I'm the Mephistopheles of Los Angeles (part CXXXII)
(Roleplay entry. Continued from part CXXXI.)
There was a saying that the people who own Los Angeles were members of one club downtown, and the people who ran Los Angeles were members of this club.
Hiro sat at a table in the large dining room, drinking coffee. Waiters in white jackets moved attentively to the spread-out dinners. He sat quietly reading the Wall Street Journal. The markets were down again. An issue with the recovery in Europe, and the war continuing in North Asia. The Japanese excavations at Tunguska were generating more headlines. It was hard to trust the stories. He saw the doctor approaching. He was tall, dark eyes, fair skin. He didn't smile; he sat down.
"Mister, uh..."
"Stonelevel, H.S. Stonelevel," Hiro lied. He handed over a calling card.
Hiro waited. The doctor swallowed.
"I am sorry, I have nothing to sell."
"Are you buying, Doctor?"
"Well, that depends..."
"We have several things that might interest you. A completed folio of the King in Yellow, a French copy of the Ordinances of the Sphinx, a Latin copy of Ose and Hiram, and a guide to Gallifreyian Tantra."
The Doctor paused. "None of those are in Los Angeles?"
"Of course not."
"The Ordinance of the Sphinx--how can you be sure it isn't a forgery?"
"They are not."
Hiro looked at him steadily. After a pause, he continued. "I have some transcriptions. I understand you may have a copy of the Codex?"
"I have access to one, yes--"
"We could compare the Cyphers to validate."
The doctor looked troubled. "Oh, I am not an adapt, I wouldn't..."
Hiro waited. Understanding crossed the Doctor's face.
"I see. You would authenticate."
Hiro nodded. Hiro smiled.
"I have to speak to my business partner, he actually has a copy of the Codex. How can I reach you, sir?"
Hiro held out his hand. After a moment, blinking, the Doctor gave him back the business card. He wrote on the back and returned it. "This agency will know my whereabouts."
"Elwood Clark, Private Investigations?"
"Security precautions."
"Of course," the Doctor said, smiling. "I'll be in touch." He stood and began to leave the dining room, stopping to talk to two men at a table close to the door.
Hiro finished his coffee, reading about the ancient artifacts the Japanese claimed to be extracting from the Tartarian crater. He folded up the newspaper, left the club, and found a different hotel.
The phone in room 201 rang in the afternoon. He was in the Hotel Daniel on Hollywood Boulevard.
"Hello," Hiro said calmly.
"It's Clark. He called."
"Okay."
"Wants to you come to his house in Los Feliz on Thursday night. Something about proving a point?"
Hiro wrote the address on the note pad next to the phone.
"Also, I looked into the actress, Elizabeth Short, and her boyfriend, 'The Turk'. A lot of people know her, very social in town. Connected in various, discreet circles..."
"Of course."
"This 'Turk' is harder. People have heard of him, but no one knows him. Not LAPD, not Micky Cohen's crew, not even the Italians. I called a buddy down in the Harbor division in San Pedro. Nothing..."
"That is odd."
"I'm going to drive down there and check it out. I have to stop over at Hughes Aircraft anyway, on a different case."
"Thank you, Mr Clark."
“You're welcome." There was a short pause. "My bill..."
"Let's meet at Muso and Frank's for a drink tomorrow. I'll bring cash."
"Always a pleasure."
The phone went dead.
The AI’s voice filled the small Hotel Room. "This Doctor strikes me, that he sounds like a man who had slept well and doesn't owe too much money."
"And you strike me as someone who has been reading too much Raymond Chandler."
"How else was I to get ready for this timeline, and when were you going to brief me?"
Hiro had shifted back to his Leopard form. He was sitting on the small hotel bed, the neon of Hollywood illuminating the darkness.
"I wasn't ready. When you hit the wormhole you must have downloaded coordinates from the Station's singularity lab. Why here, why now?"
"In most timelines, the Codex, if found, has an impact in how fast events play out."
"The thing in Japan, Tunguska?"
"Siberia."
"What about it?"
"Tunguska is in Siberia."
"So why are the Japanese digging up the artifacts?"
"In this timeline, they didn't surrender. Hiroshima didn't happen. The Allies tried a Thaumaturgic weapon. Obviously, it didn't work."
"Well, it didn't work in Japan. It worked in Germany. Anyway--what have you found?"
"Beth Short is the key to this. Can't calculate why. But I did find something. Look--"
The AI projected a hologram of a black and white photo. A smiling Elizabeth Short dressed in a burlesque-like dress, sitting in the lap of an older man. They were in a chair in front of a circus tent and wagon. She was smiling. The wagon was painted 'Berthan Mills Circus'. In the distance a marquee with two canvas banners advertised a magic act and what appeared to be a spider with a woman's head.
"This photo was taken in 1928."
Hiro felt sick. He was looking at the Circus.
"in the current time line?"
"Yes, and most adjacent."
"Who's the guy?"
"Allen William Wood? His nickname is...'The Turk'."
"So, twenty years, no one ages? This is an error? A flaw in calculations?"
"Remember our deal? I do the homework, you run the ops?"
Hiro grunted approval. He was hoping the AI had an answer for this. He knew it didn't. He wasn't sure he did, either.
(Continued in part CXXXIII.)
