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Lee Stetson pushed his way through the English pub to the bar. The midday crowd just kept getting thicker and thicker, but he finally made it. Motioning the bartender to get him two ales, he leaned back against the old, worn counter and surveyed his surroundings. Out of habit, his intelligence training kicked in. He absently worked out strategies of retreat and quick, first impression profiles of the nearest occupants. Then his eyes rested on the date he had waiting at the little table in the back and he let himself smile.
With the joint British/American mission he'd come to England for in the first place a success, he'd reported to MI-6 to wrap up the details and he'd found her -- the beautiful secretary to the director. A few witty remarks and he had a lunch companion, easily beating out that James guy who'd shown up seeking M's attention. He tried to stifle the smirk playing on his lips -- the old Stetson charm could beat out a stuffy British spy any old day.
He grabbed the drinks and paid for them, carefully wending his way across the even more crowded floor.
"Sorry that took so long." Lee flashed his companion his most winning smile and was rewarded instantly with a slight upturn of her lips. He handed her the drinks, then grabbed an unoccupied chair from a nearby table for himself. Before he could sit down, however, it was yanked out from under him and he ended up on his backside.
"Hey," Lee protested, embarrassment warring with anger. So much for sophisticated charm. Looking up, he stopped when the man dressed in black -- and wearing dark sunglasses in the murky tavern light -- flashed an Agency badge in his face.
"What's going on?" Lee began in confusion, scrambling to his feet in an attempt to regain some of his dignity.
"With us, Stetson," the agent ordered, his voice and bearing clearly would not allow discussion or delay -- or further explanation.
Lee frowned, ignoring the implied threat. "What's going on?" he repeated, this time more forcefully.
"Is there a problem, Lee?" the woman inquired calmly and politely. She eyed the newcomer suspiciously, ready to take action if necessary. "Do you want me to call the director?"
Lee shook his head. "He's got the proper ID. I'd better go," he said quietly. "I'll call you if I can."
He went along with the man, only then noticing the second agent acting as back up, standing just close enough if Lee had tried anything. He saw that one nod his head to Lee's date and shrug apologetically.
Outside the pub, Lee pulled up. "Can I see that ID again?" he requested, returning the glare shot at him. "C'mon," he urged through clenched teeth. "I didn't make a fuss in there, but I have a right to know what..."
"All you have is a right to remain silent, Scarecrow," the man hissed under his breath. "And if you resist, I'd be happy to bring you back in cuffs. 'Kay?"
"I'm Joenes," the second man interrupted, nudging his companion as he handed Lee his badge. "Please, Mr. Stetson, this will be easier if you come with us willingly."
The other agent bristled at the questioning of his authority, but he waved his identification at Lee, slower this time. "Smyth - IA," he growled.
Lee bit his tongue to keep back his initial reaction to their names, immediately sobering at the realization of who these guys were. "Internal Affairs. What is this all about?"
"I'm afraid we're not at liberty to discuss it, Mr. Stetson," Joenes answered.
"Now." Smyth grabbed Lee's arm as they headed down the walkway to the waiting rented car.
* * *
Sandwiched between Smyth and Joenes in the back of the tan Agency sedan, Lee knew they were heading in the direction of the Georgetown facility, but that was all he knew. The plane ride of silence had worn at his nerves more than he'd ever let that creep Smyth know. It had also given him plenty of time to think.
And to dwell on what he could have possibly done. His mind had finally latched onto some questionable items on various expense reports. That calmed him for only a little while. Things that fell into the "questionable" category could usually be justified to a degree and never punished. Besides, all agents pushed the envelope on expenses -- it was expected -- which usually merited a simple rejection and refiling of the revised paperwork -- not a visit from the IA goon squad.
Anxiety had slowly been replaced with anger. If Smyth poked, prodded or pulled at him one more time Lee took a deep breath to calm himself, but began coughing at the smoke from the pretentious prig's cigarette -- at the end of that really annoying long holder. Lee waved the noxious cloud away from his face and tried the breathe once more.
One thing gave him hope -- if they were headed for Georgetown, Billy Melrose would be there. Lee might not know his new section chief very well, but he knew his reputation for fairness. Maybe one snide crack about the names of his would-be interrogators might work Their arrival interrupted whatever Lee was about to say.
In the foyer, before entering the closet elevator, Lee threw one of his award-winning grins to Mrs. Marston. Worry returned full force at the sympathetic, almost apologetic, look the usually unflappable woman sent his way. A cold chill ran down Lee's spine. She was the Agency's first line of defense. If Mrs. Marston was worried for him, he was in trouble. But he still didn't know what he'd done.
Through the bullpen no one would meet his gaze, with the exception of Francine. Even that had been cut short by a quick glare from the Smyth-guy, who barged into the section chief's office without knocking. Lee noted Joenes rolling his eyes -- and the shrug he threw to Lee, making him wonder if this could possibly be a version of good cop/bad cop. He finally decided no one would ever like Smyth and he might have found an ally.
Billy Melrose slowly peered up from the work on his desk and Lee feared the worst. His boss was not happy.
"Thank you," Billy began tightly. "I'll take it from here."
"We need to" Smyth protested.
"I'll take it from here," Billy reiterated sharply, dismissing the IA Agents.
"Of course," Joenes acknowledged, tugging at his partner's sleeve and finally breaking the man's staring match with Melrose.
The two agents left the office with Smyth closing the door after them with the closest thing to a slam Lee had ever encountered without it actually being one.
Billy sighed heavily. "That man's going to be trouble." He sat up straighter behind his desk. "He's fast-tracking his way through the Agency and will be big trouble one day," Billy foretold, shaking his head, motioning for Lee to sit down.
Lee ignored the invitation, pacing back and forth in front his boss. "Internal Affairs, Billy? I didn't do anything," he contended. "What do they say I did?"
"I wish I could tell you, Scarecrow, but I haven't been able to find out yet." Billy shuffled through his papers, pulling out a folder with Lee's name on it. "Your security clearance has been revoked and you're on suspension until this can be straightened out." He picked up the memo, handing the order to Lee. "It's in IA's court right now and they won't give me anything. But you're still my responsibility."
