Chapter 15: Going Fishing

Murdock headed home from the airfield at about 4:00, and stopped in town to pick up a roast for dinner.  He then headed home to get supper started.  When he arrived, Carl was already there, and relaxing in the front room, with the realty section of the newspaper spread around him.

"So, Carl, are you having any luck finding a house?" he asked hopefully.

Carl looked up at his son-in-law fondly. He knew Murdock liked him, but he also understood the desire for personal space, "Actually, I think I have found a small place in Langley that will do nicely," he said, "I was just checking some similar housing to try and figure a good starting bid." He held out a sheet of paper, with the details on the house he was bidding on.

Murdock took it and looked at the house appraisingly, "Looks like a nice little place, when are you putting in your bid?"

"I talked to the realtor this afternoon, and got the bid papers. I'll turn the bid in tomorrow."  he noted the groceries on the counters in the kitchen, "Looks like you're planning quite a spread for dinner, what's the occasion? Celebrating your new business partnership?"

Murdock smiled ruefully, "No . . . Actually we have company coming for supper tonight. I . . . Kinda invited Hunt over."

Carl grimaced, "Why would you go and do a thing like that? Ruin a perfectly good evening . . ."

Murdock laughed, "Sorry, Carl.  He wanted to talk to me about Stockwell Enterprises again, and I thought that maybe by getting him on neutral ground I might have a better chance of getting him to see my point of view."

Carl shook his head, "Wishful thinking, HM," he said certainly, "Hunt's made up his mind, and you're gonna have to run him over with a Mack truck to get him to change it."

Murdock sighed, "I was hoping to avoid resorting to anything physical," he said wryly, "Maybe with Nancy backing me up we can make him see reason."

Carl shrugged and turned his attention back to the papers spread across the couch, "I hope you're right," he didn't sound at all convinced.

Nancy decided to check into Germaine's death some more.  Something was telling her that if she could figure out who had killed him, it would point her in the right direction with Caswell.  She called Casey back, hoping he could help her ferret out travel dates for LaSalle and Caswell before the meeting in LA.  He again answered on the first ring, "Hey Casey, bet you thought you wouldn't hear from me for a couple more years," she said flippantly when he answered the phone.

She could hear his chair squeak as he sat back, "Actually, I'm not real surprised you called back," he said, guardedly, "Had any luck with your inquiry?"

Casey's tone tipped Nancy off that he knew more that he was saying, "Actually, I'm not sure," she said slowly, "I thought I had a lead, from Wolstein, but it didn't turn out like I thought."

"Hang on a minute . . ." Nancy heard Casey get up, and then the sound of a door closing, "Who did you talk to?" Casey asked, coming back on the line.

Nancy evaded the question by asking one of her own, "Why did you shut the door?"

Casey's voice was earnest and low, "I talked to Eddy Mitchell out by the water cooler late yesterday - he said he's got a hot investigation on his plate, one involving Tristan Caswell.  What the hell aren't you telling me?"

Nancy considered what to reveal to Casey, and decided it was probably best to be honest, "Stockwell Enterprises lost three agents in the op being investigated," she said, "Uncle wants to know who was responsible."

Casey's tone was skeptical, "From what Ed told me, which wasn't much, Tristan Caswell isn't the man you should be checking out, guy by the name of Phillipe LaSalle is the one their after."

Nancy sighed, "Yes, I know, but Uncle believes LaSalle is innocent."

"Innocent, my ass," Casey exploded, then lowered his voice, "Have you met the guy?  He's one slippery operator. I haven't heard any specifics on the case they're trying to build but it sounds like it's huge.  If you know what's good for you, you'll back off."

This hadn't been what Nancy was expecting, "I was hoping to get a bit more information . . ." she ventured.

"No way, sweetheart," Casey said, "If the brass finds out I been talking to you, I'm history.  This is internal affairs, and they don't like outsiders pokin' their noses in!"

Nancy sighed, "I'm sorry if I got you in trouble, Casey," she said honestly, "I'm just trying to get to the bottom of this.  I'm working a different angle than IA is, anyway, and it doesn't really involve anything at the Agency.  In fact, really, this is just for my own curiosity, it may not even be related," but it sure is one heck of a coincidence, she thought.

