Alan (The Lone Librarian) Teder’s Reviews > Perfidia > Status Update

Land grabs, plastic surgery, blood libel. Rogue cops, sub attacks, a lynch-mob massacre. Pay phones. A white man in a purple sweater. Secret radios and feigned seppuku. The haughty Left and the bellicose Right. A grand alliance of war profiteers.
He'll tell it all to Dudley Smith or to William H. Parker. He'll tell no one if it suits his needs. He has uncovered the real Fifth Column. It is not what anyone thinks.

He showed her his scar from an Ulster jail riot. It came from a Black and Tan's cell key held over a flame. She took him back to Pershing Square in 1935. His blue comrades wore brown-shirts that day. Horses bore down. A bridle bit gouged her shoulder. A stirrup flange cut her leg.
She was bigger and stronger than Bette. She kissed him harder. She refitted him to suit herself. She said his name more.

Brown said, "We should go. It's Mr. Hoover's show."
They ran the back stairs. Call-Me-Jack and Two-Gun beat them. Fletch Bowron sat with Hoover and Preston Exley. Chairs faced a speaker's stand and easel. A San Fernando Valley map was propped up.
Hoover wore a fresh carnation. Preston filled with a pointer. Call-Me-Jack and Two-Gun sipped Bromo.
Parker and Brown took seats. Nobody smoked - Hoover disapproved.

Dudley hung up and snatched a syringe. Huey plucked at him. He resembled Renfield in Dracula. Master, come look.
They walked next door. Dudley looked.

My voice faded into hoarse whispers and silence. I turned off the device and laid my head on the steering wheel. I didn't want to go home. I tried to sleep and grasped for consciousness every time I got close.
X number of hours brought dawn. Milk trucks made their rounds; children skipped off to school. Music drifted over from Claire's house. A small ensemble played "Perfidia."

Two-car convoy.
Parker took the lead. Ashida trailed him. He had a choice rear-window view.
Parker sucked on his flask. Parker weeeeaved his black-and-white. Ashida bumper-lock tailed him. They kept their windows down. Parker played his civilian radio. It was soaring Bruckner, too loud.
Northbound. Pedro, Gardena, mainland L.A. Over to Broadway. Chinatown, straight ahead.

Kay Lake's Diary
Los Angeles | Friday, December 12, 1941
2:46 a.m.
Scotty fumbled with me.
He showed up an hour ago. His hands were bruised; his suit was wrinkled; he wore a shoulder-holstered gun. My wartime lover. The "first emergency hire" of the Los Angeles PD.
He had surveilled me late Wednesday night; he had observed my date with Hideo Ashida. I should have been furious - but something made me step back from it

Dudley flashed his badge. "Mr. Bennett, my name is Smith. I've come to recruit you for the Los Angeles Police Department."
Scotty Bennett said, "I've been rejected. I'm only twenty."
Dudley said, "We're at war, lad. Extreme circumstances provide for a stretching of the rules. We need you more than you need the United States Marine Corps."
Scotty Bennett smiled. The door-step glowed. The boy was born to fight crime.

Ryoshi was on the A-1 list. The War Department ordered all A-1 property seized. The property records would be Fed-sealed. Carlos Madrano was tight with Call-Me-Jack. El Fascisto could not be braced -
Yet.
Dudley stood up. "I will try to get you released, Mr. Namura. In exchange, I will ask that you attempt to determine the verifiable ownership of those Japanese properties you mentioned."

They turned north on Spring Street. The Fed Building was straight up. Parker blinked. A roar hit him.
The enlistment line went down the steps and the sidewalk to the corner. It ran two thousand men. They were singing. "God Bless America" rang.
Parker ran toward it. He dropped the posters. His eyes welled. His glasses slid down his face. The blues ran behind him. Their riot gear slowed them down. They couldn't keep up