"Smyth?" Lee had stopped his pacing long enough to read the paperwork that said nothing of importance in it.
"I think so," the older man answered. "Just go on home, keep a low profile and we'll get to the bottom of this as quickly as we can."
"But if he's in charge" Lee protested, running a hand through his hair in frustration.
"He's not in charge, but he is involved," Billy explained. "You have my word you'll get a fair shake." He stood, coming around the desk to Lee's side. "But until then, I need your ID and gun."
Lee paused briefly, finally relenting due to the sincerity and resolve he found in his superior's eyes.
"Francine'll escort you out," Billy advised as he locked Lee's life away in his desk.
"Thanks," Lee muttered weakly, acknowledging his boss's efforts.
"Try not to worry," Billy advised. He picked up his phone and punched in a number. "Francine"
"Right," Lee said, laughing a little at what they both knew wouldn't happen.
The door opened and Francine stood there waiting for Lee. He started to say something more to the section chief, but took a deep breath instead and walked out.
At the elevator, he quickly searched the area. They were alone. "Francine?"
"No," she hissed without looking at him. "I can't help you."
"I just need..."
"No!" She turned to meet his gaze, her lips pursed. "I can't."
"Anything" he pleaded in a whisper, pushing back the coats to enter the lift.
Francine followed him without another word as they rode to the street level.
* * *
Lee flopped down on the sofa and surveyed his apartment, sure that the pile of his carpet would never recover from his pacing. He'd gone through the whole range of emotions -- from worry to anger to blasé to anger again, and he'd stalled at depression. Without his job at the Agency, he didn't know what he'd do. It was his life -- what made life worth living -- it was all he knew.
Startled by a knock at the door, he jumped off the couch. Trying to calm his heart, he straightened his worn sweat shirt and assumed what he hoped was a devil-may-care look as he went to answer.
Despite the gravity of the situation, he couldn't help but chuckle at the sight before him. Francine stood there -- at least he thought it was Francine -- beneath a turban, oversized coat and large, dark sunglasses. Luckily for him, her preoccupation with who might be in the hallway made her miss his reaction.
"Quick," she muttered. "Let me in before anyone sees me." She continued peering down the dark hallway as Lee stepped aside for her to enter.
"Francine?" He cleared his throat of the laugh that remained there. "I thought you wouldn't help me?" He raised his eyebrows questioningly.
"Lee" she pleaded for understanding. "I want to help, but you're poison right now." Francine sighed heavily. Taking off her glasses she dropped into a chair. "But I had no choice in this. Five of your little devotees from Steno got to me -- individually." She pulled out several scraps of paper. "It's not a lot, but it is a start."
Lee's eyes lit up. "Great!"
"Don't get too excited, Scarecrow." She placed a comforting hand on his arm when his face fell.
Lee nodded. "What did you get?"
"This has something to do with INS."
"Immigration? Okay. Okay, I know a secretary at..."
"...in Cleveland," she continued.
"Cleveland?" he asked incredulously. "The Cleveland? Cleveland, Ohio? My life is being ruined 'cause of some guy in Cleveland?" If he didn't know better he'd have sworn his voice had risen a whole octave.
Francine waved at him to calm down. "The name's here." She pointed to a barely legible scrawl . "The report that went through the Pool only had this name, Cleveland and the FBI on it -- no details." She stood and replaced the glasses, checking to make sure her disguise remained complete. "That's all I've got. I have to go."
Lee nodded. "Thanks, Francine." He made an attempt to sound encouraged for her benefit.
"Don't mention it," she stated. "And I really mean, don't mention it."
"Got it," he acknowledged, showing her out. He closed the door and reflopped on the couch.
Cleveland! He'd never been to Cleveland. It seemed inconceivable that this could be what was jeopardizing his career, but he had to follow it up. Sitting here waiting for the ax to fall would drive him insane. He sighed heavily. Cleveland it was.
Lee leapt up. He needed cash and fake ID's if he was going to do this without IA finding him out. He wondered briefly if Cleveland was a fun place.
Lee pushed through the heavy doors into the Cleveland District Office of the Immigration & Naturalization office. The hallway had been impressive enough with the portraits of the Presidents of the United States hanging proudly, including the huge oil painting of President Carter. Lee had never seen one that nice before. And the office was spectacular. The cherry wood furniture was perfect and the equipment called out state of the art. Lee reflected briefly on how a podunk place like Cleveland rated this kind of poshness, especially for the INS. Ohio might be just across the Erie from Canada, but he seriously doubted anything really important happened here.
Lee surveyed the area, his gaze finally resting upon the director's office. He cleared his throat, striding forward confidently.
"Mr. Sterman to see Mr. Thorndyke," he announced himself to the secretary.
She frowned at the agent. "Do you have an appointment?"
"No, Ms. Matter," Lee read the name plate on her desk. "Dorothy." His face lit up with a grin, as he pulled out his ID. "I was hoping to keep this informal, you know, a little interagency cooperation." He handed her the FBI badge and waited.
"Let me see if he's available." Dorothy returned the smile, picking up the phone to announce their guest.
"Mr. Sterman," Howard Thorndyke greeted Lee, shaking his hand and showing him to a seat. "What brings the FBI here?"
"Well, this is a little embarrassing," Lee began with a convincingly nervous laugh. "Seems we received a report from your office... or regarding your office, but it was misplaced." He shrugged apologetically. "My assistant's husband was very ill and her mind's been elsewhere. I was coming to Cleveland on business anyway and I hoped to get a copy of the memo so we could reconstruct our file and, you know, keep her out of trouble."
Thorndyke nodded his understanding. "Of course, of course," he declared sympathetically. "Dorothy," he called to his secretary to join them. "Mr. Sterman needs a file." He indicated for Lee to supply the details.
Lee grimaced dramatically for his host. "Well-l-l... that's part of the problem. All we know is the INS and Cleveland." He paused. "Can you think of anything you could have possibly sent the FBI in the last couple of months?"
Thorndyke rubbed his chin amicably. "That's a tough one. I don't"
"Sir," Dorothy interrupted, shaking her head. "It has to be about that crazy woman who came in here a few weeks ago. The one who said the Communists were invading Ohio."
