o l9Z9. .f, LONDON WEEKEND/MILRK 1 PRODUCTIONlublished by Grandrearns Ltd. ]adwin House,205l2ll Kentish rown Road, London Nws. Printed in Ilolland.

Hardened terrorists quake attheir very nanre. Crime syn-dicate bosses Godfathers,too

- hate their very existence.

The British police hardly lovethern, But Britain remains indebt to thern. They are thesmall nucleus of fighting menworking for CIs. CriminalIntelligence Five. They're thescourgre of all anarchists,bornb-nilakers, rebels with acause and a machine-gun inboth hands to try and. enforcetheir beliefs.

If terrorism is getting a littlethin on the ground in recentyears the reason is CIS. TheAction Squad, nS ControllerGeorge Cowley calls it, hasbeen getting results. The streetsof Britain are not yet completelysafe. But they are safer . . .

Cowley -runs a smaII, elitesquad of trained agents. Aboutforty in all Not merely crime-fighters. That's a police area.Cowley's boys deal more ingathering criminal intelligence.And acting upon it. Rapidly.Brutally. Each agent team - theywork in pairs - have their own

targets. They ngse around andsoon know more about themthan their own mothers. Then,their job is to squash them be-fore the pin is removed from thehand-grenade, before the tele-scopic-sighted rifle is cockedand aimed, before the bombsstart ticking

'You get the slightest whiff ofanything and you move in - fast !That's Cowley's order. Everyday. Every hour. His rnotto isshort, sharp, simple and swift.Do unto others nour what they'reonly thinking about.

In other words: shoot firstand ask questions answerthem, even - later. Shoot whennecessary. Shoot to kill. Shootto stop sky-jackings, kidnaps,bomb-factories. Shoot to savethe country.

Cowley's teams are tightand taut. Like coiled springs.Well-oi1ed, Iike good springs,too. They work behind theanonymous looking doors ofwhat is euphemistically knownalong the Whitehall corridors ofpower as Home Affairs (S)Department. S as in Secuirty. S

as in Safety First. S as in Stop-thebombers, Stop their iik. As inStop the rot !

The agents are not to befound in the office very much.They're out where it counts.Where the action is. Wherethey're stopping it. On thestreets.

Top dogs among Cowley'shounds of war are Bodie andDoyle. An ex-cop and a formermercenary. Tough nuts, both.They were hand-picked, like alltheir colleagues, by Cowley,himself ; plucked from the ranksof Scotland Yard's detectives inDoyle's case from the ap-parently unemployed in Bodie'sHe had no war abroad to fight inat the time. Cowley gave himone. Inside territorial Britain.

Doyle and Bodie are the besteven Cowley grudgingly

admits that - because they worksuperbly in harness. They aretwo halves of the same machine.An instinctual fighting machine.Their colleagues have often re-ferred to them as Nitro andGlycerine. The analogy speaksfor 'itself. Cowley presses the

IHE OI5 rI[,E

rr,

button.explode.

If thewe do,

every country has -

and indeed,them,more

has to. The Pro{essiona/s, there-it's because CIS men have fore, is based on fact, and is as

Doyle andpolice don't like

budget -

comparedsources ofor Russia'sfor peanuts.

HeadedBodie, the

troopers,crinimalsof themhighly ofthey are

think thatThey do

chicken-feedfinancial re-

para-one-timeon. Few

Britonsreality,

sheerto theL".:

L^

freedom of' action,movement. They're

access andnot tied to

withvery

activities. Hisenemy is time.

If they told us the entirewe couldn't take it. The

But theyup hyagent

even a fewhave signed

the averageprotecting. In

the CIA in AmericaKGB. CIs men work

do work.Doyle andstrength is

real as any TV team can make it.the petty nicities of the law. Theyanswer to Cowley. And toCowley, alone. He dealsany complaints, and in

ments utilised though are in-creasingly authentic.

'Wait until you see the nextseries,' says Lewis Collins. 'Seethe weapons we've got. Parti-cularly, the bugging stuff. Laser-bugging, for instance whereyou can fire a beam on a windowand hear what's going on in the

made up from all kinds of hard-liners. Commandos

short order. An ex-MIS manhimself, he understands thetactics which must be employed

room.show,

Whenpeople

truth,arma-

onaa bit

actually think veryagainstagents'

fiies, isorder to

terroristgreatest

When any suspect, from the the averagre Briton would not

countless lives - there is no time 007 isn't it ?" It isn't. It's what is they love it. They yearn for thefor frills, for 'please, andyou'. Subtlety is out. The

happening out there today.Such weapons are used the

way as CIS ernploys them toeliminate the infiltration

job because, if truth be told,excitement, more than themonthly cheque.

put their life on the line todefend our way of life. And theydo so, daily. We may not liketheir brutal methods. Alas, weneed them. And we have much

pulled and grilled in

'thankboot,

we use thatsay, "Oh, it's

much of them, either.this particularly nasty

more often than not, is in. CIswork is not pleasant, but it has tobe lhat way. For that is exactlyt1e kind of people they are dea[_ing with. The types who deal infear and coercion. And fear itseems, is the only language theyunderstand.

Writer Brian Clemens invent-ed CIs. Which is not to say thatBritain does nof harro a .,ra,-tz

terrorist-inspired fear into Whatever the reasons, theguys of CIS - Doyle and Bodie

and the rest, and all the real, ifunknown agents in Britain today

ofthe

normal British way of life. In-deed, it could be said that Britainis behind the times in some ofits equipment.

George Cowl.y, for examplehas a small staff. Forty agents isnot much for such an intelligencegroup. He has even a smaller

and Bodie unit like it. Of course

does have crack to thank them for.

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(lE$Sersonnen B'flleBODIEName: BODIE, William Arthur Philip. Age :28"CIS service : Three years. Previous service :1gth Airborne Division; sergeant.

BODIE on BODIE:I love my job because I'm good at it. I'm goodat it because I love it. That's true professiona-Iism, right ? Right ! I've no time for thernoralists among us saying they don't like tokitl where necessary. It's just a job. And it'snecessary. So I do it. And I'm lovabtre with it.

DOYLE on BODIE:I admire him as a professional. He's very goodat his job. An ideal back-up. There's this sortof telepathic understanding between us aboutthe necessities and the dangers of what we'redoing. Our job would be more d.angerous ifone of us was in dock or something. Wedepend on each other entirely. We know eachother's physical and mental capabilities aswell as we know our own. It's like having anextra appendage.

Every CI5 agent had to think -

as near as possible -like George Cowley. 'The Cow' - as he was fondly

nicknamed -

did not take kindly to any man whobelieved he knew more about the job and responsi-bilities than his controller. One former militarypoliceman who decided to bend the rules to suit hispersonal phobia for heavy-handed interrogation ofsuspects soon found himself back in an armyuniform.

Bodie never messed about with a'soft' approach.But Bodie knew when to draw a line. Knew thedifference between a witness, a weak suspect andthose hard nuts who broke the law for kicks, orprofessional pride. Bodie had no sympathy forterrorists, villains who used a gun, and corruptcoppers. The heavy mob respected

- and hated

-Bodie's guts. Cowley admired Bodie's courage,devotion to duty and his ability to get results. Butthere were times when Cowley had to lean onBodie.

It was a wet day in London. Rain beat at thewindows of Cowley's office and created an atmos-phere in keeping with Bodie's mood.

"I've had a complaint," Cowley said. "Now, Iknow I've always said that your place was in thestreets. That we meet violence with violence. Andthere is no room in my inn for a man who cannothandle himself in every situation

- regardless."

Bodie opened his mouth to speak but closed it*hen 'The Cow'glared. Well, perhaps he shouldstay silent until he discovered where Cowley wasleading him.

"You didn't wait to see if the suspect wanted tocome quietly. You jumped him and gun-whippedhim," Cowley growled. "I've had a medical reportthis morning. There's no doubt about the man'sinjuries . . ."

"Excuse me,"What man ?"

Bodie finally interrupted.Cowley frowned. "Where were you last evening,

Bodie ?" he asked, voice strained."With Doyle," Bodie replied. "We were on a

stake-out.""All night?""Yes, sir. Why?"Cowley got to his feet. The damp weather was

playing havoc with his bad leg. He rubbed it, said:"A man was taken to Guy's Hospital aroundmidnight. He was suffering from concussion andmultiple injuries. He was admitted and the nightstaff swear that the person who brought him inrvas from CI5. Identified positively as Bodie!"

"Not me, sir -

ask Ray if you want!""I believe you, Bodie," Cowley said. "You have

faults but lying is not one of them. Now . . ." Heprowled back and forth across his office, eyes hardand cold. "According to one of the hospital sisters

you -

your imposter -

showed a Cl5 card. It borethe name of Bodie. She recalled

- when I spoke to

her -

an impression of a person used to authorityand also familiar with police and hospital pro-cedures." He went to his desk and slammed a fiston its surface. "Bodie, we've got to find thatimposter. I won't have counterfeit CI5 cards in thehands of anyone

- let alone a man able to pass

himself offas one of us !'1"Is the victim able to talk, sir?" Bodie asked.

"He should be able to give us a description.""I believe he is conscious. Take Doyle with

yoii-. . ." As Bodie opened the office door, Cowleycalled: "And good luck !"

Doyle chuckled. "I'd hate to be in the bloke'sshoes when you catch up with him, Bodie."

"This is one guy I won't touch," Bodie swore asthey entered Guy's parking area. "I want himunmarked when he faces 'The Cow' . ." Hegrinned, took a space reserved for a senior consul-tant. "But after that!" His fist smacked into hisopen palm.

iiffi

The hospital people were cool, almost unco-ooerative. bovle eoi the distinct impression thati15's reputatibn Jtank here' More so when theywaited butside the victim's private room andlistened to a tirade from a dc'rctor.

"You lot make me sick," the doctor spat. "I'veseen some examples of police brutality but this ' ' 'this is the worst!"

