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The rumours had gone round the building twice by the time Bodie and Doyle came in for a post-security detail cuppa.
"Cowley's back!"
"Cowley's on the fourth floor giving them hell."
"Cowley's realised he left a bottle of single malt and has come back to retrieve it."
Bodie rolled his eyes at Doyle, who shrugged and kept heading towards the kettle. It had been five years since the powers that be had forced George Cowley into retirement. It seemed unlikely that they'd realised their mistake now and were asking him to pick up the reins again. Although there was the ongoing security leak that had their new boss in a right old spin … there was no better plumber in the intelligence services than the Cow, right?
***
George Cowley was on the fourth floor. He sat in the offered chair and fixed his successor with a hard stare.
"So laddie, you couldn't wait to get me out of this office five years ago. What's so important you felt the need to call me back in today?"
Alan Heslop cleared his throat, reminded himself that he was now the commander of CI5, and turned his own frown on the man he'd usurped. "When did you first know that 4.5 and 3.7 were in an, um, extra-curricular relationship?"
Only the tiniest twitch of his lips betrayed Cowley's fight to keep a straight face. He looked thoughtful as he leaned forward on to his old desk. "By extra-curricular you mean what, exactly?"
Heslop glared at him. "You know exactly what I mean."
Cowley allowed himself a small smile as he leaned back in his chair. "Well, they've been in each other's pockets almost since the start," he said. "Made them a better team as far as I could see. How is that a problem?"
Heslop sighed unhappily. "That's not what I meant. I meant how long have they been," he paused, uncomfortable, "a couple?"
Cowley feigned surprise. "A couple, you say? Goodness. Have they told you they're engaged in a sexual relationship then?"
He enjoyed the embarrassed flush that was now staining Heslop's cheeks.
"No, they haven't…"
"How have you come to this conclusion then?" interrupted Cowley.
"We have, ah, certain evidence," mumbled Heslop.
Cowley's eyebrows rose disapprovingly towards his hairline. "You've been bugging your agents' flats? You're going to have a riot on your hands when they find out."
Heslop slammed his hands down on to the desk. "Dammit, George! We have a massive security leak somewhere in this building and we have to stop it. And frankly, knowing what I now know," he tailed off, presumably distracted by memories of the recordings from Bodie or Doyle's flat, "I'm inclined to think those two are the leak. Other side's probably blackmailing them."
Cowley barked a laugh and pushed himself out of the chair to stroll to the window. "I hope you're better at balancing CI5's books than you are at reading people, Heslop. If, and I don't believe for a second it's true, someone tried to blackmail 4.5 and 3.7, the last thing they'd do is sell out CI5. They'd resign before they'd betray the organisation.
"Good god, man, if you're planning to accuse Doyle of corruption, you'd better light that fuse and stand a very long way away. You won't find a straighter pair than those two," he paused – ever the master of perfect timing, "not outside their bedroom anyway."
"So you did know?"
"I probably knew before they did. It never stopped them being the best team I ever had – possibly it even helped. 'Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends.' Those two have proved that time and again."
The old, familiar steel entered his voice as he leaned over the desk, looming into Heslop's personal space. "And I tell you now, man, you go after Bodie and Doyle and I will make sure you never work again. Not as a public servant, nor as a private master. You understand me?"
Heslop was pale now. He swallowed nervously and nodded. Cowley's easy smile and twinkle returned to his face. "Now, where are the tapes?"
"What?"
"The recordings from the flats."
"Wh-why?"
"You're going to hand them over. Right now."
"But the security leak…"
"Och, laddie, you really do need to learn how to read people. Your security leak is sitting outside your office as we speak. She's a pretty girl, but also utterly untrustworthy."
"Corinne? No. She couldn't…"
"She not only could, she did. It took me less than a day to trace her after you summoned me here. Now, where are the tapes?"
Heslop sighed wearily and pulled open the deep bottom drawer of the desk. He lifted out a large padded envelope filled with microcassette tapes and placed it in front of Cowley.
"Is that all of them?"
Heslop glared at him. "Yes."
Cowley tipped out the forty-odd cassettes and rifled through them. "Murphy… Anson… McCabe… Jax…" His face hardened again. Heslop tried not to think how shark-like the old man's eyes suddenly looked.
"I don't see Bodie or Doyle's tapes here."
"They're evidence," said Heslop, a notable whine in his voice now.