"Right." Thorndyke snapped his fingers. "That's right. Didn't we get rid of her?"
"You told her that invasions were an FBI matter, not immigration. We thanked her, then sent her on her way with the name and telephone number of one of your old college classmates," Dorothy explained, trying not to laugh at the joke they'd obviously conspired about. "She must have mentioned you to whomever she talked to and it made it into a report."
"I don't suppose you have her name," Lee asked hopefully, still trying to sound nonchalant. "Address? Telephone number?"
She thought for a moment. "No, but she pretty much told me her life story. She said she was from" Dorothy thought hard. "Dayton. And her name was Norseman No wait, Nessman. It was Nessman."
"I hope that helps, Mr. Sterman," Thorndyke stated.
Lee stood to go and shook the director's hand gratefully. "So do I, Mr. Thorndyke. Thank you."
* * *
Armed with a description of the woman he sought and a fifteen year old map of Ohio from the rental car establishment, Lee had traipsed through most of Dayton searching. So far, it had been pretty clear that no one he'd spoken to matched the lady who'd visited the INS office in Cleveland. With only two more names on the list he'd pulled from the phone book, Lee prayed this would be his last stop.
He scrutinized the brick house in front of him. The barred windows and huge fence closing it off from the rest of the neighborhood seemed out of place from the normal picketed domiciles that surrounded it. It took him a minute, but Lee finally got the gate open and walked through the yard up to the door. He took a deep breath and rang the bell.
Immediately he heard a scurrying and turned to see the curtains closing off to one side of the porch. Then what sounded like an old turntable trying to get to the proper speed warbled slower then faster until it became the sound of barking dogs. Lee cocked his ear closer to the noise. It was definitely a recording. He knocked on the door.
"I don't tolerate solicitors," a muffled, high-pitched, elderly voice announced through the window . "Go away or I'll sic my huge, vicious dogs on you."
"Mrs. Nessman?" Lee shouted over the noise. "Ma'am, I'm not a solicitor. I'm from the INS." Lee heard the volume on the dogs lower just a little, and a bespectacled eye peeked through the drapes. Lee flashed his badge.
"INS? What do you want?" she demanded.
"I apologize, ma'am, but when you came to our office a while ago, we failed to make a report." Lee put on his most humble face, somehow knowing he'd gotten the right person this time.
The eye narrowed behind the glasses. "You said it wasn't your department that I should call the FBI, and may I say, the man you had me call was not polite," Mrs. Nessman declared indignantly. "He laughed at me. But I know my responsibilities as a United States citizen and I filed a report anyway." She hmphed at him.
"I am so sorry, ma'am. That was uncalled for," Lee stated cautiously. "But you know how the government is, the INS still should have kept a record of your visit. I was hoping you would help me."
Mrs. Nessman's eye went wide, suddenly throwing open the curtains. Lee nearly jumped back off the porch. If he didn't know better, he could have sworn Mother Bates from Psycho stood glaring at him.
"Uh, ma'am" Lee started.
"Don't you ma'am me," the lady began. "I know who you are. You're that Huntley-Brinkley reporter from the television. You're after my Lester's story," she declared emphatically. "Well you can't fool me." Framed by the window, she folded her arms defiantly. "You won't get anything out of me!"
"No, no," Lee insisted. "Uh, I'm not a newsman. I'm just a"
"Don't you lie to me, young man. I did my patriotic duty in reporting those sympathizers of the red menace, but I won't let you steal my Lester's glory. My Lester may not work for one of those big city, fancy smansy television stations, but he is the most respected newsman in Cincinnati!" She wagged her finger threateningly then drew the curtains closed and increased the volume on her dogs.
Lee started to knock again, but paused, thinking better of it. Maybe this Lester guy would be more sane than this woman. He sighed heavily. There had been seven Nessman's in the greater Dayton phone book. He hoped against hope Lester would be easier to track down -- assuming Lester's last name was Nessman -- how many television stations could there be in Cincinnati?
Lee walked dejectedly down the sidewalk, heading for his rental car and archaic maps of Ohio.
Though not learning much, he'd gotten the words communist and red menace. That would've definitely thrown up flags at the Agency, but he still couldn't figure out how he was involved in all this, and the further along he got, the more confusing it was. He sighed again. Cincinnati It couldn't be any worse than what he'd already been through. And it had to be more fun than Cleveland.
* * *
Lee crossed off the local CBS's affiliate from his list. This was the second television station he'd tried. They'd all been very polite about his being there, but no one seemed able to help him.
He squinted at the bright morning sun, took a sip from his coffee and turned up the radio as one of his favorite oldie's blasted away. Lee leaned back and stretched as far as he could in the so-called mid-sized rental. It had been a long night of driving and researching, made all the harder by the fact he had no resources to fall back on. He'd almost called Francine twice, but knew all he'd gain by that would be a hang up. So he'd continued through the night, making lists of possible contacts.
The song ended and an obnoxious DJ began to babble on about fellows and babies and other nonsense but Lee was too tired to change the channel. He grabbed his notebook to check his next stop when he stopped dead, then leaned closer to the dash. "And now," a canned announcer - well, "announced" was the only word for it -- Les... LesLesLes," it echoed. "Nessman... NessmanNessmanNessman, Cincinnati's news beacon to the Ohio Valley."
Lee sat up. It couldn't be. He hung on every word... none of which could be considered coherent. He wondered if he weren't just too tired from the traveling and lack of sleep, but the reporter he'd come to find prattled on, saying the oddest things about sports and politics and... hogs, mispronouncing almost every name from all aspects of the news. When he was finally done butchering the morning report, he started a commentary on subliminal messages in sinful, mind-altering video games.
"Back to Johnny Fever," Les Nessman muttered, abruptly coming to the end of his diatribe, leaving dead air.
"Uh, thanks, Les" the DJ hastily took over. "That was, as always you. You're listen' to WKRP, home of the perpetually weird, and the doctor is hot"
Lee turned off the radio, pulling out the phone book he'd borrowed from his room to find the address. If he read the map correctly, the station should be a few minutes away from his hotel.