"I'm Bodie. I didn't do it," Bodie told the medic'"Then ?" the doctor stammered.Dovle smiled grimly. "That's why we're here'

Some-body is passing himselloffas Cl5"'The d'octor aplarently didn't believe lh"

exolanation but he eave his reluctant permlsslonfoi them to see the victirn. When they entered theroom, Bodie gasped. Lying on a bed, head and,rpp"i to.ro siatired in-bandages,-y.as a middie-u!60 *un of Middle East origin. What could besJen of his face was a mess. The right arm hungsuspended and was in a cast. Dark, listless eyesfoll,owed them to the bedside'

Dovle showed his CI5 card. "My name isDovte, sir," he said softly. "l have been asked tooueition vou about the attack . . ."' The min moaned, shut his eyes. "You try to

cover up," he whispered in obvious fear."No,-sir," Doyle replied firmly. "We want to

find the man who did this to you - he was not ' ' 'and I repeat NOT . .. from Cl5 !"

The dark eyes fluttered open. "He had a card -Iike your's."

"Il was afake," Bodie said.The victim's gaze fixed on Bodie. "Are you the

same?" he aske-d in the same, frightened whisper'Bodie showed his card but kept a thumb over

the name. "Yes," he answered simply.Doyle breathed easier. Not a flicker of recog-

nition'. The attacker could not have looked any-ih,ing like Bodie. He asked, "Could you describethis phoney, sir?"

The Middle East man stared at the ceiling,spoke slowly in recall. "About thirty, white andviry broad. He had an accent, I remember - youcali him a Cockney, I think. He wore an anorak,blue trousers and policeman's boots."

A11 further queitions failed to add to this andthev left the hosnital a little wiser but not brim-ming over with knowledge. Sitting in tleir car,Doyle said: "Blue trousers and policeman's boots.The sister got the impression of authority andfamiliarity with police procedure. What does thatsound like ?"

Bodie grunted: "A rogue cop!" He twisted inhis seat. nOur battered friend was most unwillingto discuss the circumstances of his attack andwhat he did for a living."

"I noticed the same thing," DoYle"Let's pay his home a visit . ' ."

The victim had said his name wasYazdi. Home was a detached house inGreen. There, the Cl5 agents foundIbrahim, wiiling to talk freelY.

remarked.

DariushGoldersa son,

"My father," the young man said, "is afraid: Hehas been threatened more than once. You see, ourfamily business is the importation of carpets. fromPersii and the warehouse is in a squalid section ofdockland. Unemployment is bad there. The peoplecannot understand why my father employs'foreign' labour. They sometimes throw rocksthrough the windows and many of our workershave been jostled coming to or going from thewarehouse."

"That explains his desire for soft-peddling hisbusiness but what about the attack ? Where did ithappen ? And why ?" Doyle asked.t'He had been to a Club - one of our clubs,"lbrahim continued. "He came out and this manwas waiting. He accused father of illegally bringingin Persians to work for slave wages. When fatherobjected he was attacked."

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Driving back to Central London, Bodie said:"I've read reports about others in the docklandarea being subjected to threats. And some of thelhings mentioned to Iegit businessmen could onlyhave been known by the local coppers !". P_o.Vl" shuddered. "If you're ihinting what I,mthinking this is one job I'd gladly haid over to

some-one else ! I detest bent policemen but I loathanything to do with investigating the investiga-Iors !"

Bodie understood. But he knew that Dovle,.rould not hesitate to dive into a corrupt cesspool:f it meant coming up with a cleaner, more decentbunch of cops. Without saying where he was goinghe drove straight to dockland. To a local iolic6station. A.s they got from the car he said: ..i,tt Oothetalking...".

Sergeant Emyln Hoare had his suspicions butbeing within six months of retirement he had keptthem to himself. The minute Bodie began askinground-about questions on the off-duty habits oThis men,-the old sergeant- wished he had spoken upsooner. He came straight to the point.-..you'rbiooking for bent coppeis, aren't you? No

- don,t

answer. yet. let me get this off my chest. We,ve gota few lads here with strange notions of how tokeep the peace. You know the sort

- every little

infringement has to be blown up into a -majorconfrontation. Well, they've been acting unoffi-cially. Applying pressuresand the like . . .;

Doyle snorted, interrupted. "Sarge, how far

have they gone ?"Hoare lowered his gaze. "Far as the worst

villain from what I've heard, son.,,Bodie slammed a flat palm on the serseant's

desk. "Don't ever call yourself an exam"ple ofBritain's flnest, sarge !'

Doyle_felt pity for the sergeant, yet he agreedwith Bodie. He said: "Let's have the names, siarge.We'll take over from you."

Unknown to the Ci5 agents, p.C. Robert Wilsonoverheard the conversati,ons. The moment Hoarebegan reciting. names he slipped quietly from thestatron and climbed inro a panda car. Using theradio he contacted five other-policemen, his eicusebeing accepted at control. Afier all, when a copperrequested assistance he had to have it !

A disgusted Doyle stood outside the station asBodie stared up and down the street. The smell ofthe river was strong here, mingling with the stenchot decay. Shuttered buildings and homes much inneed ofpaint seemed to beihe order of the day _or night..

"If I could get my hands on . . .', Doyle beganto say.

"None of that," Bodie reminded. .,We wantthem without a blemish."

Their car was parked at a kerb about fifty yardsaway. They walked towards it. Between thti folicestation and the car was an alley

- dark and rubbish

littered.. They stepped off the pavement to pasS thealley when.

. .

Wilson wore an anorak over his tunic. Histruncheon came down hard the second he sawDoyle appear. To one side of Wilson, anothercopper iir-a trench-coat lashed out with his boot'

'gbdi. *us half-turned to speak to Doyle when

he saw the truncheon descend. His elbow slammedinto Doyle's ribs, knocking liq partner off-balance. " The truncheon landed on Doyle'sshoulder. The combination of the two blows sentDoyle to the ground, the booted foot missing hisface by a mere inch.

Bodie didn't stop to think about Cowley'sfrequent lectures on his tactics' He was underattack. He could see the shadowy figures comingfrom the alleymouth and didn't hesitate. A mancarried a gun because he could even the oddsagainst hiri in a tight corner. Bodie drew his gunand aimed it at Wilson's head'

"Trv it. son," he growled. "Just try it !"'Doyle 'groaned,-hand going to his hurting

shoulder.Wilson and the others froze. None of them

doubted Bodie's willingness to shoot. They knewCI5's men played rough. Played dangerous gamesto win. Wilson laughed brittlely. "Don't be hasty,chum. . ."

Bodie smiled grimly. "No haste, mate - I couldsqueeze off six sLots before any of you go-t withina-foot of me. And I'd have more in case I missed_ONCE!''

Doyle got to his knees. "Without a blemish,Bodie," he said through Pain . . '

Georse Cowlev watched as Sergeant EmylnHoare c-ollected liis personal possessions from hislocker. Bodie and Doyle stood aside to let thesergeant pass, then continued to tag and bag thebel6nginds olthose policemen who were currentlyresling in cells.

"It"begins with a feeling of power," Corvleymused. 'rThe sensation that you, and you alone,know what is best for the community. It growsuntil the realization hits that justice isn't beingserved. That wrong-doers keep getting away withthings because a itupid magistrate

.or-u-ncaringjury-turn them free over and over again. When the'point Ir reached that police procedure is uselessind the only solution is to enforce some new rules,that's when the tough policeman becomes adictator. When he goes over the edge and resortsto the type of tactici Wilson and his friends used."

Doyle glanced at Bodie and said: "When helisteni to- every little bigot and believes he'shonestly trying his best for the people."

Bodi6 snorled. "I don't agree. It's just sour-sraDes. Those guys were never good cops. Theyiooi u iob beca-use it gave them power. That's allthey evLr wanted. They were bigots and dictatorsfrom birth."

Cowley smiled. "Maybe, Bodie, maybe. Theanswer iiin the mind and we haven't yet found outhow to explore that region."

Bodie had the final word. "l'd hate to try gettlngthrough your mental maze -. . sir!"

ITGBThe CI5 Tapes

KGBritish

To investigate life-style habits of two-

These men are professional all right. As actorg and/or agents (full, or possiblypart-time). Their televisud'adventures', however' prove them to be incommand of weapons and technical skills far beyond the norm for mereactors. Mission and Me&od proved successful; first time we've freely guizzedCIs strength since defection of agent Cross (1975). But - their cover-storiesprove difficnlt to break, without recourse to methodg beyond journdistic.They stick to their actor covers almost perfectly, with - perhaps - a few

Five (CIS) operatives, Iqxown as 'Doyle'andof fact, utilised by two Biitish actors, or alleged actors:I. Martin Shaw, aka. Doyle: born January 21, 1945, Birmingham.2. Lewis Collins, aka. Bodie : born May 27, L946, Birkerfiead.Both appear weekly in a British television gerial entitled'The Profeesionals',featuring supposedly fic-tional accounts of CIS activities. From Erst transmission,KGB-tondon noted certain real-life case-history material being used. We alsodeduced Shaw and Collins - aka. Doyle and Bodie - to be genuine article ; viz.,CIS agents. We presume they are deployed in this televisual context in aninvidious CIS propaganda exercise, assuring the darmist British they are safein their beds at night.

METHOD : Persond interviews, on an apparent superficial level, obtained by our agentsposing as foreign journalists. Questions furnished by KGB-MoscowPsychoanalytical Unit K7 to definitively probe their cover-gtories as being'actors"

TR.f,NSCRIPTS : According to KGB/Psychmemo 384661Td/Xi, we divided interviews into threesessions. transcripts attached. We discuss their so.called acling careers andlater delve into off-stage personas, personalities, phobias, locating potentialareas for blackmail in terms of incomes, hobbieg, expensive tastes (Shawspends freely on cars, clothes ; Collins buys musical equipment as if it's goingout of style).

