Chapter 5: Where to Now?

The next morning was rainy, gloomy and muggy, and Nancy rolled out of bed late, feeling like she hadn't slept at all. She skipped breakfast and headed into town.  She stopped at the hospital first, hoping that seeing Amy and Jonny would cheer her up. She knocked at the door to Amy's room tentatively, and Amy called cheerfully, "Come on in!"

Amy was sitting up in the bed, eating breakfast, "Hi Nancy," she said, "How are you this morning?"

Nancy shrugged, taking a seat in one of the visitor's chairs, "Not too bad – how about you? You're the one that had a long day yesterday."

"I'm sore, but otherwise OK," Amy said, looking at Nancy critically, "You know, you suck at lying," she added, "Missing HM?"

"I talked to him last night," she said, "he thinks he'll be home before the end of the week.  Of course it could be for only 8 hours again."

"Where are they?" Amy asked curiously.

"Probably winging their way to LA right about now," Nancy said, "Apparently they swung between Houston and Denver yesterday and were due to be heading to LA this morning."

Amy looked at Nancy sympathetically, "I wish I could help.  It's been so nice since the guys have been home – I know how I'd feel if I lost that right now."

Nancy stood and walked to the window, "I'm just tired of having my life on permanent hold because of my Uncle."

"Well, if it's any consolation, Murdock would probably give up flying permanently if it meant he could be home with you," Amy said, getting up out of the bed, she walked over and put an arm around Nancy's shoulders, "And that is really saying something for the human fly."

Amy turned her towards the door, "I know how to cheer you up, let's go see Jonny. You can't stay depressed with a baby around!"

When she got to the office, her mood was significantly lighter than when she'd rolled out of bed. Amy was right, it was hard to stay depressed when there was a gurgling little baby around.

"Hi, Riley," she said cheerfully, "How're you doing today?"

Riley raised an eyebrow at her, "You're in a good mood this morning."

"Amy had the baby yesterday," Nancy said, "A healthy baby boy."

Riley smiled, "That's great to hear," he said sincerely, "how are they doing?"

"They're both fine," she said, "they should be coming home in a couple days, maybe even tomorrow."

Riley switched right to business, "So did you review the files?"

Nancy dropped into a chair, "I did better than that," she said with a smile, "I'm meeting LaSalle today for lunch.  We'll see what he has to say for himself."

Murdock walked out of the dressing room on the jet, and heaved a sigh of relief to be out of his uniform.  The General had dismissed him with a disgruntled lecture about not fidgeting during meetings, because it gave the impression he wasn't paying attention.  Murdock had let it go, he hadn't been paying attention.  It was noon, and they were showing no signs of breaking for lunch. He walked to the front of the jet, and found Jeff lounging on the couch reading a book.

"You up for some lunch?" Murdock asked.

Jeff snapped the book closed, "Sounds good to me – whatcha got in mind?"

"I could use some good, greasy, comfort food – how about Captain Bellybuster's Burger Heaven?"

Jeff laughed, "I can hear my arteries clogging, just at the thought – let's go!"

Jeff and Murdock grabbed a cab, and headed to Captain Bellybuster's for a late lunch. They found a booth and ate with relish, "Captain Bellybuster always makes me feel better," Murdock said, grinning broadly with his new Captain Bellybuster baseball cap.

"I feel like I'm goin' to dinner with my kids!" Jeff said, shaking his head, "It always amazes me when I see you like this.  How can a guy be so intelligent and so . . . naive, all at the same time."

"Don't mistake eccentricity for naiveté," he said with a wide grin, "besides a little whacky behavior can be a great disarming tactic."

Jeff looked at the pilot appraisingly, "So, you were back early today.  Is the General giving you time off for good behavior or what?"

Murdock put his half-eaten burger down and wiped his hands and mouth, "Actually, I think this is a time out for fidgeting during class," he said ruefully, "I'm really not sure what the General expects from me. Why is he makin' me wear my monkey suit and draggin' me to all these meetings, anyways?"

"Come on, Murdock," Jeff said with a mischievous smile, "You know it's 'cause he likes you."

Murdock raised his eyebrows, "Yea, like a dog likes a bone, he likes me," he said caustically, "What planet did you just land from?"

"Hey, don't take it out on me," Jeff said raising his hands in surrender, "I'm not the one that married the General's niece.  What were you thinking, anyways?"

