[h3]September, 1937[/h3] [b]Sacramento[/b] Vic watched Sam Dorn storm out of the meeting chamber with two other committee members following behind him. There was no commentary from Vic, and none of the three men would look his way as they passed where he stood. Nobody in the capitol would meet his eye when he came through alone. When he escorted Comrade Bromowitz it was different, but not much. They would look at him only fleetingly as they exchanged pleasantries with the chairman, looking away as quickly as they could. "Come back here!" Bromowitz roared, standing at the door Dorn had flung open. "You cowards! You capitalist sympathizers." Bromowitz's chubby face was a purplish red, and his fist were clenched together so tight they were turning white. He took a deep breath and slowly exhaled, massaging his chest with his hands. Through all of this, Vic remained silent. He knew what was going to come next. "Victor," Bromowitz said softly. "Dorn and the other two members of his rogue little faction are not acting in the best interest of the people and the CPR. I declare them enemies of the state." Vic nodded and stepped away from the wall without another word. He knew what those words meant and what he had to do. This would not be his first time. He started through the capitol building in the same direction Dorn and the other two had gone. He came out into the parking lot. Dorn and the two other committee members stood around Dorn's car, smoking cigarettes and talking. Vic crouched and crept through the shadows towards them. "Bromowitz is going crazy," said Dorn. "There is no way in hell I will consent to abolishing the executive committee and granting him sole executive power." "Then we have another dictator," said one of the other members, Taylor. "Then what separates us from the people we're fighting? MacArthur, Long, and Bromowitz. Three peas in a fucking pod." "Might want to keep your voice down," said Dorn. "Spooky Vic may be listening." "It's all talk," said Taylor, expelling smoke as he spoke. "He looks scary, but it's just rumors. Rumors Bromowitz started to keep everyone afraid. Sam Chase wasn't killed by Vic. He just ran away to Canada." "What about Governor Donaldson?" asked Dorn. "Someone blew his head off with a sniper rifle." "The old guy is crazy," said Carter, the third committee member of the group. "But he's not murderous crazy. He's more collecting lint from your belly button crazy." The three men all laughed. Vic laughed to himself just a bit. Calmly, he removed a loaded .45 from his shoulder holster and stood. Taylor saw him out the corner of his eye and gasped just as Vic opened fire on the three men. --- [h3]Los Angeles 1960[/h3] [b]Downtown 4:25 PM[/b] "You've got blood on you." Elliot Shaw looked down at his shirt as he slid into the booth. There was indeed a spot of died blood on his navy tie. He looked down at it, rubbing it with his thumb, before looking back up at Detective Thomas. "Not mine." "Then whose?" Elliot looked around the coffee shop. The only other patron was an auburn haired woman who sat at a table two spaces down, a newspaper in front of her face. "Raymond Hollister's." "The actor?" Thomas narrowed his eyes and pulled out his copy of the contact sheet. "He was on the list. What did you do, Shaw?" "Nothing." Elliot looked away from Thomas as he spoke. "I went to the set where he is -- or was -- shooting his latest picture. We started talking, but he had to go back to filming. There was an accident, real bullets got loaded into the prop gun that fired at him. He's dead." "Jesus Christ." Thomas shook his head. "What did he say about the list?" Elliot pulled a cigarette out of his case and lit one up. He offered one to Thomas, who politely declined. The detective allowed him to at least finish his first drag before speaking. "Not much, but he sure as hell lost his cool at the mere sight of it. I brought up how it was associated with two -- now three -- dead people, and he started to bring up how it all got of control. And then we got cut short Abercrombie and Ray had to go back to filming." "The same Abercrombie," Thomas said, his finger tapping on the name on the list in front of him. "I thought the same thing," said Elliot. "I tried to find Roy after Hollister's body was taken off, but he'd already skipped out. Cruised by his house, but he wasn't there. I was gonna break in, but that'll have to wait until night time." "That's fine," Thomas said calmly. "I think I know where he might be heading." Thomas nodded to someone over Elliot's shoulder. He turned in time to see the auburn haired woman slid into the booth beside the detective. She wore big sunglasses to hide her eyes. and a kerchief wrapped around her head to keep her long hair up. "Shaw, this is Jessica Hyatt." She removed her glasses, showing a pair of sparkling green eyes that made Elliot pause. She looked like Claire Beauchamp, it was almost uncanny. Not twins, not that close for sure, but