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franscript ICOMMENT: Actors lives . . . ?OKay, frorn the beginning - how did you becorne actors . . , and why ?MARTIN: I don't know' As you can imagine,I'm asked this a lot. I was stupid at school [fiefakes on a IJ.S. accentl this kinda klutz, yaknow . . . ! But one thing I was good in wasEnglish, writing compositions - my oneO-Gvet. I thought acting was cissy' HumphreyBogart wasn't a cissy, just extravagantly

-

ec6nomical, but Shakespeare is extremelyemotional and I was afraid to express thoseemotions in front of people. What finally did itfor me was when the teacher asked questionslike 'What does Macbeth mean here ?'I knewthe answer and nobody else did. It seemed ashort step from studying Shakespeare forexams to actually performing it on the stage, soI ioined the drama group at school' The GreatBarr Comprehensive School - sounds like aranch, yes, and it was a bit like that ! When Ileft at I-6, I was offered a scholarship to aBirmingham drama school but I went to workfor a coiuple of years instead. Mainly officework. My English came in handy there'.I keptthe links with the school drama group, Iornlngtheir street theatre troupe in the evenings -the old, strolling players bit. Did that for a fewyears and then had auditions for some Londondrama schools and, fortunately, got into thebest, LAMDA, the London Academy of Musicand Dramatic Art.

LEWIS : I had a Birkenhead accent . " Actingwas almost a natural progression from popmusic for me. But it was a startled revelation. Isort of woke up and said, 'That's it - I'll have acrack at acting !"My pop days finished about1967. I was a bassist and played with abouttwelve bands, including The Mojos. Got themost money from session work ' ' . still get theoccasional 3p. royalties from Japan or someplace. Obviously, I had no hackground inacting at atl. I'd never even seen a play, neverbeen to a theatre, not even to a musical, in mylife. I was that ignorant. Then again, because ofthe pop scene, I was a bigger actor before Iwas an actor . . . ! I don't act at all now. It's likethe black-belt karate man. He doesn't swaggerinto the pub yelling'Ahhhayyyayahrggg !'Itake pride in being very basic, I'm a bitover-indulgent in that respect sometimes -claiming to be natural. After the pop bit, Ispent a year fallow, doing odd jobs, lorry-driving and so on. Made a change from thedays of my RoIIs. Then into drama college for acouple of years and I real/y had to work at it toget myself up to scratch. I came out in 1970and got my first job . . .

Ectors usually have total recall. can you remember your first lines on-stage ?MARTIN: You mean apart from: How much ?Oh. . . 'One lump ortwo ?'maybe. No, I can'tremember the lines

- or line. I recall the role,

though. It wa3 in a pot-boiler called Busman'sHoliday, one of those Dorothy L. Sayers' crimethings. At Hornchurch Rep. I played aScottish-]ewish moneylender called McBride.

How do you tackle the problem oflearning your lines ?MARTIN: The only way is not to learn thewords,.but the intention. With a long speech,you read it through a few times,'like reading anovel, and fill in all the background andenvironment, what's happening in thecharacter's head behind the lines. It's a sort ofintellectual pelmanism

- I trust I make myself

obscure ! That way it's like a thought occurs toyou and that automatically makes you saywhat you have to say, instead of waiting foryour cue and doing it by rote, like a poem. Ifyou do that, learn the intention, it's verydifficult to forget your lines, and if you can'tremember the exact words, you can still carryon because you know what has to happen.

LEWIS : How couldl forget ? . . . I only had theone line. 'Halt

- who goes there ?' and I think I

got that wrong . . .yes, I did. I actually said,'Who goes there ? Halt !' God, I was sofrightened. That was in Strindberg's A Danceof Death at Chesterfield. I was so good !Every5 minutes I'd walk past the window and back -as a sentry. All my relatives were sitting theregoing, 'Oh, he's a lad !

LEWIS : Real lines -

stage as opposed to TVfilming ? I find it quite easy. I learnedTamburlaine The Great inthree days.Photographic mind stuff. But I had to

- it was

going on in five days. I was up early andburning the candle late at night

- in tears, the

lot ! But it's surprising what you can do if youturn your mind to it. A question ofconcentration, seeing the words, getting thewhole picture, feeling it . . . then locking on tosomething, like a piece of furniture, whichinvolves a certain part of the dialogue. In I/reProfessionals, we write a lot of our owndialogue. The writers give us guidelines, butwe've got to be comfortable with our lines. It,sjust us being ourselves, really. So we can sayit with words or say it with the face. you know,the Clint Eastwood bit !

IIEWIS: The stage ! Any actor is going to saythat. The advantage to film is that you can getto see it for once, which is interesting. Butfilms, TV, they are a director's medium,gumming bits of celluloid together. Theatrechanges every night. Any actor is in hiselement there. He's got live people who throwlumps of sugar at the end of a performance.That's what it's all about for us.

Where are you happiest acting -

stage, films, television, radio ?MARTIN: I always yearn for whatever I'm notdoing, because I'm very much a gypsl,creatively. I've found when I'm in a long runin the theatre, I'm absolutely dying to get infront of a camera and have that freedom ofinvention, As soon as I'm there . . . I'm longingfor the theatre and the interchange with anaudience.

MARTIN: An Irish revolutionary calledO'Leary in a Granada play, trorze on the Dole

-

a great old North Country classic. That was in1967.

Vlhat's the best advice you've been given -

or learnt -

about acting ?MARTIN: One specific teacher at LAMDA saidacting was being, rather than doing. That's ahuge quantum leap. I refer back to it more thananything else. If I'm having a bad night in thetheatre, not getting it together, I always thinkof this guy and imagine he's out front and itmakes a difference to the way I'm acting. It.means I try hard not to cop-out, and do ittechnically, effectively, playing the quality ofthe scene rather than the specifics of it.

LEWIS: Don't act ! Particularly on film. Justdon't ! British actors find that hard becausethey've such a grounding in theatre, whereyou've really got to amplify everything. Veryfew can just take everything away and exposethemselves, be as open as a child, almost, Itcame naturally to me, if I can claim that, andthat's not really for me to say. But people say Iseem at home on the screen and I've never hadto work at it consciously. On stage you feelyou're doing your art. bn the sJreen, you feelyou are just being

- and getting paid for it I

TEWIS: A retarded Liverpool ladinZ Cars,locked away in an attic. Very intense, veryintroverted. And it all snowballed from there.

Memory-lane again -

what were your first television roles ?

. . .andyourfilmdebuts. '. ?MARTIN: Playing Banquo in Roman Polanski's

, Macbeth, 1969. An amazing film, I don'tunderstand why it didn't do well. I thought itspectacularly good. It was everything I wantedfrom acting and I learned a lot from it. I'vebeen lucky with my three films, never a smallpart. The others were Operafion Daybreakand Srnbad's Golden Voyage.

lllhat would you classify as your most important role ?MARTIN: Doyle has got me the mostrecognition, but the most important part hasto be the most demanding, the one ostensiblyout of my range. So that's got to be StanleyKowalski in A StreetcarNamed Desrre, theTennessee Williams' play I did in the West Endwith Claire Bloom. Initially, I turned it down . . .because ofBrando's classic film version and Ithought it out of my range. But the director wasamazing, an American called Ed Sherrin; anunforgettable character. He was an American-Pole, Iike Kowalski, which helped me, beingEnglish and comparatively weedy, to build therole. I started off shouting a lot, and Ed says,'No, no, you're a king around here, kingsdon't need to shout, kings just speak quietly.People shout.' That's one of the best things hesaid to me.

MARTIN : Truth. Plausibility. Integrity. I don'tfind much in ?he Professionals to make meexplore myself as an artist. But given that, Istill apply the same principles to that as Iwould to any other work - is it true . , . and howwell can I do it ? One has to compromisesometimes, or very often with a show like this-

because of time. So there are compromises,Enough said !

LEUIS : Yeah, yeah, we know all about that,Martin . . . ! I've only made one film so far.Playing a rugby player in Confessions ofaDriving Instrucfor. Don't laugh ! You won't seeme, though. I'm just in a rugby pack . . . witha beard on.

LEWIS: Two really. Marlowe's TamburlaineThe Great althe Edinburgh Festival. I was only25 at the time, It's a helluva part, not manypeople have ever played it. When AlbertFinney did it at the National Theatre in 1976,that was only the third time it had beenperformed in full in London. It was a challengefor me to get as far with it as we could. But thebest workl've ever done was in a Glasgowstudio, The Close Theatre (which has sinceburnt down)

- a modern interpretation of Tfte

Maratl Sade. Or to be precise, The Persecutionand Assassrnation of Marat as Performed bythe Inmates of the Asylum of Charenton UnderThe Direction of the Marquis De Sade . . . /I played De Sade and it was the most involvedthingl've ever done. Same time every night asI reached the breakdown of this madman,mucus actually came out of my nose. I thinkthat's being involved !

LEWIS: If I was honest, I'd say: Is this meatyfor me ? Very few people like to admit that, butthat's what it's about - if you want to get on.Then, checking ifeveryone has a good part -if it's a good play, they should have. And is ita challenge or am I doing the same old thing ?If I was offered another Bodie type - yes itwould be meaty, but no it wouldn't challengeme. So I'd prefer a funny little character,perhaps . . . more like my role in ?fte CuckooWaltz, which used all the facets of myweaknesses.

LEWIS : I've never enjoyed myself so much asplaying The MaratlSade . . . I love heavyclassical roles, something you may finddifficult to believe until you actually see medoing one. I've done a lot ofShakespeare,Chekov (I like Chekov), Strindberg and, ofcourse, Marlowe.

How do you select scripts ? \llhat are the essential ingredients you look for ?

Do you have any rnarked preference between cornedy or drama ?MARTIN: None at all. They are the same.Shakespeare proved that. If, again, you applythose fundamental principles to all your parts:truth, plausibility, integrity. I've enjoyedcomedy, outrageous knockabout stuff like HuwEvans, the drunken Welshman inDoctor InThe House, And I've enjoyed Kowalski.

Money and world fame apart, what arnbitions are left in your careers ?MARTIN: I don't see myself quitting, but I'dlove to see a fork in the road. I would love todirect. I've a lot of ideas and find that whenactor friends come to me with a part they're .working on , I have useful things to say. I find I

LEWIS: I can speak quite honestly - I've got tofollow this series through on my contract.When that ceases, we'll probably do a film,Then it's Calch 22. If our film works in America,they'll want us to make more of the TV series.

can put things to thembetter than I can put.them in to piactise myself. So I've a suspicionI might bei better director than an actor' Onstagl or screen{ but I'd really love to directfitris. I suppose I could direct an ePisode of-The Prof&iionals if I asked them. The problemwould be the preparation. I would never havethe time off.I don't know how they manage it in llollywood'Paul Michael Glaser has directed some of theStarsky and Hufch shows. He must have

"omeot e else scouting locations and so on'

To me that's an essential part of a difector'sjob, and if I wanted to learn, I would have todo all of it.