There was a saying that the people who own Los Angeles were members of one club downtown, and the people who ran Los Angeles were members of this club.
Hiro sat at a table in the large dining room, drinking coffee. Waiters in white jackets moved attentively to the spread-out dinners. He sat quietly reading the Wall Street Journal. The markets were down again. An issue with the recovery in Europe, and the war continuing in North Asia. The Japanese excavations at Tunguska were generating more headlines. It was hard to trust the stories. He saw the doctor approaching. He was tall, dark eyes, fair skin. He didn't smile; he sat down.
"Mister, uh..."
"Stonelevel, H.S. Stonelevel," Hiro lied. He handed over a calling card.
Stonelevel and Sons"Ah, yes. The buyer..."
Antiquities and Manuscripts
43 Cavendish Square, London
Hiro waited. The doctor swallowed.
"I am sorry, I have nothing to sell."
"Are you buying, Doctor?"
"Well, that depends..."
"We have several things that might interest you. A completed folio of the King in Yellow, a French copy of the Ordinances of the Sphinx, a Latin copy of Ose and Hiram, and a guide to Gallifreyian Tantra."
The Doctor paused. "None of those are in Los Angeles?"
"Of course not."
"The Ordinance of the Sphinx--how can you be sure it isn't a forgery?"
"They are not."
Hiro looked at him steadily. After a pause, he continued. "I have some transcriptions. I understand you may have a copy of the Codex?"
"I have access to one, yes--"
"We could compare the Cyphers to validate."
The doctor looked troubled. "Oh, I am not an adapt, I wouldn't..."
Hiro waited. Understanding crossed the Doctor's face.
"I see. You would authenticate."
Hiro nodded. Hiro smiled.
"I have to speak to my business partner, he actually has a copy of the Codex. How can I reach you, sir?"
Hiro held out his hand. After a moment, blinking, the Doctor gave him back the business card. He wrote on the back and returned it. "This agency will know my whereabouts."
"Elwood Clark, Private Investigations?"
"Security precautions."
"Of course," the Doctor said, smiling. "I'll be in touch." He stood and began to leave the dining room, stopping to talk to two men at a table close to the door.
Hiro finished his coffee, reading about the ancient artifacts the Japanese claimed to be extracting from the Tartarian crater. He folded up the newspaper, left the club, and found a different hotel.
The phone in room 201 rang in the afternoon. He was in the Hotel Daniel on Hollywood Boulevard.
"Hello," Hiro said calmly.
"It's Clark. He called."
"Okay."
"Wants to you come to his house in Los Feliz on Thursday night. Something about proving a point?"
Hiro wrote the address on the note pad next to the phone.
"Also, I looked into the actress, Elizabeth Short, and her boyfriend, 'The Turk'. A lot of people know her, very social in town. Connected in various, discreet circles..."
"Of course."
"This 'Turk' is harder. People have heard of him, but no one knows him. Not LAPD, not Micky Cohen's crew, not even the Italians. I called a buddy down in the Harbor division in San Pedro. Nothing..."
"That is odd."
"I'm going to drive down there and check it out. I have to stop over at Hughes Aircraft anyway, on a different case."
"Thank you, Mr Clark."
“You're welcome." There was a short pause. "My bill..."
"Let's meet at Muso and Frank's for a drink tomorrow. I'll bring cash."
"Always a pleasure."
The phone went dead.
The AI’s voice filled the small Hotel Room. "This Doctor strikes me, that he sounds like a man who had slept well and doesn't owe too much money."
"And you strike me as someone who has been reading too much Raymond Chandler."
"How else was I to get ready for this timeline, and when were you going to brief me?"
Hiro had shifted back to his Leopard form. He was sitting on the small hotel bed, the neon of Hollywood illuminating the darkness.
"I wasn't ready. When you hit the wormhole you must have downloaded coordinates from the Station's singularity lab. Why here, why now?"
"In most timelines, the Codex, if found, has an impact in how fast events play out."
"The thing in Japan, Tunguska?"
"Siberia."
"What about it?"
"Tunguska is in Siberia."
"So why are the Japanese digging up the artifacts?"
"In this timeline, they didn't surrender. Hiroshima didn't happen. The Allies tried a Thaumaturgic weapon. Obviously, it didn't work."
"Well, it didn't work in Japan. It worked in Germany. Anyway--what have you found?"
"Beth Short is the key to this. Can't calculate why. But I did find something. Look--"
The AI projected a hologram of a black and white photo. A smiling Elizabeth Short dressed in a burlesque-like dress, sitting in the lap of an older man. They were in a chair in front of a circus tent and wagon. She was smiling. The wagon was painted 'Berthan Mills Circus'. In the distance a marquee with two canvas banners advertised a magic act and what appeared to be a spider with a woman's head.
"This photo was taken in 1928."
Hiro felt sick. He was looking at the Circus.
"in the current time line?"
"Yes, and most adjacent."
"Who's the guy?"
"Allen William Wood? His nickname is...'The Turk'."
"So, twenty years, no one ages? This is an error? A flaw in calculations?"
"Remember our deal? I do the homework, you run the ops?"
Hiro grunted approval. He was hoping the AI had an answer for this. He knew it didn't. He wasn't sure he did, either.
(Continued in part CXXXIII.)
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