Professionals Fancy Meeting You Here !

**Fancy Meeting You Here** !

Doyle finished his leisurely breakfast, gathered up the used crockery, and carried it over to the sink. As he washed it up, he gazed out of the window at his new view.

It was C.I.5's policy to move its top operatives periodically from one furnished flat to another. It served to protect their anonymity and safety.

Doyle had been in his new place just over a week and was quite pleased with it. It was in a quiet residential area. Used to the procedure, he had already unpacked and set out the various things that added his personal touch, and put his mark on the place.

He'd begun to explore the area too. About a mile up the road, he had found a very pleasant little row of shops, including a newsagent's, a laundrette and a very useful little supermarket. He'd already visited that for bread and milk, and to stock his 'fridge.

It did take him quite a bit longer to drive in to work each day, but he'd adapted to that, and allowed himself the necessary extra time.

He collected his car from the allocated space, and set off. I wonder what we're on today, he thought to himself. Bodie will be pleased that we've been called off that singularly un-productive stake-out. Bodie, always the action man, had been quite vocal about it, declaring it a total waste of time.

He was just coming up to the row of shops, and glanced idly in that direction.

What he saw caused him to brake violently ! It was just as well that, as it was early, there was nothing right up behind him.

He pulled into the side of the road, braked, and jumped out of the car. He ran across the road.

He'd just seen a man come out of the supermarket, which opened early, - a man he had recognised instantly !

Lou Pirelli was a hired assassin, a 'hit man', well known to C.I.5, and to the police forces all round the world.

_What was he doing here ?._

He hurried round the corner where the man had gone, only to discover there was no sign of him, either up or down the street.

Where had he gone ?

The street consisted of houses with very little frontage, but with numerous alleys between them leading to the back. His quarry could have disappeared down any one of those.

He began to doubt himself. Had he imagined what he'd seen ? He wasn't usually given to doing that, and he knew the face well enough. He'd encountered the man before, a couple of times, and come off worst.

Reluctantly, he admitted defeat, and returned to his car. He started up quickly, and moved off. Now he would be late, and his boss was not one to listen kindly to excuses. But surely he had a good one this time !

"You're late," snapped Cowley, as Doyle entered the office to join his team-mate Bodie, who smiled at him in commiseration.

"I do have a good reason, sir," protested Doyle. "Please let me explain."

Cowley nodded grudgingly, and Doyle began his story.

"I saw a man come out of the supermarket near my flat," he said, "and I swear it was Lou Pirelli. I tried to follow him, but I'm afraid I lost him. But I'm sure that's who it was."

"You could be right," said Cowley surprisingly, waving the piece of paper in his hand. "I've just had information that he is in London. I should have been told sooner, but apparently he entered in a devious way, coming first to Prestwick in Scotland, and then on to London."

"Then I didn't imagine it," said Doyle in some relief.

"No, he's here all right," replied Cowley, "And as we all know well, it'll only be for one purpose, a 'contract' on someone."

"I wonder who ?," said Bodie.

"That's what you pair have got to find out, and in double quick time," snapped Cowley.

Where do we start, thought Doyle to himself ?

"Are there any special visitors in, who might be the target, sir ?," he asked.

Cowley leafed through the various papers on his desk. "No-one who particularly stands out," he replied. "I suggest you pair get off, and start making enquiries among your contacts."

Bodie and Doyle left hurriedly, and began to do just that, but with very little success. Even the usually best informed of their contacts had very few names to suggest, and they ended their day's work none the wiser.

Later they sat together in Bodie's car comparing notes.

"I wonder what he was doing in your area ?," said Bodie thoughtfully

"I don't know," replied Doyle. "He disappeared so quickly that I think he must be staying under cover somewhere round there, and not just passing through."

"Would mounting a house-to-house search do any good ?," suggested Bodie.

"I doubt it," replied Doyle. "Pirelli's no fool. If he got the slightest hint of it, he'd be gone instantly. He might have moved on already," he added in a pessimistic tone.