MARTIN: No idea. I've been an actor all myadult life, so any conclusion or changes thathave come over me in all those years havebeen closely associated with acting and fromstudying myself because of what I am. So itwould be impossible to answer that.

5.nd if either of you hadn't made it in acting, where rnight you be today ?

And I'd prefer to be in films. Obviously, I'min to films - or movies, as they say. I'm notRobert Redford, but there might be a niche forme. But you have to be in America if you wantto make films. I've been there, as a muaicianand lately teaching drama in universities. Iknow some people there, too, and you needan introduction, otherwise you're just anotheractor and they've got enough good ones. YesI'd love to be in films in a big way. [He laughs].I wouldn't strip, though.

LEWIS: I'd be doing it whole-heartedly, I knowthat much. Whatever I turn myself to, I throwmyself into (like my parachuting !). Somethingcreative . . . which gave me a sense ofindependence. When I left school, I was goingto open a chain of hairdressing shops - can'tquite see that now.

lli ..,i'' ,, i

{l\,

\r

q1

ryl

t:i::'.:ii!:::::..

".s..E

ItI

tf'

,F;

sootl,ed tie. " l've got this fabulous idea"' he:';i;;.;; ith"beaniing snile' "Providing we. have;,r;h;;;ri.i'a.v r'* loing to treat vou to lur.rchIt tlir. tt,L)-oul bistro ' '

"'"Can't." Doyle sard' "l'll catch a snack at anub..."''il,tuy special pub'1" Bodie enquired' faceshou ing disPleasure'

"Yes -

the'Bear and Chain' ' ' ' rvith an oldmar;:f *;;; f-; the Force"' Dovte ,stilll:d 11'soai.'t

clisbeiief. "No kidding' I lust ha'l a clrl ' ' '"u".'.-ni"i'*a

,oord lor *ori ''id'tnded

nith: "lcan't let hirn dow n"'-."::N;

_ u.c can'1,,' B,odie agreed . . .

Everv make and age ol car packed the pub'sp"iki;i i;;:'i;"vl.

';iott'a tn''t'ld dar:'e,d thesenrc l'renettc cro\\olng ol thc bars during theiun.f-, Ut."t . No matter horv tiglrt money had everffi;r" ;lr;;;iteru l, this puri of Londons Eastfii"ri;;;.;u"ogttr to rind the p.rice:f " ft'*iinl. *,tt 'ttreir hoire-rnacle sandwiches' It r'vas' tnI sense. a $nrkdal ritual'"'i"o"il'grui,;et]*;ihit rvatch' "Ten past one"' heannounced'""ii"niiiJli-,'.u ggecl. " A nother ferv m inutes' Bod ie'rii"i. t"'*iiTim afte r we've waited att hour ' ' '"''Til'.,;i;J irt tlre purkirt-o^krt until 2-.t1'rt1'r i,,;tii. R;i"D";i. i.i.pt'onti Ri

)me-,0r1dINSTS

Einl

,'getf our

i fast.lnow

p the

"Didn't you ever share a grass with Ridley ?""A couple," Doyle answered. He was getting

,:ne ideas. "I could start with Will Seeley . . .""Then do !" Cowley snapped.

\\'ill Seeley had a wart on the end of his nose.-l: rvore the greasy coveralls of a mechanic yet his-.rds were perfectly clean. He was tall, weedy and::.e-faced. He seldom, if ever, iooked anyone

right in the eye and mumbled when he spoke.''Have you seen Bert lately?" Doyle asked tl-re

::n as Bodie lounged in the doorway of the small

jukebox repair shop Seeley owned-

" 'e camE in last week, guv," Seeley replied."Did he say what he wanted ?"Seeley stared at an out-of-date calendar on a

far wall. "The usual, you know, 'ad I seen anythin'suss or'eard a rumble'bout Mudhar."

"Mudhar?" Doyle felt elation surge in hisblood. Bodie, too, reacted by straightening toattentiveness.

"Ranji Mudhar -

the protester!" Seeley spat,showing his dislike of anybody trying to changethe system.

"Anything elie ?" Bodie called from the door-way.

Seeley took a quick look at Bodie. He didn'tlike talking to men he did not know. Men who hadnot, at some time, slipped a fiver into his hand forinformation received. There was sornething aboutBodie, though, that made Seeley say: " 'e wantedto 'ave me keep me ears open for 'ot cars. 'ementionedBarkin'..."

"You did scrape barrel bottom in the CID,"Bodie said as he drove away from Seeley's. l'And,that reminds me, did you have to hand him tenquid ?"

Ray Doyle grinned. "lt pays to pay snouts.Okay, maybe l'm not on the regular Force nowbut one goof-up and Cowley could have metransferred back to pounding the beat."

"Smart thinking,;' Bodie smiled. He waited fora bus to pass and then joined the traffic flowheading for Barking. They had one more stopbefore paying a call on Ranji Mudhar -

-or soDoyle insisted. For his money, Bodie would havegone straight to the suspected terrorist's scruffyKentish Town hangout.

Doyle pointed to a garage and used car lot oncethey left the main Barking shopping street. "That'sit,"-he told Bodie. "Park here - I'11 go in alone!"'The

moment he entered the garage, Doylewished he had Bodie for company. He recognizedthe three villains standing inside - heavies whodidn't scare even with a gun rammed down theircollective throats.

"Well, well, well -

if it isn't Mister Ray Doyle,"said one.

"Hello, Ted," Doyle nodded. He stared at theothers in turn. "Les . . . Colin . . ." he said.

Ted Fisher grinned menacingly and hitched histrousers over a beer-belly. "Is this a personalvisit?" he asked.

Doyle flashed his CI5 card. "Official," hereplied. He took the bit between his teeth. "DidBert Ridley talk to either of you recently ?"

Colin Pieedy's eyes narrowed. "Ridley's dead,"he announced.

Doyle nodded confirmation. "Did he ?" herepeated.

Les Norris tried to appear casual as he walkedaway from l.ris mates and took up a position be-hind Doyle. The smallest of the trio, he was themost dangerous with several convictions for GBH.His voice had a nasty edge as he said: "Ridley wasa pig pig ! He deserved what he C9t . . .':

. ."Fisher frowned, interrupted quickly' "Hewanted to buy a car from us

- on account !"

Doyle put down tl-re urge to have a go. He didn't

like the inference. lt was a strollg hint that Berthad been ber-rt and applying pressure to get so.me-thirtg for nothing. "Did you let him have one?" heasked innocentlY.-

"Thank you -

nol" Preedy snarled' "He got tl.reboot ! Told him to . . ."

"Wasn't it a bit different?" Doyle cut in'"Wasn't it more like he sussed a nicked car ringand..."

Norris growled, hurtled forward' Flis right armwas raisei and the clenched fist held a heavysnanrler. He got to within a foot of Doyle -s'uddenly colla-psed with a wl-rooshing of air fromhis I ungs.

Bodie grinned and dusted his palms'.A sectionof rustedlail-pipe lay across Norris's chest and atinv trickle of blood showed where the pipe hadbroken the fallen man's scalp. "Not a bad throw"'Bodie said conversationally from the garageentrance. "Co ahead, Ray mate - they're reallyeascr to answer questions."

"Firh.. and Pr6edy fixed Bodie with slitted eyes'They would not foiget the former-paratrooper ina hurrv.

"NicteA cars," DoYle rePeated."Prove thatl;' Fisher snarled. "The fuzz check

usout..."Doyle took a shot in the dark. "Have you sold

a car to Ranji Mudhar?"Preecly gulped. "How did You know?"Fishei gesfured, asked: "What's this got to do

with Ridley's death ?""Maybe everything," Doyle replied honestly.

"Look, I'm notlnterested in your villainy..Unlessyou've got a working agreenlent with Mudl'rar ' ' ''i'{is facJp.omised touglier action than they'd everseen if a link could be established.

Fisher siglied. "CI5 - The Big 'A'," he said'"Okay,

- Ridley rt'as here a few days ago' We sold

Ranji'six cars - French and German rnodels'Ridiey wanted us to supply det-ails about 'em andwe couldn't. We lost'em - in a firel"

"Conr enient," Bodie snaPPed.Doyle advanoed and prodded Fisher'schest' He

was burning up inside.-"Find us something," headvised. "Like^the registration nutnbers, maybe l"

Fisher's fists forrnet but wherl Bodie carelesslyopened hisjacket to reveal the butt ofhis shoulder-gun the fisis r.rnclenched' It was one thing baitirEihe fuzz but the word had been put out - don'tever antagonize Cowley's squad. Fisher was, ifnothing.'ise, a rr.ran with a very strong self-oreserv*ation instincts. Going to a battered desk hesoon 'found' bills of sale for the six vehicles andhar.rded tltese to Doyle. "And that's all," he said ' ' '

Ranji Mudhar studied the bills of sale lrombehind a tilted stand similar to those used bydraftsmen. His deep browu eyes didn't flicker andthe slender fingers holding the papers stayed qLlltesteady.

"Whe.. are tl're cars ?" Bodie asked'Mudhar smiled a little' "ll it was ar.ry of your

business I would gladly tell where," he.replied irla silky, ar.rnoying voice. "Since you are lrere ln anunofficial capacitY.."'

Dovle elared at liim. "Officiall" he stressed':oir,-,.r2," Mudhar insisted' "l bought those

"ur. in'sood faith. I am a legitimate businessman'V;;'ffi;;;i-or...o proof Ihat the cars were less

than leeallv purchased from their former owners,tra .'. jil-rlt'eyes glinted, "'' 'you do not have awarrant to make a search'""'lJoril

ut.athed deep and hard' "A friend ofmine is dead - murdered' I have reason to supposelir'ri",ir*.

