Wes arrived in Los Angeles well before the sun came up. He found a place to store

all but one of the ledgers he had taken. He was going to need that to convince

Corning he had a story.

He found the local train station by buying a city map from a local gas station. Then

he used the posted schedule to pick out the train he needed to get to San Diego.

Paying for a ticket cut into his funds, but doing that provided the explanation of how

he had covered the ground to get to the other city.

He certainly wasn’t going to tell people he could turn into a flying carpet at will. He

planned to keep using that ability to stay away from Delveccio.

He took the chance to sleep while the train carried him south. He couldn’t arrange for

a meeting with Corning before the afternoon, so he had time to relax and think about

his next moves beyond simply surviving.

The sun came through the window of his carriage as he leaned against the wall

adjoining his seat. He blinked and looked around. No one else seemed interested in

him from his quick scan. He checked that he had all of his belongings and the ledger

to make sure no one had stolen from him in the middle of his ride.

Wes watched as the city came into view. It seemed sunnier than his hometown, and

he knew the beach was behind the facade of buildings blocking his view. The Navy

had a home here, as well as the Merchant Marine.

He waited for the train to pull into the station. If he kept going south, he would be

able to cross the border into Baja and be under Mexican authority. He had heard that

the coast there was the home of the tourist fisherman, but he had never traveled that

far.

He supposed that tracking down stories had kept him rooted at home. Maybe he

should go down and see what the tourists did when he was done with this manhunt.

He expected Delveccio to find him eventually. The man had a network, had the means

to use that network to find his reporter nemesis, and the money to pay for any

information he wanted. The word had probably gone out as soon as he had skipped

town with the ledgers.

Someone on the train might have the wherewithal to call down a storm on him while

he was looking for a place to hide in San Diego.

Part of what he had to do was find a place to hide until he could give his sample

ledger to Corning and see what kind of fireworks went off. Another reporter looking

into things might be enough to lessen some of the heat on him.

It might get Corning killed as soon as he went on air and told the world he had proof

of Delveccio’s wrongdoing.

On the other hand, Corning might not be able to use the ledger since it was stolen,

and Delveccio might be able to use that to get out of any court date. Then he would

come down and kill the television reporter to get his ledger back.

This was turning into a bigger mess than what he had wanted when he had gone after

Delveccio in the first place. He should have planned better for the fact that he would

be considered a criminal by the law, and could be imprisoned right beside Delveccio.

He was in the middle of it now. He had to do what he could to make things horrible

for the gangster while trying to fly under the radar.

If he could find something to use against Clancy out of all this, he would. He had no

doubt the editor had sabotaged any attempt by the paper to investigate Delveccio, and

anyone under his authority.

Stopping that would make going to jail almost worth it.

And he still had his flying carpet body he needed to think about when everything was

said and done. It had helped him out, but did he want to fly around naked to finish

whatever business he was doing.

Wes waited for the other passengers to get off the train before he did. He didn’t want

to be stabbed in the back while waiting to climb down the stairs built into the

carriages. He dropped down on the concrete platform covered in checkered tiles. He

looked for other exits than the front doors.

If Delveccio figured out where he went, and how he got there, he could expect a

welcoming party from the mobster’s men, or from rivals and associates trying to earn

some credit. Either showing up could be disastrous to him.

He saw signs pointing to doors to one side of the building. He decided to take that

instead of walking across the station to the front door and stepping out on the street.

Wes stepped out on the street, wary of another ambush. He might have made a clean

getaway but he couldn’t expect to stay unnoticed for long. If Corning put out that he

had one of Delveccio’s ledgers and what was in it, a hornet’s nest would be kicked

up.

He was glad that he had hidden the rest. Delveccio needed them for his operation. Not

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having them was making him rely on trusting his subordinates for the money they

were making him. He had no way of checking until he got the ledgers back. And the

reporter could keep moving them around at will until he was caught himself.

The longer he could hurt Delveccio, the better it would be for the city.

Wes smiled shortly. Reporting was a way to tell people what was going on. It was

also a means to show the wrong things that needed to be made right by the people.

He walked down the street, wondering if he had a home to go back to after what he

had done, and was planning to do. He might be in trouble with the local cops, but

there was nothing he could do about that except avoid them. Most of them were on

the pad, and the rest were singled out and alone for not being bribable, or stupid.

He decided to keep moving until the meeting with Corning. Then he could find a

place to settle in to rest and recoup some of his energy he had expended staying ahead

of his pursuers.

He also wanted something to eat while he was moving. That should kill some of the

time before the meeting. He started looking for places to eat as he walked.