He was wrong about that. The man who had issued the 'contract' that Pirelli had been engaged for, had a wide range of contacts, and Pirelli had accepted the quiet little hideaway he had suggested, an empty house in a residential area - an excellent cover.

The following morning Doyle left for work in good time. He'd allowed himself a few extra minutes because he needed to pop into the little supermarket for some milk. It was early, so it wouldn't take long. There were very few customers as yet.

He picked up his milk from the cold cabinet, and started back towards the check-out, his money ready in his hand.

He moved quickly round the corner of a fitment, and came face to face, a few yards away, with Pirelli, just coming in the door !

There was instant recognition between the two alert men. They were old adversaries. For a moment both froze !

Then Pirelli, acting fastest, moved first. He did three things almost instantly. He grabbed a young woman shopper, holding her in front of him. He dragged her backwards as his shield to the door just behind them. And he reached in his pocket and pulled out a gun !

Then Doyle re-acted and moved fast. He knew Pirelli was a deadly shot, and wouldn't hesitate to fire, regardless of the safety of innocent bystanders.

So he dived sideways, seeking cover. He was only just in time, as he felt the wind of a bullet 'zing' past his head.

Unfortunately, he slightly misjudged the available space. His shoulder caught the edge of an elaborate advertising display. The milk dropped to the floor, the coins flew from his hand, and he tumbled over, bombarded by a cascade of cereal boxes as the structure collapsed on top of him.

Luckily they were empty boxes, so they did him no harm, but by the time he had brushed them off, and scrambled back to his feet, Pirelli was gone !

The frightened young woman hostage was standing just outside, sobbing audibly, and being comforted by a passer-by.

Doyle almost pushed her out of the way, as he shot outside and looked either way for Pirelli.

But, of course, the delay with the boxes meant he was too late. There was no sign of the man.

The supermarket manager, looking totally shocked, as well he might, came hurrying out after him.

Doyle decided instantly that he wasn't stopping to explain. He shot off, making for his car, parked across the road. I've blown it this time, he thought to himself. I won't be able to go back in that shop again. And what was Cowley going to say ?

Cowley had quite a lot to say, when Doyle reported in and told his story

"Well, that's blown the situation," he exclaimed angrily. "Now Pirelli has learnt that we know he's here, he won't stay in that area. He'll relocate elsewhere, and we're back to square one."

He threw a glare at Doyle, who had given him all the details of the catastrophe with the advertising display.

"And I suppose I'll have to re-locate you as well," he snapped.

"It was hardly Doyle's fault," protested Bodie, quick to defend his friend, and divert their boss's anger from him.

"You'd better both get out there fast, and see if you can find any whisper of information about Pirelli, where he is now, and who he's after. We are still totally in the dark about it."

The pair hurried off, glad to escape from their boss's annoyance. As they went together down the stairs, Bodie let out a chuckle.

"What's so funny ?," demanded Doyle crossly. He wasn't feeling in too good a mood.

"I'm just picturing you, with all those boxes falling on top of you," he chortled.

"It wasn't that amusing," snapped Doyle. "Some of the boxes had hard-pointed corners. And I won't be able to show my face in that shop ever again."

They set to work to talk to as many contacts as they could, seeking any information, either as to Pirelli's whereabouts, or any hint as to who he was after. But they made no progress at all, and had reluctantly to report this to their boss.

Doyle went back to his flat, but he sneaked into it straight from the car park, and made a point of going nowhere near the supermarket.

But when they reported in the next morning, Cowley called them into his office. He seemed very animated, and to their relief, less cross.

"We might have a lead on Pirelli's target," he said with some excitement, and went on to explain.

"Starting next Thursday there's a trial at the Old Bailey. It involves acts of embezzlement at a firm called Collinswood. It's only a small firm, but we suspect it has connections that might interest the police, and us."

"Hardly of first importance," put in Bodie, not understanding.

