Okay, folks, this is the end. I'm not sure if you'll agree with my particular version of the final character, but hey, artistic licence is a wonderful thing, is it not?! Thank you to everyone who's followed this series through to its conclusion - Kats, millie, Sarah, MC...and never2L8 (may I say I really like that name?!) thanks for the reviews - besides giving me warm fuzzies, they let me know people are still out there reading J/S!

Thanks, Diane for a year of beta-ing. It's great to have someone who can not only pick out a typo at forty yards but also discuss characters and debate their futures!

Happy New Year, everyone!!


Nobody's Business

What the Agents Did
By: Mariel

First one agent...

I was told to find out what I could. It sounded easy - a few days in the field, a day or so to go over records and track down leads, and I'd be done and outta there...

Yeah, right.

It sucks being the new kid on the block.

Even if you are doing something for one of the Directors.

Just ask around, I was told. Find out what happened then and what's going on now. Find out where they go, what their routine is. See if they're sleeping together, breaking any rules...

So I hopped a shuttle to New York and started.

Keep low, I was reminded. If they know you're there, it'll be all that much harder for you to find what I need.

What he 'needed'?

Needed for what?

It isn't my job to worry about that, though, is it? I'm just the gopher. The bloodhound.

As soon as I got started, I was on the scent. It wasn't hard to pick up the fact that Agent Malone and Agent Spade had had something going on. It seems that it had pretty much been just the way Agent Farrell described in his investigative report: hot and heavy and surprisingly discreet. Just as an aside, I have to admit it seems weird how that all came to nothing - the evidence looked pretty conclusive to me. Obviously, someone had the hounds called off on that one. I'd give my eye teeth to know who.

I also thought it pretty strange that they didn't interview any of the people I did. It wasn't my job to second guess how he'd conducted his investigation, though. My orders had a slightly different slant to them. As far as I could figure out, I was supposed to provide further information if I could find any, and determine the present state of affairs - if you'll pardon the play on words.

I'd done some homework before I arrived, gone through their credit card and bank activity, and knew a couple places I should go to ask questions. I decided against revisiting anyone Farrell and his crew had interviewed - that'd have caused comment, and I knew I had to avoid that if I wanted to keep my boss happy.

Still, most of the places I went were naturals. Like the bar, for example, or the restaurant. Later, I had to get a bit closer and talk to people where they worked. Again, the people I talked to were the obvious ones: the doorman, the cleaning staff. They were close enough to see stuff but not so close that they'd be running to tell Malone or Spade that someone had been asking after them.

Now, after interviewing God knows how many people and looking at telephone records and Visa transactions until my eyes are sore, all I can say is that the affair is over. There's no doubt they were having one, but 'were' is the operative word. And if it's a 'were' what the hell I was really doing there? Those old ladies were right: if anything was going to be done about their affair, why didn't they do something about it years ago, when it would have counted?

I'm guessing the answer is that although some big wig saved his ass last time, Special Supervisory Agent Jack Malone has managed to seriously piss someone off in D.C. Or maybe not piss off - maybe someone there has just suddenly become interested in him for God only knows what reasons. You just never know in this business. I keep thinking I'll figure out the reasoning behind some of the things my superiors do, but that hasn't happened yet.

And far be it from me to question their orders.

So I stood on cold street corners and watched Malone and Spade while they worked. And as they ate the occasional meal together while on the job. And as they parted ways at the end of the day. There were times I observed that they were certainly on comfortable terms with one another, but that was it. No touches, no sneaking off together, no nothing.

And the people I interviewed? For the most part they were just an odd assortment of people who, when questioned, could hardly remember, didn't remember, or refused to remember anything of use.

Please note the 'refused to remember'. I have no doubt whatsoever that people knew more than they were saying, but I got the definite sense that they were protecting old information, not new. One old lady brought up the interesting point that there might still be feelings there, but hell, if they're not doing anything about them, there's not much point in mentioning that, is there?

