May Day - Part 20

[byslantedlight.livejournal.com]

“It’s Saturday,” Doyle pointed out. “Civil servants don’t work weekends.”

“Well, these ones do, if they want to stay civil servants,” Bodie declared, clearing a space on the table. “Come on Ray, we’d best get remembering. No way are they having two for the price of one.”

"Not when we're the two," Doyle agreed, tilting his chair back so that he could reach the sideboard drawer, and passing Bodie paper and pen. Then he picked up the phone.

o0o

Two hours and several rather loud phone conversations later, there was a knock at the door and a tousled Murphy frowning at them, pushing a manilla folder into Bodie's hands as he shoved his way into the flat.

"Seven thirty on a Saturday morning? It's obscene, that's what it is!"

"Not as obscene as the Minister's Under Under Under Secretary seemed to think," Bodie said with a smirk, nodding towards Doyle who was still dealing with an irrate civil servant.

Murphy perked up. "Yeah? Wonder who he was under at the time?"

"Doyle's guess got him some answers, so I somehow don't think it was his wife."

"Not with a voice that deep," Doyle agreed, replacing the receiver, closing his eyes, and stretching out in his chair, crisp white shirt tightening across his chest, the clean jeans Bodie'd seen him pull on not half an hour before faded and already creased in all the right places...

Bodie watched appreciatively, until he realised Murph'd caught him at it. "Coffee?" he asked quickly, passing Doyle the folder. "Least we can do after all the effort you've put in!" He slapped Murphy's arm as he walked past him to the kitchen. "All that driving to HQ and having to ask Shelley to pass you the file!"

"Berk," Murph called back good-naturedly, "Had to drive over here as well, didn't I?"

Bodie filled the kettle and spooned coffee into three cups, half listening to the conversation behind him, half racing ahead through the day to come. Now they had the list of guests and a photograph of each one they could track down Doyle's contact, see what he knew. Foley wasn't someone Bodie'd met before, and Doyle seemed half-reluctant to let him out of the bag, so that should be interesting in all kinds of ways. Always good to see what came crawling out of Doyle's past - and generally more useful than not. Brownie'd gone scuttling back in there after his stint on the crane, and no number of inducements had brought him forth again - but maybe this Foley would be different.

"Cowley's got me on a pick up from Gatwick," Murphy was saying, as Bodie handed him a steaming mug, "But he's got Tom White covering the two of you from eight this morning."

"Who was on nightshift?" Doyle asked, taking his coffee from Bodie's outstretched hand, so that their fingers brushed and Bodie felt the spark run through both of them. It was like being a teenager again, this. Ridiculous. But good, a small voice screamed at him joyously inside, it was good. He'd thought that internal grin would fade away if he had sex with Doyle often enough, but it was still there, after all this time - like the way he felt at the end of a shoot out, when they'd survived against the odds yet again. The world was his, and it always would be... He caught Doyle's eyes on him, felt a smile threatening and changed it into a quick nod, turned back to hear Murph's answer.

"Chappell. Except the poor bastard dropped off around three, didn't check in on schedule. He'll be standing in front of the Cow any minute now..."

Doyle grunted. "Kids. No stamina..."

"Speaking of which," Bodie nudged him, eyed Murphy, "Isn't it about time you cleared off and let us get on with the real work?"

Murphy rolled his eyes, swallowed the rest of his coffee in a single, long gulp, and raised first two fingers, then his hand in farewell.

"Foley first?" Bodie said hopefully, even as the door closed, taking the pictures from Doyle and flicking through them quickly. He looked up in time to see Doyle nod, finished his own coffee, and reached for his jacket.