"Not on the surface, no," agreed his boss. "But the man leading the prosecution, a Queen's Counsel called Henderson, has been dropping hints that it could lead to something more vital. He claims that the evidence he will reveal in court could bring down the whole Saunderstein Corporation."

"Wow," exclaimed Doyle," That would be something."

The title Saunderstein Corporation was just a letter-head cover for something much larger, a huge network that involved every aspect of London's crime scene. The police, M.I.6 and C.I.5 had been trying for years to acquire substantial and irrefutable evidence of their activities, with little success. Several times they had thought they had got them, only to have small subsidiary companies take the blame and fold, and witnesses disappear, to ruin their efforts.

"If he can really do that," put in Bodie, "that would make him a target for sure."

"What's being done about it ?" asked Doyle.

"Well, of course, his protective security is being topped up," said Cowley, "But he's a bit obstinate about it, saying he doesn't want to be 'molly-coddled.'"

"Idiot," said Bodie, under his breath.

"Knowing Pirelli's usual 'modus operandi'," said Doyle thoughtfully, "the likeliest ''hit' would be with a rifle from a roof-top or high window."

"I agree," said Cowley briskly. "So get out there with as many men as I can spare you, and check every possible vantage point on both front and back entrances to the Old Bailey."

"That's going to be quite a big job," commented Bodie.

"Indeed," snapped Cowley, "So why are you still here, and not started on it yet ?"

Bodie and Doyle shot off at the double to begin the task. With the help of Murphy's organizing skills in finding all available agents and directing them, they set about investigating all the possible places that Pirelli might choose.

Every man on the job was issued with the latest picture of the assassin, for it was more than likely that he would be reconnoitring the possible vantage points too. But he wasn't spotted. Not surprising, as he was known to be a very skilled and cautious professional.

It was painstaking and exhausting work, but gradually it got done. A lot of possible places were quickly eliminated or secured, and slowly the number of likely sites was reduced.

Eventually, Cowley called in a great deal of outside help, people to watch the area, resting his own men to be re-mustered and ready the morning the court was due to open.

So, late on Sunday evening, a tired Doyle tumbled into bed, confident in his own mind that they had covered everywhere they could.

He was awakened by the insistent sound of the phone on his bedside table. Barely awake, he fumbled for the receiver, but was startled into alertness by the almost shouting voice of his boss, Cowley.

"Doyle, wake up, man !," it came urgently. "Emergency !.

Doyle sat bolt upright. "Sir ?," he queried.

"Change of plans. I've only just been told," said Cowley urgently. "A session at the Strand finished early, and as they have such a back-log of pending cases, they've moved the Collinswood case there. Preliminary hearing starts this morning at ten."

"Will Pirelli know ?." asked Doyle.

"If he's employed by the Saunderstein lot, he'll know," replied Cowley grimly. "They have contacts and spies everywhere."

Doyle was already pulling on his clothes as his boss issued quick orders.

"I'm mustering every man I have available," he snapped. "Liaise with Murphy, but get out there fast, and do what you can."

Doyle didn't stop for breakfast, but grabbed a high-energy bar from his cupboard, collected his gun, his radio-phone and his car-keys in rapid order, and left at the double. He fractured a few speed restrictions as he sped into inner London, but as it was so early, there was no-one to see and complain.

Then ensued a period of frantic activity for C.I.5.

Work that had taken several days around the Old Bailey, had suddenly to be done in as many hours at the new venue on the Strand.

Men charged from one building to another. Swift decisions were made as time was of the essence now. Murphy had worked hard, prioritising the various buildings as fast as he could, and directing the men to the most likely ones first.

Although every man had worked flat out, it was already almost nine, and people with business at the court were arriving steadily at both front and back entrances.

Doyle put his shoulder to the door of his next target, and pushed his way in. It was a six-storey block, rather obliquely over-looking the back entrance to the courts. It was currently empty, as the units had been renovated and re-furbished, ready for new tenants in the coming weeks. So, of course, the lift was not working.

That's all I need, thought Doyle to himself. He had been on the go since the early hours, and was beginning to get a bit weary.

