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discoveredinaljI didn't think I was going to get this done (and it could be argued that it's not really done) but... well, I sort of have!
It Was a Dark and Foggy Night
by Slantedlight
“I’m gonna put it in my letter, you know. Have Cowley inscribe it on my gravestone,” Doyle said, shifting restlessly in the car seat as they crawled along. “Should have been an easy pick-up”.
“Twice as accurate,” Bodie replied, flicking an amused look sideways, before concentrating on the so-called road again. “Always been an easy pick-up, you.”
“You can talk - hang on!” Doyle leaned forward in his seat, bracing one hand on the dashboard for Bodie’s sudden stop, and peering into the thick fog ahead of them, frowning.
“Something?” The fog was bad enough - a thick, wet murk that blotted out sight and sound - but it was getting dark. If they didn’t find signs of their quarry soon, they would have lost him entirely and Cowley would not be happy.
After a moment Doyle shook his head, slumping back in frustration. “False alarm. Again! He’s gotta be here somewhere. He wasn’t that far ahead, and that tank of his wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”
Tank wasn’t much of a way to describe a vintage Rolls, Bodie thought, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of car you’d want to bring down this forest track either, and definitely not after Doyle had shot seven bells out of it. If they hadn’t got stuck behind that tractor, while Ferguson slid ahead and away... He’d turned down here somewhere though, Doyle had sworn it, and that was good enough for Bodie.
“There!”
Bodie braked hard again, and their ten miles an hour slammed to another stop. And this time - this time Doyle had got something, tyre marks deep and rutted across the ditch at the side of the road. The trees here were spaced just far enough apart that a Rolls could get through, and that’s what Ferguson had done, flattening the undergrowth into a slick mess and leaving tracks that his mum’s budgie could have followed.
“Mad bastard,” Doyle muttered, reaching out to the door handle, and springing from the car. Bodie followed more slowly, loosening the clip on his holster, eyes scanning the woods around them.
Not that anyone could see more than ten yards ahead in this muck, and he had a feeling it was getting thicker by the minute. What the hell did Ferguson think he was doing?
Doyle had his Browning out now, and gestured to one of the trees just ahead. “’e scraped that one.”
“Got a place down here, maybe,” Bodie suggested, barely believing it. The road was unpaved, winter-pale grass striping down the middle between the ruts and puddles, and if it was used more than once or twice a month he would have been surprised. Which didn’t mean that Ferguson didn’t have a place down here, but it wouldn’t be up to his usual five star standards, and this sure as hell didn’t look like a driveway.
“Bit overgrown,” was all Doyle said, stopping to peer at a Rolls-black mark on another tree, and then moving on again.
“Can’t get the staff… You know if this opens out again, he’ll be long gone.”
“Yeah,” Doyle said. “Only it doesn’t.” He’d stopped again, was peering into the fog.
“Eh?” Bodie caught up with him, standing close enough to nudge his arm, and there in front of them was the Rolls. It had been driven half into a stand of holly trees, their berries long gone but their leaves deep green and sharp-edged. Its doors were shut tight.
Doyle glanced at him, and he nodded, drew his own Magnum, and they split up, one to each side of the vehicle, keeping their distance.
Nothing moved except the two of them and the fog, drifting around the edges of his vision.
“Ferguson!” Doyle’s voice roared out suddenly into the silence around them. “Keith Ferguson!”
Still nothing, and the Rolls as silent as the grave.
They met again on the far side of the holly and the vehicle, exchanged another look, and as one began to close in on it. It was too dim to see clearly inside, but there didn’t seem to be a shape of any kind slumped where the steering wheel should be, nor yet anything moving behind the glass.
“I don’t like this,” Doyle said, and Bodie didn’t either, the way Doyle’s voice was dampened to quiet, the way the trees stretched their limbs into nothingness, the way Ferguson was nowhere at all to be seen.
They’d reached the front doors now, just far enough past holly branches that they’d open, not far enough past that the holly wouldn’t get in the way. Was Ferguson in there, just waiting to blow their heads off?
Count of three.
At precisely the same moment, they turned their guns and together smashed the glass on the windscreen straight through - a clean hole on either side first, the weight of the weapons making it easy enough, and then pounding at the rest of it so that it flew into the vehicle, would deflect attack for a few more seconds of surprise and they could see inside.
Nothing.
“’e’s gone on foot then.” Doyle said, looking back into the fog again, into the depths of the wood.
“Wait…” There was something… Doyle had frozen obediently, head cocked slightly to one side, Browning back in his hand and ready.
Something - a noise, the smallest of noises, carried to them across the silence of the twilight.
A car door.
And then a car engine burst into life - his car engine, he realised, his own bloody Capri, he’d know it anywhere - and they were both hurtling back towards the road, undergrowth catching at their legs, trees looming dark in front of them, and then behind, across the ditch, and Bodie slid on the mud, almost fell, but it was too late anyway.
