After sneaking around Jane, MacGyver and Murdoc left the manor together and caught a cab to one of the sleazier places in south Boston. The cab dropped them off in front of a dirty looking bar surrounded by Harley Davidson motorcycles.

"I hope you're joking," MacGyver said bitterly as the cab shot off. Murdoc shrugged, cocked his head and began to walk along the street, aided by his silver topped cane, "you're contact works here?"

"He owns it," Murdoc said flatly, "It and about thirty other pubs in America, forty seven hotels, eight mines and a duck pond in Montana," he mentioned for MacGyver to follow him towards the bar, "Liam also runs the world's best intelligence network. He employs hundreds of hackers from across the world to keep him up on all the latest news and current affairs- stock market, government scandals, military secrets and the weather. Liam's got files on people that haven't been born yet."

"Sounds like a great place to get information."

"Mmh. There's a terrible waiting list. I've been trying to call him for days," Murdoc replied, "The only option is to crash his party, a trick I learned from you. Come on."

They walked into the bar. It was very different from the Helman Club, which was under new management now. This place had turn-of-the-century chic with some twentieth century grime and a distinct 1920's Chicago mob feel. A group of large tattooed men were arguing about a woman around a pool table. They were about ready to shove pool cues down each other's throats.

"Are you sure this is going to work, Murdoc?" MacGyver hissed.

"Of course. He's an old mate of mine from boarding school, one of the few people who know my secret identity," Murdoc glanced at him, "secret identities are not just for heroes anymore."

"You think you're funny don't you?"

"Funny? I'm adorable," Murdoc countered.

"You're a smartass," MacGyver growled.

"Just one of my many talents, my dear MacGyver," Murdoc brushed off the insult, "It comes in useful during work, especially when first years and faculty are involved," he took a seat at the bar, "don't look so grim. I'll buy you a drink."

"I don't drink."

"I'll buy you something that looks like a drink."

MacGyver took a seat on the barstool next to Murdoc, trying to ignore the fight breaking out behind him. One of the guys grabbed the other and dragged him over the table. The bartender came over to them after a moment, a tall balding man that resembled a brick.

"Scotch on the rocks for me, and a Shirley Temple for my-," Murdoc paused, "friend."

MacGyver looked at Murdoc's pinched face, "are you alright?"

The grizzled bartender served their drinks, "I'm under a lot of stress, MacGyver. My son's missing, the police can't do anything, I have to rely on you and, just to top it off, I have a stack of essays to mark taller than I am," he sipped his drink, "I'm friggin dandy, thank you."

The bartender grinned at MacGyver showing all three of his lovely teeth, "D'ya wanna straw?"

"No thank you," MacGyver said as politely as he could. He fiddled with the umbrella in his Shirley Temple, "Are you sure this guy has what we're looking for."

"Liam has his fingers in everything. The government wants to shut him down, but it doesn't work when he holds all the cards. If he doesn't know, he knows who does," he sipped his drink again, "you know, a Shirley Temple is best drank cold."

MacGyver sipped his drink, and was washed away by the fruity, mock booze flavour. No, he didn't like it much. He looked back towards the pool table as the smaller man grabbed a pool cue from the rack on the wall and used it as a baton against the other man Murdoc didn't even notice the fight behind him, and casually sipped his drink as though nothing was happening.

"Doesn't this place bother you?"

"Why would I be concerned?"

"I don't know, maybe the murder about to take place behind us."

Murdoc shrugged, "Avoid it. They can fight if they want."

"Ed Bloody Murdoch!" Someone shouted from across the building. They both turned to look. He was a small, lithe man with greying hair and popping green eyes. He wasn't dressed like the business tycoon he was, but rather in a pair of torn jeans and an Iron Maiden tee shirt. The man had to be at least sixty, and that begged the question- how old was Murdoc?

"Hello Liam," Murdoc grinned as the man got closer, "You got old."

"Fuck you."

They laughed and the two men shook hands, "good to see you."

"And you," Liam said with a grin, "how's life treating you?"

"Not so good," Murdoc said honestly, "Dane's missing. Please tell me you've heard something."

"I may have," Liam arched an eyebrow, "but why is he with you?"

"Desperation," Murdoc replied.

"Does everybody know about me?" MacGyver growled.

"I have my fingers in everything, me savvy," Liam said darkly, "I know everything, including all of your darkest secrets, so don't piss me off," he glanced at the barkeep, "One to go. Put it on Ed's tab."

"Got it," the bartender said.

Liam sat down on the last available barstool, "I've picked up some chatter about that bastard Fitz. He's been living beyond his means for a while now. My source says that he's been offered a big job."

"What job?"

"Gee, I don't know," Liam glanced at the source of that dumb question, "But I'd assume he's gonna kill someone."

"Liam," Murdoc sighed, "we know this. What else do assassins do?"

"Apparently they sip tea, grow beans and look after children," Liam said cheekily.

"Liam," he rolled his eyes, "just tell me."

"Yeah, yeah," Liam sighed, "I think Fitzy's working with Sonia. She's been making a lot of deals recently for guess what?"

"Thermite enhanced C-4 explosive," MacGyver said into his Shirley Temple before taking another sip.

"Gold star, Mac," Liam sipped his own drink, "I have intel from one of my most trusted informants that they've met several times and have been chatting on the phone and computer for the last couple of months."

"I know that bit," Murdoc said, "I have my own informant."

"Hey," he narrowed his eyes, "I thought Schmitty worked for me."

"Schmitty's a good mate, and unlike you, there are no strings attached."

"I really have to talk to that boy about the company he keeps," Liam said gently, "I haven't got any transcripts of their conversations yet, but I'm leaning on Homeland."

"I'll lean on Homeland," MacGyver said, "as director of tactical operations, I have a bit of power in this situation, and I can get the information legally."

Liam smiled evilly, "My institution is like Guantanamo Bay, in a constant state of legal limbo," he sipped his drink, "but could you do me a favour and send me those transcripts, Mac?"

"I'm doing this for Murdoc," MacGyver said bitterly, "and unlike you, I'm not-for-profit."

Liam picked up MacGyver's drink and sniffed it, "I think someone put something in your drink."

"Do you know anything else, Liam?"

"No. I'll keep you posted," Liam said, "or Schmitty will for me."

"What's the damage?" Murdoc asked.

"Mate, do you really think I'll charge you for information on your own kid?" as soon as Liam had said it, Murdoc's face hardened, "fine, anybody who willingly works with the government in this day and age deserves a break."