In The Drivers Seat
Cowley’s narked, and Bodie
knows it’s not fair. It isn’t as if he crippled the
git. Broken fingers heal up easily, and if he can’t handle
the mats then what the hell will he do on the streets? Bodie doesn’t
want a partner who folds when things get tense.
“Meet your new partner,” Cowley says.
It’s a warning.
Bodie turns. Skinny bloke, still in his copper’s
uniform, hat under his arm. Cowley’s barmy if he thinks...
Then the copper smiles and Bodie has to remind
himself that he can’t – he won’t – he simply
doesn’t want a partner.
Nice smile, though.
Partners. Stupid idea.
Bodie eyes the skinny sod they’ve given him and figures he’ll
put him in his place, fast.
Damn. Quick, isn’t he? But Bodie’s
got him now. Snapped his head right back.
The bugger’s not going down. Enough! Finish
this now, show Cowley he doesn’t need a partner... Oh sod
Bodie only knows one way out of a choke hold,
and he's not above breaking rules when he wants to win.
He taps out instead. The curly-haired copper is
laughing, but Bodie doesn’t mind. His new partner wouldn’t
be much use to him with broken fingers.
Everyone knows Bodie’s lost the match.
Doyle has him pinned. Macklin’s shouting something about ladies
and tea parties.
Doyle’s wondering why Bodie hasn’t
tapped out. Why he’s motionless, staring pensively across
the mats as if he’s trying to work something out in his mind.
But Bodie’s not a thinker. He’s a
soldier. Strong, silent, and thick as two short planks. Doyle knew
everything there was to know about his new partner two minutes after
Bodie twists suddenly. Before Doyle realizes what’s
happened, he’s on his back, an arm across his throat.
“You don’t know anything yet,”