"r., *..., in some way, connected with

ii;; ";.il leading up to his killiirg' \u*:

need I;;;;;;;1 Neeolt ilet the information the hardway ?"' itie sisn outside Ranji Mudhar's.,headquartersread: PEOPLE FoR PowER' Since leavtng.,niuersitv. Mudhar had been striving for power -;i;t;',;;i;i ;;;;'. As a professional agitator andself-confessed revolutionist the man had beell lnil.r. to..f.ont of every disturbance and demonstra-iilri i,*orring a conflict between the so-called*litirg iiass"and the Establisl-iment' Mudha-r was;;;;ifir; a militant according to Home officeiii;;. fewrt ttre link man for global terrorism' Thei;;;i i;i.; of illegal..organizations,sponsorirlgintustrial unrest, civil violence and wholesale"nui.llv. Unfortunately,

Ranji Mudhar had veryirrroottont lriends in high places' Every-attentpt.to.uiU rllt outsiort lor lnrest had ended in do-nooa inn

"dllt fo. official blood-letting

"":i'i;?ii;; the death of vour lriend," .Mudhartrii ';lih;;t sincerity, brown eves .laughing.li.usticrllv in an othlrwise expressionless face'"-l;f

"iir-r-i could help but I must abide by the

law. You have no right to ' ' '"'* iioO[ e.utbed M]udhar's shirt and twisted' Hisnol-i"ur-u **e inch from the agitator's' Doyle'f-r-.ti.Aiv iieppeA fonvard, pulled Bodie from theoi-t

"r. ';fn.ie are other ways to skin a rat"' he

said and coldly turned his back on Mudhar ' ' '

"Why?" Bodie asked once they- reached thestreet.':l could have nrade him squeal'""--':Rndllauethe Home Secretary breathing flameson Cowley's neck'l No, thanks - we can comeback tonight l" Doyle grinned grimly ' ' '

That night, making the rules as they.went along'soil. ur; Doyle agiin entered Mudhar's estab-fitfr,".rt. A piofess'ional burglar^could,not haveilt"[."-i,

"i,V better. Using flashlights' they

searched the rooms containing M udhar's literatureunJ

-'u".ount.. Doyle conientrated. on flling"rUi".ii

* and in on. l,e came across a locked box'The blade of a penknife opened this'^':u;;;-yo,r'.r.. heard of an Anne Jackie?"O"rf" utf.'.a. holciing a log book, passport andcre,lit card

- all bearing thc woman's natne'

-'

SoOi. .norted as heitruggled with the lock on aa.it J.u*"t. "No - why ? ii she important ?"--il"/; left the data on top ol the filing cabinet'"Don''t know," he rePlied.

e f"* minutes later, Bodie exciaimed: "AnneJackiel" He had the drawer open and an.accountbook under his flashlight' "Listen to thrsri;;h :-; contriuutio"n of one thousand quid'

'essed.:.r tlloseiessnlan.$ 3re less: o\\ tlers,J have a

r"end ofs'!rppose:::d with-

need Il:e hard,c,.iarters

leaving!o\!'er *i':urI 3,I1d':een in

r.rnstra-;..-calledj.:ar was:: Office;.rt. Thec:soring;r-.olcsale:-ad veryiirxpt toi in do-\l udhar-. ugiringess f-ace.e br thes:e,i. Hiss. Doyleir..nr theiar." hela:...

;red thet: flar-nesia. come

r.: :.1ong,'-r estab-::r have::i. they,,:e rature,i" filingr.el box.

J;.ckie'1";.';t andfcK on ali l"cabinet.

: "Anneaccount

L:-lii5 . .nd quid.

April -

a lurther one grand. May -

live hunclrecl..lune

- tri,o grand." He whistlecl- "She must have

1bund. the pot at rainbor.v's entl." F{is fingersturned the botrk's pages. "l reckon Anne .laikielr.rs kicketl in ninc thourantl to Mudlrar's kirrirrrr.l uil in clrsh l"

I)oyle rernoved a file fiont one cabinet. A cor-nertag said: JACKIE

- ANNE. As he rcad the con-

tents, l)oyle began to sense a breakthrough. Whenhe came to the last page in the fblder heiurned toBodie and said, "l like itl lreally like itl z\nneJackie is a no-perso'n . . . she's been dead fbr sevenr eurs I Yet, ancl get this, the passport issuecl in hername is clated three rveeks aco !I"

"M udhar, rne clariin'," B-oclie chortled. ..you,rer. {(rt)t.l as bclrilrd hurs l"

,Lcaving tlte 'Pcoplc For Power' o11ices, Doyle;iskccl : "\\'rs it uisc to take tlie stLrff on .laokie?,,_.

Bodie enlhusecl, "Yor,r bct it rvasl With this,Cowley can lower the boonr olt . He paused,oecring into tllc niglrt. TIrcl uerc irr Lirr t,lr..l rrreu s',t it.lr louk-trp girrage: ri lrcr.e. irr forrrer rirncs,stablcs had been. In a better olass ciistrict ofLclndon the rooms above the garages woulcl haveittched a lancy price bLrt heri thiy were sinrply:tor&ge Space or an abode fbr r;rts and otlter\ enntn.

Bsfore Bodie could voice his ilwarencss. llotor-,relc.ltci-Ldligltrs spcured rlrc dark antl tlrc plir.were batlied in brilliance. As one, cngines roared.nto a senti-circle ol shatterins nttisc.-

Bodie drew his gun Doyle-fbllorving sLrit. Thee.ar-battering sound ntade spcech irnpossibtc but:irey knew how to deal witli the sitLration. l'heir:r\es met for a fraotion, switchcd back to thosc'linding headlights wlrich wcre nolr erecping;loser...closer...

In perlect unison, Bodie and Dot.le hurtledr\\'ay lrom the building and chargcd the ntiddlerjker. At the vital ntcilent they*separated and.:itacked, instead. the rider on either side. Bodie:.'pically r.rsed his initiative. He cahnly fired a'irltct into the lront tyre of his target and as the-ite w'ent out of eontrol he nipped round the':antic rider and knocked hint oui ol the sacldle' jth itis gur.r-barrel. Doyle's rrrethods were more

r keepingtvith the ex-CI D lran's natllre. Avoidins,re harrdlebars and a steel-cappcd boot lashinI

.,1 hinr, Doyle straiglrtencd his arlm and.jabbecl hii-':in n.ruzzlc into the rider's belly. ThLn he sot^llrincl tlte man

-, and pLrslrecl._

The t.orntent ol nreta.i twisting against brick clid)o1'le's heart good.\ol rrontent with breakirrg ft-cln.r the rrrenacing- I'er semi-circle, Bodie retr-irnecl to the fielc1 rif-,rttle. The headlights' glarc illLrnrinated the,iiers now. As the riders wheelccl and slervcd to:iorm ranks, Bodie raced along their lines

- taking\{rge delight in llaying all within rcach. Nol

-trl a car screeched into the ntews and canle to a-.Lr blocking the cxist was Ilodie aware that',rle lrad lclt lrirn alorls 1'or sotne r.rItilc.\\ ith their retreat cut off ancl the two Cl5

-,rL-nts positioned behind the car, the bikers soon---i\e up. But rrot before Bodie said: ..I was ollt-

-.nrbered and didn't know itl"'- and he sounderl:i-r 31166y9d.

^ Ccortr-' C_ trri lcr''s eyes twinklcd. It rvas theli)lltr\\iltg ultcrrrotrn and hiS tWo bcst agents satin his ollicc, both conre nt to listen.

. ."Wc'i.,c pLrt thc stor.\ t{)getltcr-," Coulcl said.''\'or,r ri,ere right aboLrr rhe l\nnc Jrckie bLi:iness,lirr it rit'()nE tc ls{,n. Muclhar nceclcd a nante lorhrs leut'Lrnt bt,oks. lle coirldn't show rvherc his['urri-ls ae trruil) (iurc tl.out so he usecl tl]c counter_1L-lI fit\sp()t t li,r'gcr''s lriok of taking the nantc ol apcrsoll r.vho had eristcd but u,as ltow rlcacl andbegair to establish a prescrlt exislencc toi ire..Ncetllcss, [() soy, the lin

nent

Itoted itin

n'tiatterot of11e

tIston,ods,!Ir

I'

o give

L

ilinfrat

How rnany cars have you been through ?MARTIN: I've had four. Only four. And I tendto wreck them. My Citroen GTI is anincredible motor-car - 125 mph. So far, I'vehad only a superficial crash with it, except itcost a lot to put right. Just one of those stupidsituations, cars either side of you and no roomto go through. So I didn't. I stopped. This othermadidiotdidn't ...!

What qualities do you look for in people ?MARTIN: Same as with scripts. Truth,plausibility, integrity. I can't cope withneurotics, can't relate to them. If people aretruthfully neurotic, if they say 'I'm in a realhuffy state, I'm angry !', that's fine. But I've notime for people who are transparently puttingon an act, when you can tell they're not sayingwhat they mean, want or really think.Do you keep any pets at home-anirnals that is, not girls ?MARTIN: I've an old English sheepdog calledHarry. He's eight of our years. And he's avegetarian like me. Has been, most of his life,in fact. Having become a vegetarian. I foundthe stench of feeding him dog-meat botheredme, so I got one of those pelleted foods andadded left-overs of my meals. As anexperiment, I lessened the pellets andincreased my left-overs, added sometextured soya protein, with a touch of Marmite. . . and he's been a vegetarian ever since.

reason for me. I've four guitars - no, five - andfive pianos, including an electric one, and a

funny little spinnet /-harpsichord string-ensemble thing.

LEWIS : I'm not a car freak; I've done all ofthat. That's where I differ from Martin. He'sinto carburettors and all that. I'd love a nicecar, but I'm not bothered. Wetl, I am actually,my girlfriend is a car salesman I But I'm happywith my old, brown ambulance outside. Ibought that for tl80 as a student going aroundrepertory theatres, to avoid paying for hotels,and it worked fine. I spent S2,500 inside

-

heating, fridges, rather luxurious it is. Not thatyou'd know it from the outside.

LEWIS: I agree. I can't stand actors, either. Idon't mean Martin . . . I mean people who arefalse. It turns my stomach when people try toput one over on me. You should never try toout-act an actor, I'm rather shy, really; I findit difficult to look people in the eye. But I readthem quite well and put over the message: Bestraight, or else.