Lee decided to make his visit later, more towards evening -- a little clandestine snooping. Another few hours and the main office should be closed. He sighed heavily. Another few hours and maybe this nonsense would finally come to an end.
* * *
Lee strolled through the lobby of the Flemm building, his lock pick set securely in his pocket. A little shut-eye had done him a world of good. His mind had started going fuzzy from the sleepless nights and stress.
He'd arrived a little after 5:30 and watched the flood of exiting employees dwindle to a trickle, then to just an occasional straggler.
Lee searched the directory as he waited. WKRP was clearly marked. Riding the car up to the 14th floor, he steeled himself for whatever he might find. What he didn't expect to see was the glass door propped wide open with no one in sight.
He peeked in cautiously. The reception area was empty, but he could hear muffled voices in the office beyond. The current broadcast played over the speakers in the lobby. Lee could swear he heard windchimes.
Pushing that aside as unimportant, he slipped inside, sneaking into the back rooms off to the right. Immediately locating the broadcast booth, he began to inch towards it when he heard people coming up behind him.
Searching from side to side, looking for some place to hide, he finally settled on the room next to him and ducked in. Hand on the knob and ear to the door, he listened intently. He felt his pulse quicken when he realized whoever they were, they were heading for the office he'd taken refuge in. Without another thought, Lee dove behind and under the desk.
He heard the door open.
"...we're having a crisis and he's on vacation," a man complained. "We need to maintain a sense of balance at all times. Aren't these things supposed to be cleared through me anyway? Who told him he could go on vacation?"
"You did, Mr. Carlson," a mousy-voiced woman reminded. "But Andy's not on vacation, he's on business. You sent him."
Lee heard the shuffling of papers above him. Pulling himself into a tighter ball, he crowded to the back of his cover.
"I did? Oh... uh...," Mr. Carlson stuttered. "Oh, yes." His tone assumed an "I knew that" quality. "Right. Well, next time Travis has business out of town, he uses the telephone. I don't know how much more of this I can handle," he whined.
Lee inhaled sharply, slapping a hand over his mouth to keep any noise from escaping.
"Of course, Mr. Carlson," she soothed. "Here it is," she declared triumphantly. "Tomorrow's play list. I told you Andy wouldn't forget...."
The voices faded out as the latch clicked closed behind them.
"Andy?" Lee breathed out under his breath. He peered out from under his hiding place to find a picture next to the phone of his cousin with his mom and dad and siblings surrounding him.
Lee stood and saw more evidence of Andy's presence. His brow wrinkled in concentration. When did Andy move to Cincinnati? Last Lee remembered he was programming music in New Orleans -- no, it was in Santa Fe. His cousin had moved back to New Mexico right after Skip left NASA. Course, maybe that was a little too close to Uncle Jake for Andy's comfort.
Dropping into the chair, he shook his head and heaved a heavy sigh. He ran a hand through his hair. At least he'd finally found the connection to his suspension. But what the hell had Andy done to put Lee's clearance in jeopardy?
To top it off, Andy wasn't even around to explain himself. And maybe that was a good thing. Sometimes that temper of his got in the way and the last thing Lee needed was to have his cousin being irate on his behalf.
No, the best thing would be to come back in the morning and see what he could find out. Nessman might have led him here, but Andy was the key. Lee would have to see what his cousin had been up to.
He stood to leave when the light shining through the crack under the door went off and the reverberation of a gong echoed through the suite. He opened the door to only a slit, and peered into the murky hallway. Two beautiful women giggled their way to the sound booth.
"It's the music of the night, my children..." the speakers in the office whispered huskily.
* * *
Lee sauntered into the radio station's reception area, stopping at the sight of the receptionist. She was drop dead gorgeous along the lines of Marilyn Monroe.
Mentally shaking himself at the slip of his professionalism, Lee pulled himself together. "Hi there," he drawled, then slowly he removed his sunglasses. He leaned on the desk and gave the woman what he knew was his sexiest smile -- instantly pleased by the reaction he received from the woman.
"Jennifer." She held out her hand, returning the brilliant smile.
It took all Lee's years of training to keep from drooling. He took her hand, kissing it gallantly, his eyes never leaving her face. "Lee," he introduced himself, pleased that his voice was still steady.
They stared for a moment, basking in each other's beauty.
"Is there something I can do for you, Lee," she breathed out a promise with his name.
Lee pulled himself out of the trance. "Yes, uh, yes." He cleared his throat and produced his ID. "Lee Stenson with URP."
"URP?" she questioned.
"United Radio Proponents," Lee explained, though he found it hard to concentrate with her so close. And he could have sworn the heat had gone on in the lobby. He had to clear his throat again. "With television taking over the world," he began, once more back in control, "we travel the country trying to find the very best in radio broadcasts so that we can acknowledge them," he repeated the cover story he'd worked on the night before. "And I heard your Mr. Nessman yesterday and decided he'd be a dandy one to get to know more about." He winked at her charmingly.
"Les? You heard Les?" Jennifer frowned, beautifully, of course. "And you're here about the best of radio?" She nodded for a moment, obviously uncharacteristically confused. "Let me introduce you to the Big Guy." Jennifer glided to the office across from the entrance, knocked briefly then leaned in.
Lee couldn't help but gawk -- the way she moved, the way she hung half in, half out of the room, the one shapely leg that left the ground by several inches. He shook his head to dispel the magic she exuded.
"Mr. Carlson. There's a Lee Stenson here to speak to you about Les," she announced. She turned back to Lee. "Please." She indicated Lee should go in.
Lee paused to regain his balance, then strode purposely to meet the Big Guy.
Almost inside, Lee watched the man hurriedly shuffle a stack of magazines together and shove them in a drawer. At first he thought they might be girlie magazines, but he caught a glimpse of a large fish on the cover of one. He also noted the fishing line leading out of the man's coat pocket, through the arm of the chair and into a box on the floor.
Arthur Carlson stood, immediately extending his hand across the desk, oblivious to the pull at his coat the motion made. "I'm so sorry," he stated as they shook.
"Uh, for what?" Lee asked, not sure why this man would begin their conversation with an apology.