Ferguson had got the Capri turned while they were running, and Bodie caught a bare glimpse of tail lights before it was gone, swallowed into the fog and the night, leaving them alone, shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the road.
For a moment Doyle was ominously quiet, and Bodie closed his eyes, waiting.
Doyle swallowed, took a deep breath, and apparently realised the futility of anything he might have said. “Left your keys in the ignition?”
Bodie winced, but opened his eyes again. “Yeah, well…” As if Doyle didn’t do exactly the same thing, every day. “Suppose we’d better walk, then.” Except that it was five miles back to the main road, and that had been a B-road for at least another five before they’d turned off.
“Oh yeah, where to, Daniel Boone?”
The best defence was an offense. “Got your R/T?” He could picture his own, tucked down beside his seat where he’d shoved it when they set off after Ferguson.
He could picture Doyle’s, wedged under the windscreen as they drove slowly down the narrow track.
“Bo-die!”
“Yeah, alright, keep your hair on. We’ll just have to hole up for the night, that’s all.”
“And where… oh no…”
There was only one place, of course.
“We’ll freeze to death in there!”
“It’ll be fine,” Bodie said reassuringly. “We’ll huddle together for warmth. Good upholstery on the back seat of a Rolls, you know.”
“Fine - you can clear off the glass.” Doyle turned away towards the woods, took a step and then stopped to look back. Bodie could just make out his face in the dying light. It couldn’t be more than half four. Bloody January.
“Well come on then,” Doyle said. “Assuming we can find the bloody thing again.”
“Look on the bright side,” Bodie suggested, stepping to catch up with him, and then crowding him close, reaching to take Doyle’s hand, and tucking them both into his jacket pocket so that they were tightly joined. He gave a tug, and they set off into the woods and the fog and the night together.
Doyle’s fingers closed around his. “What bright side?”
“It’s not raining, we’ve both got our coats on, and Cowley’s a long way away.” He squeezed Doyle’s hand back. “Oh yeah - and you know I’m an easy pick up.”
Title: It Was a Dark and Foggy Night
Author: Slantedlight
Slash or Gen: Always slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Certainly
Disclaimer: The lads are not mine, and CI5 is not mine, and it's all just for fun.
It Was a Dark and Foggy Night
by Slantedlight
“I’m gonna put it in my letter, you know. Have Cowley inscribe it on my gravestone,” Doyle said, shifting restlessly in the car seat as they crawled along. “Should have been an easy pick-up”.
“Twice as accurate,” Bodie replied, flicking an amused look sideways, before concentrating on the so-called road again. “Always been an easy pick-up, you.”
“You can talk - hang on!” Doyle leaned forward in his seat, bracing one hand on the dashboard for Bodie’s sudden stop, and peering into the thick fog ahead of them, frowning.
“Something?” The fog was bad enough - a thick, wet murk that blotted out sight and sound - but it was getting dark. If they didn’t find signs of their quarry soon, they would have lost him entirely and Cowley would not be happy.
After a moment Doyle shook his head, slumping back in frustration. “False alarm. Again! He’s gotta be here somewhere. He wasn’t that far ahead, and that tank of his wouldn’t have lasted much longer.”
Tank wasn’t much of a way to describe a vintage Rolls, Bodie thought, but it wasn’t exactly the kind of car you’d want to bring down this forest track either, and definitely not after Doyle had shot seven bells out of it. If they hadn’t got stuck behind that tractor, while Ferguson slid ahead and away... He’d turned down here somewhere though, Doyle had sworn it, and that was good enough for Bodie.
“There!”
Bodie braked hard again, and their ten miles an hour slammed to another stop. And this time - this time Doyle had got something, tyre marks deep and rutted across the ditch at the side of the road. The trees here were spaced just far enough apart that a Rolls could get through, and that’s what Ferguson had done, flattening the undergrowth into a slick mess and leaving tracks that his mum’s budgie could have followed.
“Mad bastard,” Doyle muttered, reaching out to the door handle, and springing from the car. Bodie followed more slowly, loosening the clip on his holster, eyes scanning the woods around them.
Not that anyone could see more than ten yards ahead in this muck, and he had a feeling it was getting thicker by the minute. What the hell did Ferguson think he was doing?
Doyle had his Browning out now, and gestured to one of the trees just ahead. “’e scraped that one.”
“Got a place down here, maybe,” Bodie suggested, barely believing it. The road was unpaved, winter-pale grass striping down the middle between the ruts and puddles, and if it was used more than once or twice a month he would have been surprised. Which didn’t mean that Ferguson didn’t have a place down here, but it wouldn’t be up to his usual five star standards, and this sure as hell didn’t look like a driveway.
“Bit overgrown,” was all Doyle said, stopping to peer at a Rolls-black mark on another tree, and then moving on again.
“Can’t get the staff… You know if this opens out again, he’ll be long gone.”
“Yeah,” Doyle said. “Only it doesn’t.” He’d stopped again, was peering into the fog.