"Of what? Homosexuality has long since ceased to be a crime. I've told you who your mole is. If you feel the need to listen to people having sex, there are phone lines for that sort of thing these days…"
"How dare you!"
"No. How dare you? It's one thing to embark on a fishing expedition because you're too inept to see what's right under your nose, it's another to turn it into a great white whale hunt because your personal prejudices are offended.
"You listen to me, Captain Ahab. You'll give me that tape, and any copies you've made of it, or you'll wish you were at the bottom of the ocean before this day is over."
Heslop looked like he wanted to be sick, but he opened a smaller desk drawer and brought out two more microcassettes. The words 'Bodie' and 'Doyle' scrawled in black ballpoint across the labels. He dropped them, unhappily, into Cowley's outstretched hand.
"Thank you," said Cowley coldly, putting them into his coat pocket before scooping the rest of the cassettes back into the envelope. "I have your word that there are no further copies? Or transcripts?"
A pink flush spread across Heslop's cheeks at this last word. He turned to a stack of files on the left-hand side of his desk and searched through them until he found what he was looking for. He extracted the cardboard folder, fat with paper, and handed that to Cowley too.
Cowley flicked through the folder, relieved to see it was type-written not printed, organised alphabetically and that Bodie and Doyle's transcripts were where they should be.
"You ever pull a stunt like that again my lad, and you'll wish you'd never been born."
Heslop muttered something under his breath.
"Don't talk to me about the small print on your authority. I drew up the small print and I'll tell you something. It wasn't there to protect me. It wasn't even there just to protect CI5. It was a promise. A promise made by me to my men and women, as well as to Queen and country. With power comes responsibility. Don't you dare forget it again."
He gathered up all the evidence of the surveillance and headed for the door. He turned as he reached it and said, "There wasn't anything else I presume?"
Heslop shook his head glumly.
"Ah, cheer up, man!" said Cowley brightly. "You're about to plug your security leak. That sort of thing always makes the minister happy."
He pulled the door open and started to walk towards the restroom. As he passed Heslop's secretary's desk, he smiled at the young lady sitting behind it and said warmly, "I think he'd like to see you."
***
He paused for a moment outside the restroom. The door was only half open and through the gap he could see Bodie, lounging on the couch in the pale June sunlight that was streaming through the window. He was gazing across the room, at something, well someone, with a look of such tender affection that Cowley felt his own heart constrict in sympathy.
They had always been the closest thing to sons he'd had, and now that he didn't have to send them into the firing line, it was finally safe to acknowledge the deep affection he felt for the pair of them.
He took a few silent steps backwards and then started more noisily in to the restroom.
Bodie's head flicked round; he registered who it was and bounded off the sofa like an eager puppy.
"It's good to see you sir!"
Doyle, moved more slowly away from the table and his copy of the Guardian, but there was a warm welcome in his eyes and the smile that creased his lips. "How've you been, sir?"
"I've been keeping busy, Doyle, thank you. Not as busy as you used to keep me for sure, but then no one attracts trouble like you two."
Bodie feigned injured pride. "Now, that's hardly fair…"
"Isn't it, 3.7? The only reason that young whippersnapper called me back to this building was because of you and 4.5."
"Us?"
Cowley realised he'd missed Doyle's barely suppressed outrage almost as much as Bodie's wisecracks.
"Yes. You two. Although to be fair, people who run illicit surveillance on their employees shouldn't be surprised if they don't like what they hear."
"Surveillance?"
"They've been bugging us?"
"Aye, looking for the security leak. Your man there couldn't find his backside with both hands and thought he'd found a weak link in you two."
They looked at each other confused.
“I don't recall selling any secrets to the Russians,” said Doyle. “How about you, Bodie?”
“Nah, I did give my home address to the Chinese round the corner though. Maybe...”
“It's good to see your casual speculation is as wildly off course as it ever was,” said Cowley drily. He pulled their transcripts from the folder and held them out. “Perhaps this will jog your memories.”
They peered at the papers, each taking the one marked with their name and started reading. Predictably, Doyle was the first to shout in anger as he realised what he was reading.
“They've been bugging our flats? They don't have the right! I'm going to...”
“Cool it, Ray.” Bodie laid a hand on his partner's shoulder as he looked for a way to get past Cowley and into the corridor.