The man looked perplexed. "Well, for whatever Les has done." The man sat back in his chair, his fingers drumming nervously on the arms. An exasperated expression flooded his pudgy features. "Was it one of his editorials? You know, his views do not represent those of this station... or anybody I know of," he trailed off, almost as an aside.
"No, no," Lee quickly assured him. "No, I just wanted to get some background on him and the rest of your operation here. I represent URP -- United Radio Proponents." He recited their manifesto. "We realize that the very best stations are not just the work of one man, but of a whole team. I'd like to observe your people and get a handle on what makes you special."
Carlson frowned, his confusion deepening. "And you've come to WKRP?"
"It's hard to find quality these days," Lee flattered, ignoring the bewilderment his statements had brought to yet another person. "I'm just hoping you'll grant me access to your facilities."
"Oh... uh, of course, whatever you need," Carlson agreed readily. "You just feel free to do... well, whatever it is you have to do." The man smiled a cherubic smile, obviously pleased with the way the meeting had turned out.
The hiatused spy leaned in conspiratorially. "I told your receptionist," his eyes glazed over for a moment as he remembered her beauty, "that I was only interested in Mr. Nessman, but -- and if we could keep this between us so your people will act normally -- I want to get to know everyone -- your salespeople, your DJ's, your receptionist your program director. Why don't we start with him? Is he available?" Lee glanced around questioningly.
"Travis is out of town," Mr. Carlson advised, his smile disappearing, "on business," he added, Lee thought, a little too quickly.
"Maybe you could tell me about him," Lee began. "You know, what he's like, what his interests are outside of work, what organizations he belongs to, political affiliations basic background stuff." Lee assumed his best actually-interested expression.
Carlson pursed his lips in thought. His fingers increased their tempo on the arms of his chair. "Travis is pretty radical." He tsked at some memory.
Lee perked up at the last word.
"He came in and changed us from easy listening to rock 'n' roll his first day here -- right in the middle of a song," he expanded. "In fact," Carlson confided. "He comes to work in jeans." He absently straightened his tie at this new horror. "Course, that young man is the force behind our improved ratings" He appeared perplexed at this conclusion.
Lee listened for a few minutes longer as the man went on and on about Andy, not saying anything of value that would even slightly put his career at risk. His mind finally wandered back to Jennifer
* * *
"This is Bailey Quarters," Arthur Carlson introduced. "Bailey, would you show Mr. Stenson around? He's here to learn more about Les." The Big Guy nodded to Lee, acknowledging their shared secret.
The young woman shyly smiled at Lee, barely making eye contact. "Sure, Mr. Carlson." She shifted her reports nervously from one arm to the other and adjusted her glasses. "The bullpen's this way, Mr. Stenson."
"Thanks you." Lee gentlemanly took the stacks of paper from her, doing his best boy-next-door routine. "I just have a few questions -- and it's Lee."
"Whatever I can do -- Lee," she answered, giggling a little at her boldness. She led him down the corridor and away from the boss. "Well, uh, first of all, Les has been with the station forever, since back when Mr. Carlson's father managed it," she began. "I don't know the date, but I could look it up," she offered helpfully.
"That won't be necessary. Mr. Nessman's been here that long?" Lee whistled, impressed. "But I understand your program director has only been here a short while. Mr. Travis?" he shifted the conversation.
"Yeah." Bailey's eyes lit up with warmth and Lee noticed for the first time that she was actually very pretty. "Andy's done wonderful things for the station. He brought Venus with him"
* * *
Lee sat in the broadcast booth waiting for "The Doctor" to finish his chatter and commercials. Bailey Quarters hadn't been any more help than Carlson. Beside the fact his cousin wore jeans and actually liked the music WKRP played, he seemed the perfect boy scout to those two. And the only thing he'd gotten out of the Venus Flytrap person -- geez, that had to be an alias -- was that he and Andy had a history from New Orleans.
"Cadillac of worms We're the..." the jingle sang.
"Don't forget, for those family fishing needs Red Wigglers, the Cadillac of Worms -- found only in the best bait and tackle stores," Johnny Fever hocked to his microphone while placing the needle on the turntable next to him. "And now back to our regularly scheduled programming, Babies!" His voice changed instantly from businesslike pitchman to wild DJ. "Oh, yeaaah... Nights in White Satin by the Moody "Funkeeeee" Bluuuuueeeesss."
Johnny fumbled for a few minutes setting up the next record selection, then he draped himself back into his chair and casually pivoted to Lee, all trace of his hyper-kinetic frenzy gone.
"So, Les is your man?" He peered at Lee over his sunglasses before he continued. "He's definitely an institution in the Cincinnati radio community." The Doctor suppressed a chuckle. "So whatcha wanna know about our Lester?"
"His broadcasts are unique," Lee agreed. "Has he ever done any reporting from out of the country? South America, Canada, Europe Soviet Union?" Lee asked innocently.
Fever cocked his head to the side. "Whoa. Don't ever mention that last one to Les. He's a card-carrying, anti-Communist fruitca uh, fanatic."
"Oh?" Lee's attention piqued immediately. Maybe he should have been following the Nessman lead all along. "In Cincinnati? I didn't realize there was a large Communist presence in Cincinnati."
"Well," Johnny began, obviously uncomfortable that he may have said something inappropriate about his co-worker. "There isn't really. Les doesn't like 'em just on general principles." He held up a finger to silence his guest, swiveling back to his mic. "And now, let's see what The Stones can teach us about Satisfaction! I know I can't get any." He returned to face Lee. "So, what else ya need to know?"
"Does anyone else at the station travel abroad? Ms. Quarters, your sales people your program director? I understand he's out of town right now?" Lee steered the conversation back to Andy.
"Yes, he is and, no, nobody goes anywhere," the Doctor answered curtly.
"Do you get a lot of foreign visitors," the Lee pressed.
"Yeah, it's like Disneyland around here, man," Fever answered sarcastically, tilting his head downward and once more regarding Lee over the top of his tinted glasses. "This is 'KRP we're talkin' 'bout." Johnny folded his arms across his chest.
