[b]City Hall[/b]


Bob Stockon sat in the mayor's chair with his feet hiked up on the mayor's desk. Francis Rhodes, Central City mayor, obliged the seeming affront to his office. The reason for the fealty was because Rhodes knew this office and desk was his only because Stockton and A.J. Patterson saw fit to bestow it on him. 

But Rhodes wasn't on Stockton's mind at the moment. The man was off in chambers doing something with the city council. Stockton couldn't remember what exactly, he just knew it wasn't important. He made a beeline for City Hall as soon as he departed the boat. He couldn't visit the Social Club even if he went through the back door. During Stockton's first congressional run it was decided that he and A.J. could never be seen in a place that the public could see them together. That meant that Stockton hadn't visited the Combination's headquarters in nearly sixteen years. So instead, he sent word to A.J. that he was here in the mayor's office waiting.

"Sorry about that, senator," Rhodes said as he came into the office. "Just some minor municipal business that you don't need to concern yourself with."

"Oh but I do," Stockton said as he took his feet off the desk. "I need to concern myself with every facet of city life, Mr. Mayor. I represent this city as much as you do, sir. Whatever goes on here is as much my concern as it is yours."

"I figured you would be more concerned with the statehouse, Senator. Wood and the opposition are lining up rather quickly."

Stockton scowled. Michael Wood. Governor Michael Wood. The son of a bitch got elected four years earlier as a reform candidate, vowing to clean up the state's politics. So far it was easier said than done for him, but now he had a slate of reform candidates poised to try and take the statehouse away from the Combination. If Wood's party took the statehouse, that meant the end of Stockton's senatorial career. It was the Combination's legislators that put him in office and kept him there. While most politicians had to win one campaign for reelection, Stockton found that he had to manage and win several campaigns to stay in the Senate.

All that may be moot after the convention. Who cared about the statehouse if he was focused on a national race? What did it matter to him if Wood got the senator he wanted? A senator is just one of seventy-six. What Stockton was after would put him as first among equals. But still... he couldn't resist the urge to have a little fun.

"Wood's up for reelection," he said nonchalantly. "Rumor I hear is that his plan is to win re-election and then resign if his party wins the legislature back and have himself take my senate seat."

"Low down and dirty," Rhodes said with a shake of his head. "Is the Combination running someone against him yet?"

"We want to, but A.J. doesn't have a candidate in mind." He paused and looked at Rhodes. "But I do."

"What?... Me?"

Stockton stood up and walked around the desk, wrapping one arm around Rhodes' shoulder.

"Yes, Francis, you. You've been mayor for six years now. Six years experience running a city as big as this one trumps even Wood's two years as governor. He was just a state senator before that, he has no real experience. Not like you do. You have executive experience running the fourth biggest city this side of the Mississippi. After this town, the capital is easy. I want you as the Combination's man come election day. Governor Francis Rhodes. And think about where you could go from there? Ever since Lincoln, Washington is starting to think of the west as an emerging political base it needs to tap. A two-term governor running for president in '84 could be just what they need.Did I say Governor Francis Rhodes? How about President Francis Rhodes?"

Rhodes stood ramrod straight and looked at Stockton with a wide smile.

"Senator... I'm honored by your words... do you think I could?"

"I know so," Stockton said with a wide smile. "Before we talk further, can you find out if A.J. ever arrived?"

"I sure can."

Stockton held back his laughter as he watched Rhodes bound out the office like a schoolboy. The odds of him beating Wood were unlikely, even with the Combination's full weight behind him. Wood had an iron-grip on the rural parts of the state where the Combination's reach couldn't quite be felt. Even if Rhodes took the city and the areas around it with the machine's usual 90% turnout, Wood's power base in the country would equal that and make it a deadlock. Then it would come down to the non-partisan voters. Comparing the two men, Wood would almost certainly win those votes. 

It would be close, and that was all Stockton wanted to achieve. Hard for Wood to engineer a statehouse coup when he had his own tight race to run.He had no faith in a Governor Rhodes or even, god help us all, a President Rhodes. But a viable threat to Wood's job would make it all that much easier for Stockton and A.J. to get the Combination's state legislators back in office.