“Eh?” Bodie caught up with him, standing close enough to nudge his arm, and there in front of them was the Rolls. It had been driven half into a stand of holly trees, their berries long gone but their leaves deep green and sharp-edged. Its doors were shut tight.
Doyle glanced at him, and he nodded, drew his own Magnum, and they split up, one to each side of the vehicle, keeping their distance.
Nothing moved except the two of them and the fog, drifting around the edges of his vision.
“Ferguson!” Doyle’s voice roared out suddenly into the silence around them. “Keith Ferguson!”
Still nothing, and the Rolls as silent as the grave.
They met again on the far side of the holly and the vehicle, exchanged another look, and as one began to close in on it. It was too dim to see clearly inside, but there didn’t seem to be a shape of any kind slumped where the steering wheel should be, nor yet anything moving behind the glass.
“I don’t like this,” Doyle said, and Bodie didn’t either, the way Doyle’s voice was dampened to quiet, the way the trees stretched their limbs into nothingness, the way Ferguson was nowhere at all to be seen.
They’d reached the front doors now, just far enough past holly branches that they’d open, not far enough past that the holly wouldn’t get in the way. Was Ferguson in there, just waiting to blow their heads off?
Count of three.
At precisely the same moment, they turned their guns and together smashed the glass on the windscreen straight through - a clean hole on either side first, the weight of the weapons making it easy enough, and then pounding at the rest of it so that it flew into the vehicle, would deflect attack for a few more seconds of surprise and they could see inside.
Nothing.
“’e’s gone on foot then.” Doyle said, looking back into the fog again, into the depths of the wood.
“Wait…” There was something… Doyle had frozen obediently, head cocked slightly to one side, Browning back in his hand and ready.
Something - a noise, the smallest of noises, carried to them across the silence of the twilight.
A car door.
And then a car engine burst into life - his car engine, he realised, his own bloody Capri, he’d know it anywhere - and they were both hurtling back towards the road, undergrowth catching at their legs, trees looming dark in front of them, and then behind, across the ditch, and Bodie slid on the mud, almost fell, but it was too late anyway.
Ferguson had got the Capri turned while they were running, and Bodie caught a bare glimpse of tail lights before it was gone, swallowed into the fog and the night, leaving them alone, shoulder to shoulder in the middle of the road.
For a moment Doyle was ominously quiet, and Bodie closed his eyes, waiting.
Doyle swallowed, took a deep breath, and apparently realised the futility of anything he might have said. “Left your keys in the ignition?”
Bodie winced, but opened his eyes again. “Yeah, well…” As if Doyle didn’t do exactly the same thing, every day. “Suppose we’d better walk, then.” Except that it was five miles back to the main road, and that had been a B-road for at least another five before they’d turned off.
“Oh yeah, where to, Daniel Boone?”
The best defence was an offense. “Got your R/T?” He could picture his own, tucked down beside his seat where he’d shoved it when they set off after Ferguson.
He could picture Doyle’s, wedged under the windscreen as they drove slowly down the narrow track.
“Bo-die!”
“Yeah, alright, keep your hair on. We’ll just have to hole up for the night, that’s all.”
“And where… oh no…”
There was only one place, of course.
“We’ll freeze to death in there!”
“It’ll be fine,” Bodie said reassuringly. “We’ll huddle together for warmth. Good upholstery on the back seat of a Rolls, you know.”
“Fine - you can clear off the glass.” Doyle turned away towards the woods, took a step and then stopped to look back. Bodie could just make out his face in the dying light. It couldn’t be more than half four. Bloody January.
“Well come on then,” Doyle said. “Assuming we can find the bloody thing again.”
“Look on the bright side,” Bodie suggested, stepping to catch up with him, and then crowding him close, reaching to take Doyle’s hand, and tucking them both into his jacket pocket so that they were tightly joined. He gave a tug, and they set off into the woods and the fog and the night together.
Doyle’s fingers closed around his. “What bright side?”
“It’s not raining, we’ve both got our coats on, and Cowley’s a long way away.” He squeezed Doyle’s hand back. “Oh yeah - and you know I’m an easy pick up.”
Title: It Was a Dark and Foggy Night
Author: Slantedlight
Slash or Gen: Always slash
Archive at ProsLib/Circuit: Certainly
Disclaimer: The lads are not mine, and CI5 is not mine, and it's all just for fun.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2019-01-31 03:12 am (UTC)Nicely done! I think they'll be warm enough for the night, don't you. :-)
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Date: 2019-01-31 07:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-31 08:56 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-31 11:00 am (UTC)Love to be a fly on the wall when they explain this one to Cowley!
no subject
Date: 2019-01-31 12:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-31 01:09 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-01-31 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-01 05:10 am (UTC)Oh your story is done - even well done. An open end isn't always bad and yours gives me a good start in a new month. Thank you for the nice foggy January :-)
no subject
Date: 2019-02-04 08:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2019-02-06 03:11 am (UTC)