LEWIS: I've got a hedgehog that knocksaround the garden. I call it Jeff. I met it when Igot back home late one night. Needless to say,I leave the key in a secret place and I wasfeeling around for it in the dark and put myhand on this hedgehog I We keep it in the'garden, give it milk and it's still there. Atleast, I think it's the same one, you can nevertell with hedgehogs. Also had a gun-dog once,Gypsy, but he used to run away irom therabbits. A real embarrassmeni !

afact,

edFarIthe

Here,s where you can really have a go-what are your pet aversions in life ?

you don,t have much free tirne durinE the seiies, but what are your rnain hobbies ?

MARTIN: Anything related to environmentalidiocv. like killing whales, dolphins, seals,witlv-nillv. I don't believe in fan clubs foractors, oi not in one for myself, anyway'Lewisias one; that's fine. I'd only form one ifit could be connected with Youngconservationists, Because we must stop thesepeople ruining our world' I fight them the mostmitltant way I can - that's why if I make a guestaooearance on a TV chat or quiz show, I

"lr"UV wear a friend's of the Earth tee-shirt or

Save The Whale. I loathe zoos; I've never seena happy animal in a zoo. Now I know thissounds terribly sentimental, old hat and acliche, but we really are the guardians of ourplanet and as we are really the only ones on it*ith

".et "e of discrimination and inate

responsibility, we should use it. We'resupposed to know better but we behave worsethan the animals.

MARTIN : Apart from sleeping ? And acting !Rock-climbing in Wales' And existing ' ' ' inthe countryside' A friend of mine has a cottagein the country and that's my favourite place inall the world. It's wild, no plumbing, and justqreat, I climb quite alot - always going upJecond, I might add. I don't get much time togo to the gymnasium when we're filming, soivhen.I'm not so utterly shattered, I get upearly and run. Jogging is something I startedwhen I did a TV PlaY about soccer, IfieAchilles HeeI. I tiained hard for that, felt at thepeak of my whole tife when we started filming*itn fo*,am FC' I went out on the park with acouple ofthe Fulham apprentices, doing anexeicise known as Triangles, where you keeprunning all the time' After three minutes, I wasnearly-sick - literally' I was heaving wilhfatigue. And those guys carried on for fourhorirs ! It's quite inconceivable what they cando,

MARTIN: I can't paint or draw. I'm not verygood in two dimensions, but I'm very- good ini-hree . . . I can sculpt and make models. Verygood with my hands. I love building modelIirplanes and cars - the old-fashioned ones(thiv've sot more parts on them)' Everything Iiiteis ota-. I'm not much of a modernist' I don'tappreciate technology or anything modern,really.

LEWIS: Spiders are my No. I aversion. Iwouldn't iancy leeches on me, either. Thathappened to my girlfriend ip Singap.ore' (She'sa Uii of a case, actually - she rides killerwhales l) I hate spiders. I've slightly overcomethat by watching the teIly, seeing people

-

handling them. I saw someone removing thevenom fiom a black widow sPider andbecause it was so stupid, I relaxed a bit' Youalways think they've got super-intelligence

-

because they can build a web the way they do,and sit and wait for some fly to be trapped in it'And I suppose it's what I thought was going onin their minds that frightened me more thananything else. But seeing how stupidlheyare,when handled in a laboratory, has relaxed mea lot about them' But, no, don't send me anyas a gift, thank You I

LEWIS: I'm into parachuting at the moment, fora number of reasons. One of those is fear -conquering it. I suppose that's all anyone getsout oiparachuting. No way can they say it'sexhilaiating because it's terrifying ! Thebuild-up to the descent, flying out to the bigdrop, that's fun' Going by the hearr-rate,.thebiglest build-up is towards the exit, that'soli"!, too. Then it builds again before you pullthe canopy out . , . because it might not comeout. Even the top-notch parachutists can getknocked off. It can happen to them just as it canfor me. After all, it's only going out with ahaversack on your back with a bit of nylon' Abit hairy. Anofher challenge, you see I free-falling and parachuting. It's called Halo-- highaltitude, low opening. You have to do all thatcourse, to try to do what I'm hoping to do ' ' 'Other thah that, as you know, I shoot a lot, AtBisley. I shoot for a team, against the Army, orthe police. I've shot with the best and yes, Ibeai them. But then I beat them as a kid, as well'

Hrnm, very enetgetic. V/hat about sornething rnore sedentary-do you paint ?LEWIS: I used to paint. That's something I cando, and don't. I'm busier writing. I'm alwaysjotting things down in alittle notebook,observing things, making comments --usrngmy mind.-Nothing has actually come of it yet'

.

I was writing a film script for Ihe Professiona/s'until I realis-ed Brian Clemens had the rights' Itwas a good story. As usual I found it very hardto wor-k me intoit. Martin had a great part' I'mverv qenerous. When I write songs, they'renevLr-for my voice, either. Very strange that'But then so's mY voice !

Actors tend to see Inole of the world than sailors. Do you like travelling ?MARTIN: Very much, yes' More inland, thanabroad, perhaps, There's so much to satisfy

TEWIS : I don't do enough of it. I'd like to seemuch more of the world. I once hitch-hiked

me in Bdtish countryside. Wales is a favouritehaunt of mine ever since childhood.Birmingham is very close to Wales, you see.The only place I've really fallen for apart fromhome was Australia, strangely enough as itcouldn't be more different. I'd been in Praguefor three winter months on OperationDaybreak in the depths of winter. I was pastyand grey and somebody sent me a book, TfieHeart of the Hunter, a mystical treatise aboutthe desert. I read it and thought I'd giveanything to be in the desert and, this is God'shonest truth

- I finished the book like that, the

phone rang at that precise moment, and AnneHutton, my agent,said, 'Hello Darling, howwould you like to go the desert next week ? Idropped the phone as if it were alive ! Icouldn't believe it.

Country-lovers both, but do you have a favourite city abroad ?MARTIN: Prague is a very beautiful city.Poignantly beautiful because of the regimeimbuing it with such an atmosphere ofdepression and negativity. I always saw it asdark and depressing, black and eerie, butreturning there on Boxing Day, after theChristmas break on the film I was making, thecity was empty and I was stunned by howbeautiful it was. The atmosphere had changed,you see. Couple of days later, it was the sameold Prague. People had forgotten their jollityand gone back to the daily grind of having tofind twelve American dollars to buy arazot'blade !

from Liverpool to Greece; had a bit of money,and now and againl'd cheat and take a ride,but basically I got there under my own steam.Completely penniless when I reachedAthens. Fortunately, I met Greek hospitalityand had a marvellous time. I like islands ;Crete and all of those, for sailing. I love ourcountryside here like Martin. I've beencamping quite a bit - and make of that whatyou will I I love our g:reenery and everything,I just wish the weather was better. Obviouslywe all love the heat, getting down to a goodbeach and all that. I did that in Portugal, justlolling around a beach tike a landed seal. Idon't like the beach bully scene, though. . . allthose lifeguards. Too much competition !

LEWIS : I like excitement. For about twoweeks ! I like going out and being flash, gettingaround in a Cadillac, which I did in the UnitedStates. I've a mad millionaire friend in LosAngeles and he put me up in the BeverleyHills Hotel

- had a great time. That kind of cityis fine, but I also enjoy the little village whereyou can have drinks and eats, read and write.That's where I'm happiest - and that could bevirtually anywhere you managed to createthat kind of environment in.

LEWIS: I choose movies over a play, anytime. Iprefer being in plays than seeing them. That'saiways frustrating, If they're good, you'rejealous and if they're bad . . . well, you'rejealous as well, knowing you could have donebetter. Plus the fact that seeing a play remindsme I'm out of work. Like any other actor, theonly time I can see a play in town ig when I'mnot working !

OKay, let's bring you back horne: what's your favourite form of entertainment ?MARTIN: There's not much time left over foranything after shooting The Professionals allday . . . a1l week. When the series is on, theonly thing I get time for is getting back home,fixing myself some food, eating it in front of thetelevision until about 10.30

- which is not a

healthy way to eat any food. Then, offto bed,read for 15 minutes maybe and then - out like aIight !

$

ffiKffiWmmmmmmm& ffi&Kw

COWLEY.Name: COWLEY, George. Controller, Crimt'nal Intelligence Five. Age: 56. CIS service:Eight years. Previous service: MIS.

COWLEY on CIS:Never send a boy on a man's errand. They'llpinch his bike.

iey'1I

DOYLE on COWLEy:I look ypon George cowrey with a sort ofangry affection. He's the real villain to us ! welike him because we've no illusions about him.we're entirely expendable. It's just a job.None of us have ant iilusions about each otherat all. We can't have.

BODIE on COWLEy:we respect the old so-and-so. we have to ! Heshould be ablg to wipe the two of us off the mapsingle-handed with nis 1eg nailed to the floor.You're bound to have tremendous respect forsomeone who can go in there and do anythingyou can do . . . and then some more.

franscript UCOMMENT I Further interests l eating habits (for

. restaurant snatch ?) ; ambitions'Ere you as superstitious as all actors ate reputed to be ?

MARTIN: Not at all. I,m absolutely LEWS: Same goes for me. I'11 break all thoseunsuperstitious. ff I Uief'."y

"-f tf," aa

.

iules, wat\ into a dressing-room saying -

theatrical superstitlonJ,-tit

Ifyou can sing, however averagely, can you dance ?MARTIN: On the stage in musicals, yes. Not indiscos. I haven't got on to this disco boom yet.No doubt it will come . . .

OKay, it's tirne io eat: what's your favouriteMARTIN: Ah, now you're talking! I do cookextremely well, actually. I've done it since Ifirst came to London in my bed-sit days. I,vebeen a vegetarian for nearly eight years and Ifeel fairly healthy as a result. I'm a strictvegetarian and that limits what I can eat. Nomeat, fish or eggs. No short cuts, either; youcan't open a cupboard, pull out a bit ofdehydrated this and a can of that and mix ittogether. You have to think about it, balanceit very well. It makes you very aware of whatyou're eating - you-are-what-you-eat ! It'sinconvenient, yes, but I believe in it l00ol,.Do you dress as casually as Bodie and Doyle, or do you frequent top tailors ?