sisters without a doubt. "Hi," Elliot said before looking at Thomas. "And who is Jessica Hyatt?" She offered Elliot a sad smile. "I'm a member of the group you and Detective Thomas are so intent on investigating. At least, unofficially." "And she's a Pinkerton," said Thomas. "Again, unofficially," Hyatt said in a bored manner. "Coerced informant is more like it." "Please," Elliot said, leaning forward. "Tell me more." --- [b]77th Street Station 4:40 PM[/b] Hoyt was starting to get pissed. That motherfucker Thomas had blown off his shift at work. He understood covering for your partner on occasion, especially if your partner was hungover or found some new pussy he was deep into. But this? This was different. He just hadn't shown up this afternoon. That was unlike that little son of a bitch to even be a minute tardy for work. It would be different if it were business as usual here. Hoyt could take care of the colored shylocks, bootleggers, and pimps of South Central by himself with no problems. But the shit stacked on their plate was far from the run of the mill South Central darkie drama. Downtown was breathing down the captain's neck, which meant he was breathing down theirs. Central Homicide was threatening to take the case from them and run with it. Hoyt's response to the threat was to keep running in sex offenders and beating them until he got a believable confession. "Detective Hoyt?" Hoyt turned at the sound of his own name being called. In the middle of the bullpen was a short, heavyset man with gray hair. His LAPD uniform marked him as a police captain. "Captain Arnold Prescott," he said with a snaggled tooth smile. "Intelligence Division." He proffered a chubby hand that Hoyt quickly shoot. "Yes, sir," Hoyt beamed. "I know you, all about you and your boys." "Mind if I sit?" Prescott plopped into the chair facing Hoyt's desk without waiting to get permission. "You know, Hoyt. You are a perfect fit for my squad." Hoyt brightened. "Really, sir?" Prescott nodded. "Smart, intimidating, and mean as hell. I can think of quite a few commies I'd love to sic you on." Hoyt smiled and sat upright in his chair. As much as he loved to run the streets of Darktown, running with the Red Squad would be a dream come true. Like being a Pinkerton, but only on a local level. "But," Prescott said sadly. "Before we can discuss that, there is something else we need to discuss. Namely, your partner." "My partner?" "Detective Jefferson Thomas." Prescott said the words slowly, like he was savoring the way they tasted. "He is a man of conflicted ideas and ideologies. And he needs to see the light." --- [b]Downtown 5:15 PM[/b] "A movie?" Shaw asked. Jessica nodded. "A movie. Claire Beauchamp was going to star before she was killed. I'm the new leading lady." [i]"Comrades in Arms[/i]," said Thomas. "Whatever the ridiculous subtitle of it is." "Why you?" Shaw asked. "You're not an actress, right?" "I look like Claire," said Jessica. "That's the only reason I can think of." Claire also knew it was her pedigree. The daughter of Victor Hecht, playing the leading lady in the drama. Penelope was a lot of things, maybe even a murderer, and a romantic soul was one of them. "Look at this," Shaw said, pulling a list of names from his pocket. "I was wrong about this list, Thomas. Look at the way it's ordered. Weiss as the top, Abercrombie at the top, Claire near the top but above Hollister. It's a call sheet. That's a list films use during production to make sure they can contact everyone they're filming, The higher on the call sheet, the more important you are. I can't believe I missed it." "Two -- now three -- dead bodies to just make a movie?" "Penny said no studio was brave enough to make it," said Jessica. "It's a leftist magnum opus and the studios know it. They all kowtowed to political pressure from Washington." Shaw said, "Take out the subversive stuff and it's still an unfilmable mess. Four hours long, half the dialogue is shit nobody would say in real life. They turned Victor Hecht into a folk hero instead of the cold-blooded killer he really was." Jessica bristled at the mention. Thomas looked at her curiously while Shaw remained oblivious. Instead the studio man sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. Thomas looked away from Jessica and leaned forward to look at Shaw as he spoke. "We need a plan. If Abercrombie tampered with the blanks at the film studio, then him killing Brock and Beauchamp is well within the realm of possibility." "I can find Roy," said Shaw. "He's a lot of gruff and bravado, but if you start talking about three counts of murder he'll sing like a choirboy." "I'm supposed to meet Penny tonight for drinks," said Jessica. "A last little get together before we start shooting." "Go see her," said Thomas. "See what you can get from her about Claire." "What are you going to do?" asked Jessica. Thomas looked between the two of them and said, "Commit burglary." "Join the club," replied Shaw.