Something about his attitude told Lee the interview was over. He'd obviously said something that rubbed this guy wrong. Maybe he was getting too close to the truth -- maybe Andy was involved in something wrong. It didn't seem possible -- he was like a brother to Lee, but he obviously hadn't been keeping very good track of the man. Some times things happened to good people that were out of their control.
"Thanks for your time." Lee stood to leave. "Any idea where I can find Mr. Turlock?"
"Tarlek," the DJ corrected, turning his back on Lee. "Try the bullpen." Johnny cranked the music in the sound booth and began playing air guitar. Lee had been dismissed.
He wandered through the hallway. He only had this Tarlek guy and Nessman himself left. He'd come a long way and didn't seem to be any more enlightened about what had created the stir with IA. One of these two had to hold the secret.
* * *
Arthur Carlson lifted the Bass above his head, angling it into the light to see better into it's taxidermied mouth. He brought it closer, closing one eye and squinting. Sighing, he placed his prized, mounted fish back on the desk and dug his finger into its mouth. Suddenly startled by the door opening, he gaped, looking a lot like the bass, as Fever strolled in and flopped onto his couch.
"Hey Mr. C," Johnny greeted. "Friend get hungry?" He pointed to the finger that had disappeared completely.
"No, uh" Mr. Carlson sputtered. "Um, pen cap." He attempted to pull the digit out but it refused to cooperate.
"He's not what he seems," Bailey advised in a hushed tone to Jennifer as the two walked in unannounced, finding chairs to sit in.
"Definitely not." Venus followed them in then shut the door. "He certainly knows nothing about radio." He shoved Johnny's feet off the furniture and sat down next to him.
Jennifer shook her head. "He seemed so nice when he first showed up."
"Very nice," Bailey agreed, "and handsome." The two women sighed in unison.
"He's a narc," Johnny declared from his slouch.
Venus shrugged. "I don't know about that, but he's not on the level."
Jennifer and Bailey just nodded their heads in agreement.
"Who's a narc?" Mr. Carlson questioned, absolutely in the dark about the meeting that had been called in his office without his knowledge. He tried to nonchalantly hide the fish behind his back.
"Lee," Jennifer said, then noted her boss. "Mr. Carlson, we agreed not to stick our fingers in the fish again," she scolded kindly. "Didn't we?"
"Um, pen cap," he mumbled to his secretary, averting his eyes at her stern glance. He brought the fish back around and held it out closer to her.
"I don't know if he's a narcotics officer" Jennifer picked up the mounted denizen of the water and twisted gently. The Big Guys' finger -- still attached to the hand -- and pen cap -- dropped immediately to the desk. She continued without missing a beat. "but if he were, what would he want with Les?"
"He's after Andy," Bailey, Venus and Johnny said together, then looked to each other, nodding in agreement at the conclusion they'd all reached separately.
"Andy?" Arthur exclaimed. "What could he possibly want with Travis? If it were Johnny, I could understand -- oh, uh, no offense meant," he assured the DJ.
"None taken," Johnny accepted easily.
Venus stood up, pacing across the floor. "He began asking me about Les, then changed to Andy almost immediately. He wanted to know how I knew him in New Orleans, and what we both did down there."
"Narc," Johnny proclaimed again, his expression one of great wisdom. "He grilled me 'bout foreign visitors and Andy taking out of the country trips," he added.
Mr. Carlson frowned, rubbing the circulation back into his finger. "That doesn't make any sense. He told me he wanted to get to know everyone, not just Les, that his mission was to find out what made the station a success"
"WKRP? Ha! That should have been our first clue." Bailey chuckled, then her eyes suddenly went wide at the realization of what she'd said and she pulled back shyly into the chair.
"and I wasn't to tell you, but all he talked about was Andy," Arthur finished, as if Bailey's outburst hadn't occurred.
"Same here," Bailey quietly attested.
"Narc," Johnny reiterated.
"But Andy would never Andy couldn't Andy," Bailey sputtered. "Well, he's wrong," she finally announced indignantly.
"Wrong or not, he's got Travis in his sights." Johnny propped his feet up on the coffee table. "Believe me, I know how these guys operate. If they can't find what they want, they fabricate, if you now what I mean. He's prob'ly plantin' evidence right now."
Bailey's eyes went wide with horror. "We've we've we can't let him do this," she stated. "Where is he now? I'm going to give him a piece of my mind." Her earlier timidness was forced back at the thought of her friend in danger.
"Now, now," Jennifer counseled. "Cool heads."
"Right." Venus stopped his pacing, leaning on Mr. Carlson's desk. "Where is he right now?"
Johnny slumped lower. "With Herb, maybe Les by now," he advised. "Travis is a goner."
"I've got an idea." Venus grinned wickedly. "Jennifer, think you're up to a little covert fact finding."
She smirked, knowing her charms could make any man talk. "Anything to save Andy," she promised.
"Well, I certainly am glad to hear I'm worth savin'," Andy declared, laughing as he leaned into the office.
"Andy," Bailey cried. She leapt up and dragged the startled program director into the room, slamming the door quickly behind them.
* * *
Lee grimaced. Every cliché about salesmen seemed to be sitting in front of him talking -- every single, blessed one of them. His mind briefly ran itself in circles wondering if a cliché really could talk, but he wound his way out of that. This man was dangerous -- the way he affected the thought process immensely scary.
And Lee wasn't even learning anything of value. This guy talked about nothing but himself and his sales. You'd think the station revolved around him and his ego.
Stifling a yawn, Lee stretched as best he could, trying to figure out a way to extricate himself from this man. He heard someone enter the room and turned to see a small, bookish man heading past him for the desk in the corner.
Lee's mouth dropped open. This had to be Mother Nessman's little boy, Lester. Except for the bow tie and the bandage that covered the tip of his nose, Lee could have put this guy in a wig and house dress and he would have been his own mother. Maybe he was his mother Lee shook his head, trying to dispel that thought. Psycho was only a movie. Psycho was only a movie But he'd met his fair share of nuts at this station. Why not one more.
"Excuse me," Lee stood, interrupting Tarlek's monologue. "I really need to talk to Mr. Nessman."