Murdock was eating again, and chewed thoughtfully, "Well, when I asked her to marry me I didn't know she was Stockwell's niece – though I'm not sure it would have made any difference."

Jeff shook his head in wonder, "If I had been you, I'd have run screaming as soon as I found out . . ."

"Couldn't," he said simply, "I was head over heels by then.  She coulda been Atilla the Hun's daughter, I still woulda married her."

"Like I said, you made your bed, you get to lie in it," Jeff said.

"I just wish I got to actually lie in the bed more often," Murdock said, grinning.

"I'd watch making that kind of comment around the General," Jeff said, laughing.

"I think the General knows I sleep with his niece," Murdock said calmly, "either that or she's gettin' might chubby for no apparent reason."

"This is your first kid, right?" Jeff asked conversationally.

"Yea, Nan wasn't so sure about the family thing.  It's not like she had a lot of good experience with it.  Her Dad's great – but I don't think I woulda wanted to grow up with Hunt Stockwell for an Uncle."

Jeff nodded in agreement, "I can't even imagine – it's bad enough working for the guy. At least he pays good!  Maybe it's better if you're related . . ."

"No," Murdock said certainly, "Stockwell is harder on Nan than I've ever seen him on anyone else.  She can't seem to do anything right.  It's kinda weird, really.  I mean I know he cares about her, but when it comes to her career, he does nothin' but cut her down."

"That's too bad," Jeff said, "I've heard some pretty good things about her through the grape vine.  She's done pretty well for herself."

"Speaking of careers," Murdock said, sitting forward, "have you thought any more about the team?"

"Don't start on me again, Murdock," Jeff said warningly, "I told you I'm not interested. I like the independence and variation with what I'm doing.  I don't think that a team setting is for me."

"Come on, Jeff," he said persuasively, "It's great to be part of a team, there's nothing like it. It's definitely a case of the whole being stronger than its parts.  It's great to excel on your own, but when you share those talents to make it part of something bigger, it's a satisfaction you can't find in independent field work."

Jeff looked at him with a slight smile, "When was the last time you worked as an independent field operative? I like it, and I answer for myself, and nobody else."

Murdock sat back, "OK, it's been awhile since I worked on my own," quite a while, he thought ruefully, "but I'm telling you, it's worth the rewards to compromise your independence to a team."

"Listen, Murdock," Jeff said quietly, "I've seen you guys work together, and it's impressive.  I'd love to work in that kind of setting, but I've heard who you've got fingered for this team, and quite frankly, there's no way in hell I want to be stuck working with those guys on any kind of regular basis."

Murdock sighed, "Alright, if I can't convince you otherwise . . ."

"You can't," Jeff said emphatically.

Nancy arrived at Colvin Run Tavern a little before noon and asked for reservations for LaSalle. She was shown to a booth at the back of the restaurant, and opened the menu, though her attention wandered around the interior of the tavern, while she waited for Phillipe LaSalle.

He arrived at 12:00 sharp, and was shown to the table.  He moved with the same self-assuredness that her Uncle always exuded.  Nancy knew from his file that he was 68, but he didn't look it.  His wavy brown hair was just beginning to gray at the temples, giving him an aristocratic look that many aging men hoped for.  He had sharp intelligent eyes, set in a handsome face.  The only thing that hinted at his age were the deep laugh wrinkles around his eyes.

He shook Nancy's hand firmly when he arrived at the table, "It's nice to meet you Mr. LaSalle," Nancy said formally.

He smiled, "Phillipe, please," he sat down and looked at her piercingly, "So, Hunt Stockwell's niece, such an unexpected pleasure, I have to admit."

Nancy smiled tightly, "My name," she said stiffly, "is Nancy Murdock."

He gave her a disarming smile, "Of course, I'm sorry about that.  It's just that I'm still trying to get used to the fact that Hunt has a family, and isn't the result of Immaculate Conception!"

Nancy had to laugh, this man obviously had known her Uncle for some time, "I'm not so sure that having a family discounts the theory of Immaculate Conception," she countered, "Even Jesus had brothers and sisters."

"Too true," he agreed, picking up the menu, he turned to an innocuous subject "I hear that the Chicken Marsala here is wonderful, though I have to admit I'm more of a red meat kind of person myself."

The waitress came by and they placed their orders. They discussed the weather and local news until their meals were served.

Nancy looked up, "So, what exactly are you under investigation for?"

Serious gray eyes considered her for a moment, "You don't waste much time, do you?" he asked.