LEWIS: Well, I think we've all seen from myTV musical that I'm no dancer ! I really let go ina disco, although, disco dancing is toouniform for me, Everyone's doing the samething. I preferred the old days at universitywhen they flung themselves around andexpressed themselves. No room on a discofloor for that. I do my.best to clear the floorwhen I get going. When I've had a fewsherberts, I really clear the floor, throw mycoat offand really go. I'm a bit of anembarrassment, socially!

food ?LEWIS: In my young bachelor days, I used tocook a Iot and do all the image bit withcandelabra, the whole thing. Spaghettibolognaise is my ace. I'm no Cordon Bleu.IfI,mout, I love steak a poivre. Good Greek foodbrings back my dusty, haversack studentdays. I like Italian food

- French whenl,mbeing

a bit smooth. I like most foods. If I over-do it,I've my own gymnasium upstairs

- behind the

door with 'Closed Set, on it. I lift the weightsup there with a crazy German Starfighterpilotfriend.,..

musicians, not musical Professionals / And Icouldn't possibly fall into that professionalcategory. I've sung on stage in musicals likeLock Up Yow Daughters at Hornchurch Rep. Ihope Hornchurch has forgiven me by now.

MARTIN: Jeans are favourite. Strangelyenough, I do like very expensive clothes. Notostentatiously so, just good quality andcraftsmanship. If I spend !40 on a shirt, it'll geta lot of wear. I buy clothes to lounge around in,and I keep them for a long time. Turnbull andAsser shirts, Newman jeans. Always casual" Ican't stand things around my throat. I've gotone tie only

- because of a funeral. I've two

suits, one by Yves St. Laurent, the other wasmade for me, They seem to cover allexigencies and I wear them maybe twice ayear.

I've even had songs by Paul McCartney, afriend because my father worked at Apple, butit wasn't suitable for me. I feelreasonably qualified to make a record,because of my previous experience ; itwouldn't be so much of a cashing-in as mereturning to something. But people have theimpression it's the other way around.

TEWIS: I used to work in the rag-tradebusiness inbetween music, and I've still gotmy contacts. I don't bother much, as you cansee. But I make up for it by buying some goodgear now and again. That's my other side. Theimage, of course, is being a tramp . . . buttucked away upstairs are all these suits incrushed silk ! My worst suit got stolen theother day. Someone broke in here and took allmy gear. And I was in bed with a plaster onmy broken leg at the time . . . couldn't havedone anything about it. He was just roamingaround the house, walking away with all themerchandise. Fancy doing that to me !

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1What about your famous barnets ? Who does your hair ?MARTIN : Keith at Smile, in Knightsbridge: 922-I switched to this style for the series. Yes, itwas my idea, despite what the publicity says,It was just a search for a disguise. Actually, Iratherlike it. My hair is very unruly and deadstraight. This is very handy - the perfecthairstyle. Recommended for all action aces !Have you noticed how many footballers arehaving it done now ? When the series ends,I'll have it all cut off - cut it quite short or growit very long. But the first thing I'd do is grow abeard.you've told us a lot. can you now try to explain your philosophy of life ?

TEWIS: Thank you, the bionic golliwog ! I ammy own hairdresser. Why not ? I'm trained todo it and it saves a bit of cash, doesn't it. Nowyour next question is: How do I do the back ?Well, you've seen how lousy it is, well, that'swhy it;s lousy folks. No, I've developed atechnique over the years with mirrors andwhatever, and I can feel the shape of it. WhenI do go to a top hairdresser it works out bettel,but I let by doing it mYself.

LEWIS : Don't forget I can't actually achievewhatl'm saying, but this is whatl'm workingtowards : toial honesty. There are times when Ihave to be dishonest. But I try to be honest withmyself at least, that's one of the main things inHf;. I don't have any illusions about myself.You can't have when you're up there and cansee every flaw. I don't like being looked at, Inever have. So you have to overcome that'Overcome yourself. And your fears. And as Isaid before, you have to lie sometimes - toprotect others. If you lie to protect you:self,you're in deep trouble. There again, though,it's part of life, as well.

MARTIN : Wow ! That's the biggie . . . ! Itchanges, day to day. I know what I'd like it tobe, but it's very idealistic, which I find hard tolive up to. Honesty is the top priority. I'd ljketo be always truthful, in everything. And thatreally covers everything' If we could live ourlives 100% truthfully - with ourselves andothers - we'd hardly have any other kind ofproblem. Yes, I think you can be truthfulwithout hurting people's feelings. A lot ofpeople very proudly say, 'I always spelk mymind' - they're followed by people withsodden handkerchiefs' That might be true butit's not kind.

finally, what are your personal arnbitions, outside ofyour career ?MARTIN: I'd like to carry on developing alongthe lines I've been mentioning here . . . As anartist, craftsman and most of all, as a man.There's such a fantastic amount to get right inlife. And I want to keep on getting it right.

LEWIS: I've maintained this mini-stud image,a kind of poor man's 007. But that's not thereality of my situation at all. I've had a steadygirtfriend for more than a year now, I'mcoming on 33, and it's about time I didsomething about it. I'd like to get married andhave a family. But I think that's the other half ofme talking. There really is a definitive,positive ambitious side to me and it would beanchored by marriage and parenthood inboth good and bad ways. At the moment, Iclose my eyes to it. But notfor muchlonger, Ifeel.

Seated in his small office, George Cowleyscowled down at the latest report to iind on hisdesk. Since CI5,s take-over bf the tricky jobsdealing with suspected terrorists, certain gor"rn-ment departments had willingly shuffied theii majorproblems onto Cowley,s Iip. This one was noexception.

^ Calling his two top agents into the office,

Cowley opened the report and said: ,,This makeime shudder. Listen . . .,,

Bodie and .Doyle were in no mood for takingon.a new-assignment. Both men had been up aI

night and each man desperately needed a^fewhours precious sleep. But they did not tell ,TheCow' this. In Cl5 an agent accepted, if reluctantly,whatever Cowley demanded of him.'o'. Trade Minister peter Zoller will visitBritain in an unofficial capacity in order to attendthe forthcoming interndtionil football matchbetween our nations!"_Cowley growled, readingfrom the paper in his hand. He-looked'up, sawBodie yawn.

"Sorry, sir," the former soldier said.^

".Yo.y :-eally should try and get some sleep,Bodie," CI5's controller remarked-sarcastically.'.

Ray Doyle grinned. He enjoyed seeing Bodieho^lding back a retort. There-were times-- veryinfrequent, though

- when a quip directed at .The

Cow' was appreciated. This ivain't one of thosetimes,. however. Cowley's face was set stern, hiseyes piercingly grim.

"Yes, sir," Bodie said.Cowley tapped the report. ,,Zoller has many

enemies lere," he said, lialf speaking to himself."I could name four organizations-all able torecruit suicide squads for his extermination.,'.

"Wasn't Z-oller supposed to be responsible forthe deaths of thousands of wartime innocents?,,Doyle asked._

"Not supposed," Cowley replied. .,He was!Before people, who wanted him'whitewashed forhigh office, removed all evidence against himfrom^the files, there was a mass of iniriminatingproof-that he actually hand-picked victims foithe S.S."

o'Charming," Bodie breathed. ,.And we haveto make sure he doesn't get the chop?,,

."Precisely!" Cowley irowned. .-.Frankly,', headmitted with a shrug, "I,d as soon throw irim tothe dogs but . . ."

Doyle asked, "When does he arrive ?".

"Today," Cowley told him. Closing the report,the controller handed it intact to Ddyle. ..Studythat," he said. "l want you both on duty atHeathrow when Zoller airives. Meanwhile, I'llhave Special Branch check on the activities ofknown militants.

. ."

Walling.down a corridor from Cowley,s smalloffice, Bodie grumbled. ,,He,s inhumanl'Try andget.some sleep, indeed. The first thing I,m goingto do is take a bath and then shave. I,m"whac[ed.;

"If I remember correctly," Doyle retorted, .,youmanaged an hour's kip while I was villiin-minding!"

Bodie didn't bother to argue. They'd beenthrough too much during dawJs streaking periodfor him to relish bantel of any kind. fiis ribs

hurt where a hard fist had slammed into him andhis kneecap felt like it was made from rubberafter taking the full force of a metal-toed boot.

Doyle. silently walked, wondering if anybodyever really gave them credit for carry-ing ouf a jotrto

.its just conclusion. At that momint, sevenvicious criminals were languishing in cells

-probably fast asleep and well fed. Seven dan-gerous villains put where they belonged becausethey cared enough for their country-to want tokeep it clean, and reasonably decent, and freefrom terror.

"See you at Heathrow," Bodie mumbled asthey reached the street. He waved wearily, andwent his separate way . . .

Peter Zoller was a smallish, going to fat manwith thick, grey hair and cold eyes fridden behindnmless spectacles. His suit had been made inSaville. Row, his shoes in Northampton. Hewalked with the cockiness ofarrogance ind spokein clipped, fluent English. The three tall, iean,hungry looking men accompanying him seemedcowed by his domineering personality..

Bodie scowled as he watched Zoller and hisescort exit from the VIP lounge. "I supposethey've got permits to carry gunsj' he mentionedto Doyle.

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-

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"We're not into that side of the law," Doylereminded. "I don't like friend Zollert" His eyesscanned^ the waiting crowds without spotting alurtrve figure.

"Join the hate-queue," Bodie remarked acidly.He still felt weary. Even a tub and shave andfresh clothing had not managed to make a newman of him. He admired the way Ray Doyleappeared as if he'd awoken from i twenty-fourhour kip.

Zoller got into a black limousine with hisbodyguards. Everything had been laid on for theT?n by

_his government. For ao unfficial visitthis was being played along top priority lines.

'oThey've spotted us," Doyle said as they beganweaving through a maze of streets and roadsnear the Victoria & Albert Museum. Sitting besideBodie as the other drove in pursuit of Zoller'sveh-icle, Doyle had kept alert trying to put him-self in Zoller's shoes

- those expensive shbes.He'd

reached a conclusion -

he was not a fool. Thisso-called pilgrimage to watch a football game hadto be a cover for some deviousness. But what?And why hadn't Cowley caught on ?