"It's okay" Herb allowed, realizing instantly he'd lost his audience. He rose from his seat and put on an impossibly plaid sport jacket. "Got an important meeting anyway." The salesman left the bullpen without looking back.
Lee took two steps toward his quarry and stopped at Les' upraised hand.
"Use the door, please," the newsman indicated the nothingness in front of him.
Lee searched the area, finally seeing a masking-taped outline on the floor. Still unsure of what to do, he didn't move.
Rolling his eyes heavenward, Les came over and opened the imaginary door for his guest.
"Uh, thanks," Lee murmured in dismay, fearful of what might follow. This nut really hadn't fallen far from the tree
Les indicated the chair for Lee, then sat down behind his desk, folding his hands in front of him. Odd-shaped awards lined it like soldiers guarding a fort.
"I understand you're with URP, Mr. Stenson," Les began. A deep, serious frown wrinkled his forehead as he studied Lee like a criminal under interrogation. Noticing Lee's uncertainty, the man's face relaxed and a smug grin appeared on his face. "Ah, I see you're confused that I know who you are. It's my business to know everything that goes on around the station. In case you've forgotten, I'm a trained investigative reporter."
"The best." Lee tried a smile, but it only came out half-hearted. This day was really starting to wear on him.
"It's good to know that an organization as well-respected as yours is finally recognizing my talent." The man's face lit up. "Would you like to see my Silver Sow award?" he asked with the eagerness of a child on Christmas morning. He leaned forward conspiratorially. "I don't show it to just anyone, you know."
Lee took a deep breath, ready to endure whatever it would take to get his career back on track.
* * *
"What do you mean there's a narc here lookin' for me?" Andy asked incredulously. "Now why would anyone like that be interested in me?" He shot a suspicious glance over at Dr. Fever.
Johnny held up his hands in surrender. "Don't blame me, Travis, when they find the drugs planted in your office."
Andy rolled his eyes. "C'mon," he argued. "You guys know I don't do drugs. Jennifer..." he appealed to the receptionist. "Can you talk some sense into these guys?"
"I'm afraid I have to agree with them, Andy," Jennifer contended. "I'm not sure he's some kind of narcotics police, but he isn't who he says he is, and he is asking about you."
Andy frowned. "You can't I mean, I don't do drugs," he repeated, mostly to himself. "I don't get it."
"He's talking with Les now," Venus supplied. "If he wasn't convinced there were hallucinogenics here before, that outta do it."
Andy scowled, anger now starting to replace his initial shock. "We'll just have to have a talk with this Mr. URP guy." He rolled up his sleeves, tromping out of the office with his friends following. Rounding the corner, he pulled up sharply at the profile of the man speaking with Les and immediately felt the impact of his friends bumping into him one by one, like a stack of dominos.
"Get back hurry," he ordered, calling a halt to the disorganized retreat once they were out of sight. "Don't know what he's doin' here," Andy began, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "But that's no narc, that's my cousin." Andy's features took on a silly grin.
"But why pretend he's somebody else?" Venus asked, giving voice to everyone's confusion. "He's your family, he'd be welcome here."
"Yeah, man," Johnny echoed. "Why not just come out and ask for you?"
Andy shrugged. "If I had to guess, he's here to give me grief," he assessed. "You know, some good old fashioned razzin'." He really couldn't come up with a better reason for Lee to be here. It wasn't like his cousin was in the habit of dropping in. In fact, Andy couldn't remember the last time Lee had even called him on the phone.
"This is pretty elaborate for a joke," Jennifer argued. "His ID looks very genuine."
"That would be my cousin," Andy concluded. "But, I think he needs a little razzin' back. Bailey, you up for helpin' me?"
She hesitated only briefly, finally mirroring the evil grin on the program director's face. "What do you want me to do?"
* * *
Lee thought he must had died and gone to hell. First Tarlek, now Nessman. Even the Eastern Block didn't have any types of torture this devious. He struggled to keep an interested expression.
"And I give the hog reports every morning, come rain or shine," Les related, frowning as Bailey approached.
"Hi, Les," Bailey interrupted the one-sided conversation. "Mr. Carlson needs to see you in his office right away."
"Probably business of the highest importance," Les puffed. "I'll be right back, Mr. Stenson."
Thank God! "Sure," Lee wearily acknowledged. He took in a long breath, slowly exhaling to keep himself alert.
Suddenly he became aware of Bailey Quarter's unusual behavior as she sauntered casually behind the desk and sat down. She grinned widely at him and an instant latter scowled. She furtively searched from side to side, studying him for a moment, then lifted several items from the desk to check the bottoms and sides.
"Can't be too careful." Bailey winked, nodding her head knowingly.
Clearance or no clearance, I'm outta here. Lee started to glance around for an exit, but the woman immediately recaptured his attention.
She leaned in closer. "When the turtle turns, the wise bird flies to the well Scarecrow." Bailey sat back in the chair, arms folded across her chest.
"Uh, um" Lee sputtered, his mouth dropped open in shock. He'd viewed her as a very nice, painfully shy person, but she had to be Agency. She knew his codename. Though he had no clue whatsoever about that stupid phrase she'd just muttered. Maybe it was some deep cover operation going on here. Or maybe she'd lost it. He'd heard of it happening to agents. Whatever -- Andy must have gotten himself involved in something far more dangerous than Lee ever could have suspected.
Then he heard the belly-aching laugh behind him. He turned to see Andy standing there, clutching his stomach as he cackled. His co-workers lurked behind him, their expressions unreadable. It was hard to say whether they were angry or just waiting to see the outcome of the situation.
"Man, you shoulda seen your face," Andy managed between guffaws. "I thought you were gonna have a kitten when Bailey used our old codename for you." Andy drew Lee into an enthusiastic bear hug.
Lee couldn't help but return the embrace. Whatever Andy had done, it was still wonderful to see his cousin.
"So, what brings you here to the Queen City?" Andy draped an arm good-naturedly across Lee's shoulders. "And what the hell kinda game are you playin' with my friends."
"Andy." Lee's voice grew serious. "Can we talk privately?"
"If it's about all the questions and fake ID, Mr. Stenson, I think we all have a right to know," Venus declared. "It's more than just givin' ol' Andy here a hard time. Isn't it?"