"With all due respect Mr. LaSalle . . . " Nancy began.

"Phillipe," he corrected.

"Very well, with all due respect, Phillipe, we've wasted," she consulted her wrist watch, "half an hour already on banalities.  I have other work to do, and I'm really only here as a courtesy to my Uncle."

LaSalle sat back and wiped his mouth on his napkin, before replying, "What I am being investigated for is less important than why I am being investigated."

"Let's take this one step at a time," Nancy said matter-of-factly, "I want to know what you are being investigated for.  After that you can offer your theories as to why."

He shook his head with a rueful smile, "You know the family resemblance is really quite uncanny," he said, after a slight pause he offered, "I am being investigated for supposedly giving up a network of informants and undercover agents to a Columbian Cartel for money."

"And did you?" Nancy asked.

"I am not so stupid as to take a payoff, give up a group of very good men and women, and then stick around to be convicted of it," he said smoothly, a slight smile curving his lips.

Nancy shrugged, "Perhaps not . . .  I take it that even if you didn't do it, someone did."

LaSalle looked pained, "Yes, it was a group of men and women who have worked for three years to get into a position where they could make a dent in the drug imports from Columbia.  It was a joint effort between the CIA and DEA.  Someone fairly high up in our organization had to have leaked the info, because there are only a few of us who knew the entire network."

"Who were the individuals that could have given the network up?" she asked.

LaSalle seemed to hesitate, then said quietly, "Me, Leo Santini with the DEA, his boss, Reagan Landon, my boss, Frank Ester, and our division manager, Tristan Caswell."

"And you think you know which one of those people orchestrated this setup?" Based on the files her Uncle had provided, Nancy could make a pretty good guess as to which one.

"Yes," LaSalle said simply, offering nothing further.

Nancy allowed the silence to last for a couple minutes, before conceding, "OK, we'll play it your way, let's talk about the why," Nancy suggested, "Why would someone, assumedly one of the people you just mentioned, go to such great lengths to set you up for a fall like this."

Lasalle sat forward, "This is an elaborate scheme to discredit me because of some snooping I've been doing, on your Uncle's behalf."

"Snooping?" Nancy said uncertainly, "Seems like an awful lot of trouble . . ."

"Stockwell has some very powerful allies," LaSalle interrupted, "And even more powerful enemies.  He's no different than any other man in his position.  He's always looking for ways to strengthen his allies and cripple his enemies.  Fortunately or not, in many cases your Uncle and I have similar camps, and we end up work together frequently."

"And who was the target in this instance?"

"My divisional manager at the CIA has been involved in various shady deals over the years. He's very good at covering his tracks, but I've been trying to get the goods on him. Hunt has some kind of vendetta against him, though you'll have to ask him if you want to know what the specifics are.  I have my own issues with the man.  He's a real slime, and how he ended up in his position is beyond me.  That's why I agreed to helping your Uncle."

"And that would be Tristan Caswell?"

LaSalle looked at her through narrowed eyes, "Yes," he said bitterly, "he's head of the InterAgency Cooperation division. He was put in that position about two years ago, over a year after this particular operation was underway.  He leap-frogged over some very capable people to be promoted to division manager.  Supposedly he got the position because of his excellent skills in developing cross-functional teams.  Personally, I think it's just because he's a good butt-kisser."

They ate in silence for a few minutes, while Nancy digested what she had been told.  She set down her fork and knife, "Was Stockwell Enterprises involved in the Columbia mission?"

LaSalle nodded, "Three Abels were killed as a result of the betrayal," he said smoothly, "and as you are likely well aware, your Uncle isn't the kind of man who turns the other cheek."

"Well you must have gotten something on Caswell that was pretty damning to make him take such drastic measures to discredit you.  What did you find out?"

"I had some promising leads . . ." he said evasively.

Nancy caught and held LaSalle's gaze, "You know, Phillipe, for a man looking for help, you aren't very forthcoming with information.  I feel like a dentist at the moment, dealing with a very difficult extraction."

LaSalle reached into his jacket pocket, while Nancy watched him warily.  He pulled out a computer diskette and held it out to her, "Here's the information I've been able to gather.  There is nothing here that is definitive, and there are still a lot of loose ends to tie up.  Like I said, Caswell is good at covering his tracks."

Nancy took the disk and stuck it in her purse, "I trust this is my copy of the disk to keep."

"Yes.  Hunt has a copy as well."

