !”, Ray shouted at Bodie.
“Ray! The girl wasn’t offered as a victim ! She shouldn’t have crossed the road when the bullets flew. It was simply an unlucky accident."
Bodie was trying to calm his partner down again.
“Yeah, there are lots of unlucky accidents.”, Doyle replied cynically.
“So, you have doubts about the effectiveness of our job? - A single shot-down assassin could save the lives of some politicians and trapping a drug-ring could prevent hundreds of teenagers from their golden shot!”
“Well, but what about all those failures? How many CI5 men did we lose already? How many wives turned into widows, caused by our incompetence? How many kids have been orphaned for the same reason?!”
Doyle had approached to Bodie but his rage made him yell. He was still throwing pebbles powerfully into the water, to give more emphasis to his words.
“Ah, you do fancy you’ll change anything if you quit, then?”
“No, not change anything but for me there will be a change: I won’t be introduced every day to what’s rotten in our country!”
“Okay, tell me then what is rotten in our country ? God knows, there are worse spots in the world!”
Doyle jumped onto his feet and made a defensive gesture:
“Yeah, of course! I know what you try to come out with! Your famous jungle for example! Bodie! I’m living here! It is one of the most civilized countries in the world But our newborn-babies are already drug-addicts, because their mothers – who are almost kids themselves- are drug-addicts, too! Here we have armed robberies and assassinations of politicians! All that despite a well organized police-force with all its special units! – This is what’s rotten! And I really do not want to take part without being able to improve problems. …I can see no sense in that any longer.”
His rage was already mixed up with resignation. Irresolutely he stood there by the river and put his hands into his pockets.
Bodie stood up, as well. He put his arm around Doyle’s shoulder:
“Come on, Ray, I’ve got some fine malt.”
Without answering Doyle followed Bodie’s car to his flat.
---
Bodie waited for Doyle. They both went into the flat when he arrived. Bodie put a full bottle of malt- whiskey onto the table, added two glasses and filled them.
Doyle laid back on the sofa and took a large gulp, when Bodie lifted his glass:
“Cheers!”, he only sipped on his drink due to his intention to continue:
“You’ve almost given Cowley an uppercut. – All my respect, Ray!”
Bodie couldn’t avoid a slight grin, but for Doyle this wasn’t funny at all.
“This is what he’s needed for a long time! By the way – it doesn’t matter any more.”
“Because you’ve quit? Do you think you’ll get off that easy? I can’t imagine the old man crossing you out of his cadre without any consequences – not after today’s outburst.”
Doubtfully Bodie glanced at his partner, who was helping himself to another drink.
“I don’t give a damn about the bloody consequences, Bodie. I just don’t want to work for this association any longer. – I don’t want to risk my own life for the ideas of Cowley, on the pretext of protecting somebody.”
“Why not?”
“Because there’s no truth in it! Damn, don’t you realize that, again and again, the good and the innocent were lost?”
Bodie had no comment on this point. Without a word they were drinking their whiskeys, until Doyle began once more:
“I was at her side when she died, Bodie.”
Bodie swallowed hard, knowing how much this one must have treated him harshly.
“Yeah, poor girl.”
These were the only words Bodie found here. He poured Doyle another drink when he offered him his glass. Doyle emptied it with one single gulp and asked for refill. Then he placed his face in his hands. Bodie was watching Doyle’s body begin to shiver; then he heard a retained crying, that became more and more vehement.
“She was absolutely innocent, Bodie! Why did she have to die?”
Bodie didn’t answer, but was looking startled into his whisky-glass which he held in his hand.
“We couldn’t have protected her from the bullets, the doctors weren’t able to help her – the whole world is unfair, Bodie!”, Doyle went on, still crying.
Helplessly Bodie placed his arm upon Doyle’s shoulders, trying to comfort him:
“Don’t blame the world, Ray. It is just very hard to look through and not always compatible with your conscience and your idea of justice."
Desperately Doyle shook his head, wiping the tears away.