"Lee?" Andy asked, confused at the grimness of his relative.
Lee peered around the office at all of the faces. Seeing Andy again, he knew his cousin hadn't meant any harm in whatever had happened. It couldn't hurt to have help to clear his name. But he was going to have to be careful about how he phrased this. He finally nodded agreement.
"My name's really Stetson and I work for IFF," Lee related. "We make documentaries for the government." He avoided looking at his cousin while he delivered his carefully rehearsed cover story. "And until a few days ago, I had the low level security clearance required to do my job." He was close enough to the truth. He really was here about his security clearance.
"And what does that have to do with Andy?" Bailey piped up, still ready to defend her friend.
Lee shook his head. "That's what I'm trying to figure out. It's the government and they won't tell me," he complained. "Without that clearance, I'm on suspension."
"I'm a program director," Andy reminded his cousin. "How could I have anything to do with that?"
Lee bit at his lower lip, unwilling to make accusations out loud. "Andy, you've gotta be the link," he said unenthusiastically. "I followed the one lead I had here. I started with the FBI and INS in Cleveland, that led to Les' mother in Dayton, and that led me here." He shrugged at the obviousness of it all.
"The INS?" Andy's eyebrows shot up and he turned to Les.
"In Cleveland?" Bailey accused, also turning to glare at the news director.
Lee watched this exchange with interest. He held up his hand. "Wait, you do know something about this?"
Jennifer delicately folded her arms in front of her. "Les, what did you tell Mother Nessman?" She narrowed her eyes and pouted at him.
"Only the truth about that lying, sneaking red Soviet delegate." Les stood his ground, defiantly challenging his co-workers, backing down an instant later when he realized he was outnumbered. "And that Andy and Bailey were aiding the enemy," he mumbled quickly under his breath.
"What?" Andy exploded, waging a very visible struggle for control, something Lee got the distinct impression his cousin had practice doing where Les was concerned. "Les, he was trying to defect!" Andy angrily explained, speaking slowly and clearly, as though he were dealing with a two-year old. "He didn't want to be a Communist anymore. Good defectee -- Bad party member."
"That's what he said he wanted, but you can't trust" Les defended himself.
Andy threw up his hands in defeat. "Lee, I am so sorry," he interrupted. He pointed at his newsman in a "you see what I have to deal with" gesture.
Lee laughed. "Aiding the enemy would get me booted," Lee began. "Was he some high ranking official? Dancer? Political dissident?"
Andy found the need to clean his nails.
"Andy?" Lee prompted.
The program director glared at Les. "He was a member with the Soviet Hog delegation." He shrugged apologetically.
Lee was nonplused. Hogs again. Hogs! He finally found his voice. "This has got to be easily fixed," he tried to assure himself. "Once I tell my boss this has got to be easily fixed," he repeated.
"Course it will be." Andy slapped his cousin on the back. "Tell ya what, let's hit the bar downstairs. Drinks are on Les," he announced, daring the little man to disagree.
"Uh, Fever, aren't you supposed to be on the air?" Carlson asked.
"Nah, I asked Rex to watch the booth for a minute." He ignored the fact he'd been gone almost an hour already as he joined the rest of his co-workers to celebrate.
* * *
Andy and Lee sat in a corner of the bar, sipping their drinks and talking quietly.
"How much trouble you in?" Andy asked.
Lee blew out a long breath. "Lots, especially if they find out I've been interfering with an investigation." He picked up his glass and saluted his newfound radio friends across the room when Jennifer and Bailey waved at him. "But I'm sure I'll get around that when I explain everything and clear my name."
The program director shook his head and chuckled. "What you musta been thinkin' about me"
"After meeting the people you work with, I had a few moments worrying about your sanity," Lee admitted, grinning at Andy.
"Yeah, but they're a great group," he said warmly. "Even Herb and Les. Just be grateful Mama Carlson wasn't around." His eyes went wide in mock horror. "Makes Uncle Jake look tame."
Lee shuddered good-naturedly with his cousin.
They watched as Bailey took the dance floor with Johnny and then Venus escorted Jennifer to join them.
"How long can you stay? It's been so long," Andy stated. "Ya know, we all miss you at the Reunions."
Lee pursed his lips. "I wish I could, but my job" He grinned. "when I have one, keeps me too busy. But maybe I can squeeze a few sympathy days out of my boss at being wronged so completely."
"Poor Lee," Andy sighed heavily.
"It really is good to see you, Cuz," Lee stated honestly. "Maybe I'll get there this year."
* * *
Lee exited the plane to the bustle of the Dulles airport and was immediately enveloped in a hug, then received a pretty serious kiss from Francine.
"Missed you, Scarecrow," she admitted.
Lee gave her the once over. "Quite an attitude change."
She hit him playfully on the arm. "Come on." She pulled him out of the reception area. "Scarecrow's back and we're celebrating on me," she declared generously. "That Smyth guy is fit to be tied. Billy thinks he knew this was a nothing matter but was trying to boost his career" she rambled on, not paying all too much attention to her surroundings, dragging Lee after her.
He had to do a quick side-step to avoid the family hugging and good-bying at a departure gate. He threw the woman an apologetic glance before he disappeared into the crowd.
Amanda King acknowledged the apology with a nod, and returned her gaze to her sons, Phillip six and Jamie four. They were clinging to their father with no intention of letting him go. She tried to hold back her sadness, but moisture filled her eyes anyway.
"C'mon boys, your father has to leave." She unclenched little Jamie's fist from his father's jacket.
Joe King leaned down to put Phillip back on solid ground. "Hey guys, you be good for your mother. I won't be gone very long this time at all. Honest." He made the Boy Scouts pledge sign.
She frowned at that, wishing Joe wouldn't make promises without knowing he could keep them. The boys had been disappointed so much already.
Amanda kissed Joe good-bye and pulled the boys closer to her as her husband got on his flight to Africa. She sighed heavily. She'd seen the man who'd knocked into her get off his plane, greeted so enthusiastically by his fiancé. For just a moment she found herself envying a stranger. But Joe would be back for good soon and her family would be complete again.