The waitress came by with the check, which Nancy picked up and paid, with her company credit card.  LaSalle didn't protest, just smiled, "Make sure you put that on Hunt's bill," he said.

Nancy smiled, "I was planning on it."

They stood in preparation to leave, and LaSalle looked at her in surprise, "How far along are you?"

Nancy patted her protruding belly, "About 4 and a half months," she said.

"And you're working? Shouldn't you be tending the home fires?" he sounded condescending, and Nancy felt herself become defensive.

"I'm quite capable of working," she said stiffly, "I'm pregnant, not an invalid."

They walked out together. Nancy stopped just outside the restaurant and held out her hand, which LaSalle shook once again, "Phillipe, if you think of anything that might help me out, please give me a call," she handed him a card, "I'm going to be seeing my Uncle in a couple days - meanwhile, I'll start looking through the materials you've given me and see where to start."

LaSalle nodded, "Just watch your step. There are some high-profile careers on the line here, and many of these men are unscrupulous.  To be honest, I'm surprised your Uncle is involving you, especially . . .," he hesitate, unsure of her reaction, "well, especially in your condition."

Nancy smiled thinly and said, "Well, I'm sure the General has his reasons. Take care." Nancy turned and headed down the street. LaSalle fell in step beside her, "I'll walk you to your car," he offered, turning left at the end of the building into the tavern parking area.

Nancy declined, "I parked at the parking garage down the block, thanks anyway."  She continued down to the next building.  Glancing over her shoulder, she saw LaSalle shrug and head on into the lot to his car. 

She stopped and leaned against the building nonchalantly, watching to see what Phillipe LaSalle drove.  He drove out in a blue Porsche with a sunroof.  She stepped back into the lot, and let herself into her VW Bug, steering out of the lot and heading down the street in the direction that LaSalle had taken.

She caught up with LaSalle at the next traffic light, and kept a couple cars behind him. Almost out of habit, she was following him.  He drove out of Vienna, hit the highway, and headed back towards DC.  Nancy followed as far as Langley, where she exited the highway and headed back to the office.

At least she knew what he drove.  While he had no idea what her vehicle was, which gratified her for some reason.  She felt very reluctant to trust Phillipe LaSalle, something about him just wasn't sitting quite right.

When she got back to the office, she pulled out the disk that LaSalle had given her and stuck it in her disk drive, downloading the files to a subdirectory on her hard drive. Having a back up was always a good idea.

While the files were transferring, she pulled out a clean notebook, making notes about her meeting with LaSalle.  Her gut instinct was to distrust LaSalle.  He was smooth, but he didn't come across sincere.  She had the distinct impression that she was only getting part of the story, and even that had been difficult to get out of him.

She ejected the disk, and stuck it into a disk carrier with several other disks that she used to transport files back and forth from home. She then threw the entire carrier back into her brief case.

Checking the clock, she saw that it was almost 2 pm.  She'd have to get headed out soon to get her father at Dulles, so she decided not to start on the file review.  She tended to loose track of time, and it wouldn't do to leave her father sitting at the airport. Instead she worked through her inbox, writing up replies to a few requests from the field operatives on active cases they were working.  By the time she'd finished these few items, it was time to go, and she headed to Dulles to pick up her father.

When Stockwell returned to the jet mid-afternoon, he was curt, "File plans for Houston, Captain."

Murdock looked at him in surprise, "I thought we were headed back to Langley?"

Stockwell stopped mid-stride, "We will be going to Houston, Captain.  Do I need to repeat myself again?"

Murdock pursed his lips, "You said we would be heading back to Langley this afternoon, not Houston."

"That was dependent on what transpired at the meeting in LA," he said evenly, looking more than a little impatient, "As it turns out we will need to make another stop in Houston before heading to Langley."

Murdock looked at him narrowly, "We've been in Houston twice in the last two days already . . . I need to be home by Wednesday morning . . ."

Stockwell made a dismissive gesture, "I will not debate this with you, Captain. I have a great deal of work to do on the way to Houston. Once we are done there, we should be headed back to Langley this evening. Are you quite satisfied?"

The General didn't wait for an answer, but proceeded down the hall to his office and closed the door.

Murdock turned and walked up to the cockpit, where Jeff was setting up for a pre-flight check, "We've got to file for Houston," he told Jeff shortly.

Jeff looked up, "But we just came from there."

"Yea – well we're going back," Murdock said irritably.