“Listen to him, Doyle. The matter is in hand." He showed him the envelope. "I will make sure that every agent gets their own tape and transcript. Between that and the chat I'm going to have with the Home Secretary this afternoon, there will be no need for you to draw attention to yourselves.”
“I don't care!” fumed Doyle. “It's a...”
“Ahhh, Ray...” said Bodie.
“What?”
“How far down did you read?”
“The first couple of sentences were enough to tell me we'd been bugged by those bastards upstairs.”
“Hmm,” said Bodie, handing over the transcript from his flat. “Read this.” He tapped at a point about a third of the way down the first page.
Doyle glared at him. “Just read it, will you?” said Bodie.
Doyle read. His mouth fell open and, eyes like saucers, he looked at Bodie. “This was after the cricket on Sunday...” his voice tailed off. They stared at each other – as much in mutual horror as a need not to meet their old boss's eye.
"If it's any comfort, I haven't read the transcripts myself. Or listened to the tapes," said Cowley. "Your private life wasn't of any concern to me before and it isn't my concern now. Though I confess I used to feel sorry for those poor girls you'd string along to keep up appearances..."
He held out the microcassette tapes with their names on. "It's a shame Heslop won't be around for much longer. I think you'd have a distinct psychological advantage over him. Whatever he heard on these appears to have mentally scarred him in some way."
Doyle carefully plucked the cassettes from Cowley's hand. "I don't know what to say, sir."
Cowley feigned surprise. "Well, there's a first time for everything." He looked at Bodie, awaiting one of his usual witticisms. Bodie simply stood, pink-cheeked and oddly silent – his gaze flitting between Doyle and Cowley.
"If I'd known this was all I had to do to render you mute, Bodie, I'd have had this conversation with you years ago," said Cowley cheerfully.
"Now, it's been good to see you boys again but I have work to do, so if you'll excuse me…" He smiled warmly at them and made for the door.
He stopped in the doorway and turned back, "You take care of yourselves." His eyes hardened a little. "And if that bastard gives you any more trouble, you let me know."
Doyle stepped forward, his hand outstretched. "Thank you, sir," he said, shaking Cowley's hand, "for everything."
Cowley gave him a warm smile. "After all that you two have done for CI5, and for me, it was the least I could do." He looked at the envelope, filled with cassettes. "Now, I'd best deliver these to their rightful owners. I'll see you around. Do break the habit of a lifetime and try to stay out of trouble..."
***
Bodie's eye fell on the clock as Cowley walked out of the door. "Bollocks. We need to relieve Murph and Susan from that bloody Kensington obbo. Come on!"
Doyle took a last-gasp slurp of his tea and followed his partner down to the car. The meeting with Cowley had dredged up sentimental memories, but he was still glad they had Cosworths instead of Capris these days. Sentiment was no substitute for handling, even if London traffic meant far fewer hair-raising, breakneck chases these days.
He waited until Bodie had pulled out of the car park and into the traffic to speak.
"He bloody knew!"
Bodie smiled and shrugged. "He's the Cow. I don't know why we're surprised."
"And he didn't say anything."
"Probably didn't fancy the extra paperwork."
"But how? We've always been careful. He would never have bugged the flats..."
Bodie stopped the car in a queue of traffic waiting for a red light and slid his left hand on to Doyle's thigh.
"Ray. I told you, he's the Cow. The best in the business. The real question is how were we stupid enough not to realise he knew?"
"Too busy trying to keep each other alive back then..." said Doyle, enjoying the gentle groping.
Bodie retrieved his hand as the light slipped to amber and then green.
"Listen," said Doyle, as the car started moving again, "Why don't we stop at Oddbins on the way home, get the old man a good bottle of single malt? We could drop it round on Sunday. Be appropriate."
Bodie's face was screwed up in thought as he swung the Cosworth round a corner and started searching for a parking space. "I understand the whisky, but what's so special about Sunday?"
Knowing what he did of Bodie's past, Doyle wasn't surprised that his partner had no idea why the third Sunday in June was special for some people. "Trust me, Bodie. We should take whisky on Sunday."
Bodie finally found a space and manoeuvered the car into it. He turned off the engine and looked at Doyle. "No one I trust more, mate. Whisky for the Cow on Sunday it is."
He looked down the road towards the house CI5 was currently occupying, a sly grin on his face. "D'you wanna see if we can catch 'em at it?"
Doyle's filthy laugh filled the car and CI5's best team hit the street to put their years of training to a less than professional purpose...