Bodie grunted, slammed on his brakes as anelderly woman stepped from pavement to pedes-

trian _c_rossing without a single glance to right orleft. "How did she ever makJ it to her lge?,,

Bojlie asked, impatience gnawing at him.D.oyle saw Zoller's limousine vlnish into heavy

traiffic, and swore. "Forget it," he told his com-panion.. "There's no way we're going to pick uphis trail in this ." A bus joinedlhe jammeilroad-hogs, added its fumes to the pollution. "Let'stry the Embassy," Doyle said when they finallyinched forward ien yarils . . .

Three hours later, Bodie threw his door openand got from the car. Bending so that he couldspeak to Doyle who was resting his head on a handand.viewing the Embassy facade with mountingloathing, Bodie growled: "I'm starving. Theretbound to be an eatery nearby. What do you want ?"

"Roast beef sandwich, coffee and . . ." Doylesuddenly stopped, motioned for Bodie to get backrnto their car. "Zollerl" he hissed, eyes fixed onthe black limousine coming sedately down thestreet.

"About time !" Bodie snapped, climbing behindthe steering-wheel. "I wondei where he'Jbeen?"

Both men shared that single thought. They'ddiscussed every possibility during thJthree hourwait. The veiy'fact ttrai Zoiler\ad deliberatelygiven them the slip proved that the man was up tosomething. But what? And where?.

Zoller stepped from his vehicle and marched upthe Embassy steps.

"He's changed his gear," Bodie said.Doyle, too, had noticed. The suit had been

replaced by a casual outfit, the shoes less expen-sive and also casual.

"I'v-e got a notion . . ." Bodie began as he fixedone

_of the bodyguard's with a sizing-up stare.. _''Cowley wouldn't be amused," Doyie warned."We can't ill-treat a VIP's 'associate'!i'

"We can't -

but I could," Bodie growled andgot from the car again.

Doyle stayed where he was. When Bodie wasin this mood there was not one argument to coverthe situation. Anyway, he had thaicrawling sensa-tron going up and down his spine. The one he hadcome_to respect. The one which usually meanttrouble.

Bodie could be so pleasant. He had the per-sonality of all great aCtors who could brainwashan audience into believing they were good blokesoff-stage when, in fact, they w-ere right rubbish inprivate. He went up to the bodyluard, smiledand pretended to be'a stranger in"t6wn. l.E^cureme, sir," he said in a light tone, '.Could you tellme where the nearest restaurant is?,'

The tall, lean man glared, A hand inchedfurtively towards his hidden waist sun. ..Don'tknow!" he grunted in instant dismiial.

Bodie liked the reaction. He did not make ahabit.of forcing his will upon weaklings. He pre-ferred opposition. "surely you know-. . ?'; hecontinued.

"Go away!" the mal snarled, expression nasty.Watching his part-ner, Doyle knew what to

expect. For anyone else, though, Bodie,s lightningmovements would have meant nothing unusual.Even the other bodyguards standing 6 few feetaway saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Bodie's gun pressed into the bodyguard's side."Act naturally," Bodie hissed, stili smiling for theworld to witness. His loose jacket hid the weapon,his casual manner keeping the others from beingalarmed. "Tell me there's a cafe round the cornerand start walking as if you're showing me where!"

Doyle grinned, relaxed. As Bodie and thenervous guard strolled along the pavement theremaining pair exchanged disgusted glances

-

nothing more. Doyle knew the score -

every agentdid. There was always one bloke who'd grab anychance to have a break from a monotonouswatch.

Less than five minutes passed until Bodieappeared at the corner and signalled for Doyle tocollect him in their car. When he got into thepassenger seat, Bodie said: "Richmond . . ." andsettled back to let Ray drive.

"Where's the guard ?" Doyle asked, followingthe traffic signs designating a route to the WestCountry. And Richmond, Surrey.

"In the Nick!" Bodie grinned. "Our wonderfulpolicemen don't like foreign gentlemen carryingfirearms

- especially if they're groggy from a fall

and don't have identification!"Doyle glanced at his partner. "You're taking

risks, aren't you?""He needed persuasion before he squealed,"

Bodie replied without emotion. "He did tell me,though, why Zoller's in London. My guess is that'The Cow' knew what was what! There's a veryactive campaign being mounted to have Zollertried for war-crimes. A lot of pressure is beingbrought to bear on our government. Zoller isaware of this and he's determined not to besteamrollered into prison. So . . ."

Cutting past a pair of trucks playing transportgames by blocking both lanes of a freeway, Doylegave the drivers a much-used reminder of hisfeelings and asked impatiently: "So

- what ? Don't

keep me in suspendersl""Zoller lived by jungle law, stil'l does," Bodie

said. "In his book the best way to counter personalopposition is to eliminate it. He's formed a goonsquad

- ex-hit men imported from America and

a smattering of his own nationals sharing hismorbid ideals. From what I gather, the legitimateobjectors here are about to be assassinated!"

"You're joking!" Doyle exploded, taking thecut-off for Richmond. "Zoller's not about to riskhis position by . . ."

"lt's his freedom," Bodie retorted. "If certainelements can be brought before the courts thereisn't a jury anywhere who'd let Zoller stay on thestreets. "

They reach'ed Richmond and found the addressBodie had been given. It was a William and Maryresidence in a quiet backwater not far from theThames. Three cars parked outside were the onlysigns that the house was occupied. Shutterscovered the ground-floor windows and heavycurtains were drawn across the upper. A strangesilence hung over the place.

"Reminds me of a movie," Bodie mentioned asthey sat in their car beside a "No Parking" notice."Brooding and mysterious with the dastardlyplotters gathered round a candle-lit map . . ."

"Never mind the nostalgia," Doyle smiled.'oDo we go in?"

"When it's dark," Bodie replied. He took hisgun and checked the slide-action. Satisfied it wasworking smoothly he replaced it in his shouider-rig. "You know, this is about the easiest jobwe've had for months."

"Yeah!" Doyle agreed, half-heartedly. He keptremembering Cowley's instructions to stick closeto Zoller and prevent any attempt on the man'slife. It seemed all wrong that they were doing theexact opposite. That Zoller was going to beexposed to any sharpshooter in a football crowdas they staked-out a house sheltering Zoller'sprivate army of killers-to-be. He couldn't shakethe sensation that Bodie's urge for action hadnearly detoured them.

Darkness covered Richmond and the river withnefarious immunity. A1l manner of crimes couldnow be committed within night's unwitnessingblanket. Passers-by on the main street peered atcolour television screens in various rental shopsto catch the latest football score or have some-thing worthwhile to criticize in the office the nextday.

Bodie sighed and climbed from the car. Doylejoined him, less enthusiastically.They didn't speak. They'd worked out a plan

of attack during the long wait. Lights -

barelyvisible through the thick curtains

- burned in two

upstairs windows of the house. Another could beseen through the transom over the front door. AsDoyle went through the garden to the rear of theplace, Bodie prised a ground-floor window openand inserted his strong knife-blade between thedouble shutters. In seconds he heard a snick . . .and pushed the shutters apart.A pencil-flashlight revealed faded, antiquefurnishings and tables shrouded in dust-cloths.Going to a door, Bodie cautiously opened thisand entered a wide hall lit by a single, shadedlight beaming down from an upstairs landing. Hegrinned, quietly slipped along the hall into aspacious kitchen. Outlined against a nearbystreet light, Doyle's upper torso was clearly visiblestanding on the other side ofa glass-panelled backdoor. Bodie opened the door.

"It's eerie," Bodie whispered. "Not a blastedpeep !"

"These houses were pretty soundproof," Doyleremarked. He crossed the kitchen, soundlessly."See?" he quipped, his feet sinking deeper into a

rtalnhereI the

carpet.Like a pair of weightless spacemen the CI5

agents advanced along the hall, began climbingthe stairs. As they reached the first-half-landingthey heard faint sounds coming from above . . .cheering, and an announcer's eicited voice.

"They're watching the match," Doyle said."Makes it child's play!" Without caution he tookthe remaining stairs two at a time and placed onehand on the doorknob of the room fiom whichthe television noises came. Cun in other hand heglanced at Bodie, asked: "Ready?".

Bodie nodded, went forward in Doyle's wakeinto the room.

A 26-inch colour television in a corner of theroom boomed background for the flickering fieldactron on its screen. Seated in a semi-circle beforethe set, backs to the door, were eleven men.

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L.eaving Doyle's gun covering the men, Bodiedeliberately walked past them arid coolly switchedthe telly off. Then, he faced his audience. ,,Gents,',he said brightly, "as we say in this country

-

you'renickedl" His gun motioned at them..

One of the men made an automatic move -

hejumped to his feet, turned to flee. And stoppedwrth mouth open as he stared down the barr'ei ofDoyle's gun..

"Another old saying,', Doyle said, ,.is handsrntheair...please!"

A-ll twenty-two arms reached upwards.-

"lf I was you," an American'voice drawledlrom

.the open door, '.I'd forget the wisecracksand drop those heaters!,,

Doyle's eyes flickered across the room at Bodie -begging, pleading.

Bodie. took a_ deep breath. He knew what Raywanted him to do

- and when. They,d always beenin agreement how to handle a situation lile this.

Yet, at that moment, Bodie didn't want to takeoy leisly.[oa the risk.

Doyle's expression said he was going to act,anyway. Almost immediately, in the pretence ofcarefully lowering his gun to the floor, he bentforward

- leaving a clear field of fire for Bodie.

Until then, the man in the doorway had beenshielded from Bodie's sight by Doyle's body.Now, head and shoulders became a target. CursingRay for forcing the issue, Bodie fired . . . One shotguided by the desperate knowledge that a misscould mean curtains for Doyle. One shot thatsmashed into the American and sent him crashingbackwards. . .

Doyle catapulted forward as the bullet sangover his head and slammed into one of the eleventrying to take advantage of Bodie's preoccupation.Slashing his gun-barrel round, Doyle caught thewould-be escaper across the cheek . . . and con-tinued rolling on the floor until he came up on aknee and pointed his gun at the remaining ten.

"I'll check the other rooms," Bodie said withouta trace of doubts that had shaken him momentsbefore. He grinned, asked: "Sure you can managewithout me ?"

Ray Doyle sank back onto his bottom and kepta straight face. "A co