The 'few days' lasted almost ten, and I still got diddly squat. There was lots of circumstantial stuff to confirm there had been an affair - and like I said, it sounds like it was a pretty intense relationship while it was going on - but it's not going on now. Malone is back with his wife. Spade doesn't seem to be seeing anyone at the moment, but with her looks, I'm sure that won't always be the case.

My report's written. God only knows what will come of it.

My guess is, nothing.

And then another...

Victor Fitzgerald frowned as he came to the end of the report. Staring at the agent's signature, he wondered what the young man had been thinking as he'd signed off. The agent's doubt as to the value of his investigation virtually leapt off the pages.

That didn't bother him at all. All that mattered is that the agent had done as instructed.

And it appeared he had. That he had uncovered nothing new and that the report's conclusions were not what he had hoped for, was frustrating. Very frustrating. He couldn't argue with anything said, though. Tossing the report onto the desk in front of him, he leaned back in his chair. The agent had been pretty definite. The affair was over.

It looked like although little Martin had gotten himself damaged goods, the title to those goods was free and clear.

...Good news, he supposed, since it would mean less embarrassment and fewer problems if his son's infatuation actually turned into something mutual and then became public knowledge. Hell, it might even be that his son wasn't getting himself into the emotional mess he had feared.

He just wished his gut instinct wasn't telling him the opposite.

He sighed. With no new information Martin didn't know about, all a father could hope was that Martin would tire of this woman the way he had all the other unsuitable females he'd lost his heart to on a regular basis since the age of 15.

Glaring at the report lying in front of him, he felt his anger rise. He found no consolation in the fact Martin's efforts would not be hindered by the object of his affection being involved with someone else. What he'd wanted more than anything was new dirt to show his son in the hope of discouraging this latest passion of his. Having none, he searched for a way to use the information anyway. He sat motionless, letting his mind work, searching for some way to profit from the time and effort spent.

After a moment, his expression cleared and a look of satisfaction settled onto his features.

He had been angered when Malone had emerged from the enquiry into his actions unscathed, angered when his affair with a subordinate seemed to become merely a career footnote of no consequence. He'd had agents working on that investigation for more hours than he could count. It had taken Farrell months to accumulate the necessary proof of it.

And it had been all for naught.

Others more powerful than he had decreed Jack should be left alone. His own son, for God's sake, had unwittingly supported the man. Angered by this betrayal and his son's complete faith in Malone, and then totally infuriated by his colleagues' lack of clearsightedness in championing the man, Victor Fitzgerald had not admitted defeat, but merely bided his time. He was, after all, still consolidating his power, and resentfully acknowledged he still had to tread carefully where Jack Malone was concerned.

He could still use what he knew, however.

Decision made, he reached over and got a large manilla envelope out of his bottom desk drawer. The information contained here could do some damage if put in the right hands. Gathering the report up, he organized the sheets and methodically went through it with a black felt-tipped marker, obliterating certain names. When he was finished the last page, he carefully put the whole lot into the envelope. A quick search in the employee data base provided him with the name and work address of Jack Malone's wife. He carefully copied it onto the envelope in large, block lettering, then marked it PERSONAL and CONFIDENTIAL. Underscoring both words twice, he then flipped the envelope over, licked the seal, and closed it carefully.

Maria Malone would know it was F.B.I. information as soon as she saw it, but would have no idea who had sent it. He knew she was unlikely to reveal her source, but was almost sure to use the information given...

The thought of how made him smile ...

Finally satisfied, he rose and walked across his office. Putting his overcoat on, he looked at the envelope sitting on his desk. He'd mail it on the way home. Smiling grimly at what he'd accomplished, he moved to pick it up. Tucking it firmly under his arm, he strode towards the door. The information he'd had gathered allowed him to sit back and relax about Martin for now and had served as ammunition against Malone. Once again, he'd killed two birds with one stone.

It was a managerial skill he took pride in.

Four days later, Maria Malone went through her office mail and found a large manilla envelope marked 'Personal' and 'Confidential'. It had no return address. Weighing it in her hands, she looked at it curiously. Finally, she sat down at her desk and carefully opened it up.

It was the same day she received a job offer involving a move to Chicago.

End
Nobody's Business