Nevertheless, he made for the stairs and started up them purposefully. A few minutes later, he was easing open the door which gave access to the roof, drawing his gun as he did so.

And there was his quarry !

Several yards away, Pirelli was crouched behind the low parapet, his eyes intent on aiming his rifle at some point down below, and his finger poised on the trigger.

Doyle made an instant decision, as his training had taught him. At this distance he couldn't miss. But if he took the man out, his finger might still pull the trigger, and the bullet might well reach its target.

He'd seen that happen !

So, instead, he fired at the gun itself, aiming just forward of the trigger. The impact immediately threw the weapon off target. The trigger was pulled, but where the bullet went was anybody's guess.

Enraged, Pirelli jumped to his feet, as Doyle charged forward to grapple with him. Doyle could have shot Pirelli, indeed probably should have done so, but somewhere in the back of his mind was the thought that if he could take him alive, he could be forced to reveal who had hired him, and they might at last have something to incriminate the Saunderstein group, and that would mean so much.

Pirelli quickly reversed the now useless rifle, and wielded it as a club. His first blow caught Doyle's arm, as he instinctively raised it to ward off the hit. He felt something crack as pain shot up his arm and his gun was knocked from his hand, to skitter noisily away across the concrete.

His error of judgement had now left Doyle at a distinct disadvantage. Pirelli was taller than him, and his reach with the heavy club was wreaking havoc.

Hampered by the intense pain in his arm, Doyle was not so adroit at dodging the blows. Staggering from one hit, he took another painful crack across his rib-cage, and a final one that sent him tumbling to the ground.

Pirelli raised the rifle high. His intention was obvious !

Not wanting to have his brains spread all over the concrete, Doyle made one last despairing effort. He rolled sideways and kicked out hard with both feet.

He caught Pirelli's legs at just the right point. The man staggered back, hit the back of his legs on the low parapet, And with a despairing yell, went over the edge.

Doyle didn't see it happen. The effort had been too much for his injured arm, and he'd passed out cold, lying still on the concrete roof.

That was how Bodie found him, as he pounded up the stairs and pushed open the door to the roof. His heart skipped a beat as he spotted the still figure, but as he dashed towards him, he was relieved to see him start to stir.

He knelt beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder. "Take it easy, Ray," he said, as he tried to assess the extent of his partner's injuries.

Doyle made the mistake of putting his hand to the ground as he tried to sit up. He gave a gasp of pain and almost passed out again.

Bodie was quick to get an arm under his mate's shoulder, and gently eased him into a sitting position.

"Pirelli ?," queried Doyle, looking round.

"Gone," said Bodie blandly.

"He's got away !," exclaimed Doyle in dismay.

"No," said Bodie, with a faint grin. "He tried a bit of 'free-fall', but without a parachute. He went over the edge, mate."

He helped a relieved Doyle to struggle to his feet, but kept hold of his arm.

"I'll call an ambulance," he said, "But it'll be better if you can make it down the stairs to meet them. Think you can manage that ?."

"Course I can," declared Doyle, more confidently than he felt. In spite of Bodie's assistance he did find it a bit of an effort, and was quite relieved to see the ambulance men hurrying towards them as they emerged from the ground floor door.

Bodie surrendered his partner to their skilled care, and hurried off to find Cowley. He had been informed that Pirelli was dead, and was now busy standing down his men.

Henderson had gone into court unharmed, and the preliminary hearing was now under way.

Cowley asked Bodie for his report on Doyle.

"He's being re-located," he said, "Can you let him know the details ?."

Bodie took note of the new address, and was secretly very pleased, as it was only 10 minutes walk from his own place.

He went to visit his friend that evening, to see how he was. He found him sitting up in bed with wide bandages swathed round his chest, and a plaster cast on his lower arm.

How are you, mate ?," he greeted him cheerfully.

"Broken wrist, I'm afraid," he said, pointing to the cast. "That's' going to be a hindrance for a while."