He found a place called Archie’s off the main strip. It had fake wood walls, tables in

the middle of the dining area, booths along the walls, and a counter at one end in front

of the kitchen. He supposed alcohol was sold behind the counter, but he couldn’t

afford to get drunk.

He needed to be ready in case his meeting with Corning led to him having to escape

from the other reporter and whomever showed up at their meeting.

He wondered how much Corning could help him as a broadcaster. Could he trigger

the FBI into launching an investigation? It would be hard to prove anything from San

Diego.

If the news got out, he might be able to turn everything over to the Bureau and see

what they could do with things. It would be up to a judge to decide if the evidence

was admissible.

He settled into a booth at the back of the place. A woman in her fifties wearing a pink

dress approached with pad in hand. He gave his order, picking the cheapest things he

could. He didn’t have a lot of money left and he needed to conserve what he had until

he got home.

He wasn’t on an expense account with the paper while he was on the run. He might

be able to get some of the money back at the end of all of this, but he doubted it.

Expenses were always up for review and denial by the accountants.

If Corning and his station played ball, part of his troubles would be over. Everyone

would be worried about continued publicity. A lot of the people involved would be

shoved into the light. He could write his own ticket if he wasn’t charged for his

thievery.

Wes ate his food and thought about his future meeting. This was the only way he

could see to get out from under. He had no idea what he would do if the talk soured.

When he was done with his meal, he paid for everything and put a tip on the table.

What good was money going to do him if he wound up dead in the next few days.

He left the diner and headed toward the television studio. This one shot might be

enough to get Delveccio off his back. If it didn’t work, he would have go somewhere

else and start over.

At least his other body made travel easier. He could avoid the roads, trains, or planes

as long as he could fly under his own power.

He decided to leave the ledgers in the locker. In thirty days, the locker would be

opened and they would be someone else’s problem. As long as Delveccio didn’t get

them back, that had to count for something.

The next few hours could make or break the rest of his life.

He walked into the reception area of the plain brick building. It had the station logo

and the business address in small letters on the wall. He looked around at the various

chairs for visitors as he walked across the tiled floor to the main desk. A friendly

looking lady was on the phone directing a call deeper into the building.

He waited for her to finish, examining the room. She put the phone down and looked

up at him.

“How can I help you?,” the receptionist asked. She had her hands on an appointment

calendar on her desk and a pen.

“I have an appointment with Mister Corning,” said Wes. He put on a smile. He knew

he looked like a wreck, but it was the best he could do at the moment. “Wes

Wesolowski.”

“He wanted you to go to the bullpen on the second floor,” said the receptionist. “Take

the elevator upstairs, then turn right and you will see the cubicles. I’ll let him know

you are on the way.”

“Thank you,” said Wes. He followed the directions and found himself in a large space

much like the reporters’ work area back at the paper. He looked for Corning as he

walked around the short walls.

“Wes,” said the broadcaster from an office at the back of the room. He held up a hand

to indicate where the word had come from.

The reporter walked across the space. He felt eyes on him. Everyone seemed to be

watching him as he moved.

He hoped some of them would be assigned to help him out.

“What brings you to San Diego, Wes?,” asked Corning. He indicated a plush visitor’s

chair as he sat down behind a large desk covered with paperwork.

“I need your help,” said Wes. “I have in my possession some of the ledgers used to

pay off people in town by a local mobster up north. The problem is he knows I took

them and is trying to get them back. I need this information broadcasted to take the

heat off of me.”

“He’ll just claim they’re forgeries,” said Corning.

“I know,” said Wes. “But I need to spark off an investigation by outside forces. The

police are deep in his pockets. One of our editors told him where I was so they could

pick me up. You’re the only one I told I was coming down here for that exact reason.”

“We can broadcast something,” said Corning. “It would have to be coached so the

station couldn’t be sued by everyone and their mother up in your neck of the woods.

I’m going to need some kind of proof to help protect the station.”

“I have one of the ledgers,” said Wes. “I confirmed part of it. If you want to have your

own guys go over things, I don’t have a problem with that. I have more.”

He handed over the book. The broadcaster flipped it open to a random page. He read

some of the entries, frowning. He nodded.

“Let’s see what we can do with this,” said Corning. “I have to go on in two hours. It’s

not a lot of time to confirm everything, but we don’t have to. We only have to confirm

one of these entries, and check the rest as we go.”

“So you’re going to help me?,” asked Wes.

“If we can confirm any of this in this book, this might break a huge corruption

scandal up in your neck of the woods,” said Corning. “I can already see the Feds

wanting a piece of this action.”

Corning picked up his phone to get things rolling.