“Mickey Hamilton’s daughter, for example – born to be dangerously ill, and having a mother who killed herself . Her father went crazy, the child died. Hamilton was killed in spite of having given up…-“
“He was a murderer, Ray. He had killed a number of doctors!”, Bodie interrupted him.
“But he had given up, already! There was no need to shoot him! That’s unfair, simply unfair!”
Again he was shaken by his sobbing. Shivering he grabbed for the bottle and poured all the rest into his glass.
“Cookie shouldn’t have died, either! June, their kids…that’s so unfair…Bodie, we are on the right side, aren’t we? I mean, a real good guy shouldn’t simply have his life taken, Bodie, should he!? A good copper for example, someone like Syd Parker…he’d just been on duty…”
Doyle’s voice failed. He had a good cry leaning against Bodie, who waited patiently until Doyle exhaustedly pushed Bodie’s arm off his shoulders. He wiped away his sweat and tears with his right sleeve.
“Of course we are on the right side, Ray. But what do you want? You can’t play god!”
Doyle’s eyes stared into nothing.
“Syd was my partner. – Maybe one day I will lose you just the same, Bodie. - Who knows, maybe it’s me who will have the honour to be killed in the end?”
Firmly Doyle looked into Bodie’s eyes.
“You won’t tell me to be suddenly frightened. I will not accept that one!”
“I am not frightened, but frustrated. And I cannot bear it any longer. I simply don’t want to be somebody’s target any longer and I don’t want to worry about some mad blokes and their victims - no more. After all, I just want to have a regular social life, Bodie!”, Doyle said with a quivering voice.
Speaking was hard for him, though the tears had dried up. He laid his head back. It had been a long day; Today’s events and the alcohol demanded their tributes: an invincible weariness caught him.
“Ha! a regular social life - how often have I thought of that… but with my kind of past it will likely be impossible. – As you know well, my past comes back from time to time.”
Bodie’s words only reached Doyle’s subconscious, for he was sleeping already.
Bodie removed the glasses and the bottle from the table.
“Good night, sunshine.”, he murmured and went to sleep himself.
---
They met in the kitchen the next morning:
“’morning, Bodie. Don’t ask me if I slept well.”
“Did you sleep well?”, Bodie asked with a broad grin at his face.
“I slept miserably , your couch’s too soft. And you shouldn’t have asked me.”, was Doyle’s grumbled answering.
“Oh, Sir - are you asking for anything else? Coffee? Tea? Toast? Eggs?” Bodie was in a good mood and hoping Doyle had cheered up again.
“Yeah, Coffee and some Aspirin, nothing else, thank you. – My head is aching.”
“Not really surprising.”
Bodie pointed to the empty bottle. He gave Doyle some pills and a big cup of Coffee.
“Bodie?”
“Hm?”, Bodie asked, chewing his toast.
“Thank you. For yesterday, I mean. I acted like an idiot, didn’t I?”
“Depends on what you are thinking of…Cowley?”
Doyle sighed:
“Yes, I’m afraid, I have to apologize to the old man.”
“And un-quit.”, Bodie said, grinning and his mouth full of toast.
“No. That was meant to be serious. – It would be best to go now and be done with it.”
Doyle stood up and went straight through the door. Bodie was on the point of following him, but hesitated, spotting second slice of toast. Spontaneously he took it with him and ate it on his way to HQ.
---
Along with Bodie, Doyle entered Cowley’s office. Most of yesterday’s devastation had been removed. Just the hole in the wall next to Cowley’s desk was bearing witness of that ugly dispute Doyle had had with his boss.
With a gesture the CI5-controller gave the two men a sign to wait until he had finished the phone call. When he put down the receiver, he looked at them, penetratingly.
“Good morning, gentlemen. Well, Doyle?”, he asked demanding.
“Sir, shall I wait outside, ‘til…”
“You were not asked to say anything, Bodie! Sit down and keep quiet!”, Cowley commanded gruffly.
Bodie obeyed mutely and sat down on a chair next to the door.