---


[b]Central City Police Department Southern District[/b]


"What brings you to the jungle, lad?"

Sergeant Smith, the beefy Irish desk sergeant eyed Danny Shea from his elevated seat just inside the entrance of the station house. His gray eyebrows were arched in mild surprise at seeing Danny. He was used to seeing the Shea boys popping in every now and then to see their father, but Danny was a rarity.

"Here to see my dad."

"You know where to find him."

Danny walked past Smith and through the precinct. The place was a cluttered mess of desks, paperwork, and fellow officers gathered in and around those desks. The few civilians that were in the offices were black. The Southern covered Central City's negro neighborhood and dealt almost exclusively with negro criminals. That was the reason for Smith's jungle crack. The only white people who went across the Color Line were cops and white trash up to no good. 

"Danny!"

Thomas Shea stood up from his desk and smiled widely. Thomas was in  his mid-50's, but he was still every bit the imposing figure of Central City legend standing at six foot two and two hundred and fifty pounds. Most of that weight had begun to turn to fat, but he was still trim enough to wear the same cut of suit he always wore. Thomas wrapped Danny's hand in his and shook it.

"All the people I be expectin' to see today, you sure as shootin' weren't one of 'em."

He'd been in America for over fifty years but he still couldn't lose his thick Irish brogue. Danny and his brothers had a touch of it that came out when they said certain words, but Thomas still sounded like he was living on the old sod.

"Shouldn't you be on duty, son? Is something wrong?"

"Everything's fine, dad. Bobby's watching the post. It's just... we got another murder. The fourth one in the last two weeks."

"What's that to do with me?" Thomas asked cooly. "Last I checked, my jurisdiction is miles away."

"C'mon, dad, you know Williams doesn't give a damn about this."

Thomas grunted and flopped down in the chair behind his desk.

"And why exactly do you care, son? They're whores, nobody cares about 'em, nobody will miss 'em."

Danny gripped the chair facing his father's desk and leaned forward.

"It's my job to care, and it's Williams' job to care, and it's your job to care. Protect and serve, dad."

"This wouldn't be a problem if you got a bump to sergeant." Thomas stroked his thick mustache while he spoke. "You'd have enough clout to be heard by people other than me. All it'll cost you is five hundred."

"I've told you before dad I'm not going to pay to make rank. I don't want it that way."

Thomas let out a loud chuckle. "Ho ho ho. He's too good to play the game, is he? Son, how do you think I made rank? I paid the Combination three hundred dollars to get sergeant stripes and a thousand for my lieutenant bar six years later. Price has gone up since those days, but it's still how it works. I made captain on my own merit, like everyone above lieutenant does, but to get on that track you gotta pay. If it's money you need, I'll loan it to you."

"I want to make it on my own merits is what I want."

"Then good luck, boyo, and get some comfortable shoes; you'll be walking that foot patrol from now until the year 1900."

An uneasy silence between father and son filled the room. Danny wouldn't meet his father's eye. This was how almost every conversation between the two of them went if the topic was the job. They could talk about almost anything else and be fine. But once work and politics came into play, they always butted heads and always ended up on the verge of rowing.

"Look," Thomas finally said with a sigh. "I want a quid pro quo. The chief put me on the security detail for the upcoming party convention. We need patrolmen and detectives to serve as protection for some of the men coming to town. They are big time movers and shakers inside the party, one of them more than likely will be the next president. I want you to volunteer for bodyguard duty. I'll see to it you get assigned. You play nice with your charges and everything goes well, you may end up actually making rank on your own accord."

"And in exchange for babysitting a couple of pols I get what?"

"My support in investigating these murders. I'll talk to Inspector Pope about the killings. He's the direct superior of me and your captain. Your name will be left out of it, but Williams will know where the ball got rolling and I can't help you if he gets mad. That's another reason why this detail works out for you. You come out of the convention with the ear of some powerful party man, you'll be untouchable."

Thomas stood and held out a beefy right hand.

"Do we have an agreement?"

Danny shook his father's hand warmly.

"Deal."