1936 French ruled Morocco.

Two German curriers have just been murdered in the Moroccan desert. They were carrying letters of transit. The suspected murder may be in Casablanca. Captain David Rossi has been given orders to find the murderer or murderers. He turns to one of his officers.

"Seaver, Round up the usual suspects."

She responds, "Yes sir."

Later that day, Rossi receives a telegram to meet Major Emily Prentiss at the airstrip.

"Major Prentiss, Welcome to French Ruled Morocco."

"Not for long, if you hear the news of Mother Germany. Are you sure the murderer of those two German curriers are in Casablanca?"

"The only way to Lisbon is thru Casablanca, Major. We've already rounded up the usual suspects."

"No need. We already know who the murderer is. He's very sneaky, but he's honorable as well"

"Oh? Who?"

"Aaron Hotchner. He's traveling with a beautiful female. Any idea where he might go?"

"Café American. It's owned by an American by the name of Spencer Reid."

"You're sure Hotchner will be there?"

"Of Course, Major. Everyone goes to Spencer's place."

"The German army wants to make an example of him. A public arrest of an escapee of a concentration camp would look good for the German government."

"I'll talk to Spencer."

Later on that night, People are flocking to get into Café American. Spencer Reid was well known, liked, and even a bit respected in Casablanca. Indeed Rossi had been right. Everyone who was anyone went to Spencer's place. It was the only place where people who were looking for enough money for passage to Lisbon, could trade on the black market. Diamonds, jewelry, everything but humans were sold in Spencer's place. His back room was just as well known as he was. People were lined up to get into the backroom where gambling always took place. Kevin Lynch, Spencer's bartender opened the door and looked at the young owner playing himself in chess. He commonly joked that he preferred chess to gambling. There was no cheating in chess. He looked up to Kevin, then to the rich looking couple waiting to get into the backroom. He nodded his head in approval. Another man appeared. Spencer knew he owned the second largest bank in Germany. He shook his head in disapproval.

The man shouted. "I demand to be let in!"

Spencer sighed and got up to walk to the door. "Your money is good at the bar. And you're damned lucky it's good there. I don't let just anyone back here."

At that moment, Spencer's friend, Jason Gideon walked thru the door. "Hi, Spencer."

The bank owner walked away in a huff.

Spencer sat back down and continued his chess game. Gideon chose that moment to join him. "How are things underground, Gideon? Lady Luck still treating you wrong?"

"As a matter fact, my luck is changing. I've just come into possession of my ticket out of Casablanca."

"Oh? Did Rossi finally give you an exit visa?"

"Better than that. Letters of transit that doesn't require Rossi's signature."

"Ironic. Weren't the two German curriers that were murdered carrying them?"

"I intend to sell them tonight and make more money than I ever dreamed. I'm meeting him here tonight. I was wondering if you could hold onto them for me."

"I hate politics. You know that, right."

"Yes. Will you hold onto them? I'm going to test my luck on the roulette wheel."

Spencer nodded his head. He knew just the place to put them. He walked out of the backroom and walked to the bar. "How are things going tonight, Kevin?"

"Great, Boss."

The blonde sitting at the bar looked at Spencer. "You didn't show up last night."

"I was busy."

"I thought you loved me, Spencer."

"Penelope, I have no intentions of loving any woman."

Penelope swallowed the last of the gin she was drinking. "Fill it up, Kevin."

Spencer turned around. "Don't Kevin. She's had enough."

"Don't listen to him, Kevin. Give me another!"

Kevin replied, "Penelope, I love you, but he pays me."

"Kevin," Spencer said, "Take Penelope to the Blue Parrot and make sure she gets to her room."

"Yes, Boss!"

"And return back here."

"Kevin replied glumly, "Yes, Boss."

Spencer walked to the piano where his musician and long time friend Derik Morgan was playing. Derik was an exceptional musician who could tickle the ivory keys. Spencer's patrons loved Derik's music almost as much as they loved Spencer's liquor. Spencer looked at the clipboard that lay on top of the piano. He was checking inventory. No one ever saw it, but with a sleight of hand, Spencer stuck the letters of transit beneath the lid that covered the top of the piano. A figure at the door caught is eye. Erin Strauss, owner of the only other bar in Casablanca, had walked into Café American. Spencer walked over and greeted her.

"Erin, How are things at the Blue Parrot?"

"I'd feel better if you'd sell me your café."

"Not for sale. Don't ask again, because I don't like repeating myself."

"What about Derik?"

"I don't sell humans."

"Hmm. Pity. Human life is a cheap commodity on the black market. Why don't we ask Derik?"

The two walk over to the piano where Derik is playing the song 'Knock on Wood'.

"Derik, Erin here wants to hire you to play at the Blue Parrot."

"I like it here just fine, Mister Spencer."

"I'll pay you twice what Spencer pays you," adds Erin.

"Oh I don't have time to spend what I make now."

Spencer looks to Erin and shrugs his shoulders. "Well you got your answer."

Erin left and returned to the Blue Parrot, determined to find a way to buy out Spencer.

Spencer, meanwhile, had walked out the back door to grab a breath of fresh air. He noticed Captain David Rossi sitting at the outside table. He sat down in the other chair and took out his cigarette case and pulled one out. He lit it and said, "How are things, Rossi?"

"Fine. I noticed you sending Penelope home. Throwing away women, Spencer?"

"I'm not one to be tied down."

"Did you hear about the two murdered German curriers?"

"I may have heard something about it."

"They were carrying letters of transit. Those letters would fetch a mighty fine price on the black market."

"Why would I want to leave Casablanca?"

At that moment, a plane leaving Casablanca, possibly heading towards Lisbon, flies overhead. The two men stop and stare at the plane. As the plane disappears from sight, Rossi looks at Spencer. "That could be you headed for Lisbon."

"What's in Lisbon?"

"Ships. Headed for America. I've often wondered why you don't return to America. Maybe you stole the wrong man's money, or slept with the wrong woman."

"A bit of both," Spencer replies with a touch of sarcasm.

Just then Kevin walked out to where to the two men were. "Excuse me, Boss, but a French gentleman has won two thousand dollars at the roulette wheel, and the cashier is asking for the money to cash in his chips."

"Let me go to the safe. We'll continue this conversation, Rossi, if you want to follow me."

"I'm really sorry, Boss," Kevin says, worried that he may not have a job by this time tomorrow night.

"It happens, Kevin. Not a problem."

Walking behind Derik on the piano, Spencer pats the musician's shoulder. It was a gesture of friendship. Everyone knew how close Spencer and Derik were.

Walking into Spencer's office, Rossi sits on the corner of his desk while Spencer takes two grand from the safe and gives it to Kevin.

"It won't happen again, Boss."

Spencer answers him with a nod. Kevin walks out of the office and shuts the door as an act of courtesy.

"The reason I came by, Spencer is that the German army knows who took those letters of transit. We're going to arrest him tonight. Then they'll set the real trap. Arresting Aaron Hotchner."

"Aaron Hotchner?"

"Why, Spencer, that's the first time I've seen you impressed."

"Impressed? Everyone knows who Aaron Hotchner is and what he does. He was sent to a concentration camp for publishing anti Nazi propaganda."

"And escaped. It's frowned upon. You know how the Germans are. They want to look good."

Spencer got up and walked to the door. "Don't come in here spouting politics, Rossi. You know how I hate politics."