[url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z4PKzz81m5c]Mood Music[/url] [h3]March, 1937[/h3] [b]Sacramento 11:31 PM[/b] The only sources of light in the hotel room were the ember tip of Vic Hecht's cigarette and the soft glow of the wireless' display dial. Vic sat in a chair across the room from the radio, a cigarette in his left hand and the Colt automatic in his lap. Smooth jazz played on the wireless. Almost Blue. It made him think of Laura back in San Francisco. She couldn't make the trip for obvious reason. Jessica complicated things and they both knew that. With gangs and communists, the calculation involved was an easy one. Everyone knew the risk involved and signed up. But Jessica hadn't asked to be born to two radical parents, parents who might soon be in jail or dead if Vic's mission went sideways. Every decision they made had to be weighed with her future in mind. That was ultimately why Vic had agreed to undertake this task. "We interrupt this program to announce a news bulletin." Vic sat upright in his seat as the jazz disappeared, replaced by the excited voice of an announcer. "Mere minutes ago, Governor Donaldson vetoed the California joint assembly's declaration of secession. Despite the governor's statements that he would veto it, the deceleration passed by a narrow margin in the joint assembly yesterday. California will not join the coalition of states and micro-republics that have been sprouting up across the west coast and the upper midwest states of Idaho, Montana, and Wyoming. After the vote, State Senator Samuel Bromowitz, leader of the California Worker's Party and leader of the assembly's secessionist wing, simply said that he expects the governor and the rest of the pro-US faction will have a change of heart. More updates as they develop." The announcer was gone, replaced by Jazz again. Vic picked the pistol up and tossed it on the hotel bed. He stood and put the cigarette in his mouth as he crouched under the bed. His hands searched on the floor, finding nothing, before reaching up to search the bottom of the bed's wooden box spring. There was something cold and metallic there strapped to the bed. After a few seconds it came loose. Vic pulled a bolt-action hunting rifle out and cradled it. Attached atop the rifle was a telescopic lense. He worked the action three times to make sure it was loaded. With the gun in his hands, Vic walked to the window of the hotel room and looked out. From the third floor he had a clear view of the park below. People were gathered in celebration. A pro-US rally celebrating the breaking news from the state house. The rally was planned regardless of the outcome. They would either celebrate or riot. They were jovial down below, waving US flags while a brass band played Yankee Doodle Dandy non-stop. A cheer rippled through the crowd from the back towards the front. The mass of people parted for the black car slowly making its way towards the statue of John C. Fremont at the park's center. Vic knew who Fremont was and what he meant to California. The Pathfinder, the self-appointed military governor of California during the Mexican-American War, the man who made sure California would be in America's hands no matter how many dead Mexicans it took. The perfect avatar of bourgeois imperialistic greed. The car finally stopped beside the statue. Two men in suits got out to keep the crowd back. A pair of pudgy hands came into view on the car's roof before Governor Donaldson pulled himself up on top of it. His chubby cheeks were flushed with both the effort of climbing up, and the victory at the state house. He waved to the crowd and began to motion them to quiet down. He apparently had words he wanted to share. Vic slowly opened the window of the hotel room before he got on one knee with the rifle in his hands. He looked through the scope and adjusted it until he saw Donaldson's chest square in the middle of the crosshairs. The governor was less than four hundred yards away. During the practice shoots, he'd been able to hit a target from just outside five hundred and fifty yards. This was it. Vic and Laura had talked about it with Bromowitz in the weeks leading up to this moment. This was when their side stopped talking and started doing. He had been advocating action since his first meeting over four years ago. The only way to beat the capitalists and the reactionaries was to play their game the way they played it. Vic hadn't suspended democracy, the government had. If MacArthur jailed political opponents and silenced critics, then the CWP could do the same. That was the only way to win. If it meant a better future for his daughter, then Vic would kill as many people as it took. "This is for you, Jess," he softly said. Vic let out a breath and squeezed the rifle's trigger. --- [h3]Los Angeles[/h3] [b]Brentwood 7:42 AM[/b] "Almost blue." Jessica opened her eyes at the sound of singing. Morning light filtered in from the parted bedroom curtains, giving everything in the room a soft glow. She was wrapped in the crimson sheets of Penelope's bed. Penelope herself stood on the other side of the room naked, her back turned as she looked through a dresser. She