Casey was interested, "What have you got?"

Nancy sensed an in to get the information she wanted, "I'll tell you about it, if you help me with something," she offered.

Casey was silent for a minute, "What is it your fishin' for, kiddo?"

"I need to know travel times for LaSalle and Caswell to LA," she said, "They went out there about 4 months ago, March 4, for a meeting regarding the Columbia Op."

"I thought you said this didn't involve anything at the Agency," Casey said distrustfully.

"It doesn't, really," Nancy assured him, "It has to do with a murder in LA - I'm just trying to determine if there is any chance that Caswell or LaSalle were involved."

Casey apparently decided the information wasn't worth the hassle, "Forget it, kiddo," he said regretfully, "I don't know what far out idea your snooping around after, but I don't want to be involved.  I got my own ass to consider."

"What, afraid you'll get the sack and not be able to make those alimony payments?" Nancy wheedled.

"That was low, Nan, really low," Casey said, but he chuckled good-naturedly, "Sorry, I'm just too old to stick my neck out too far.  I'm way too close to retirement."

Nancy relented, "It's OK, Casey, sorry I pushed. Still up for lunch some time?"

"Tell you what," Casey said, "you get anywhere with this line of inquiry your following, and I'll take you out to lunch - you name the time and place."

Nancy smiled, "You got a deal, Case."

Nancy put the phone down and considered her options.  She pulled out her personal directory, found the number she was looking for and dialed, "Agent Williams, please," she said when the receptionist answered.

"Tam Williams, what kin I do fer ya?" the voice on the other end of the line was soft, with a sweet southern drawl. Nancy had gone through FBI training with Tam, they had been the only two women in the class at the time. They had naturally closed ranks, and had remained friendly even though Nancy hadn't joined the FBI. Tam was a genius with computers, and worked in the FBI's information systems group.

"Hi, Tam," Nancy said warmly, "How are you?"

"Nancy Clay, oops, Murdock, right?" she corrected herself, "I haven't heard from you in a coons age. Heck, not for at least a few months.  Whacha been up to?"

"Well, I've gained quite a bit of weight since you last saw me," Nancy said lightheartedly, "I'm about 4-months pregnant, and ornery as anything!"

"You're pregnant, girl," Tam said in wonder, "When're ya due?"

"December 21," Nancy said, "But that's not the best part - we just found out this week that it's twins."

"Get out," Tam said explosively, "And I bet yer still working, too.  Lady, you are a glutton for punishment."

"No, I just hate to be idle," Nancy corrected, "How are you doing?"

"Busy as a bee," Tam said, "I've been keeping my nose to the grind stone day and night and still can't seem to get unburied."

"Well, you know, I've got another operative position open," Nancy offered.

"I don't think I have the entrepreneurial spirit necessary to head outta here," Tam said regretfully, "Much as I'd love to work with you, I like the security of a federal job."

"If you ever change your mind, you've got my number," Nancy said, then decided to get to the reason for her call, "I was wondering if you could help me out on a case I'm working on . . ."

Tam laughed, "Shoulda known you were callin' for somethin' other than jus' catchin' up," she said, "Whatya need, sweet pea?"

"I'm hoping to get flight information for Tristan Caswell and Phillipe LaSalle, I'm guessing from Dulles or National to LAX, sometime between the middle of February and the beginning of March, this year.  No later than March 4."

Tam sighed, "You're not askin' for much, are ya?"

"Come on, wiz kid," Nancy said teasingly, "All those records are on the computer in some huge database - it won't take you that long to find the information I'm looking for."

Tam relented, "No, probably not too long," she admitted, "But I'll have to do it off hours.  Why do you need to know?"

"Call it curiosity," Nancy said, "Oh, and Tam, cover your tracks, I don't want you getting into hot water for doing this for me."

"Well, honey, if there's a chance I'll get in hot water over this, I'll double time it," she said conspiratorially, "I'll get online tonight and see what I can dig up for you.  Talk to you tomorrow."

""Til tomorrow," Nancy agreed, "and Tam, thanks a lot."

"Any time sweet pea," Tam said warmly, "Us chickadees gotta stick together."