“Sir, I’m sorry I have misbehaved yesterday.”, Doyle said straightly.
“Well, I am taking note of your apology, Doyle. But under the given circumstances I see no way to entrust you with the security of our country any further .”
“I’ve quit my service already, Sir. Just give me my papers to let me finalise it.”
His expression assured Cowley that Doyle was serious.
Cowley took some extensive papers out of the desk-drawer. Doyle reached out to receive them, but Cowley put them down on his desk and held them there. Severely he asked:
“What are you going to do instead?”
“I’m not sure, yet, Sir.- Something will turn up, I’m sure.”, Doyle responded seemingly not worried about that.
“Oh, I would suggest something like a jailer! – it would be desirable for somebody to care more about the prisoners’ inner life…or what about a social welfare worker, then you will be able to rescue some innocent souls, also…or maybe a male nurse? – you are suitable for a good Samaritan, aren’t you, Doyle?”, the CI5-controller attempted to provoke his agent.
But Doyle didn’t answer for the time being, so George Cowley asked further:
“Are you sure you won’t miss something! ?”
“What would I miss, then, Sir? – Bodie ?” His aggression welled up again.
“Who would be the one to bear the brunt of your outbursts of rage?”
“Me, outbursts? Sir! Never !”, Doyle mocked.
“Do you think people are as patient as I am?”, Cowley wasn’t going with the irony in Doyle’s words.
“No, but…”
He was interrupted by Cowley with a resolute gesture:
“Think it over, Doyle! I am giving you an offer of peace; it is only good for…60 seconds. You can go afterwards or stay here – it’s your decision.”
Sceptically Doyle asked: ”What if I stay?”
“Well, then you’ll have a good chance to have the British population’s prosperity in your hands again!”, Doyle was enlightened..
With scornful laughter Doyle completed this sentence:
“…and to watch some more innocent people dying. – No, thank you!”
“If you go, Doyle, then there’ll be even more innocent people who’ll die –even without you watching them. – 60 seconds have gone, by the way– So you’re staying?” This was more a statement than a question.
Doyle snorted contemptuously:
“If not me, somebody else will do the job.”
“For sure,” Cowley agreed, “Bodie will need a new partner – and will get one...”
Doyle took a deep breath.
“Okay, then, Mr. Cowley. You got me. – I see that it won’t cause any positive change if I would go.”
Doyle sent Bodie an insecure glance. Bodie still sat on the chair, grinning and sighing with relief as he heard Doyle’s words.
Demonstratively Cowley tore apart the papers for Doyle’s dismissal and turned back towards Doyle:
“Take those files with you. They have to be examined for hints according to yesterday’s case, when they have been arranged again, finally. Afterwards you’ll report back to me: MI6 needs our help and you, Doyle, will be helpful!”
“You want to lend me out, Sir?”, Doyle asked unbelieving, when he saw his boss smiling self-satisfied.
“Go now, before I change my mind and think of another kind of punishment for your strange behaviour!”
Following that command, Doyle (not really relieved) left the controller’s office.
“Feel free to lend Doyle a hand at arranging the files, Bodie. – Murphy is still interrogating those blokes we hunted down yesterday. When he has finished you can help Murphy transport them to prison.”
Outside the door Doyle was waiting for Bodie. Together they went to their office.
“MI6 of all the damn organisations we have! Possibly I will have to work with that idiot – what was his name?”
“Williams. – Be happy, could have been worse.”, Bodie commented maliciously.
“Do you think so?” Doyle looked sceptically at his partner.
“If I would be your boss I would have sent you to Dr. Ross first, then to Macklin before lending you to someone!”, Bodie replied laughing.
“I’m glad not to have you for my chief.”
“Yeah, indeed you’re lucky with that one, Ray!”
Doyle attempted to punch Bodie in the ribs for this, which made him nearly lose the files from his arms.
Laughing both men disappeared behind the door that Bodie had opened for his mate.
---end---
written by Susi, January 2001
zurück zu "Susis Stories"