sang in a warm, husky voice that was only a few octaves below her speaking voice. "Almost blue. Almost doing things we used to do. There's a girl here and she's almost you. Almost all the things that your eyes once promised. I see in hers too. Now your eyes are red from crying" Penelope turned and stopped singing as soon as she saw Jessica was watching her. "Good morning," she said sheepishly. "Don't stop on my account." Jessica sat upright in bed as Penelope padded across the carpet towards her. The two women embraced and traded short kisses. Last night had been a long one for several reasons. Jessica let almost all of it out. Her parents, growing up in Canada, and her eventual return back to the US as a teenager. Jessica felt like a weight had been lifted off her chest. There was still the bigger secret that loomed, but for now some of the burden of secrets was gone. "Do you believe in god or fate?" Penelope asked softly. "I believe in history," Jessica replied with a smile. Penelope laughed and pulled Jessica close into a warm embrace. "I appreciate the dedication, comrade. But I mean more than the usual party line on these things. Do you think there is such a thing as destiny?" "I don't know, Penny. Maybe things happen for a reason, but who knows. Why do you ask?" "Because I... lost someone recently." Penny's eyes seemed to gloss over, lost in thought as a sad smile appeared on her lips. Her eyes focused back and she seemed to brighten at the sight of Jessica. "Someone I greatly cared about. But now you showed up in my life, and it has to be fate, Jess. It has to be!" They traded kisses. Kisses that became more deeper and passionate. Kisses that turned into caresses and tender touches and much more. Just before she came, Penelope started to shout out a name, a name that died in her throat as a choked gasps. Jessica waited until Penelope drifted off to sleep before she slipped from her embrace and climbed out of bed. She softly padded across the carpet towards the dresser Penelope had stood at earlier. Jessica gave a start at the sight in the top dresser drawer. It was filled with pictures, glossy headshots of a beautiful woman she recognized. Where she was from, Jessica couldn't place of the top of her head. She flipped through the photos, headshots became profile pictures and candid photos of the woman wearing fine evening wear and accompanied by handsome men. Suddenly it clicked. Claire Beauchamp. The dead actress from the papers. Jessica had never seen her movies, but her face was all over the papers in the last few weeks. You had to be living in a cave not to know what she looked like. She looked closely at her face and realized that she had a passing resemblance to her. She wasn't close enough to be Jessica's twin, but someone could make the assumption that they were sisters. "Jess." The sleepy mumble from Penelope caused Jessica to nearly jump. She turned around and saw the older woman still in bed, her eyes close but her arms searching out for her missing lover. Jessica slowly closed the dresser shut and tip-toed back to bed. Penelope let out a sigh of contentment as she slid back into her arms. "I had to pee," Jessica said as she kissed her on the cheek. "We need to talk," Penelope said, her eyes fluttering open to drive the sleep away. "I have a proposition for you." --- [b]11:45 AM[/b] Jeff sat upright in his car. The door to the mansion swung open and a woman came out. His car sat parked halfway down the block. He'd been parked here since three in the morning, ducked low in the backseat to avoid anybody seeing him. In a neighborhood like this, he stuck out. An LAPD cruiser came by at four and he'd flashed his badge and came up with a bullshit story that got the patrolmen here to give him space on the stakeout. Almost nine hours later and the surveillance was finally bearing fruit. The woman who came out of the mansion was young, mid-twenties. She had curly auburn hair that cascaded down her back to just below her shoulders. She wore large sunglasses to cope with the glare of the late morning sun, but even with the glasses Jeff could see her beauty. The sundress and heels she wore didn't scream wealth, but if Weiss was radical she wouldn't like to flaunt her wealth... the giant mansion not withstanding. He'd asked Shaw for a picture or description of the woman but he had to shrug, his boss always dealt with her and he had no pictures of her around. She climbed into a mint green DeSoto Firefly two-seater and started it up. She pulled the ragtop down before backing out the driveway and heading south, driving away from his parked car. Jeff started his car and counted off seconds. One one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand. At thirty, he hit the gas and sped off in search of the DeSoto. A flash of motion caught his eye as he headed south in pursuit. A black Ford pulled onto the street from a side road and followed behind him. He ignored it and kept the car moving towards Weiss. The color meant he could afford to hang back on his tail. He caught up with DeSoto just as it got on the Ellis Expressway. Jeff followed and joined the mass of people heading south to downtown LA.