Doyle was slouched against the silver Capri, staring at his feet in silent anger. Damn, how could they have lost them? He'd searched everywhere, and hadn't been able to track them down.

He looked up as hurried feet came his way. "Bodie! Did you find them?" he asked desperately.

Defeated, Bodie shook his head. "I've looked all over the place, even went back to the pub where we last saw them. I asked the barmaid and all - nothing."

Doyle groaned. "The Cow's gonna love us. We'll be sent to Macklin for two months, d'ya realise that?"

Bodie nodded and walked over to where Doyle was standing. "I'm sorry, I should have paid more attention, but I got distracted." Guilt was written all over his face.

"Distracted - by what?" Doyle wanted to know, raising his eyebrows.

"More like by whom." Bodie looked meaningfully at Doyle.

"Oh, no, Sunshine, you can't pin this one on me. You're the one who lost them. You were the one not paying attention, so they could get away." Placing his hands on his hips, he looked Bodie up and down, as if he saw a new species erupting from the pavement.

"Now look here, Doyle, if you hadn't gone and wiggled your arse about, I wouldn't have been distracted, and I wouldn't have lost them!" Bodie was getting annoyed.

"What do you mean, wiggled my arse about? It's not as if you have to look at my arse, Bodie." Doyle turned round giving Bodie a perfect view of said asset. "We'd better head over to the Cow and let him know. You coming?" he called over his shoulder, heading in the direction of Cowley's place.

With a deep sigh, Bodie started to follow his partner to Cowley's residence.

Because he was getting ready for an important family reunion, they had to visit the Controller at home. Bodie didn't look forward to this particular visit.

Arriving at the block of flats where Cowley owned a penthouse, Bodie looked at Doyle who returned the look. "So who is going to deliver the message?" Bodie asked his partner.

"I'll press the buzzer, you can do the talking," Doyle offered.

Bodie threw his partner scorching look. "Ta, mate, helpful as ever, aren't you?"

"Yeah, well, you're his blue-eyed boy, might as well make good use of it," Doyle grinned.

Rolling his eyes, Bodie motioned for Doyle to get on with it. Pressing his thumb on the buzzer, Doyle wondered what his partner was going to say.

Bodie batted Doyle's hand away from the buzzer. "Stop that, we need all the goodwill we can get."

Unrepentant, Doyle's finger crept to the buzzer again. At the same time as he pressed it again, a definitely irritated Scottish accented voice sounded through the speaker. "Aye, what is it?"

"It's Bodie, Sir, er.. we have a bit of a problem..." Bodie started to lose his confidence.

"Yes?" When no more was forth coming, Cowley's impatience was obvious. "Get on with it, man, what is going on down there?"

Doyle started to giggle.

Bodie thumped him. "Sorry, Sir, but we have lost the ………." the rest of the words were mumbled in haste, and even Doyle could only guess what Bodie was saying.

"Doyle, Bodie, is this some kind of childish prank? Och, I’m going back to my wee dram!"

"No, Sir, don't go, it's just that…" Bodie looked at his partner for help.

Doyle started giggling again. "Sir…we … er … we lost something."

Cowley was definitely starting to lose his temper. "Aye, your brains. Now get on with it!"

Doyle coughed a giggle out of the way. "It's very simple, Sir, we've lost the car keys."

"What? Of all the irresponsible things…" Cowley's voice trailed off. "Whose car keys?"

Bodie took a step away from the speaker, grabbing Doyle's jacket sleeve.

"Doyle? Bodie? Whose car keys did you lose?"

Tugging Doyle's sleeve, trying to pull him away from the speaker, Bodie raised his voice. "Yours sir!" Then he turned round and dragged Doyle by the arm to the silver Capri. He opened the door in a hurry, all but threw Doyle inside, and ran around to the other side of the car. He had just started the car when the door to Cowley's block of flats opened and Cowley appeared on the doorstep waving his fist at them.

Bodie drove away, and glanced at Doyle as he did so, who lay sprawled in the passenger seat sniggering. "It's not funny, Doyle," Bodie said angrily.

When they drove past Cowley, who was still shouting at them, a gust of wind enfolded the man standing in the doorway.

Open mouthed, Bodie and Doyle looked at Cowley, looked at each other and howled with laughter.

"I never thought that myth about what a Scotsman wears under his kilt was true, until now!"

-- THE END --

March 2006