“You’ve read my file,” Malcolm tells him. “And I’m sure you’ve read Neal’s and the saga of the longest ever maximum security sentence to indentured servitude ever handed out for first offence bond forgery.”
“Which is why an inter-agency operation would provide good external leverage for his release.” Murdoch says it with a neutral tone, but Malcolm might recognize the very calm and careful way he’s being watched. If he ever saw himself during interrogations, anyway.
“The FBI will never let him go with any pretence to hold on to him,” Malcolm says evenly. “And if he has to do things that will compromise him with them to help you, then he can’t help you.”
Murdoch is back to being a different team again. Malcolm is guarded again. The FBI is danger to Neal as far as he’s concerned. There’s no deal to be had that includes them.
Murdoch sits back a little, sure he’s missing something but not sure quite what. Not yet anyway. “Very well, the FBI doesn’t need to be involved. Interpol has independent interest in Rachel Turner in any case.”
“I have few direct resources at my disposal, but I can utilize some indirect ones.”
He looks thoughtfully into the middle-distance for a moment before orienting on Malcolm again. “Based on your general demeanor I assume you want to be involved.”
“This meeting doesn’t constitute involvement,” Murdoch says evenly. “You said you were read into the situation with Hagen—what was it you mentioned about him harassing Mr Caffrey’s landlady?”
Murdoch pauses, taking in the sudden recalcitrance and change in tone. “I’ve insulted you again.”
It’s more uncertain this time, though. “I only meant that you had agreed to speak on that particular topic when we arranged to meet, not contribute to a larger investigation.”
“I didn’t know there was a larger investigation, but we’re a package deal. I don’t trust the FBI and I don’t know you, so even if you don’t want anything else from me, I’ll be the one watching Neal’s back. If it’s all the same to you. Or if it’s not.” He gestures towards the files. “Psychological profile, page one: trust issues comma profound.”
“It’s not more tiring than insomnia or more risky than jumping on a landmine. All things are relative. So are we doing this or what?” Malcolm replies in almost one run-on sentence.
Murdoch stares for a moment, a man clearly trying to figure out if what was just said was literal or figurative. He takes a breath to ask, then shakes his head and decides there are more important things to focus on.
“I would be delighted to work with you. Rachel Turner isn’t a serial killer, but she otherwise fits your oeuvre rather well. She once executed a target by smearing part of the mouthpiece of their inhaler with peanut oil. As you might have guessed, the owner was allergic. Of course there was no substantive way to prove her involvement. A favorite tactic of hers seems to be unconventional poisons or substances with poisonous effect, but she will resort to perfunctory methods such as shooting and stabbing if that kind of drama is situationally inadvisable. She is a practical sadist.”
“She enjoys the suffering,” Malcolm clarifies, reaching for the file again. “If Neal gets close to her, he’s going to need me in his ear,” he informs Murdoch by way of equipment requisition requirements. “He’s seen sadism, but he doesn’t understand it,” he explains absently, flipping pages.
Murdoch nods at the clarification, then pauses at Malcolm’s request. “How would that help him?”
It’s a genuine question.
The file itself is detailed and unflattering.
Former MI5 agent under the orders of Special MI5 Agent Dax Hammon. Her father was a colonel in the US army and her mother was a British civilian. Traveling around the world, she worked for the MI5 under the alias of Bonnie Tolliver, Margaret Stephan or Dyla Fleece. She used her contacts in the terrorist cells to sell British secret information and MI5 discharged her for treason. As a freelance mercenary, she left Great Britain for the United States.
Numerous assassinations, torturous interrogations, arms deals, and prison breaks are listed as likely crimes.
“It will help him with what to say in order to get what we need from her. We want her to play into our hands, not us to play into hers by giving her Neal,” Malcolm explains, still perusing the file.
“That went fine. It’s the after that… didn’t as much.”
Neal paces the apartment, realizing absently that that’s probably the worst thing for him to do at the moment and unable to stop himself. “She wanted to make sure I had incentive to keep helping her. She tried to inject Mozzie with something.”
He hesitates to say the next part, because… well. It’s bad. “I got in the way.”
Malcolm takes the phone away from his ear and looks at Murdoch.
“I have to go. I’ll discuss your case with Neal and then we’ll call you. Don’t leave town,” he says calmly, but then bolts out of the cafe and down the street towards Neal’s apartment. With the phone back at his ear, he breathlessly asks “How long since the injection?”
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Murdoch is back to being a different team again. Malcolm is guarded again. The FBI is danger to Neal as far as he’s concerned. There’s no deal to be had that includes them.
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Murdoch’s team of Murdoch. That’s fine. That’s ideal, really.
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He looks thoughtfully into the middle-distance for a moment before orienting on Malcolm again. “Based on your general demeanor I assume you want to be involved.”
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“You make it sound like a thing I’m requesting,” he points out. “I’m already involved.”
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It’s more uncertain this time, though. “I only meant that you had agreed to speak on that particular topic when we arranged to meet, not contribute to a larger investigation.”
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“I would be delighted to work with you. Rachel Turner isn’t a serial killer, but she otherwise fits your oeuvre rather well. She once executed a target by smearing part of the mouthpiece of their inhaler with peanut oil. As you might have guessed, the owner was allergic. Of course there was no substantive way to prove her involvement. A favorite tactic of hers seems to be unconventional poisons or substances with poisonous effect, but she will resort to perfunctory methods such as shooting and stabbing if that kind of drama is situationally inadvisable. She is a practical sadist.”
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It’s a genuine question.
The file itself is detailed and unflattering.
Former MI5 agent under the orders of Special MI5 Agent Dax Hammon. Her father was a colonel in the US army and her mother was a British civilian. Traveling around the world, she worked for the MI5 under the alias of Bonnie Tolliver, Margaret Stephan or Dyla Fleece. She used her contacts in the terrorist cells to sell British secret information and MI5 discharged her for treason. As a freelance mercenary, she left Great Britain for the United States.
Numerous assassinations, torturous interrogations, arms deals, and prison breaks are listed as likely crimes.
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Him, people… not always a winning combination.
Malcolm’s phone starts to ring. It’s Neal.
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“Hey! Are you home?”
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Neal does not sound happy. I’m fact he sounds tense and upset.
Murdoch perks up. “Is that Mr Caffrey?”
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"How was the meeting? Is everything okay?"
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Neal paces the apartment, realizing absently that that’s probably the worst thing for him to do at the moment and unable to stop himself. “She wanted to make sure I had incentive to keep helping her. She tried to inject Mozzie with something.”
He hesitates to say the next part, because… well. It’s bad. “I got in the way.”
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“I have to go. I’ll discuss your case with Neal and then we’ll call you. Don’t leave town,” he says calmly, but then bolts out of the cafe and down the street towards Neal’s apartment. With the phone back at his ear, he breathlessly asks “How long since the injection?”
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