"You usually mend without any trouble," said Bodie encouragingly.

He sat talking for a while, but, surprisingly, said nothing to Doyle about his imminent re-location to his new place.

Out in the corridor, out of his friend's earshot, he buttonholed their friend Dr. Fenton.

"He's fine," confirmed the doctor, "Probably be discharged in the morning."

"Oh, no," exclaimed Bodie, not what he wanted to hear. "Look, Simon, could you possibly hang onto him for a bit ?."

"Why ?," demanded the puzzled doctor.

"He's being re-located," explained Bodie, "But he doesn't know about it yet. Me and a couple of the girls want to get in and set it up for him as a surprise."

"Well," said Simon with a grin. "I could hold him for X-ray of those ribs, though I think they're only bruised. You're not up to mischief, are you, Bodie ?," he added suspiciously.

"No," declared Bodie indignantly. "We just need a little time. The usual team that collects personal effects won't deliver them to the new place till midday."

"All right," said the obliging doctor and friend. "I'll play along. But we're short of beds, and he really doesn't need to be here, so you must pick him up in the evening."

"That's fine," agreed Bodie. "I'll come for him then."

So Doyle spent most of the next day in the X-ray department. He had raised a protest, reminding Dr. Fenton that he had said it wasn't necessary, but his friend quashed his objections, saying he'd decided that he wanted to be sure before he released him.

"I can't have you coming back later with something I missed," he said. So Doyle submitted with as good a grace as he could muster.

Later in the evening Bodie turned up as promised, and collected his partner.

He led him down to the car and they set off. As they went Bodie brought him up to date on what was going on. Henderson was still under protection, for there might well be another attempt on his life, but having failed on one 'contract', it would take the Saunderstein group a while to set up another, especially as all the involved authorities were well on the alert.

So it was a little while before Doyle noticed the direction they were taking, and realised that it wasn't out towards his place.

"Where are we going ?," he demanded. Then as he recognised the area, he asked. "Are we going to your place ?,"

Bodie didn't give him a direct answer. "Betty and Sally are making us a meal," he said, avoiding the issue.

"That's nice of them," replied his mate.

But when Bodie finally pulled up and stopped, and helped him out of the car, he realised it wasn't Bodie's flat.

"Whose place is this ?," he demanded.

"Yours, mate," said Bodie triumphantly, as he led him through the foyer, and handed him the keys to the front door of a flat he'd never been to before.

Doyle used the keys and opened the door, to be greeted by the smiling faces of Betty and Sally.

"Surprise !," they said in unison.

Doyle was astonished, but very pleased. "I've been re-located ?," he queried. "That was quicker than I expected."

Although there was a very appetizing smell coming from the kitchen, he took a few minutes to have a quick look round his new abode. He noted that already quite a few of his personal things had been set out. The girls had evidently been busy and he thanked them. He chided Bodie mildly for holding out on him about the move.

Then all four of them sat down to enjoy a very pleasant meal with lots of talk and laughter. The girls were a little concerned as to how he would manage with his immobilised arm, but he assured them that although not totally ambidextrous, he could still do a great deal with his left hand and would manage fine.

Eventually they said their farewells, and all three left, Bodie undertaking to drive the girls home.

Doyle had another leisurely look round his new domain, and was very pleased with what he saw. He was also very glad to be back closer to the centre of town, and evidently much nearer Bodie too.

Tired now, he went into the very pleasant bedroom.

He opened the door of the wardrobe to hang up his jacket, and started back in momentary alarm as something fell towards him. He put out his free hand and caught it.

It was a life-size 'blow-up naked lady' !

This is Bodie's doing, thought Doyle as he read the placard hung round her neck onto the ample bosom. 'JUST IN CASE YOU GET LONELY'

He smiled to himself as he carefully deflated the lady and folded her up. I'll keep this somewhere safe, he resolved, until I can return it to Bodie, preferably in the most embarrassing circumstances I can manage.


End file.

Professionals, Adventure